Sallyanne Rogers Accepts THE ULTIMATE CHALLENGE!

SallyAnne Rogers“If anyone can write an erotic novel about Morris dancers and make it sexy, it’ll be me.” I said it more than once, not really meaning it the first few times, but it took on a life of its own, and people began to take me a little more seriously than I had thought they might.

After all, I am probably the only person – though if there’s more of you out there, do get in touch – who is both erotic writer and Morris dancer. Really, it had to be done and, more than that, I really wanted to do it.

Blah blah beer guts, blah blah beards, blah blah old men… the lazy stereotypes around Morris dancing annoy me anyway. There are actually loads of dancers under 30 these days, male and female, and while not everyone can be super-model beautiful, there are plenty of fit bodies and sexy movers to admire should you stop by a local folk festival. There are quite a few contemporary takes on the whole business, as well. When I first started dancing, I belonged to the Prince Albert Morris, a team who mixed folk traditions with BDSM and fetish regalia and appeared on TV several times during the late 1990s: nowadays there’s a Steampunk Morris side who dance to classic rock tunes, and the traffic-stopping Belles of London City in their corsets and petticoats, among others.

Of course, there’s a certain amount of tension – and there always has been – between traditionalists and modernizers. That gave me something to use as a source of the conflict that would drive the plot of Spring In My Step. If my hero and heroine were attracted to each other but on opposing sides of the What Morris Dancing Should Be Like debate, they would have to work out a way of reconciling their differences to get to their happy ending. I did draw on a variety of things that happened to me during my time with Prince Albert, particularly the fact that we were originally put together at the request of a TV company. Adding a camera crew who were making a documentary to my story was the factor that made everything fall neatly into place.

I don’t know if Spring In My Step will encourage more people to take up Morris dancing in the hope of finding a sexy dancing partner of their own, but it would be quite cool if that happened.

 

Spring in My Step Blurb:

When Cath meets Robbie for the first time, she decides to hold back on telling him she’s a Morris dancer who’s about to be featured in a TV programme about contemporary British culture. She’s not expecting more than a one-night stand in the first place, so there’s no need to complicate things. However, what started out as a bit of fun looks like it could turn into something more, as the two of them find their mutual attraction too strong to resist.The documentary crew are on the hunt for juicy controversies in the run up to the May Day festival at Waterleigh Bridge, and it seems that Robbie has a secret of his own. If he and Cath find out the truth about one another, will it bring them closer or tear them apart?

Buy Spring in My Step Here:

Xcite Books

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

The Morris Shop

About Sallyanne:

Sallyanne Rogers has written articles for adult magazines including Forum in the past, and has previously worked on market stalls selling vintage clothes and magazines. This inspired her first novella for Xcite, Midwinter Heat. She has also been a morris dancer for about 15 years.

Her website is http://sallyannerogers0112.wordpress.com and she is on Twitter @dswsallyanne and on Facebook as Sallyanne Rogers (there is more than one person by that name, though)

 

 

 

Guest Blogger: Sara Brookes (@Sara_Brookes)

WMS_blogtourFear can be a great motivator or a debilitating sickness. Take me for instance. I have a fear of not attaining my goals. This is a controllable fear in that I can decide the effort I put in to control the outcome. But I also have a fear of many bodies in close quarters were I won’t be able to reach an exit in an emergency. This is one I can’t control the outcome of as closely and I’ve had more than a few panic attacks. Luckily my husband has been there to help me, and is usually the one to recognize the signs before I’m fully aware of it myself.

I was able to take some of that experience and apply it to one of my characters in Edge of Need. Due to an injury Sutton sustained as a child, she had a fear of heights. And doesn’t tell Adam this detail before he drags her on the Ferris wheel at a carnival.

 

Edge of NeedExcerpt:

She swallowed the lump in her throat, fighting the panic swirling chaotically in her stomach. Everything in her chest felt tight, constrained to the point of pain she couldn’t process. Her frustration made it worse. Gray edged into her vision and suddenly she found herself gasping for breath.

“Sutton?”

“I don’t like heights.” She forced the words around ragged breaths.

“Then why did—oh hell. Breathe, Sutton. Look at me.” Adam’s voice registered faintly through the disarray. He sounded far away and distant as though she was the only one on the ride. When she didn’t immediately look, his hand closed over hers and he shifted closer. The movement caused their car to rock, spiking her panic.

Adam’s soothing voice sounded in her ear. “Look at me, fancy. Now.” The force and power behind the words caused her to move without thinking. “Good. Keep your eyes on me. I’m going to move my hand, but my arm is still here around you, all right?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t look anywhere else than at me, understand?” The authority in his voice bled through the panic. How could he be so calm and casual while she was falling apart? “Everything is fine. I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe with me.”

 

Blurb:

Sidelined by a devastating injury, Sutton searches for someone who will command her, pleasure her and push her to the limits of her darkest desires. Within seconds of meeting a Dungeon Monitor, she is captivated by the rough edge of dominance he possesses.

Adam lives and breathes the lifestyle, unleashing his wilder side to deliver extreme and uncompromising demonstrations. But when he finds himself without a submissive, Sutton offers herself. One night under Adam’s sensual command and Sutton knows she’s found her perfect Master.

Their scenes are white-hot and they discover a fervent need that is not easily sated. Soon they are fighting a love they never expected, surrendering emotionally to fill the aching void in both their hearts. When Sutton is free to return to the dance stage she calls home, Adam knows he’ll have to convince her to accept life as his cherished submissive, collared and kept forever.

Warning: Sparks fly when two exhibitionists collide on stage. These two showoffs let their imaginations fly when it comes to delayed orgasms, spankings, inflatable toys, straight razors and one unbelievable collaring scene under the spotlight. Break out those opera glasses, you’re gonna want to get up close and personal.

 

Buy Links:
Ellora’s Cave: http://www.ellorascave.com/edge-of-need.html
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00KGC00J8
All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-edgeofneed-1522650-340.html
Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/edge-of-need-sara-brookes/1119571142?ean=9781419949586
Kobo: http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/edge-of-need

 

Author Links:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/Sara_Brookes
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/brookesofbooks
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/authorsarabrookes
New Release Announcement List: http://eepurl.com/mbG31

 

Giveaway:

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Body Temperature is Going Up & Down!

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More good news for sizzling summer reading! Though Body Temperature and Rising is climbing the paranormal erotica charts, the price is not! For a limited time you can get book one of my paranormal erotic Lakeland Witches Trilogy for £.77 in the UK and £1.32 in the US. It’a a steal for a full-length erotic novel. And there’s no place hotter and more chilling than spending time in the gorgeous English Lake District at Elemental Cottage with the ghosts and witches of the Elemental Coven. Here’s a little teaser .

(And don’t forget, the 9th episode of Demon Interrupted will be out on the 19th of July. FREE on this blog)

Blurb Body Temperature & Rising:

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Amazon UK
Amazon US

Lakeland Witches 1 BTRExcerpt from Body Temperature & Rising:

Tim was in the stable with the mare when she arrived. She could see his broad back through the open door. A sudden eruption of butterflies in her stomach made her skittish like the mare had been, was it only yesterday morning? It made her not want to face him, not just yet. As she watched him moving about the stable, heard him talking softly to the horse, the ache she felt was a very human one, one that sprang from being alive and not wanting to be alone and all the other things that living entailed. It was not the fiery burn that accompanied the presence of spirits. It felt cleaner somehow, more sane. But on some deeper level, it felt at least as frightening, so she swallowed hard and turned quietly toward her cottage.

She was half way up the porch steps when she changed her mind, squared her shoulders and headed for the stables.

When he saw her, he surprised her by scooping her into his arms, holding her tight, so tight she could barely catch her breath. A sense of relief rushed over her, a feeling that she wasn’t in this alone, and she held him tight right back.

‘I was so scared,’ he spoke against her ear, his voice thick with emotions. ‘I didn’t know what they’d do to you, if they’d follow you, and I didn’t know where you’d gone or where to look for you. I couldn’t bear the thought of it happening to you. What happened to Fiori.’

She said nothing; she wasn’t sure she could speak without blubbering.

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered against her hair. ‘This is not how I wanted it to be. This is not what I wanted you to know about me.’

‘What?’ She pulled away enough to look up into his eyes, ‘Tim I don’t blame you for any of this. I still don’t know what to think about it all. I don’t know …’ Her voice drifted off. ‘Do you think we should go to the police?’

‘And tell them what?’ he said stepping back. ‘We’re the only ones who know. We’re the only ones who can tell they’re dead. To anyone else Fiori and Sky look as real and alive as you and I do, as real as that Anderson bloke you let plough you. He must have been impressed, the way he fought me.’

This time the clench in her stomach was anger. ‘You son of a bitch!’ She shoved him with the flat of her hand and he yielded, perhaps too shocked to do anything else. She shoved him again. ‘What the hell business is it of yours who I let plough me anyway, and for your information, yeah, he liked it just fine. Like you care.’ She shoved him again, and the mare looked up from munching her breakfast. ‘Lest we forget that you ploughed Fiori. Oh that’s right, I forgot that was different. She wasn’t dead when you fucked her, so that makes it all right.’

She saw his face darken, and in her own mind’s eye, she saw the woman’s tragic death, and for a split second she wished she hadn’t said anything, but damn it, he was such a bastard. ‘First you treat me like I don’t exist, then you go all big brother on me like I’m too delicate and soft-brained to take care of myself. Well I have news for you, Tim Meriwether, I was taking care of myself for a

long time before you decided I needed looking after.’ She shoved again, and this time he grabbed her with such force that she felt the bones in her neck pop.

With her forward momentum, he stumbled over an uneven paving stone, lost his footing and went over backward into a manger full of fresh hay, pulling her on top of him.

Before she could shove and claw her way to her feet, He grabbed her around the waist and rolled, pinning her beneath the weight of his body. He gave her no time to think about it, but pulled her into a bruising kiss, forcing her lips apart, probing her hard pallet with his dexterous tongue, biting her lower lip before he came up fighting for the breath to speak. ‘I think about you a lot, Marie,’ His chest rose and fell in hungry gasps. ‘But I promise you, none of those thoughts were even remotely brotherly.’

She bucked underneath him and clawed at his shirt. ‘Then do something about it, damn it, and stop toying with me.’ Several buttons popped and flew across the stable floor. He forced her legs apart with his knee, moving it up to rub against the crotch of her jeans. She shoved his shirt open and arched up to him as he pushed her T-shirt up and manoeuvred and tugged, forcing her breasts free from her bra into his splayed hands and hungry lips.

She fumbled with the fly of his jeans, sliding an anxious hand into his boxers. He huffed a breathless grunt, and the muscles low in his stomach tensed as she closed her fingers around his engorged penis and began to stroke.

He had just began the anxious efforts with her own fly when suddenly the stable door slammed shut, and the light bulb overhead exploded in a shower of fine glass plunging the two into total darkness.

Marie yelped, and Tim cursed. As they fought their way to their feet, the mare screamed, and they could hear her struggling.

Tim vaulted over the manger’s edge seconds before Marie, calling back to her. ‘Get the door. Get it open.’

Struggling to secure her jeans with one hand, Marie felt her way along the perimeter of the stable toward the door. The relief was short-lived when her fingers closed around the handle, and it wouldn’t budge.

‘It’s locked,’ she shouted above the desperate cries of the mare.

‘What do you mean, it’s locked,’ Tim shouted back. ‘It doesn’t have a lock. It can’t be locked.’

‘I’m telling you it won’t open,’ she yelled back, feeling an icy chill blasting her from behind. With one final tug, the door gave and she tumbled backward on her arse. The sharp knife-edge of light that shot through the darkness was blinding, like a flashbulb going off, leaving a deep bruised after image dancing in front of her face, an after image of Deacon.

She cried out and crab walked backwards, as he stepped toward her, unfurling his bullwhip, in what seemed like endless slow motion.

Then from somewhere beyond the blinding light, Tim grabbed her beneath the arm pits and hauled her to her feet, pulling her protectively to him, manhandling her until his back took the brunt of the whip’s lash, as it cracked like thunder even above the horse’s terrified screams.

Buy Body Temperature and Rising Here: 

Amazon UK
Amazon US

City Nights: One Night in Paris by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

One Night in ParisBlurb:

Jacob is nearly forty, and has recently come to the sudden realisation that he’s not doing much with his life. Sure, he’s got his own successful business, but what’s the point in earning lots of money and not doing anything or going anywhere to spend it?

He’s in serious danger of being all work and no play, so he starts to rectify this by organising a twenty four hour layover in Paris en route to a meeting in Dubai. Whilst there, he goes on a bus tour of the city, and there meets Annabelle, a fellow Brit who’s studying in Paris. There’s clearly an attraction between the two of them, so when the gorgeous Annabelle makes an indecent proposal to help Jacob fill his time in Paris, who is he to refuse?

Buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/city-nights-one-night-in-paris/

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21923363-one-night-in-paris

*****

Excerpt:

Jacob huffed out a breath as he reached the kerb, shooting a dirty look at the motorist who’d caused him to leap for the relative safety of the pavement. Christ, he’d heard talk of Parisian drivers, but until he’d experienced the place for himself, he’d thought the claims were exaggerated. Apparently not.

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to regain some modicum of composure. It was not the best start to his day—all he’d done was catch the Metro to the Eiffel Tower so far, and he’d barely caught sight of the iconic monument before an insane motorist had almost run him down.

Checking his pockets to make sure nothing was amiss, he retrieved his pre-booked ticket for one of the hop-on, hop-off bus tours of the city while he was there. Horribly touristy, he knew, but given he’d never visited the French capital before, he felt it was excusable. Hell, he’d even booked a plane ticket with a nice twenty-four-hour layover so he could sneak in some sightseeing. It was going to be non-stop work when he got to Abu Dhabi, so he felt he was entitled to a little chill-out time before he got there.

He was the boss, anyway, so nobody could tell him what to do, where to go, or when. If he wanted to head for a brief jolly in Paris before a bunch of intense meetings with his Arabic clients, then he damn well would. What was the point in working his arse off constantly if he couldn’t reap the benefits? His fortieth birthday was approaching and the realisation had made him think. Almost forty and he hadn’t seen nearly enough of the world. Especially if you discounted hotels and conference rooms. Once, he’d flown to Rome, had a meeting in a hotel near the airport, then turned around and boarded a flight home. It had been worth it financially, but only months later, it hit Jacob what a colossally wasted opportunity it had been. Yes, the client had insisted on a face-to-face meeting, rather than a Skype chat, and yes, he’d needed to get back home to continue with yet more work, but it could have waited a day or two. Even a couple of days in the Italian capital would have been better than nothing.

What was the point in having plenty of money if one couldn’t enjoy it, after all?

With a decisive nod, Jacob checked his ticket for the location of the bus stop. He’d just headed for the Eiffel Tower in the first instance because he’d figured it would be the easiest thing in Paris to find. He’d been right in assuming that; the mighty iron structure pierced the sky, impressive and strangely beautiful. It was next on his list, after the bus tour, which he felt would help him get his bearings. He only had twenty four hours—there was no time to waste getting lost.

He quickly located the bus stop he’d been looking for, helped by the vehicle that had just arrived, emblazoned with the tour company logo. There was already a group waiting, and he hurried over to join the back of the queue. After a couple of minutes, it was his turn to have his ticket checked, then he was ushered onto the bus.

It seemed the majority of people who’d alighted in front of him had snagged seats on the bottom deck. It was far from full but somehow already felt crowded, so Jacob headed up the stairs, the child in him making a bee-line for the back seat.

He’d taken a couple of long strides when he saw someone already sitting there. A blonde, maybe a decade younger than him, and gorgeous. Their gazes met and they exchanged a polite smile before breaking eye contact.

*****

Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 100 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

 

New Release! Hot Fighter Romance In Your Corner by Sarah Castille (@sarah_castille)

In Your CornerBLURB:

“You have to go. I won’t be able to control myself. I’ve wanted you so bad for so long and after I’ve been in the cage…I can’t think straight.” He gives a guttural groan and his fist clenches on my hip.

Primitive. Primal. His need speaks to me. I tighten my grip on his neck and rock up to kiss him. He takes over. His kiss is hard and demanding.

“Mine.” His voice is raw, savage and for a moment I truly believe he may lose control.

He rules in the ring

Two years ago, Jake and Amanda were going hot and heavy. But when Jake wanted more, Amanda walked away. Jake immersed himself in mixed martial arts, living life on the edge. But that didn’t dull the pain of Amanda’s rejection-until a chance encounter throws them together.

A high-powered lawyer, Amanda was a no-strings-attached kind of girl. But two years after her breakup with Jake, she still hasn’t found anyone who gets her heart pumping the way he did. And then he shows up in her boardroom, hot as sin and needing help…

But can he rule her heart?

Jake is darker, sexier, and impossible to resist. As their chemistry builds, Amanda’s not sure if she can stay in control, or if she’s finally willing to let him claim her body and soul.

Available from:

Amazon US | Barnes and Noble | Books-a-Million | IndieBound | Chapters/Indigo | Amazon UK

 

Excerpt: In Your Corner

“Don’t move.”

Totally immersed in painting the cupboard, I freeze mid–paint stroke at the sound of Jake’s deep voice behind me.

“What? Am I doing something wrong?”

He closes the distance between us and runs his finger along the back waistband of my gym pants, sending delicious tingles up my spine. Then he slides his hands around my waist, bared by the rise of my T-shirt as I stretch to reach the top of the cupboard with my paintbrush.

“Yes. You look too damn sexy. Do you know what it does to a man when he catches a glimpse of something he isn’t meant to see?”

“I hope it makes him tell the woman she can call off the panic attack and drop her arm,” I mutter as I do just that. “I also hope it makes him decide his hands might be of better use somewhere other than around her waist.”

Jake slides his fingers around to my stomach, resting them just over my mound and his voice drops to a low growl. “I could make use of them here.”

“So says the man who turned down a good offer just the other night at Redemption.” I remove his hands and turn to face him, putting on a brave face while inside I seethe. Who does he think he is coming on to me after brushing me off?

“No games, Jake. You made your position clear. I got that. I’m not interested in being screwed around.”

He presses his hands against the cupboard on either side of my head, caging me with his body. “What are you interested in?”

“Moving on,” I say honestly.

His pulse throbs in his neck and his eyes harden. “With whom?”

“No one right now.”

He gives a satisfied grunt as if I had just cleared up a question in his mind. “Everyone is out back having a good time. You should be there too.”

“There’s a lot of work to do. I want to get it done. The faster I open shop, the faster I can start my lawsuit against Farnsworth.” I slip under his arm and edge along the counter.

“You’ve been working since six o’clock this morning.”

Grabbing a clean cloth from the counter, I make an effort to wipe the grease off my face. “I’m used to working twenty-hour days. I’m not afraid of hard work.” But I am afraid of mercurial fighters who run hot one minute and cold the next.

His face softens, and he takes the cloth from my hand and holds it under the tap. The pipes gurgle when he turns the rusty faucet and water gushes out, skimming over the cloth and trickling into the sink below. Without warning, he lifts me and settles me on the counter.

“You don’t have to work like that anymore.” His voice is calm, soothing. I am momentarily lulled out of work mode and into heat mode as he eases his hips between my legs and reaches to turn off the faucet. “It’s Saturday night. Time to relax and have fun.” With a firm hand, he cups my jaw and then wipes the cloth gently over my nose, forehead, and cheeks.

His gentle touch, the warmth of his hand, his breath, minty and sweet, and his hard body nestled between my thighs all converge in an unbearable rush of sensation. I grab his wrist, forcing his hand away.

“Jake…I’m good. Really. There’s so much to do. I’ll come out when I’m done and I’ve cleaned myself up.”

“I like you this way,” he murmurs. “You look…cute. Real.”

“Real?”

He brushes his thumb over my cheek. “Amanda without the armor. Your clothes, hair, makeup…nothing is perfect. It’s just the real you. I never got to see the real you before.”

Torn between being mortified and pleased, I reach for another cloth. “Real Amanda is covered in dirt and has holes in her sweats.”

He traces a finger down my throat to rest in the hollow at the base of my neck. The room heats to one hundred degrees, and if I’m not mistaken, I hear the sound of my blood boiling.

“I like holes in sweats.” His voice drops, husky and low, and his finger continues its downward journey into the vee of my shirt.

“Jake…”

He traces lightly over the crescent of my breast. “I like dirty girls,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “I can’t stay away.”

Oh God. Every bit of warmth rushes to my center as his deep, sensual voice ignites one of my dark fantasies. Jake, straddling my bound body, growling commands, telling me what he’s going to do to me in the filthiest language I know. A soft moan escapes my lips and we’re back on the roller coaster again.

“This game you’re playing confuses me.” His heart beats strong against my palm when I lay my hand over his chest.

“Me too.”

“Then what are you doing?”

His eyes take on a feral gleam and my breasts tingle.

“Playing dirty,” he growls. Tangling his hand in my hair, he tugs my head back, exposing my throat to the heated slide of his lips. “Sometimes you have to stop thinking too much and just go with it.”

My breath comes in short pants as he sucks gently on the pulse at the base of my throat. Barely able to form a coherent thought for the pounding of blood in my temples, I scramble for sanity. “There’s too much between us to just go with it. We need to talk…”

His hand closes in my hair, twisting roughly. “Lawyers talk. You don’t look like a lawyer now. You look fucking sexy, and your mouth is all lush and pink and needing to be kissed. You want to talk, Amanda, or you want that kiss?” He nips the hollow at the base of my neck.

Pleasure and pain meld together and I whimper as a heated rush of sensation floods my veins. “Kiss.”

Jake smiles. “My dirty girl wants a dirty kiss.” Holding my face, he slants his mouth over mine and kisses me.

Soft kiss. Sweet kiss. Warm, firm lips tasting faintly of coffee. His five o’clock shadow brushes my chin as his tongue eases my lips open to stroke against mine. My body melts against him as he explores my mouth, leaving nothing untouched. Tongues wind and tangle. Two years of fantasies coalesce in a single rasping breath.

“’S not so dirty,” I mumble against his lips.

“Oh, you don’t know how dirty I can be.” Jake grips my hair and tugs my head back with a firm, hard yank, sending little bolts of lightning straight to my core. Then he kisses me hard and fast. Rough. His teeth scrape my bottom lip as his tongue dives deep, filling me, taking what I have to give and demanding more. The pounding of my heart shifts from lust to fear as he consumes me, and for a moment I worry he has forgotten I need to breathe.

When he breaks the kiss, I draw in a long, ragged breath. “You never kissed me like that before.”

“You were never like this before,” he murmurs, his fingers easing up my shirt, his thumb tracing over the crescent of my breasts. “Raw and open, vulnerable, needing my help. So fucking real.”

My breath catches in my throat as he explores, cupping and squeezing my breasts and then teasing my nipples through my lace bra until they are tight, aching peaks.

“My clothes. Take them off.”

Bio

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author, Sarah Castille, worked and traveled abroad before trading her briefcase and stilettos for a handful of magic beans and a home near the Canadian Rockies. She writes erotic contemporary romance and romantic suspense featuring blazingly hot alpha heroes and the women who tame them.

CONTACT INFORMATION:
Website http://www.sarahcastille.com
Sign up for Sarah’s Newsletter for info on new releases: http://bit.ly/LgFZlb
Facebook: http://www.facebook/sarahcastilleauthor.com
Twitter (@sarah_castille): http://www.twitter.com/sarah_castille
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6920675.Sarah_Castille
Amazon Author: http://www.amazon.com/author/sarahcastille

Other books in the series:

The first book in the series (all standalone stories), Against the Ropes, was a Publishers Weekly Top Ten Pick for Romance & Erotica for Fall 2013 and was also a #1 Erotic Romance Best seller on Amazon. It also won the JABBIC contest for sexiest cover. http://www.amazon.com/Against-Ropes-Sarah-Castille-ebook/dp/B00DDWIT3M