Sassy & Southern

Guest Randi Alexander has a New Release, Contest, and Book Giveaway!

Posted in General on April 9th, 2012 by Guest

Thank you, Casey. It’s a pleasure to be a guest on your blog. I’m Randi Alexander and I write cowboy erotic romance. I’m published with The Wild Rose Press’ Cowboy Kink line. My second Cowboy Kink, Her Cowboy Stud, was released March 23.

I love Casey’s tagline: Sexy, Sassy, and Southern. I had the pleasure of spending a weekend with Casey at the Silken Sands Writers’ Conference, and I have to say, she is definitely all three!

The weather that weekend was absolutely beautiful, and it was difficult to be sitting in the conference rooms when the beach was calling.

As an author, I have to admit, I like gloomy days. When it’s bright and sunny outside, my mind wanders. I want to be out in the garden, or taking a walk or a bike ride. It’s very hard to concentrate on what I need to get done.

When I write, I have to have complete focus to stay in the deep point of view of my characters. I can’t seem to do that when I’m daydreaming about chasing after the ice cream truck with the kids.

Here’s my sad secret: sometimes when I’m alone during the day, and I have a lot to get done, I close the blinds and draw the curtains. Isn’t that awful? I feel a bit guilty, (and kind of like a mole,) but sometimes it’s the only way I can get everything done in the short time I have to do it.

What are your tricks for accomplishing your tasks? I’d love to hear your secrets for staying focused and resisting temptation. Leave a comment for your chance to win my new anthology, Cowboy Bad Boys.

Here’s a Sexy, Sassy, and Southern book blurb and excerpt for you. I hope you enjoy them!

Trace McGonagall’s quiet life on his Houston stud ranch is shaken up when gorgeous Macy Veralta arrives to claim an inheritance left to her in his uncle’s will. Trace sees her as just another gold digger, but he also can’t resist her curvy body. When she hints at being the perfect submissive to his Dom, he has to have her.

Macy wouldn’t have been three months late to claim her inheritance if she’d known Trace was sin in jeans. The cowboy’s dominant bearing and the smoldering glint in his eyes send shivers to her toes and stirs images of being bound in his bed and disciplined at his hand. But could Trace’s perfect seduction be part of his plan to reclaim her inheritance?

EXCERPT:  Over 18 only, please.

Stepping into the bedroom, Trace watched Macy from behind as she set her folded clothes on a chair. His rod jerked as it filled and stretched. She was hot. Her curves as full and rich as the rolling hills of his land.

Ambling up to her, he pressed himself along her back, his cock nestling against the tempting slit of her ass.

She reached her arms over her head and locked her hands behind his neck. “Mmm hmm.” When she slowly circled her hips and ground her tight ass against his growing erection, he knew he had to have her again. Now.

“What are you doin’ to me?” he murmured in her ear, tracing the delicate shell with his lips. He forgot his growling stomach—he’d never been this hungry for a woman.

“I’m trying to seduce you.”

“It’s workin’.” He chuckled.

“I can tell,” she breathed as a shiver jittered her body.

He turned her, kissing her, his tongue plunging quickly, ramping up the tension between them. “I want you.” He narrowed his eyes and with his hands on her ass, he pulled her hips against his, her soft mound cradling his erection.

“I know what you need, Trace,” her voice rasped. “It’s the same with me. I want you hard and fast this time.” The naughty glint in her blue eyes charged like electricity through him, shooting wild, throbbing pulses down into his cock.

“I want to take you from behind.” He’d been craving this from the moment he saw her looking out over his land, her white pants snug on her perfect ass, her sexy calves bare, and her feet, delicate in those high heeled sandals. “I want your sweet ass pressed up against my hips, and I want to feel my balls slappin’ against your shaved mound.”

Her eyes closed as she cried, “Yes, please. I want you inside me. Fuck me from behind.”

He swatted her butt. “You can get naughty, can’t you.”

Her eyes glowed. “I can. How naughty can you get?” She smacked his ass twice as hard.

Did his little blushing lady hide a fetish? “You like to be spanked?” He rubbed his palm over her ass cheek.

She bit her lip and nodded. The color flooded back in her cheeks, and her eyes gleamed with expectation.

He spanked her once, the hard crack echoing in the room. “Too much?”

“Not enough.”

*********

To celebrate the release of Her Cowboy Stud, I’m giving away, to one lucky *commenter, an e-copy of my new erotic romance short story anthology, Cowboy Bad Boys. Just leave a comment today and we’ll choose a winner tomorrow. *Commenter must be 18 years of age or older to win.

I’m also giving away a custom-made messenger bag and a $50 gift certificate to Pureromance to one subscriber to my newsletter. For more details, and to sign up for this contest, please go to my website, RandiAlexander.com  And while you’re there, you can read the first chapter of Her Cowboy Stud.

Good luck, and thank you!

Randi

“Rode Hard and Put Up Satisfied”
RandiAlexander.com
WildAndWickedCowboysBlog
Her Cowboy Stud available at The Wild Rose Press Wilder Roses
Kindle version is available at Amazon.com

13 Comments

Happy Easter Hop ~ Italian Cooking with DWAM

Posted in General on April 5th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Welcome to the Happy Easter blog hop with The BLOGHOP Spot! We are celebrating my newest release, the f/m ballet inspired, Italy infused, and utterly Southern contemporary erotic DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE! I’m giving away an ebook copy of DWAM to a commenter. Bonus entries go to those who sign up for my newsletter. Also, it really helps me out if you’ll leave your email addy along with your comment.

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of the Manhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands the upcoming principal role. The stage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more than she ever expected.

Campbell is determined to stay focused on the audition that will push her into stardom, but the dazzling attorney she meets at a gala proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up being her professor in a college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herself on their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italy and turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also had to use his powerful influence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent was real or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

In DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, Campbell and Rod are foodies. They wine and dine at Jean Georges in New York City and two other fabulous places in Italy.  Amongst other things, they have manicotti, tiramisu, wine, and lots more wine. So to go along with this Italian food theme, I’m offering up my favorite pasta recipe. Hope you enjoy it!

Penne Pasta with Chicken in a Sun-dried Tomato Cream Sauce

INGREDIENTS:

3 shallots, peeled and chopped

1 teaspoon vegetable oil

8 ounces chicken breast, cooked, deboned, julienned

4 ounces sun-dried tomatoes, sliced

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 pound penne pasta, cooked

1 1/2 teaspoon butter  OR 2 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 tablespoons Parmesan cheese, grated

1 teaspoon fresh basil, julienned

DIRECTIONS:

Saute shallots in oil for 2 minutes or until soft. Add chicken and tomatoes and cook over moderate heat for 5 minutes. Add cream and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes. Add remaining ingredients and toss to combine. Serve immediately.

To do my personal super quick and just as delicious but healthier version: While pasta is boiling, pour two cans (drained) of shredded chicken into a pan, add a jar of minced sun dried tomatoes (1/3  to ½ drained of the olive oil), pour in ¾ to 1 pint of FAT FREE ½ and ½, add a few shakes of dried basil and more than a few shakes of dried parsley, plus a little salt. Drain pasta. Add sauce. Fold in ¾ bag of grated parmesan.  (I leave out the shallots and all the basil since I don’t really care for that, but that’s just me.)

*****

Now if that doesn’t wet your appetite, maybe this MAINSTREAM EXCERPT will:

“Thank you for attending the performance and for your generous donation to MBT.” His dark eyebrows shot up a notch, highlighting a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Why did they have to be the exact shade of turquoise as the Caribbean Ocean at sunset? Stunning.

“That’s well-rehearsed, Miss Layne. Tell me, though, do you turn on the Southern belle charm for all your fans or only the male ones?”

Her mouth fell open, but thank goodness she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How dare you? First of all, I’m from Alabama which makes the accent genuine, and secondly, that’s…that’s the rudest, most ungentlemanly thing to say.”

“I never said I was a gentleman and readily admit to be undeserving of your sweet façade. I’d much prefer the real you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “And precisely what, may I ask, do you assume to be the real me, seeing as our acquaintance has a life span of what? Thirty seconds?”

Rod glanced at an expensive-looking gold watch. “Forty-five.” He stepped closer.

She did not see that coming and stumbled back only to become trapped between the wall and his body. The hard, cold stone competed against his warm, harder presence. Damn it, the latter won out. She ground her traitorous fingertips into her palms in an effort to prevent them from brushing away the stray curl that fell across his forehead.

The hem of his jacket brushed her hip as he moved in to splay his hand over her waist. The pressure built as he gathered her an inch closer. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne. The clean, fresh scent permeated the air and reminded her of the Southern pines back home, but this was not the time to reminisce.

“In fact, I’d like to get to know every inch of you.” Another sharp tug had her chest pressed against his rock solid form.

Her blood boiled in a delicious rhythm. Obviously, the vibrator thing was getting old if this jerk was turning her on. She made a mental note to ask her best friend, Heidi, to set her up on a date. Any man would do—as long as it was not Rod.

She flexed her fingers and pushed against his shoulders. “Let go of me, you arrogant pig.” A lion, cougar, leopard—anything powerful—seemed a more apt description though.

Rod chuckled and loosened his hold. A fraction. Enough to insert his finger between them. It followed the line of fabric at her shoulder slowly, very slowly, across her chest. As he glided over her cleavage, he said, “But, my dear, you’re mistaken. It’s confidence I possess.”

“More like cockiness.” Even as she said it, Bella couldn’t take her gaze off his finger or steer her attention from the intense hunger  sweeping through her. She instinctively arched her back, lifting her breasts to silently beg for more.

“Either way, but I always get what I want, and in case you need me to spell it out”—he slid his finger up her throat to tilt her chin, forcing her to look at him—“I. Want. You.”

He uttered the words with such conviction, her breath hitched. No, stopped. She literally thought she might pass out. Swoon, like one of those Regency ladies she’d thought of a moment ago, only she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Feigning haughty sophistication was not in her repertoire, but there was a first time for everything. She raised a brow and allowed her gaze to wander his body as he’d done to her. The black tux cut a dashing figure, making her mouth water for a taste of what lay beneath. She imagined herself undoing each of the black buttons on his starched, white shirt. His bowtie was a little askew. She reached to straighten it, brushing against his neck. She heard his breathing deepen, sensed, rather than saw, the quickening of his jaw. She inwardly smiled and wiggled her toes in a victory dance, but those stupid, treacherous fingers battled back, wanting to still the muscle with a gentle caress. She balled her fists in reprimand, uncaring that her short nails dug into her palms.

When she reintroduced her eyes to his, she shot him what she hoped was a contemptuous glare. “Take your hand off me,” she said slowly and deliberately. She made a dramatic showing of enclosing her fingers, one at a time, around his wrist and tugged his finger away from her boobs.

Nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. He managed to do that trick when one eyebrow lifts higher than the other.

She sighed loudly and exceedingly unladylike. Then she pulled. Hard.

Finally, he broke contact by approximately six inches when twelve would have been much closer to the acceptable personal space limit. Too late to hide her puckered nipples, she still folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot in perfect tempo with her index finger. “An apology would be appropriate at this time.”

“Ah, but then I’d have to, in fact, be sorry.”

He said that? Seriously? She just stood there, gaping. It would’ve been so nice to find the words, any words to speak, but nope. A boa constrictor squeezed her throat.

“What? No response? I assume that negates the possibility of you actually wanting an apology.”

Again, robbed of speech. She felt like a fool, but her mind remained as blank as the sky on a cloudy night. So much for feigning haughty sophistication.

“Um…” Jackpot! At last. Okay, it wasn’t a three-point goal in the final seconds of the game, but her voice hit a few decibels nevertheless.

Rod’s deep chuckle reverberated throughout the alcove as he captured both of her shoulders. He laughed at her. Worse, he was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. A complete stranger. Well, not completely, she knew his name at least. Knowing the first name made it all right, didn’t it?

Lord, what am I thinking? She did not go around kissing strangers. Hell, she didn’t go around kissing people she knew. What would her mama think? She’d die of shame, that’s what.

But heaven knew she wanted to taste those beautiful, full lips. She purely ached to run her fingers through his wavy, chestnut hair and slide her hands inside his coat to see if his abs were as hard as she imagined they would be. She closed her eyes and barely swallowed the lump stuck in her throat before licking her lips, preparing for the inevitable.

*****

What’s your favorite Italian dish? I’d love to hear about it!

 

DWAM BUY NOW

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com

Follow on Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE EXCERPTS

DWAM coming March 20 from Siren Publishing

2011 Best LRC Contemporary CAN’T FAKE THIS buy Kindle version on Amazon and all versions at Loose, Id.

CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt

See the CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer

 

45 Comments

The Happy Birthday Bloghop

Posted in General on April 4th, 2012 by Casey Crow

 

Welcome to The Happy Birthday Bloghop with Carrie Ann Ryan. Thanks for stopping by. To celebrate, I’m giving away an ebook copy of my new f/m contemporary erotic DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE to a commenter. Bonus entries go to those you sign up for my newsletter.

 

Here’s a character interview with the heroine, Campbell Layne…

Hi Campbell, can you tell our readers a little about DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE?

Sure, but first let me say how glad I am to be here! DWAM is about this Southern belle and rising star of the Manhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands the upcoming principal role. Um, yeah, that’s me. I’m totally stressing about an audition that could change my life. All I want to do is stay focused on my career, and I’ll be dog-gone, that’s when Rod Carrington steps into the picture. OMG. The man is freakin’ gorgeous and a total ego-maniac. He simply will not go away, though, as proven when he volunteers to substitute this law school class I’m taking in my spare time. (I’m on the nerdy side, and this is how I like to spend my time – don’t judge). Anyway, against my better judgment, we go to dinner. Basically, I drink too much, embarrass the fool out of myself, and assume that’s the end of it. Oh no. Rod then whisks me off to his Italian villa and helps me become quite the vixen. (No complaining here.) I’m completely smitten until I find out he used his powerful influence to secure the lead role for me. Now I’ll never know if my talent was real or “bought” by the man I thought was the love of her life.

How did you get into ballet?

The story my folks tell is that when I was about two, we were all at my uncle’s horse pasture. (I’m from this tiny town in rural South Alabama.) When Mama wasn’t looking, I climbed up onto the fence and was standing on one of the rails. She knew then that with all that balance I’d either be a ballet dancer or a tight-rope walker. The next week, she enrolled me in dance class.

What’s your favorite part of dance?

Definitely, my most favorite part is getting lost in the music. It transports me into a world all my own, like I’m in this bubble where I feel nothing but the rhythm of the orchestra. Tchaikovsky is my favorite composer and takes me to that sphere like no other. Yes, there are others, composers who reveled in the uniqueness of their music or intricacies of the composition, but no one does it for me like the great Russian magician. His sound is immediately recognizable, too. The peppy theme of The Nutcracker would put the grumpiest of Scrooges in the Christmas spirit. Sleeping Beauty’s “Waltz of the Flowers” causes me to sway in serenity while Swan Lake’s “Dying Swan” exhausts me with grief.

 Rod wine and dines at some pretty fantasy restaurants then you turn the tables and cook him a home-cooked meal. Tell us about that. 

Our first date is at Jean Georges in New York City. I have sea bass and Rod has beef Wellington. Delish! When we are Italy, I think I gain ten pounds from the manicotti, tiramisu, and gelato. Mama taught me how to cook so I finally show off my culinary skills with fried chicken, cornbread, collard greens, grits, mash potatoes, and a carrot casserole. Plus, I bake an apple pie. Rod, I’m proud to say, loved it. In fact, here is my jalapeno grits recipe (as if the book isn’t hot enough):

Jalapeno Cheese Grits

2 cups quick-cooking grits

2 1/2 cups grated extra-sharp Cheddar

1 stick unsalted butter

1 tablespoon hot sauce (recommended: Tabasco)

3 large eggs, well beaten

2 jalapenos, finely diced

1/4 cup canned chopped green chiles

Garlic salt

Directions:    Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Cook the grits according to the directions on the back of the package. Remove from the heat and add next 6 ingredients (Cheddar through chilies). Stir well and season with garlic salt, to taste. Pour into a buttered 9-inch baking dish and bake for 1 hour. Let cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Tell us about your trip to Italy.

Rod, bless his heart, whisks me off on his private jet to the resort town of Bellagio, Italy, on Lake Como. The Swiss Alp Mountains, the lake, all the yellow and cream stucco buildings with orange terracotta tile roofs, and the cobblestone paths were incredible to see. Rod’s home turns out to be a mansion he’s renovating. I love it because it is warm and welcoming and “him.” Bellagio is known for upscale boutiques, antiques, and art galleries. As great as the shopping was, I have to admit, the best part was seeing how the relaxation Italy offered created this new side of Rod I’d yet to see.

 Finally, how about giving us a sneak peek at DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE?

“Thank you for attending the performance and for your generous donation to MBT.” His dark eyebrows shot up a notch, highlighting a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Why did they have to be the exact shade of turquoise as the Caribbean Ocean at sunset? Stunning.

“That’s well-rehearsed, Miss Layne. Tell me, though, do you turn on the Southern belle charm for all your fans or only the male ones?”

Her mouth fell open, but thank goodness she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How dare you? First of all, I’m from Alabama which makes the accent genuine, and secondly, that’s…that’s the rudest, most ungentlemanly thing to say.”

“I never said I was a gentleman and readily admit to be undeserving of your sweet façade. I’d much prefer the real you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “And precisely what, may I ask, do you assume to be the real me, seeing as our acquaintance has a life span of what? Thirty seconds?”

Rod glanced at an expensive-looking gold watch. “Forty-five.” He stepped closer.

She did not see that coming and stumbled back only to become trapped between the wall and his body. The hard, cold stone competed against his warm, harder presence. Damn it, the latter won out. She ground her traitorous fingertips into her palms in an effort to prevent them from brushing away the stray curl that fell across his forehead.

The hem of his jacket brushed her hip as he moved in to splay his hand over her waist. The pressure built as he gathered her an inch closer. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne. The clean, fresh scent permeated the air and reminded her of the Southern pines back home, but this was not the time to reminisce.

“In fact, I’d like to get to know every inch of you.” Another sharp tug had her chest pressed against his rock solid form.

Her blood boiled in a delicious rhythm. Obviously, the vibrator thing was getting old if this jerk was turning her on. She made a mental note to ask her best friend, Heidi, to set her up on a date. Any man would do—as long as it was not Rod.

She flexed her fingers and pushed against his shoulders. “Let go of me, you arrogant pig.” A lion, cougar, leopard—anything powerful—seemed a more apt description though.

Rod chuckled and loosened his hold. A fraction. Enough to insert his finger between them. It followed the line of fabric at her shoulder slowly, very slowly, across her chest. As he glided over her cleavage, he said, “But, my dear, you’re mistaken. It’s confidence I possess.”

“More like cockiness.” Even as she said it, Bella couldn’t take her gaze off his finger or steer her attention from the intense hunger  sweeping through her. She instinctively arched her back, lifting her breasts to silently beg for more.

“Either way, but I always get what I want, and in case you need me to spell it out”—he slid his finger up her throat to tilt her chin, forcing her to look at him—“I. Want. You.”

He uttered the words with such conviction, her breath hitched. No, stopped. She literally thought she might pass out. Swoon, like one of those Regency ladies she’d thought of a moment ago, only she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Feigning haughty sophistication was not in her repertoire, but there was a first time for everything. She raised a brow and allowed her gaze to wander his body as he’d done to her. The black tux cut a dashing figure, making her mouth water for a taste of what lay beneath. She imagined herself undoing each of the black buttons on his starched, white shirt. His bowtie was a little askew. She reached to straighten it, brushing against his neck. She heard his breathing deepen, sensed, rather than saw, the quickening of his jaw. She inwardly smiled and wiggled her toes in a victory dance, but those stupid, treacherous fingers battled back, wanting to still the muscle with a gentle caress. She balled her fists in reprimand, uncaring that her short nails dug into her palms.

When she reintroduced her eyes to his, she shot him what she hoped was a contemptuous glare. “Take your hand off me,” she said slowly and deliberately. She made a dramatic showing of enclosing her fingers, one at a time, around his wrist and tugged his finger away from her boobs.

Nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. He managed to do that trick when one eyebrow lifts higher than the other.

She sighed loudly and exceedingly unladylike. Then she pulled. Hard.

Finally, he broke contact by approximately six inches when twelve would have been much closer to the acceptable personal space limit. Too late to hide her puckered nipples, she still folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot in perfect tempo with her index finger. “An apology would be appropriate at this time.”

“Ah, but then I’d have to, in fact, be sorry.”

He said that? Seriously? She just stood there, gaping. It would’ve been so nice to find the words, any words to speak, but nope. A boa constrictor squeezed her throat.

“What? No response? I assume that negates the possibility of you actually wanting an apology.”

Again, robbed of speech. She felt like a fool, but her mind remained as blank as the sky on a cloudy night. So much for feigning haughty sophistication.

“Um…” Jackpot! At last. Okay, it wasn’t a three-point goal in the final seconds of the game, but her voice hit a few decibels nevertheless.

Rod’s deep chuckle reverberated throughout the alcove as he captured both of her shoulders. He laughed at her. Worse, he was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. A complete stranger. Well, not completely, she knew his name at least. Knowing the first name made it all right, didn’t it?

Lord, what am I thinking? She did not go around kissing strangers. Hell, she didn’t go around kissing people she knew. What would her mama think? She’d die of shame, that’s what.

But heaven knew she wanted to taste those beautiful, full lips. She purely ached to run her fingers through his wavy, chestnut hair and slide her hands inside his coat to see if his abs were as hard as she imagined they would be. She closed her eyes and barely swallowed the lump stuck in her throat before licking her lips, preparing for the inevitable.

 

Any thoughts? Got a good Southern dish you like? Ever  been to Italy? What’s your favorite style of dance? I’d love to hear from you!

www.caseycrow.com

DWAM BUY NOW

Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE EXCERPTS

2011 LRC Best Contemporary CAN’T FAKE THIS buy Kindle version on Amazon and all versions at Loose, Id.

CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt

See the CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer

 

 

 

34 Comments

Drinking & Winning Blog Hop

Posted in General on March 23rd, 2012 by Casey Crow

Welcome to the Drinking and Winning Blog Hop with Reading Romances! Thank you for helping me celebrate the release of DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE. I’m giving away an ebook copy (INT prize) to a lucky commenter. Anyone who signs up for my newsletter gets a bonus entry.

 

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of the Manhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands the upcoming principal role. The stage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more than she ever expected.

Campbell is determined to stay focused on the audition that will push her into stardom, but the dazzling attorney she meets at a gala proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up being her professor in a college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herself on their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italy and turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also had to use his powerful influence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent was real or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

In DWAM, they spend a lot of time in wining and dining at some of the best restaurants in New York City and Italy ~ drinking cappuccino with Bailey’s, wine, more wine, and grappa.  What’s grappa? It’s what I’m serving with DWAM. It’s an Italian brandy, an after dinner (or after sex) drink made from distilling the skins, pulp, seeds, and stems (i.e. the pomace) left over from pressing the grapes in winemaking.  It was originally made to prevent waste by using these leftovers. Some folks say it taste like grapes, but I’ve had it, and it taste lemony to me. REALLY strong alchoholic lemonade. Like, cough up a lung if you take too big of a sip strong.

In DWAM, Rod gets a little tipsy off grappa, but he gets absolutely drunk off Campbell as he brings out the vixen from within her.  Here’s a mainstream excerpt of when they first meet.

 

“Thank you for attending the performance and for your generous donation to MBT.” His dark eyebrows shot up a notch, highlighting a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Why did they have to be the exact shade of turquoise as the Caribbean Ocean at sunset? Stunning.

“That’s well-rehearsed, Miss Layne. Tell me, though, do you turn on the Southern belle charm for all your fans or only the male ones?”

Her mouth fell open, but thank goodness she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How dare you? First of all, I’m from Alabama which makes the accent genuine, and secondly, that’s…that’s the rudest, most ungentlemanly thing to say.”

“I never said I was a gentleman and readily admit to be undeserving of your sweet façade. I’d much prefer the real you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “And precisely what, may I ask, do you assume to be the real me, seeing as our acquaintance has a life span of what? Thirty seconds?”

Rod glanced at an expensive-looking gold watch. “Forty-five.” He stepped closer.

She did not see that coming and stumbled back only to become trapped between the wall and his body. The hard, cold stone competed against his warm, harder presence. Damn it, the latter won out. She ground her traitorous fingertips into her palms in an effort to prevent them from brushing away the stray curl that fell across his forehead.

The hem of his jacket brushed her hip as he moved in to splay his hand over her waist. The pressure built as he gathered her an inch closer. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne. The clean, fresh scent permeated the air and reminded her of the Southern pines back home, but this was not the time to reminisce.

“In fact, I’d like to get to know every inch of you.” Another sharp tug had her chest pressed against his rock solid form.

Her blood boiled in a delicious rhythm. Obviously, the vibrator thing was getting old if this jerk was turning her on. She made a mental note to ask her best friend, Heidi, to set her up on a date. Any man would do—as long as it was not Rod.

She flexed her fingers and pushed against his shoulders. “Let go of me, you arrogant pig.” A lion, cougar, leopard—anything powerful—seemed a more apt description though.

Rod chuckled and loosened his hold. A fraction. Enough to insert his finger between them. It followed the line of fabric at her shoulder slowly, very slowly, across her chest. As he glided over her cleavage, he said, “But, my dear, you’re mistaken. It’s confidence I possess.”

“More like cockiness.” Even as she said it, Bella couldn’t take her gaze off his finger or steer her attention from the intense hunger  sweeping through her. She instinctively arched her back, lifting her breasts to silently beg for more.

“Either way, but I always get what I want, and in case you need me to spell it out”—he slid his finger up her throat to tilt her chin, forcing her to look at him—“I. Want. You.”

He uttered the words with such conviction, her breath hitched. No, stopped. She literally thought she might pass out. Swoon, like one of those Regency ladies she’d thought of a moment ago, only she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Feigning haughty sophistication was not in her repertoire, but there was a first time for everything. She raised a brow and allowed her gaze to wander his body as he’d done to her. The black tux cut a dashing figure, making her mouth water for a taste of what lay beneath. She imagined herself undoing each of the black buttons on his starched, white shirt. His bowtie was a little askew. She reached to straighten it, brushing against his neck. She heard his breathing deepen, sensed, rather than saw, the quickening of his jaw. She inwardly smiled and wiggled her toes in a victory dance, but those stupid, treacherous fingers battled back, wanting to still the muscle with a gentle caress. She balled her fists in reprimand, uncaring that her short nails dug into her palms.

When she reintroduced her eyes to his, she shot him what she hoped was a contemptuous glare. “Take your hand off me,” she said slowly and deliberately. She made a dramatic showing of enclosing her fingers, one at a time, around his wrist and tugged his finger away from her boobs.

Nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. He managed to do that trick when one eyebrow lifts higher than the other.

She sighed loudly and exceedingly unladylike. Then she pulled. Hard.

Finally, he broke contact by approximately six inches when twelve would have been much closer to the acceptable personal space limit. Too late to hide her puckered nipples, she still folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot in perfect tempo with her index finger. “An apology would be appropriate at this time.”

“Ah, but then I’d have to, in fact, be sorry.”

He said that? Seriously? She just stood there, gaping. It would’ve been so nice to find the words, any words to speak, but nope. A boa constrictor squeezed her throat.

“What? No response? I assume that negates the possibility of you actually wanting an apology.”

Again, robbed of speech. She felt like a fool, but her mind remained as blank as the sky on a cloudy night. So much for feigning haughty sophistication.

“Um…” Jackpot! At last. Okay, it wasn’t a three-point goal in the final seconds of the game, but her voice hit a few decibels nevertheless.

Rod’s deep chuckle reverberated throughout the alcove as he captured both of her shoulders. He laughed at her. Worse, he was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. A complete stranger. Well, not completely, she knew his name at least. Knowing the first name made it all right, didn’t it?

Lord, what am I thinking? She did not go around kissing strangers. Hell, she didn’t go around kissing people she knew. What would her mama think? She’d die of shame, that’s what.

But heaven knew she wanted to taste those beautiful, full lips. She purely ached to run her fingers through his wavy, chestnut hair and slide her hands inside his coat to see if his abs were as hard as she imagined they would be. She closed her eyes and barely swallowed the lump stuck in her throat before licking her lips, preparing for the inevitable.

 

What’s your favorite drink? I have to confess I tend to order the same ol’ things so I would really love to hear your suggestions on what I should try next!

DWAM BUY NOW

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com

Follow on Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE EXCERPTS

DWAM coming March 20 from Siren Publishing

CAN’T FAKE THIS buy Kindle version on Amazon and all versions at Loose, Id.

CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt

See the CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer

20 Comments

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE Release Party

Posted in General on March 19th, 2012 by Casey Crow

It’s here! My ballet inspired, Italy infused, f/m erotic Dance with a Millionaire! To celebrate I’m giving away a mini MP3 player plus a copy of DWAM to a lucky commenter. The contest will run till March 24th, midnight.

I love this story, mostly because I’m also a ballet dancer. Plus, this was the first manuscript I ever wrote. I literally had a dream, and the next morning I woke up and typed everything I could remember. Thus was my foray into the world of writing romance. Talk about a dream come true!

 

Um, yeah, that’s me above. Just thought I’d show off my ballet skills like Campbell. She’s a super duper cook, too. One of my favorite scenes is when Campbell cooks a downhome country supper complete with collards, cornbread, grits, fried chicken, and apple pie.

So what skills do you have? I’d love to hear abou them!

Here’s a little teaser for you as well!

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of the Manhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands an upcoming principal role. The stage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more than she ever expected!

Determined as she is to stay focused on the audition that will push her into stardom, dazzling attorney Rod Carrington still proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up teaching the college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herself on their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italy and turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also had to use his powerful influence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent was real or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

MAINSTREAM EXCERPT:

“Thank you for attending the performance and for your generous donation to MBT.” His dark eyebrows shot up a notch, highlighting a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Why did they have to be the exact shade of turquoise as the Caribbean Ocean at sunset? Stunning.

“That’s well-rehearsed, Miss Layne. Tell me, though, do you turn on the Southern belle charm for all your fans or only the male ones?”

Her mouth fell open, but thank goodness she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How dare you? First of all, I’m from Alabama which makes the accent genuine, and secondly, that’s…that’s the rudest, most ungentlemanly thing to say.”

“I never said I was a gentleman and readily admit to be undeserving of your sweet façade. I’d much prefer the real you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “And precisely what, may I ask, do you assume to be the real me, seeing as our acquaintance has a life span of what? Thirty seconds?”

Rod glanced at an expensive-looking gold watch. “Forty-five.” He stepped closer.

She did not see that coming and stumbled back only to become trapped between the wall and his body. The hard, cold stone competed against his warm, harder presence. Damn it, the latter won out. She ground her traitorous fingertips into her palms in an effort to prevent them from brushing away the stray curl that fell across his forehead.

The hem of his jacket brushed her hip as he moved in to splay his hand over her waist. The pressure built as he gathered her an inch closer. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne. The clean, fresh scent permeated the air and reminded her of the Southern pines back home, but this was not the time to reminisce.

“In fact, I’d like to get to know every inch of you.” Another sharp tug had her chest pressed against his rock solid form.

Her blood boiled in a delicious rhythm. Obviously, the vibrator thing was getting old if this jerk was turning her on. She made a mental note to ask her best friend, Heidi, to set her up on a date. Any man would do—as long as it was not Rod.

She flexed her fingers and pushed against his shoulders. “Let go of me, you arrogant pig.” A lion, cougar, leopard—anything powerful—seemed a more apt description though.

Rod chuckled and loosened his hold. A fraction. Enough to insert his finger between them. It followed the line of fabric at her shoulder slowly, very slowly, across her chest. As he glided over her cleavage, he said, “But, my dear, you’re mistaken. It’s confidence I possess.”

“More like cockiness.” Even as she said it, Bella couldn’t take her gaze off his finger or steer her attention from the intense hunger  sweeping through her. She instinctively arched her back, lifting her breasts to silently beg for more.

“Either way, but I always get what I want, and in case you need me to spell it out”—he slid his finger up her throat to tilt her chin, forcing her to look at him—“I. Want. You.”

He uttered the words with such conviction, her breath hitched. No, stopped. She literally thought she might pass out. Swoon, like one of those Regency ladies she’d thought of a moment ago, only she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Feigning haughty sophistication was not in her repertoire, but there was a first time for everything. She raised a brow and allowed her gaze to wander his body as he’d done to her. The black tux cut a dashing figure, making her mouth water for a taste of what lay beneath. She imagined herself undoing each of the black buttons on his starched, white shirt. His bowtie was a little askew. She reached to straighten it, brushing against his neck. She heard his breathing deepen, sensed, rather than saw, the quickening of his jaw. She inwardly smiled and wiggled her toes in a victory dance, but those stupid, treacherous fingers battled back, wanting to still the muscle with a gentle caress. She balled her fists in reprimand, uncaring that her short nails dug into her palms.

When she reintroduced her eyes to his, she shot him what she hoped was a contemptuous glare. “Take your hand off me,” she said slowly and deliberately. She made a dramatic showing of enclosing her fingers, one at a time, around his wrist and tugged his finger away from her boobs.

Nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. He managed to do that trick when one eyebrow lifts higher than the other.

She sighed loudly and exceedingly unladylike. Then she pulled. Hard.

Finally, he broke contact by approximately six inches when twelve would have been much closer to the acceptable personal space limit. Too late to hide her puckered nipples, she still folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot in perfect tempo with her index finger. “An apology would be appropriate at this time.”

“Ah, but then I’d have to, in fact, be sorry.”

He said that? Seriously? She just stood there, gaping. It would’ve been so nice to find the words, any words to speak, but nope. A boa constrictor squeezed her throat.

“What? No response? I assume that negates the possibility of you actually wanting an apology.”

Again, robbed of speech. She felt like a fool, but her mind remained as blank as the sky on a cloudy night. So much for feigning haughty sophistication.

“Um…” Jackpot! At last. Okay, it wasn’t a three-point goal in the final seconds of the game, but her voice hit a few decibels nevertheless.

Rod’s deep chuckle reverberated throughout the alcove as he captured both of her shoulders. He laughed at her. Worse, he was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. A complete stranger. Well, not completely, she knew his name at least. Knowing the first name made it all right, didn’t it?

Lord, what am I thinking? She did not go around kissing strangers. Hell, she didn’t go around kissing people she knew. What would her mama think? She’d die of shame, that’s what.

But heaven knew she wanted to taste those beautiful, full lips. She purely ached to run her fingers through his wavy, chestnut hair and slide her hands inside his coat to see if his abs were as hard as she imagined they would be. She closed her eyes and barely swallowed the lump stuck in her throat before licking her lips, preparing for the inevitable.

*****

Dance with a Millionaire BUY  NOW

Can’t Fake This BUY NOW

20 Comments

Spring into Books Blog Hop

Posted in General on March 19th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Welcome to the Spring into Books Blog Hop, hosted by eReadingonthecheap.com  & www.beckvalleybooks.blogspot.com. Thanks for joining me to celebrate the release of DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE.  I’m giving away an ebook copy of DWAM to a lucky commenter and anyone that signs up for my newsletter will get a bonus entry. Please include your email addy with the comment.

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of the Manhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands an upcoming principal role. The stage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more than she ever expected!

Determined as she is to stay focused on the audition that will push her into stardom, dazzling attorney Rod Carrington still proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up teaching the college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herself on their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italy and turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also had to use his powerful influence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent was real or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

*****

As I was editing this story, I noticed Rod and Campbell turn out to be sort of foodies. Rod wines and dines her not only in New York City, but also in Italy. In return, Campbell cooks a downhome Southern supper for him. So what’s your favorite dish? Feel free to share a recipe!

Don’t forget on the Release Party post, I’m giving away another copy of DWAM along with a mini MP3 player so be sure and check it out. I hope you’ll sign up for my newsletter to stay up-to-date on all things “Sexy, Sassy & Southern”!

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE – BUY NOW

CAN’T FAKE THIS – BUY NOW

 

22 Comments

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE Blog Tour Kicks off NOW!

Posted in General on March 19th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Tomorrow is the release date of DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, but the blog tour kicks off today at KT Bishop’s site. I love his football romances!

Join me HERE tomorrow for the DWAM Release party where I’m giving away a mini MP3 player!

 

 

 

Leave a Comment

Small Press Treasures Blog Hop ~ Celebrating the Release of Dance with a Millionaire

Posted in General on March 16th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Hey y’all!  Thanks for joining me at the Small Press Treasures blog hop! We are celebrating the Tuesdy release of DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE from Siren Publishing so mark your calendars for the March 20 because I’m giving away a mini MP3 player that day! Even better, I’m giving away an Advanced Reader’s Copy NOW to a lucky commenter! Anyone who signs up for my newsletters gets bonus entry!

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of theManhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands the upcoming principal role. Thestage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more thanshe ever expected.

Determined as she is to stay focused on the audition that will push her into stardom, dazzling attorney still proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up teaching the college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herselfon their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italyand turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also had to use his powerfulinfluence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent wasreal or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

Dance with a Millionaire Mainstream Excerpt

“Thank you for attending the performance and for your generous donation to MBT.”

His dark eyebrows shot up a notch, highlighting a definite mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Why did they have to be the exact shade of turquoise as the Caribbean Ocean at sunset? Stunning.

“That’s well-rehearsed, Miss Layne. Tell me, though, do you turn on the Southern belle charm for all your fans or only the male ones?”

Her mouth fell open, but thank goodness she had the presence of mind to snap it shut. “How dare you? First of all, I’m from Alabama which makes the accent genuine, and secondly, that’s…that’s the rudest, most ungentlemanly thing to say.”

“I never said I was a gentleman and readily admit to be undeserving of your sweet façade. I’d much prefer the real you.”

She propped her hands on her hips. “And precisely what, may I ask, do you assume to be the real me, seeing as our acquaintance has a life span of what? Thirty seconds?”

Rod glanced at an expensive-looking gold watch. “Forty-five.” He stepped closer.

She did not see that coming and stumbled back only to become trapped between the wall and his body. The hard, cold stone competed against his warm, harder presence. Damn it, the latter won out. She ground her traitorous fingertips into her palms in an effort to prevent them from brushing away the stray curl that fell across his forehead. The hem of his jacket brushed her hip as he moved in to splay his hand over her waist. The pressure built as he gathered her an inch closer. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne. The clean, fresh scent permeated the air and reminded her of the Southern pines back home, but this was not the time to reminisce.

“In fact, I’d like to get to know every inch of you.” Another sharp tug had her chest pressed against his rock solid form.

Her blood boiled in a delicious rhythm. Obviously, the vibrator thing was getting old if this jerk was turning her on. She made a mental note to ask her best friend, Heidi, to set her up on a date. Any man would do—as long as it was not Rod. She flexed her fingers and pushed against his shoulders.

“Let go of me, you arrogant pig.” A lion, cougar, leopard—anything powerful—seemed a more apt description though.

Rod chuckled and loosened his hold. A fraction. Enough to insert his finger between them. It followed the line of fabric at her shoulder slowly, very slowly, across her chest. As he glided over her cleavage, he said, “But, my dear, you’re mistaken. It’s confidence I possess.”

“More like cockiness.” Even as she said it, Bella couldn’t take her gaze off his finger or steer her attention from the intense hunger sweeping through her. She instinctively arched her back, lifting her breasts to silently beg for more.

“Either way, but I always get what I want, and in case you need me to spell it out”—he slid his finger up her throat to tilt her chin, forcing her to look at him—“I. Want. You.”

He uttered the words with such conviction, her breath hitched. No, stopped. She literally thought she might pass out. Swoon, like one of those Regency ladies she’d thought of a moment ago, only she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Feigning haughty sophistication was not in her repertoire, but there was a first time for everything. She raised a brow and allowed her gaze to wander his body as he’d done to her. The black tux cut a dashing figure, making her mouth water for a taste of what lay beneath. She imagined herself undoing each of the black buttons on his starched, white shirt. His bowtie was a little askew. She reached to straighten it, brushing against his neck. She heard his breathing deepen, sensed, rather than saw, the quickening of his jaw. She inwardly smiled and wiggled her toes in a victory dance, but those stupid, treacherous fingers battled back, wanting to still the muscle with a gentle caress. She balled her fists in reprimand, uncaring that her short nails dug into her palms.

When she reintroduced her eyes to his, she shot him what she hoped was a contemptuous glare. “Take your hand off me,” she said slowly and deliberately. She made a dramatic showing of enclosing her fingers, one at a time, around his wrist and tugged his finger away from her boobs.

Nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. He managed to do that trick when one eyebrow lifts higher than the other.

She sighed loudly and exceedingly unladylike. Then she pulled. Hard.

Finally, he broke contact by approximately six inches when twelve would have been much closer to the acceptable personal space limit. Too late to hide her puckered nipples, she still folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot in perfect tempo with her index finger. “An apology would be appropriate at this time.”

“Ah, but then I’d have to, in fact, be sorry.”

He said that? Seriously? She just stood there, gaping. It would’ve been so nice to find the words, any words to speak, but nope. A boa constrictor squeezed her throat.

“What? No response? I assume that negates the possibility of you actually wanting an apology.”

Again, robbed of speech. She felt like a fool, but her mind remained as blank as the sky on a cloudy night. So much for feigning haughty sophistication.

“Um…” Jackpot! At last. Okay, it wasn’t a three-point goal in the final seconds of the game, but her voice hit a few decibels nevertheless.

Rod’s deep chuckle reverberated throughout the alcove as he captured both of her shoulders. He laughed at her. Worse, he was going to kiss her. She knew it. Right here, right now. In front of everyone. A complete stranger. Well, not completely, she knew his name at least. Knowing the first name made it all right, didn’t it?

Lord, what am I thinking? She did not go around kissing strangers. Hell, she didn’t go around kissing people she knew. What would her mama think? She’d die of shame, that’s what.

But heaven knew she wanted to taste those beautiful, full lips. She purely ached to run her fingers through his wavy, chestnut hair and slide her hands inside his coat to see if his abs were as hard as she imagined they would be. She closed her eyes and barely swallowed the lump stuck in her throat before licking her lips, preparing for the inevitable.

****

Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win an ebook copy of DWAM. Those who sign up for my newsletter receive a bonus entry.

Also – be sure to check back here on March 20 for the release party. I’m giving away a mini MP3 player!

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com

Follow on Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE EXCERPTS

DWAM coming March 20 from Siren Publishing

CAN’T FAKE THIS 2011 Best Contemporary – Love Romances Cafe, JERR Gold Star, 2011 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Finalist

Buy Kindle version on Amazon and all versions at Loose, Id.

CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt

See the CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer

18 Comments

Favorite Literary Characters

Posted in General on March 13th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Guess where I’m going this weekend? To the beach! Yep, I’m attending the Gulf Coast Chapter of Romance Writers of America Silken Sands Writer’s Conference on Pensacola Beach! The white sand is gorgeous and the water crystal clear. Jealous?

Well, that’s not the best part. Okay, maybe it is, but Silken Sands definitely has a few other things going for it, too. For starters, I’m presenting a PITCH PERFECT workshop. LOL Don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you with those details. It’s more fun to talk about the party they are throwing! We get to dress as our favorite literary character! How cool is that?

I’m wearing my “hooker” outfit which is basically a skimpy black strapless mini dress similiar to the one Anna Ryan wore in my debut CAN’T FAKE THIS. We can actually dress as any character from any book, not just our own, but I’m cheap and since I already have the dress, I’m wearing it. Plus, I really do like Anna. She’s a fiesty little thing.

I was thinking though, what other characters I’d might like to dress up as. Scarlett O’Hara? Well, duh, that one goes without saying. I’m pretty partial to Stephanie Lauren’s Regency England dutchess in her Devil Cynster novel.  The list really does get pretty endless when you think about it!

What would be your choice of favorite literary characters? What is it about that character that sets them apart? For me, it’s the strengh of a strong female I remember most.

 

Just to let you know – DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE is coming March 20th!!! Be sure to check back then for the release party. I’m giving away a mini MP3 player!

 

3 Comments

Feelin’ Lucky Blog Hop with DWAM Adult Excerpt

Posted in General on March 6th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Hey y’all!  Thanks for joining me at the Feelin’ Lucky blog hop  hosted by I Smell Sheep and Fictional Candy. We are celebrating DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE from Siren Publishing so mark your calendars for the March 20 release date! I’m also giving away an ebook copy of DWAM to a lucky commenter! Anyone who signs up for my newsletters gets bonus entry!

Southern belle Campbell Layne is the rising star of theManhattan Ballet Theatre, providing she lands the upcoming principal role. Thestage heats up, however, when Rod Carrington steps in and teaches her more thanshe ever expected.

Determined as she is to stay focused on the audition thatwill push her into stardom, dazzling attorney still proves to be a major distraction especially when he ends up teaching the college class she’s taking in her spare time. Campbell humiliates herselfon their first date, but that doesn’t stop Rod from whisking her off to Italyand turning her into quite the vixen. Too bad he also had to use his powerfulinfluence to secure the lead for her. Now she’ll never know if her talent wasreal or “bought” by the man she thought was the love of her life.

 

ADULT X-RATED EXCERPT

For a second, the world stopped and as he pressed her chest into hers. His woodsy scent blended with the lemony smell of his starched shirt. She heard him inhale deeply, and the loneliness over the past few weeks faded away. She spread her fingers wide and slid them into the softness of his hair before gliding down to knead the muscles of his upper back.

“You’re tense.”

“I’m sexually frustrated.” His mouth found her earlobe. The metal on her earrings clanked against his teeth.

She let out a low chuckle. “Me too.”

“You smell like lavender and vanilla and taste cinnamony and sweet.”

“Then eat me up.”

“I intend to.” His palm slipped to her breast, giving it a firm squeeze before rubbing her nipple through her coat.

“Hmm,” she moaned as her head fell back, and she arched into his hand.

Rod granted her silent request, tugging at the knot at her waist and pushing the coat off her shoulders. His eyebrows shot up at seeing her unclothed. A large grin stretched across his beautiful mouth.  “Come to my office and sit on my lap anytime.” He bent to lick a nipple.

She dug her nails into his back. “Yes, darlin’.”

“Patience, princess.” His tongue twirled around her areola as he squeezed her other breast. Switching his lips to it, he sucked the entire thing into this hot mouth.

His cock rubbed against her inner thigh, teasing her pussy with its nearness. Her juices dripped in anticipation.  “More,” she said, hoping to hurry him up.

He groaned his approval and slid his fingers to her pussy, parting the folds, and rolling her clit back and forth with the tip of his finger. Sensations exploded, shattering her composure into a million pieces then melting them into a warm, liquid pool of satisfaction that heated her skin. She moaned so loudly he raised a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Her response was to take it into her mouth and suck. She’d never felt such abandonment, such freedom at acting like a—what was the word? Siren. Yes, Campbell had discovered a side of herself she’d never known existed. A frantic need rose inside her. It wanted to please him, to show she was as wild and as sexy as his other women.

Her fingers worked in desperate movements to loosen his tie and undo his buttons. She pulled the shirt from his pants, spread the material, and dipped her head to taste his nipples. When she began to unbuckle his belt, he stilled her.

“Tell me you’re kidding.”

“It’s my turn, you seductive minx.” He reached behind her and sent papers flying. Circling his hands around her hips, he lifted her onto the desk.

Raising her foot to his chest, she lightly speared him in the heart with her stiletto. He grabbed her ankle and deposited her foot on the arm of his leather chair. He did the same with her other leg then running his hands from her calves to her knees, he pushed her legs wide.

And feasted.

“Rod!” she gasped when his tongue made one long lick up her slit.

“Trust me, baby. You’ll love it.” He spread her folds with his fingers as his tongue streaked over her nub. “Hmm. Always wondered what a girl raised on southern sunshine would taste like.”

“Oh God, yes!”

He made a hushing sound.

“I can’t help it,” she whimpered. Asking her to be quiet was like telling her to go catch some minnows by hand.

His tongue lapped and brushed her sensitive spot, sending her into a spiraling need. She grabbed a handful of his hair, pressing his face harder into her pussy. He slipped his tongue into her hole. Her head spun, but he gave her no mercy as he pulled out to suck a pussy lip.

He tugged, gently scraping his teeth over it then and making a smacking sound as he released it. “So long,” he mumbled before pulling the other into his mouth, repeating the exquisite procedure.

Rod slipped his thumb into her hole, rotating his wrist as he pumped her. His tongue returned to her clit, jiggling it back and forth. Her legs quivered and threatened to slip off the chair. She draped them over his shoulders. He stuck a hand under her ass and lifted her hips off the desk. Campbell crossed her ankles, trapping him between her legs and girating her hips as fulfillment closed in.

“Please, darlin’. Make me c-come.”

He sucked like nobody’s business and swallowed her passion as she came fast. Rod reached to cover her mouth with his hand as she screamed and shuddered violently. He continued to lap up her juices.

Holy fuck.

As her contractions slowed, he stood, causing her legs to straighten against the length of his body. He got his pants off enough for his cock to spring free.  Positioning the head at her entrance, he plunged deep.

She watched him bite his lip. “Not so easy to keep quiet, is it?”

He snorted and closed his eyes, seemingly lost in pleasure. She knew the feeling. Well.

Grabbing the edge of the desk for leverage, she used it to help her buck against his powerful strokes. He held her hips, pulling her closer with every thrust, bringing her once again to climax. She stifled a scream, biting into her forearm as sparks shattered before her eyes. Tremors shook her repeatedly, but he pounded faster, faster until he exploded, spilling is seed into her.

Rod collapsed back onto the chair, hauling her with him. They remained joined as he kissed her.  The rise and fall of their chests from their heavy breathing seemed in sharp contrast to the slow easiness of the kiss. She tasted her essence on his lips.

“Damn.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Baby, I’m telling you straight up that’s the best I’ve ever had.”

“Well, glad to be of service.” She patted his cheek. “Now get back to work.”

******

So Campbell took a cue from her love of classic movies and dressed in trench coat and heels before going to Rod’s office. What’s your favorite classic movie? I’m going with CASABLANCA – not because it’s one of the obvious choices for romance junkies, but I love the intensity of Bogart, especially when he looks at Bergman.

Don’t forget to leave a comment for a chance to win an ebook copy of DWAM. Those who sign up for my newsletter receive a bonus entry.

Also – be sure to check back here on March 20 for the release party. I’m giving away a mini MP3 player!

 

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com

Follow on Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE EXCERPTS

DWAM coming March 20 from Siren Publishing

CAN’T FAKE THIS 2011 Best Contemporary – Love Romances Cafe, JERR Gold Star, 2011 Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence Finalist

Buy Kindle version on Amazon and all versions at Loose, Id.

CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt

See the CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer

28 Comments