12/02/2011

Flash Fiction Friday


12/2/11

Helping a Guy Out

"I shaved my legs. What next?"
"Put your hands inside, roll them up, then unroll them up your leg."
My eyes widened.  When Devon disappeared into Margie's room, I didn't expect to eavesdrop on "How To Put on Silk Stocking" lessons. I hoped for a glimpse of bare chest, like last week out by the pool.
This was better. I licked my lips as Devon dragged sheer silk stockings up his hairless calves, swallowed hard as he clipped them to a lacy garter belt.   
"Think he'll like them?"
"He'll drool."
Disguising Devon as Margie's boyfriend instead of mine was torture.

12/01/2011

Crawl in Bed with Kay Berrisford


*shivering, crawls into bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Hmmmm, well, seeing as it’s 1817 and we’re in a tiny cottage in the middle of an English forest, I’m afraid we’ve got to settle for hemp and linen. But we can still get comfy and cozy, right?

*wraps blankets around us* What are you wearing?
I’ve but the one simple smock and it’s getting nice and warm in here…so absolutely nothing!

I’m glad one of us is warm! *chuckles*  What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Candies made from violets, cowslips and gillyflowers. And let’s wash it down with some good strong mead or gin.

Candy what? Wow! I've never tried those before. If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Um…possibly some nice, soft-ish rope. And some ginger.

*raises brow* Ginger, eh?  I'm not going to ask. Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
I like to cuddle up. Not sure what a burrito is, they haven’t reached these shores yet.

How far afield have a I wandered, anyway? Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Only if you rub! I get pretty chilly too.

*Rubs calves with feet* What are we reading?  
We’re reading Bound for the Forest, an m/m historically-set paranormal romance with lashings of BDSM.

Oh, now that sounds awesome!
 
Blurb: Ex-soldier Brien forces Scarlet, a sexy young thief, to lead him into a forest realm of magic, sex, bondage and blood. Can they discover their true feelings for each other before the forest spirits enslave them both?

Excerpt:

“Do what you want with me, Master. I’m yours.”

Once again it was such beautiful and absolute submission. Everything about Scarlet -- the sweep of his rounded shoulders, his sandy-gold hair in those quaint little braids, and the vulnerable way he bore the back of his neck -- was breathtaking.

“The charade hasn’t started yet.” Brien’s voice sounded choked; he would not -- could not -- lose control again.

Scarlet peeped up. “You’d better start it then. And make it good. Remember, I want to submit to you, but a wraith or slave won’t necessarily be willing. Use force if you have to. That’s what will strike fear into the enemies’ hearts.”

“You’re what strikes fear into my heart. Stop being so demanding!” Crouching down in front of the woodsman, Brien chuckled halfheartedly. “You’re cold. We’ve got a while yet to go. Come on, put this back on.”

He reached to pull the cloak back up over Scarlet’s shoulders, but Scarlet swatted him away.

“You’ll catch a chill,” said Brien, feeling like a cross between a mother hen and a randy cockerel.

“Don’t you understand? I want to be naked for you! I want you to whip me, punish me. Hurt me!”

“But --”

“No fucking buts!” Scarlet’s palm cracked across Brien’s cheek. “What do I have to do to get through to you?”

Brien stared at the woodsman, the force of the blow still ringing in his ears. Scarlet was trembling, but whether with fear or anger or just the cold, who knew? There was certainly fire in his eyes.

“Whip me. Punish me. Hurt me.”

He seized Scarlet’s jaw in a bruising grip. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, boy.”

Scarlet’s upper lip hitched. “Try me!”

Brien resisted kissing him. Just. Instead he brayed a low, mocking laugh. What was the problem? He loved a feisty subordinate. If he could just forget the sordid echoes of enchantment about this boy, tonight could be a hell of a lot of fun.

  





11/29/2011

December is Reader Appreciation Month!

Hey all! December is Reader Appreciation month at Breathless Press. 

Three titles offered free, for three days each, all month!  



 I just found out that Keeping House is part of the December Reader Appreciation Month at Breathless Press-  that means it's free for three days, starting today!  Have you got your copy? 



Crawl in Bed with Melanie Tushmore

Crawl in Bed with Melanie Tushmore


*crawls into bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Definitely cotton, or we'll slip off the bed!

Excellent point.  I don't quite get the point of silk sheets. What are you wearing?
A lot of layers, it's cold here.

Cagey, you are. What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Haldiki olives and bombay mix. With some mint chocolate for afters.

Hmmm... Olives and chocolate, interesting combination. If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
The Vicar.

ROFL.  Now, you know that's going to make me want to open the drawer more! Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Half and half. Depends how many cats are sharing the bed.

Cats?  Try sharing with a Great Dane. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
No, but you can put them on my cats!

LOL.  Will they sharpen their claws on my feet? What are we reading?
The Price of Falling by Melanie Tushmore






The Price of Falling by Melanie Tushmore

Available at Amazon
Buy Link



The Price of Falling - Excerpt

Jason looked up as I held the drinks out to him. The sly smile crept back onto his lips as he took one in each hand and swung back the shot of whiskey. He placed the empty glass in my hand and held onto the beer.
“Thanks,” he smiled, eyes dancing. Then he turned around, clearly about to ignore me and leave me standing there holding an empty glass.
“Hey, hang on,” I said, reaching out to grip his arm without even thinking. “I want to talk to you.”
Jason turned back with a stern face. He looked me dead in the eye, then pointedly down at my hand on his arm. I swiftly released my grip, my hand retreating. Jason looked back up at me.
“You're crowding me, jock. Get lost.”
“No,” I said, as a sudden determination took over. “I'm not leaving until you answer my question.”
Jason frowned slightly in what seemed like genuine thought then asked, “What question?”
I leaned in closer to him, not wanting his friends nearby to hear us. I could see a couple of them looking at me, talking behind their hands. Probably wondering what I was doing here.
To Jason I repeated the question I asked a few days ago, “What do you do?”
He rolled his eyes then gave a small laugh. “That's for me to know and you to find out, jock.”
“Why won't you tell me?” I pressed, starting to feel frustrated.
Jason simply smiled again and glanced over at the pool game, making out like he wasn't interested in talking to me.
“I've got money,” I said, not sure what else to do.
This got his attention though; Jason snapped back to look at me, frowning again.
“Good for you,” he said, sounding annoyed. He swigged back some beer and started to walk away. I noticed a couple of his friends watch the departure, but they didn't leave their game. I decided I didn't care if they looked or not and followed Jason as he sauntered over to a pin ball machine.
“Jason...” I started, not sure what I should say.
He looked at me, then glanced at the pin ball machine he was standing in front of, raising his eyebrows momentarily. He seemed to be waiting for something.
“What?” I asked, oblivious.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Put a quarter in, dummy,” he said, taking another swig of beer and placing the bottle on top of the machine.
“Oh, sure.” I fumbled in my pocket for change. I wondered why yet again I got a small thrill from obeying an order from him. As I dropped a couple of quarters into its slot the machine whirred to life with flashing lights and loud bells.
“Alright!” Jason exclaimed, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the floor. He gripped at the sides of the machine and leaned over, concentrating on the balls and paddles.
I stood next to him and watched, not quite sure what to do. Instead of watching the game I watched his face, illuminated by the red and orange flash of the lights. Even though he seemed pretty drunk he played the game well and got over five hundred points before he lost the ball. He swore, then glanced over at me before he released the next ball.
“So what d'you want, jock?” he asked me.
“It's Mike,” I said.
Jason snorted again. “So what do you want, Mike?” He released the shutter and the ball entered the game, ringing and whooping as he snapped the paddles.
“Well, I wanted-” The machine clanged loudly as I tried to speak. “I wanted to know what you do.”
Jason, still staring down at his game, raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I dunno,” he answered, as if considering. “What d'you want? You want me to suck you off?”
My heart leapt into my throat as I tried to answer. Jason's sudden change had shocked me but the heat travelling down to my groin answered the question.
“You do that?” I managed to get out.
Jason's eyes flickered up at me. “Duh,” he said simply, going back to his game.

End of excerpt.








11/28/2011

Getting to Know Lisa Worrall


I was kind of stumped with what to say for my blog post today, so I thought I’d pinch an idea from my bestie, Sue Brown, and tell you some things a few of you may know about me, and maybe a few that you don’t…
1.            I nearly threw up in Elvis’ TV room at Graceland.  I was seven weeks pregnant with my daughter at the time. 
2.            I can spot Stefan Edberg’s bum out of a line-up.  Although it is very close to Henri Le Conte’s.  Maybe they where the same kind of pants.
3.            My favourite movie is Random Harvest starring Ronald Coleman and Greer Garson.
4.            The spot I love the most in the whole world is between my left shoulder and the crook of my neck.  It’s the spot where my children laid their head moments after birth, and the same spot they still find each time they step into my arms.
5.            The dog jumped up on my brother’s chair while he was in the loo and started eating his dinner.  I shooed the dog off the chair and rearranged my brother’s dinner and let him eat it… is that really bad?
Now that you’ve had this little insight into what makes up me… along with the sugar and spice and all things nice, of course… take a look at the teaser from Unshakeable Faith, released today J

BLURB
Of all the bars in all the towns in all the world, the stranger walks into Brody Tyler’s. With no memory and a name he chose from a newspaper, Nash is a gamble—one Brody is willing to take. It isn’t long before Brody and Nash fall in love, but then a tragic accident shatters their cozy world, resetting Nash’s memory once again.
The “new” Nash Walker is a businessman with a bottom line, and he doesn’t care what or who gets stomped on. Waking up in a hospital bed after a hit-and-run with no idea where he’s been for the past six months is bad enough, but someone trying to kill him is even worse. Enter Brody Tyler, accidental bodyguard.
Brody’s determined to help Nash remember and bring back the man he loves. Nash thinks Brody’s a drop-dead gorgeous pain in the ass. If only he could remember….
EXCERPT
BRODY turned the glass over in his hand and held it up to the light, checking for smudges before rubbing them away with the clean bar towel. He smiled as he glanced around the empty bar—his bar. Brody had practically grown up on the stool behind the bar. Tyler’s had been his grandfather’s place and his great-grandfather’s before that, and where he’d spent most of his summers. When he was a little boy, his pappy had let him put the peanuts into the little dishes for the tables. Then, as the years passed, he was given a cloth and allowed to clean the tables, then the bar and, finally, he graduated to a summer job mixing cocktails and opening beer bottles. “Money ain’t worth nothing if you ain’t worked for it, Brody. You remember that,” Pappy said time and time again in his harsh, Texan bark. “Just because you come from money, son, doesn’t mean you don’t have to earn your own.” 
Brody knew he was fortunate to have grown up in one of the wealthiest families in San Antonio, but Pappy’s words had struck a chord with him, and he’d never coasted through life on his parents’ shirttails. He’d decided against taking the easy route and stepping into a tailor-made role at the successful Tyler home-improvement chain, instead working his way through college and grad school to pursue his love of architecture.
He’d only been out of grad school for three weeks, the ink on his degree barely dry, when his grandfather had been diagnosed with cancer. Spending hours by Pappy’s bedside, they’d shared memories, Brody had read To Kill a Mockingbird to him, and more often than not, they just sat in silence, each garnering the comfort they needed from the other’s presence. During one of those long days, Pappy had told Brody he was leaving the bar to him, but that he wanted him to sell the place and use the money to set up his own firm. 
Ten days later he held Pappy’s hand as he took his final breath, and after they’d buried him beside Grams, Brody had left the wake at his parents’ house. He’d had no idea where he was going—maybe his subconscious had been guiding him, maybe it was Pappy himself, he didn’t know—but he found himself standing outside Tyler’s, the key in his numb fingers. 
Inside, gazing around the empty room, inhaling the familiar smells and assaulted by a myriad of memories, Brody knew he could never part with it. He’d taken off his black suit jacket, picked up a bar towel and a glass… and he was still doing the same thing six years later. Not many twenty-seven-year-olds had their own successful business, and he knew how lucky he was. He’d already had a large clientele of regulars, and after some modernization, word of mouth had made it one of the most popular bars in town. It might not have been the life he’d envisaged, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. 
Stacking glasses on the shelf behind him, he glanced up at the mirror when he heard the bell indicating the arrival of a customer. Unable to contain the breath that escaped his lips or the sudden speeding up of his heartbeat, his gaze tracked the man’s path to the bar. 
The stranger looked to be about the same age as him, and probably around six feet tall. But it wasn’t his height and age that had Brody’s cock twitching in his pants. The guy was basically the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, man or woman. Putting the last glass on the shelf, Brody picked up the towel and began to rub down the sleek wood of the bar top. He failed dismally in his effort not to stare as the man settled himself on a stool, and cursed inwardly at the press of his wayward dick against the denim of his jeans when the man ran a shaking hand through short, light-brown hair, causing his tight T-shirt to cling to the muscles of his lean chest.
For God’s sake, snap out of it, Brody! He threw the towel over his shoulder and pushed his chocolate-colored bangs out of his eyes. Could you be any more obvious? Stop drooling over the poor guy and go serve him. Brody squared his shoulders, grabbed a beer mat, and walked toward the end of the bar, hoping desperately that the butterflies flapping up a storm in his stomach weren’t about to fly out of his mouth. 
“Hey,” he said brightly, slapping the beer mat down on the bar in front of Tall and Gorgeous. “What can I get you?”
Brody’s stomach hit his shoes when the stranger lifted his gaze and he looked into the prettiest green eyes. No, not green, too ordinary. They were the deep sea-green of a stormy ocean, splattered with gold flecks and rimmed with long dark lashes, and he would have been more than happy to spend the rest of his life gazing into them. Yeah, thank you, Oprah—just get him a drink!
Green-eyes scanned the array of alcohol on the shelves behind Brody and shrugged. “I’m not sure.” 
Brody’s brow furrowed at the weight of those words, as if it had taken an incredible effort to voice them. When the man glanced at the rows of beer and then back at him, Brody was sure his heart actually skipped a beat at the innate sadness in his eyes. “Hey.” He reached out without thinking and placed his hand over Green-eyes’ hand where it lay on the bar. “Are you okay?” His breath caught in his throat at the well of tears in the gaze that flitted to his and then away.
“I don’t know,” he mumbled.
Brody glanced at the clock on the wall and made an executive decision. You’re the boss, dumbass, every decision you make is executive. Ignoring his inner voice, he tossed the bar towel into the basket beneath the bar, grabbed two bottles of beer from the shelf, put one down in front of the stranger, and smiled reassuringly. 
“Here you go,” he said softly. “You look like you need someone to talk to. And who better than your friendly bartender? I’m a good listener, honest. You have to be or they won’t let you into bartending school.” He felt something warm unfurl in his gut when the man’s lips twitched. “Listen, I’ve got a couple of hours before this place starts filling up, so what do you say I turn over the closed sign and we chew the fat for a while?” He held up his right hand as if to swear an oath. “I promise I’m not an axe murderer, and they assure me the insanity has skipped a generation.”
Brody waited as Green-eyes seemed to weigh up the suggestion for a few moments and then nodded. Brody’s smile grew wider and he strode across the room to turn the sign on the door, flick up the lock, and pull down the blind. He noted the way Green-eyes nervously studied the label on the bottle of beer, and frowned in concern when the man started as Brody sat on the stool next to him. 
Picking up the second beer, he took a long draw before turning on the stool to face the other man. “Hi, I’m Brody, Brody Tyler, the owner.” He held out his hand and his gaze snapped up when long fingers folded around his and he felt a sharp shock of static pass between them. Judging by the man’s intake of breath, he’d felt it too. Clearing his throat, Brody tried not to drop the hand he held as though it were a hot potato and raised an eyebrow in question. “And you are?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said I don’t remember,” Green-eyes replied in a tired voice. “I have no idea who I am.”

Like It? 

11/27/2011

Cyber Monday at Breathless Press

was 2.99 @ 60% off? only $1.20


was 2.99 @ 60% off? only $1.20


Cyber Monday Sale!

60% off

all titles at Breathless Press! 


enter code CyberMonday 


for your discount! 


Check out these titles now available! 


Loving Jacob  


  Giving Up  


      Telling the Truth  
and


Keeping House 


on my author page at 


Breathless Press

Be Yourself

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955