Release. Rinse. Repeat.


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This could be my mantra for 2017. Previous years have been notable for launching my M/M romances, or releasing ELEVEN short stories in the Sexy to Go monthly anthologies.

2017 is the year of the makeover.

It started with my time travel romance series. I took the rights back for the two books already published, and then wrote two more: a world-building novella to go at the beginning, and an angsty, action-filled full length story as book 4. They needed new covers, and a whole new look, and are in the process of being released.

Next is my contemp romance Love at the Beach series. I’ve taken the rights back and am re-releasing them with new covers – and extra content – while I work on the next in series.

I didn’t stop there. Next to be tackled are a couple of sci-fi novellas that I’m going to rewrite in a contemporary setting. I’ve also wrangled new covers for one of my M/M romances (Busted!) and a contemp romance (Perfect Place). My poor, overworked cover designer is also working on a new look for the Event Horizon series, in readiness for the next book to come out at the end of the year.

While it’s one of the many things I love about self-publishing – the freedom to tweak covers when it suits me – it’s also one of the most time consuming. I can’t tell you the number of hours I’ve spent trawling through photo libraries for the perfect cover guys. It’s exhausting * winks *

And then you find him. Mr. Perfect. His smile is flawless. Hair rumpled, and just the right amount of scruff on his chin. The ’look’. I’ll grab a sample image and make a mock up, getting more thrilled by the minute, only to see his smile already adorning a bestseller…

Some readers love the current fashion for topless dudes, while last year the trend was to cut off their images at the neck. Some like muscles on display, others prefer a more subtle approach. One of my favorite covers, and one I get random emails from readers about (telling me how much they LOVE this cover) is Caging the Wolf. This guy is delicious, and the cover works perfectly. I haven’t heard a bad word against it.

So tell me. What do you look for in a cover? Is there anything you hate? Or love?

Dance! Dance! Dance!

It’s a new season of summer TV and that brings dance shows. I waffle on watching these sometimes, and I have even gone years without watching them. Why? Because I was one. Not a dance show, but a dancer.

As I watch these incredible artists I often remember how much I loved dance. Like I LOVED it. Even went to college on a dance scholarship. But in the end injuries got the best of me. So sometimes I find it hard to watch these young dancers in the prime of their dance careers. But then I remember that I have found a new creative outlet in writing.

That said, I am loving World of Dance and it made me miss watching So You Think You Can Dance…so here I am writing this post as I watch these shows.

I love that they encourage such diversity of style. I love the music! I love feeling the dancers’ passion for what they do.

If you aren’t sure what passion and sacrifice looks like, watch a dance competition. That is the embodiment of passion and sacrifice.

At one point I managed to merge my past and present and I wrote Command Performance. Here is the first chapter for you:

Chapter 1

Trish basked in the moment. Relished the thunder of applause. Did it matter if she wasn’t the one standing front and center beside her partner? Not right now it didn’t.

She’d worked too damn hard to become a soloist with the San Diego Dance Theater (SDDT) to worry about being the Prima Ballerina. Yet.

Katerina, the reigning Prima Ballerina for SDDT, nodded and as a single unit the soloists stepped to the right, extended their left legs—toes pointed!—then they tucked their legs behind them and curtsied. Bow your head. Look up, smile, and turn to run gracefully from the stage. Just another bit of choreography to remember.

Dancing the role of one of the four swans in Swan Lake was a dream come true. One realized after years of hard work. The wings of the stage were crowded by squealing women and, sadly, men. Too bad she spent her days surrounded by incredible specimens of the male form who were completely uninterested. Not that she’d ever sleep with a coworker. The incredibly small dance community had the grapevine to match.

The high pitched squeals faded away as she wandered deeper into the bowels of the theater. At her dressing table she found her cold cream, the first step in scraping the layers of paint from her face. As much as she loved performing, she detested all the makeup she had to coat on her skin. Some days it positively suffocated her.

An hour later she finished showering and dressed for the opening night cocktail party. Everyone in the company was required to attend so they could schmooze the donors who were the monetary lifeblood of SDDT. It came damn close to prostitution, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe it wasn’t necessary. It just sucked to play dodge the handsy millionaires all night.

She walked into the art museum filled to bursting by patrons and dancers. With deft fingers she snagged a flute of champagne as it drifted by and sipped. At least there were some benefits.

And then she spotted him.

The obnoxious jerk with too much money, and even more ego. Given a bit of care she could avoid him the whole night. After all, there had to be two hundred people at the party. Surely she could avoid one lone billionaire playboy.


Ryland Washington stood next to a particularly eager little corps member who clearly thought sleeping with him would help her move up in the company. And while he would normally take her up on her blatant invitation, something—or more aptly—someone across the room caught his eye. There she was. Long mahogany hair hung down her back like a silky waterfall. Dark eyes scanned the crowd, in search of friends? A man? Damn. He hoped it wasn’t a man. He’d been trying to get her alone at one of these functions for nearly a year.

Right out of the gate, as a lowly new corps member, she had turned down his request for dinner. At first incredulous, he regrouped and tried again. And again. Over time he backed off. Clearly she was atypical of the young dancers who joined the company.

In the blink of an eye he lost her in the crowd. Damn it. He peeled the flirtatious dancer from his Ralph Lauren tux and went in search of the dancer he’d like to give him a command performance. And damn, the commands he’d give. He spotted her and bit back a groan when her deliciously rounded ass covered in canary yellow fabric came into view. The dress, while demure in length, sucked to every curve and dip of her body before it reached her knees. Long sexy legs ended in a pair of sky-high stilettos which only added to the effect. Oh God he wanted to take a bite out of her lush derriere.

The small group of wealthy men surrounding her included his best friend, both a fortuitous and disconcerting turn of events. Disconcerting because his friend was just as much a playboy as him, and fortuitous because it provided him an easy path to infiltrate the group. He strolled up and clapped Holt Buchanan on the shoulder. “Holt, I missed you at the ladies garden party this weekend. How did you manage to escape?”

His friend laughed. “Last minute business trip. Mother couldn’t object.”

“Ry, do you know everyone here?” Holt gestured to the group in general.

“Almost.” He shook the hands of two middle-aged men who remained single and often ran in their circles. Particularly when those circles included available females who required zero to few strings. Perma-bachelors. He shuddered. Finally, he turned to the object of his desire. “And of course, I have met Miss. Maitland.” He wrapped his fingers around her delicately boned hand and drew it up to his lips. After a chaste kiss on her knuckles he said, “You danced like an angel.”

Her face betrayed nothing. No hint of what thoughts whirled behind her dark, intense eyes. “Some would have said I was as graceful as a swan.”

He couldn’t resist the grin. “Touché.”

She practically jerked her hand from his grip and then leveled a dazzling smile at his friend. “Again, Mr. Buchanan, SDDT can’t thank you enough for your generous contributions.” She smiled at the remaining men. “Excuse me gentlemen.”

Ryland wanted to gnash his teeth as she walked away. Determination driving him past politeness, he excused himself from the group and followed close on her heels. She darted a glance over her shoulder and nearly stumbled when she caught his pursuit. Like a hunted animal, she sped up to outrun her hunter.

She dashed into the ladies room, mistakenly thinking she had thwarted him. All she had done was corner herself. He picked a spot by the door and leaned against it to wait for his quarry to peek her head out of her hidey-hole.

Ten minutes later he realized it had been five minutes since a woman exited or entered the restroom, so he decided to flush out his little swan. A surreptitious look around the hallway proved no one of interest lurked. He pushed up from the wall and sauntered into the bathroom.



Trish leaned over the bathroom counter and considered the possibility the lecherous man she’d run from still skulked nearby. No, surely he had given up by that point. She had been hiding in the relative luxury of the ladies room for ten minutes. The door opened. She turned to ask the newly arrived woman if she’d noticed a particularly debonair man in the vicinity when she came face to face with the very man in question. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

He grinned at her. The feral undercurrents of his suave smile sent shivers racing along her spine. Once again, chemistry proved to be an uncaring bitch; because, as much as he stood for everything she hated about the arts, her body didn’t care. It wanted him anyway. Her nipples beaded and tightened. Pressed against the fabric of her dress to show just how interested she was. Of course, she’d blame it on the cold if he was vulgar enough to comment.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” One dark brow rose to punctuate his question.

“It’s rude to answer a question by asking another question.” Stupid man. Why couldn’t he leave her alone?

He stepped toward her. She retreated and found her ass pressed against the counter.

“But it’s the reason I’m in here.” He took another step. “To get an answer to my question.”

“I’m avoiding you because I have no interest in being your personal little wind up dancer.” Lover? Maybe. If she thought it would last longer than the time it took for the sun to rise the next day.

He growled and closed the final distance between them. “I don’t play with toys.”

And then his mouth closed over hers, his lips warm and firm as his tongue surged past her teeth. She meant to bite him. But he slipped his hands around her waist and hauled her against his chest at the same time the heady taste of man and scotch invaded her senses. And when she inhaled through her nose, she sucked in a mind numbing mix of soap, fine Italian leather, and a spicy cologne designed to titillate instead of smother. Beyond the point of making a conscious decision, she realized her arms were wrapped around his neck when her knees turned as spongey as the toe of a worn out point shoe. One of his hands had shifted from her side to stroke her ribcage below her breast. A moment more and he would be able to mold his palm to her aching mound. Breathing had become an optional activity as she returned his demanding kiss unleashing all the fervor she had stored for nearly a year.

“Well, I never!” The exclamation shattered their sensual bubble and drew up Ryland’s head.

He winked at her before glancing over his shoulder. “Mrs. Buchanan.” He turned, hiding her behind his back. Was it for her protection or because he was embarrassed to be caught with one of the dancers? Damn she hated even wondering what the answer was. It didn’t matter. The kiss was a mistake. One she would not repeat.

“Ryland Washington. Your mother would be appalled.” The older woman’s face had turned a shade of fuscia slightly brighter than her dress.

He reached behind him and grabbed her hand in his and dragged her toward the door…and the formidable Mrs. Buchanan. “Now, I’m certain my mother would just be happy to hear I’ve found a woman who has resisted my inestimable charm for nearly a year. And that, in order to win her over I was forced to barge into the ladies room just so I could declare myself to her.”

The woman’s cold dark eyes softened as she glanced down at their clasped hands. One hand pressed to her bosom, she sighed. “You naughty boy. Your mother will be devastated to know I learned of this before she did.”

He tugged Trish forward and wrapped an arm about her shoulders. “Ah. Then perhaps, Mrs. B., this should remain our little secret until I can introduce my mother and the woman who has stolen my heart?”

It would seem her pursuer could charm the pants off any woman. Young or old. Mrs. B. grinned and waved them off. “To be young and in love again.” Another sigh. “But do try to keep out of ladies rooms while wooing your love. It wouldn’t do to sully your reputation.”

“Beauty and brains. If only you were still available.”

Trish damn near choked on that one. The man laid it on kind of thick. Didn’t he? A good thing to remember.

“Off with you. Spouting such nonsense.” She blushed brighter and shooed them out the door.

Out in the hallway he took her down a corridor and away from the party. “Ryland, wait.” She dug in her heels and forced him to stop.

“What’s wrong?” He turned and lowered the full force of his gaze on her.

The man was impossible. He assumed way too much. “I never agreed to go anywhere with you.”

“Hhhmmm… I was certain your body said yes, maybe your mind just needs a minute to catch up?” He grinned like the sinner he was.

For a moment she couldn’t believe he’d just said something so insulting. Anger surged past the sensual befuddlement. “Are you fucking serious? Did you really just say that shit?”

His smile wobbled and drooped. “Well…”

“I get it. Most women are so damn dazzled by your Hollywood smile they simply nod and agree with whatever bullshit you spew. Huh?”

An unexpected look of guilt settled on his handsome face until he resembled a little boy caught in the cookie jar. “Um.”

She sighed. “Sorry. Not this time.” She reached down and unwrapped his fingers from her hand. “I’ll be going home alone. That kiss was a huge mistake. And not one I am prepared to compound by going home with you.” She turned and fled back toward the party and safety.

I’m hoping to bring this story and few others to press in a little boxed set of short stories. So keep an eye out for it along with lots of other fabulous new works from me. 2017 is proving to be a super busy writing year!!!

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I’m back! I miss #vacation already!


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Well sometimes it rains and sometimes it’s sunny, but when you’re on vacation it’s always a nice day!

When we were on the peninsula we stayed in an airbnb. Have you stayed in one yet? Basically it’s a rented out room or a home or even a cabin or condo that the owners have decided to sublet on a daily or weekly basis. The one we stayed in had a bit of Victorian era charm and a clawfoot tub to boot!

I’d never used airbnb before, always just staying in hotels. It’s a nice experience to be able to cook your own meals. Easier on the budget and on your waistline!

But it got me to thinking what if there was an airbnb where the tenants and the hosts would meet up for hot sexual encounters? Wouldn’t that be fun?

Nearly as tempting as sex on the beach! (Assuming the weather is nice that is….)

While on vacation I read a little bit here and there. Samples of books some of which I liked others I thought meh. I’m sure you have that experience! One of the books I liked was:

Claimed by Love a Rizer Pack Shifter Series book by Amelia Wilson. It was fast paced and kept my interest though I did find it odd some of the sex scenes occurred when they were in danger! But that’s nothing new a shifter book for sure!

Here’s the link:

Another one I liked was Beast by Holley Trent. This is also a shifter romance with the Norseton Wolves series. Here’s the link:

Next time I’ll bring some pics of my recent happenings. Until then, happy reading!




Under the Full Blooded Moon – Cover Reveal

One of my lovely fans asked me “where are the wordz?” but I do like to tease, so here’s the fabulous new cover, and… oh go on then, you can have some words.




Since the age of ten when his father died, and he lost his childhood, cynical journalist Stuart Caldwell has searched the world in his quest to find the key to his family’s centuries-old curse.

What he finds when he lands on the Scottish island of Breggar is far from what he expects. Instead of a battle to the death with the ferocious witch he believes resides there, Stuart finds he is the one in the firing line, and the target is his heart.


And I promise you can have an excerpt next time.

Traditional vs Self-Publishing? How things change…


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Funny how things come full circle.

When I first started writing, I was desperate to find a publisher. Now bear in mind this was twenty years ago, and self-publishing was not even a glimmer on the horizon. If you wanted to be published, to be a real author, you needed a publisher. Or an agent, who would represent you, and sign you up for a fantastic contract.

Well, it didn’t happen.

Fast-forward fifteen years, and I was writing again with a view to being published, and all around me, writers were starting to publish their own works. It was still uncharted waters, with only the brave setting out to conquer the world, and I was scared. What if I wasn’t good enough? What if my books sank like stones?

I needed the validation of a publisher, someone in the know to say, “yes, you can write, and we like your work.” The beauty of the rapid changes in the industry meant that publishers were springing up everywhere. Signing my first contract was both exciting and terrifying. I’d been accepted into the secret-author-club, but that didn’t mean I’d sell. I might still crash and burn.

Time passed, and I collected another publishing house, and then another…suddenly I was represented by three different publishers. At the time, it was the right thing to do for me, but it was also the time I realised it no longer worked for me. Like taking the training wheels off a bicycle, I was ready to go it alone. Go self-published.

After spending years trying to get signed up, I now wanted my rights back. And that’s finally happened. My last contracted book is in the process of reverting (i.e. coming down from the shelves under that label), and coming back to my ownership. I can give it a new cover. Make changes to the script – add a new epilogue, or vignette. Juggle the price, and give away ARC copies. And even more importantly, continue the series the way I want to write it, not the way the publisher wanted it to go (according to their house-style).

First to be re-launched is my Out of Time series (time-travel romance), and the first book in this series, Marc’s Conflict, came out today. The next series to be re-launched is my Love at the Beach contemp romance series. Look out for that soon 🙂

~ * ~ * ~

Marc has been accepted as a ghardian, one of the elite soldiers who protect the timelines of the future. He’s eager to prove himself and experience combat on his first training op to Ancient Europe: joining the conflict and fighting alongside the Gauls against the Roman invaders.

A true ghardian puts his emotions aside, and functions purely on logic, but that lesson is easy to forget in the heat of battle, especially when Marc’s closest friend is in danger.

Buy now from: Amazon | iBooks | Google Play | Barnes & Noble | Kobo



Marc sank onto his new bed and waited for Felix to come in, his mind skipping over everything that had happened today. The minute Felix crept in and locked the door behind him, Marc sat up. “What are you doing with Naomi?”

“Good evening to you too, Marc.” A beaming smile lit up Felix’s face, little dimples flashing in his cheeks. “I can’t believe you never realized about her before.”

“Realized what?”

Felix shook his head, as though amused. “I have feelings for her. Strong feelings.”

Ice prickled down Marc’s spine. “We’re ghardians, Felix. We don’t have feelings.”

“We just hide them better.”

Marc swung his feet to the floor and stood before him. “You can’t talk like that. If our commanding officers find out, they’ll…” He couldn’t say it.

“They’ll discharge me? Mind-wipe me? Imprison me?”

Marc nodded.

“She’s worth the risk.

Marc always suspected Felix struggled to suppress his emotions, but never had such concrete proof before. It was a disturbing facet of his friend he’d not seen before. Felix was smart, and had great potential as a ghardian. He could read a page of text and memorize it almost instantly. Marc was the brawn to Felix’s brains, and they worked well together.

Marc took a deep breath and considered his words. “What makes you so sure you’ll be allowed to make a commitment with her? Last I heard, you needed Council approval.”

“I found something—a law that’s being considered and has a good chance of being mandated. Ghardians will be allowed to propose their own partners.”

“And how long will that take to go through the Council?”

He shrugged. “Three years. Four, maybe. By that time, I’ll have made Lieutenant, you’ll probably be Colonel, and Naomi will be a qualified Medic.”

“You believe you can make it work.”

“Yes.” Felix reached out and touched Marc’s arm, pressing his fingers into the sleeve. “You’re the only other person that knows, Marc. I’d trust you with my life. I know you won’t give us away.” His faith in Marc—and in Naomi—was staggering.

Marc clasped Felix’s arm and again sought his words with care. “I swear on the ghardian oath of protection that I will not betray you.”

Hours later, he lay on his unfamiliar bed and tried in vain to sleep. He could only hope his friend knew what he was doing.





Another Book, Another Day

Soooo, it’s only been two weeks since last I was here and once again the time has flown.

Along Came Dani has been accepted by my publisher and I’m expecting the edits to come through any day now. Under the Full Blooded Moon is with the final line editor.

In the meantime, I flipped manuscript. I’m quite happily writing Hunter’s Quest, but no, If Love Had Wings, the second book in my Montgomery’s Sin Series insisted that I pay it some attention.

At the rate I have been hurling out the words lately, I hope I’ll have this one wrapped up by the end of June. I’m currently at 30,000 words with it and as anybody who knows me will tell you I’m a true panster, but once I have my story in mind, it flows. And this one is flowing.

By the way, if you haven’t tried my books yet, and you’d like to give them a go, this weekend the first in my Atlantic Divide Series is free.

Gun Shy

The subject of his grandmother’s enthusiasm to marry him off, Sheriff Jack T Swan is fighting dirty to save his skin and has sworn off women until further notice. So the very last thing he needs in his life is a beautiful damsel in distress. Despite initial appearances, Jack soon discovers Kate is anything but distressed. In fact, she’s more than capable of skewering him with her kitten heel.

Doctor Kate Marsden is handy with a scalpel, but she’s not quite sure how to deal with the local sheriff, who she inadvertently mistakes for a pervert while trying to report a crime.

Time and again their paths cross and attraction rages between them, but while Jack is adamant he’s not in the market for a serious relationship, Kate is definitely not interested in a one-night stand.



Shit. They’d sent him a stripper.

Jack raked his gaze along the woman’s just-got-out-of-bed hair, followed it down her slender body dressed in a cheap, wrinkled suit to where her messy plait stopped at her hips. God, he hoped she was only a stripper and they hadn’t sent him a prostitute. He almost leaned forward to check out the rest of her shapely legs, but he didn’t want to make her think he was interested in any way. Not in a prostitute or a stripper. Whichever one she was; this was beyond a joke. He thought he’d reached an understanding with his grandmother, but from the look of it, she’d got together with his aunts and had managed to find another one.

Perhaps this time they’d made a big mistake.

He took his time as he studied the woman, noted with satisfaction the nervous way she licked her lips, but he’d caught the quick flash of awareness when his half-asleep gaze first met hers. It wasn’t ego, but at his age he recognized that look of admiration in a woman’s eyes. Under different circumstances, he may well have returned that interest, but as it was, he needed to get rid of her.

It wouldn’t take long.

With a roll of amusement, he squinted at the woman across the room. What would be the best way to achieve it without enlisting Bill’s help?

Since the incident with the eighteen-year-old Lucy, he’d become a laughing stock. The little hoots of laughter and the sly digs from his deputies weren’t subtle. Couldn’t handle a kid, they snickered. Well he could handle this woman. He studied her a moment longer. She’d not been sent by his grandmother, he’d stake his life on that, but the boys may have clubbed together to send him a kiss-a-gram as a joke. From her willowy slenderness, she had to be a performer. Perhaps he should wait to see if she started to sing.

With slow indolence, he trailed his gaze back up her body, deliberately resting his hands back on his stomach so he gave the impression of being relaxed. He wasn’t relaxed. His nerves jumped and twitched. He could call Bill in to get rid of her, but if he did, they’d have even more to laugh about.

Damn, but they all thought he was frightened of women. They weren’t far wrong, but it was more that he was frightened of what he’d become for the right woman.

There was no right woman. Not for him.

He let his gaze continue to cruise over her.

Fine boned, her delicate face would have been perfection if not for the tell-tale worn-off makeup, black smudges of tiredness and mascara swiped under her lazily hooded eyes. Her drawn features hinted she’d already put in a full day. She may not have the energy to sing. As long as they didn’t expect him to pay for the pleasure of her shimmying her hips. He wouldn’t put it past them to land him with the bill too. That was if she could bear to push herself away from the door long enough to shimmy. Perhaps a little stagger would be more likely, if he was lucky enough for her to stay upright.

He tried not to laugh, but his lips twitched up at the edges, and the thick black flutter of her eyelashes warned that she’d noticed.

The way she leaned against the door, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to start. He’d be willing to give her a moment longer, but from the look of her, there was the distinct prospect she was about to fall asleep. Perhaps she needed an invitation. Or some music.

“In your own time, sweet cheeks.”


Where to Find Diane Saxon

Author Website | Author Blog | Facebook  | Author Twitter | Goodreads Author |

Author Amazon Profile Page


About the Author

Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven’s Cakes.


After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.

Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.


Previous Books:

Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 2

Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 3

Finding Zoe – Atlantic Divide Book 4

Flight of Her Life

Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1

Barbara’s Redemption – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 2

Short Circuit Time

For Heaven’s Cakes

Banshee Seduction – Montgomery’s Sin, Book 1

  1. Amazon UK

Vacation time is nearly here! #memorialday


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Hi everyone,

I wish I could say that I was on vacation but alas, that does not happen until this weekend. However, I was smart enough to take the whole next week off! Yay! Until then, I’m working my ass off at a new job that I started today. Yep, that’s how I roll. Start and leave. Maybe that’s why I like to write short, eh? Leave them wanting more….

Truth is, I like to write short stories and submit them for inclusion with other sexy tidbits from time to time. I hope that readers enjoy the break from their busy day. Mine always seems so buys I never have time to finish a longer book. Sometimes it takes me quite a while. A month to finish a novel! Seriously! But then, there’s always that one exception the book that keeps you turning the pages until midnight. There are a few out there, I know.

What about you, dear reader? Does it take you ever so long to get from point A to point B? Do you prefer it long or short?

In order to tease you a bit I offer this excerpt from a story lurking on my hard drive. Perhaps when I have a moment it will see the light of day.




“April,” he whispered. “Please.”

“Oh no. We agreed. Not mating yet.” I knew it was evil, but damn, I wanted to draw out the sensation of having a man want me so much he nearly exploded on my furniture just touching me.

“Jesus.” He groaned, shaking his head side to side. “You’re going to kill me.”

I tsk’d and slipped my arm between us to grab his cock. The swollen crown was slippery, covered in pre-cum. My pussy clenched excitedly. “No honey, I killed for you.” The horrible scene flashed in my mind and for a second I wondered what Sam had done with the body. In reality, I hoped I never found out.

When he raised his head, his eyes were gold. “I know.” The intensity of his gaze sent a rush through me. I was playing with fire and damn, was it a thrill. “I will never forget that.”

As he spoke, he slowly molded my body with his hands. Without my even realizing it, I slid off the couch and onto my Persian rug. On hands and knees, I faced the other wall with him behind me. It wasn’t long before the tip of his cock nudged my entrance.

“More evidence you’ll soon be my mate. You made your first kill to protect me, April, and I love you for it.” His hand guided his shaft for a second and then it was gone. With a quick jab of his hips, he filled my empty channel. Then his hand grabbed my hair, holding my head up, exposing my neck.

I harbored no doubts that if he’d been right in front of me, he’d have bitten me. Maybe this was his way of protecting me, allowing me the right to wait. Knowing his control stretched so thin made me wetter. I rocked my hips, spreading my thighs to open all the way for him. “Yes, Chase. Fuck me. Hard.”

Hard he did. He drove into me relentlessly, and so fully that each thrust stretched my already aching channel, sending spasms all along his rigid length. For the second time since I’d met him, I clawed the carpet and hung on. Chase pounded me like an animal this time, but I felt no pain. Instead, I rocked my hips back and met every one of his drives, satisfied only by having Chase completely inside me. Completely mine.

Yes, mine.

Chase’s voice resonated in my head. My wolf howled in answer, and suddenly I let go of past and future, existing only for the present with him. We released as one; Chase roaring over me as he speared me, his seed filling my pussy; a sharp cry escaping my elongated throat as my cunt quivered, holding him bound. It seemed I danced on his cock forever, time becoming irrelevant. I knew without asking Chase would keep me safe. That, and his controlled possession of me made me want to beg him to mate me now, before the moment ended. Gasping for breath, I said his name. “Chase.”

Immediately he wrapped an arm under me and raised me up, holding me to his chest. “Yes, love?”

I bit my lip to hold back the words. Don’t say it. Not yet. Don’t. But the damn man wriggled his hips, rocking his cock side to side inside me. I let out a long groan instead.

“Two can tease.” He slid his fangs along the crook of my neck right above my shoulder. “I know you want me, April. But I will wait until you’re sure.”

I turned my head. “Then you won’t… do it now?”

He smiled. Or rather grinned. Devilishly. “What kind of a mate would I be if I used sex to lure you to my side for all eternity?”

I blinked. “Um, my kind?”


Siri… I **** you…


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There are lots of people who love Siri. I thought I would, but it’s not working out.

Maybe it’s just me? Maybe she doesn’t understand my northern English flattened vowels? She doesn’t understand my teen-son either. And I’ve tried. Really.

I changed it to male Siri (British Male), but despite having a slightly less annoying voice, he’s just as useless.


It was only when I had a funky new car audio system installed recently, that I decided to make friends with Siri. After all, I could now get my iPhone to connect automatically to the car bluetooth, and have full hands-free capability while I drive. I was excited at the possibilities. To take calls safely. To dictate text messages. To select music tracks. The world (albeit the small world-inside-my-car) would be my oyster. Yeah… nah. It didn’t quite work like that.

The number of shouting matches I’ve held with Siri, are colossal. They usually go something along the lines of:

< I’m late leaving home, and want to warn my friend, Julia, that I might miss the train >

Me: Hey, Siri.

Siri: What can I do for you? (polite)

Me: Send a text message

Siri: To whom would you like to send a message? (I’m digging the correct use of English)

Me: Julia

Siri: What would you like to say to George?

Me: No. Cancel message. Send a message to JULIA

Siri. I’m sorry, I can’t find a tulip in your contacts.


Siri: What would you like to say to Julia?

Me: I’m running late. I might not make the train.

Siri: You want to say “I’m running”?

Me: NO!

The last time I tried this one, I ended up shouty-messaging “No train”, to which Julia replied, “What the fck? Never?”


Worse though, is why I want to ask Siri to do something simple like “Open Spotify”.

There’s a pause, while he thinks about my request, and then the cheery response:

“You want to call Samuel Smith. Dialling Samuel now.”

I’m shrieking ‘NOOOO”, and frantically pressing the OFF button before the stupid phone dials either my boss or one of my customers. And HOW HARD is it to stop a call part way through dialling? Freaking impossible.

This hilarious sketch, sums up the problem perfectly.

I have to admit though, the response programming in Siri, is pretty good. Try this sometime:

You say: Siri, I love you,  please marry me.

And see how he / she replies 😀


Fun Diego!


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Well, it’s been a busy few days of sightseeing and shopping with my mom and one of her friends. The hubs has been a real trooper! Needless to say, I have not done much writing or editing as a result. But, I did turn I  Seducing The Assassin and I started writing book 2 of the Lustful Lords series. And just before my mom came I got the first round of edits on book 1 of the Lustful Lords. So, I can promise y’all I have been and will continue to be very busy!