Sassy & Southern

Jillian Chantal visits with Sebastian’s Salvation

Posted in General on February 20th, 2012 by Casey Crow

I’m happy that Jillian Chantal is back to talk about her newest release SEBASTIAN’S SALVATION. I love this title! I’m such a fan of aliteration. I’m a fan of Jillian’s too. Okay, I’ll break down an admit that I’m totally in awe by her. She is one of the most prolific writers I know – maybe THE most prolific and the woman has a day job as an attorney! Alright, enough of my rambling. Take it away Jillian….

Thanks for letting come back and visit, Casey. I always enjoy visiting your blog. You’re southern and sassy and I think we definitely have that in common although I may tend to get closer to feisty than sassy or maybe I’m even snarky. Who knows, right?

I’ve got a new release to chat about a bit today. It’s called Sebastian’s Salvation and it’s a romantic suspense. I like to have other things going on in my stories besides just straight romance, so I like to put in some suspense and a touch of mystery. I think it’s my ADD. I like a lot of excitement going on and not only in the bedroom.

This story has a ton of action, from an art show, to skiing in the French Alps, to a stalker and even some sex. A full gamut of emotions also come into play.

This story is near to my heart because my hero has a disability that he’s overcome physically, but not mentally. I have some friends with physical disabilities and this story is really for them. Don’t we all deserve to be loved no matter what our circumstances?

Thanks again, Casey for having me here. I’d love to hear comments from readers and I hope if anyone popping in here decides to read Sebastian’s Salvation, that you’ll let me hear from you.

Visit me on the web here: http://jillianchantal.com/news/

twitter: https://twitter.com/JillianChantal

Book trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uvzMd4ttvmU

Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/sebastians-salvation

Blurb:

Three lives intertwine—a former Green Beret, now a painter of nude portraits tormented by the death of his comrade, an earl’s daughter, and a crazed stalker. Will the acts of the stalker force the soldier back into the life of violence which he sought to avoid?

Sebastian Hughes, wounded on a mission in Afghanistan, discovers a talent for painting nude portraits while in a rehabilitation center learning to walk again after losing part of his leg. He becomes the toast of London society and women clamor to be painted by him.

Lady Joanna Gresham, nursing a broken heart and used to getting what she wants, sets her sights on having her portrait painted by Sebastian. Once she meets him, she wants him for herself. She pursues him, intent on winning him. What she didn’t count on was a stalker who wants to harm everyone Sebastian holds dear.

Excerpt:

   Joanna Gresham passed Margaret in the hallway of Bast’s building. Margaret carried a saddle under her arm.

   Margaret stopped her and hitched the saddle to a more comfortable position. “You one of the many?”

   “Many what?”

   “Clients of Bast’s?”

   Joanna shook her head. “No. But I’m thinking about it. I was at his show last night and am very impressed.”

   “With the man or the artist?” The woman smiled coyly

   “The artist of course.” Joanna stood tall and looked down her nose at the impertinent woman. The nerve to ask me such a thing. As if I’d be interested in a hoodlum.

   “Don’t have to get huffy, Lady Joanna. All the women in town are swooning over the man. Some are even commissioning portraits just to tempt him with their bodies. No harm meant.”

   Joanna ran her hands through her hair. “Sorry. Just moody, I guess.”

   “No problem. Enjoy your session.”

   “I don’t have a session. I’m just going to talk.”

   “Good luck then. I think you’ll like Bast. I gotta go. Late for a practice run.”

   “Good luck with practice. Ta, Margaret.” Joanna waved good-bye and approached the door to Bast’s atelier. Why am I so nervous? He’s just a man I want to hire. Why should I feel so skittish?

   Joanna knocked lightly on the door.

   The door burst open, and the man asked, “What did you for—”

   He stopped short. “Uh. Sorry, I thought you were Margaret, come back for something she forgot. She always leaves something behind.”

   “Is that why you were already at the door?”

   He smiled. “Yeah. I give her about three minutes after she leaves to come dashing back. I thought I timed it right.” His smile got larger.

   Why does his smile have to be so spectacular? He’s gorgeous even with that scar across his face. “Sorry, it’s just me. I’m not sure if you remember—”

   “Of course, I do. You’re the lady in the alley, the one that needed no help with her aching feet. Come on in.” He opened the door wider to allow her access to the loft.

   Once they were inside, he showed her over to a client chair. He took a seat behind the desk, leaned across the top, and asked, “What can I do for you?”

   She put one hand on the desktop and scraped her nail across the surface. “I was at your show last night—”

   “Yeah, I know. I saw you, remember?”

   “I recall.” She frowned. Was the man determined to make her feel stupid?

   “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to interrupt you. Go on.” Bast nodded his encouragement.

   “I was thinking I might want a portrait of myself. Your work is impressive. Very tasteful. I know it seems like I’m just jumping on a trend, but I really am in awe of your abilities.”

   “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate it. I’m a little full right now. The show last night garnered me a lot of commissions, and I’m afraid I don’t have time to add one more person to my schedule. I’ll be glad to put you on the waiting list.” He pulled a pad out of his top drawer.

   She stood, and the chair teetered and fell back against the wall. “I know what you’re doing. You jerk.”

   He leaned back in his chair and looked at her. His face showed no emotion. “What’s your problem, Lady?”

   Lady? You say it that way because you know who I am? You think you can be a sarcastic bastard to me?”

   “Ma’am, you came in here, didn’t introduce yourself to me, and now you’re offended? I can’t figure that out. All I said was I have to put you on my waiting list. How you think that’s something offensive, I don’t know.” He sat forward in the chair.

   She glared. “I’m Lady Joanna Gresham. I don’t do waiting lists.”

   He stood up and walked around the desk to her. He got in her face and said, “I don’t do snobby Ladies. So, I suggest you get out of my studio.”

   Joanna pushed his chest. “I just bet you don’t do ladies.” She looked around and took in the whole room and nodded toward the fainting couch under the window. “I bet you do the ladies right over there.”

   Enraged, he grabbed her arms and shoved her against the wall. He pressed against her. “If I wanted to do a lady, I’d do her right here against this wall.” He lifted her off her feet as if she was no larger than a toy doll and pulled her over to the other client chair. He sat in it and pulled her on top of himself. “Or here in this chair.”

   She jerked off his lap and stumbled backward. “How dare you touch me, you arrogant—”

   “What? Black bastard? Is that what you want to call me, your white holiness? Lady Joanna Gresham that doesn’t do waiting lists? Huh? Huh? That what you want to say?” He stood up.

   She continued to back up. “You’re crazy. You know that? You’re insane.”

   He stalked toward her. “And you’re all alone here with me. A crazy, scar-faced, big black man who isn’t intimidated by a title. Now, what are you gonna do?”

   “I’m leaving.” She flounced toward the door.

   Just as she got to the door and opened it, he slammed his hand on it and shut it. His body leaned against hers. He pressed against her and whispered, “I bet you always leave. When the going gets tough and you don’t get your way, you leave. Right?”

   He let go of the door and stepped back. “Thank you for coming by, ma’am. I’ll be sure to not add you to the waiting list.”

She jerked the door open and left.

8 Comments

Mardi Gras Time!

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

 

It’s Mardi Gras in Mobile! Yeah, New Orleans throws a big ta-do, but since we Alabamians like to say Mobile had the first Mardi Gras, I’ll be talking about how we do it up down here. Purple, gold and green everyone, even on my own front door. Parades with masked revelers throwing moonpies, beads, and huge stuffed animals. Balls with ladies in beautiful long dresses and guys in tails wearing so many beads they look like Mr. T. On Fat Tuesday, the Knights of Revelry ladies wear spring suits and fancy hats like you see at the  Kentucky Derby. Most have on tennis shoes with those designer suits. Half the children running around wear French hand-sewn dresses and john-johns. The other half are raggamuffins with Walmart sacks filled with throws. The most serious parade goers have folding chairs, ice chests, and giant umbrellas they flip upside down. That’s makes the aim easier for a drunk dude on a float to ring. Folks even have those trash picker upper things to pull beads from the branches of the crape mertles and enormous live oaks lining the streets. Campers fill the grassy area by the civic center.

I’ve been in the parades and watched them. Been sprayed with mace when some doofus near me got into a fight with his buddy. Once, when I was fifteen and riding in the Floral parade, this super cute guy ran up to my float and gave ME a rose. That’s my favorite Mardi Gras memory.

So that’s the first-hand account. Now here’s the official explanation:

Mardi Gras is celebrated in Mobile, New Orleans and other Gulf Coast cities. This festive event was started in Mobile and according to some accounts, dates back to 1703. The celebration was originally called Boef Gras (Fat Beef).

The well-known Mardi Gras in Mobile was begun by Michael Krafft. On New Years’s Eve, 1830, Krafft and his friends were reluctant to end a dinner party at the customary time. They raided a nearby hardware store, took up rakes, hoes and cowbells and proceeded to wake the town. They soon formed the Cowbellion de Rakin Society, the first of Mobile’s many modern mystic organizations. The Cowbellions presented their first parade, complete with floats and theme, in 1840.

The Civil War brought revelry in Mobile to an abrupt halt. Joseph Stillwell Cain, on Fat Tuesday of 1866, donned full Chickasaw Indian regalia, dubbed himself Chief Slacabamorinico. Cain and six friends set out to raise the morale of citizens in the defeated city. Dubbing themselves the “Tea Drinkers”, and fired up by drink much stronger than tea, they took to the streets in a decorated coal wagon pulled by a mule. Cain was a founder in the Order of Myths, the organization which today holds the final Carnival Season parade Mardi Gras night. He also helped organize many more parading societies. Cain’s role in reviving Mardi Gras is observed each year on the Sunday before Mardi Gras Day, “Joe Cain Day.” On “Joe Cain Day” thousands of Mobilians in costume and on individually designed floats parade through the streets of downtown Mobile.

The date of Mardi Gras is determined by the date of Easter. Mardi Gras Day, or “Fat Tuesday,” is the Tuesday before the Ash Wednesday which begins the 40 days Lenten season. Nighttime parades and other public festivities begin about 10 days before Mardi Gras Day. Carnival Season balls, receptions and other private functions begin in the fall and continue through Mardi Gras Day.

Reference:

http://mobilemardigras.com/history/history.php

4 Comments

Naughty After Dark Blog Hop

Posted in General on February 14th, 2012 by Casey Crow

Welcome to the  Naughty After Dark blog hop hosted by Close Encounters with the Night Kind and Natasha Blackthorne.  Thank you for stopping by to celebrate CAN’T FAKE THIS winning 2011 LRC Best Contemporary & a Gold Star from JERR.

Now for the good stuff. I’m giving away an international prize, an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS!

Can’t Fake This is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world, Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Here’s an R RATED excerpt to tempt you:

My zipper slid down with a hiss, exposing my bare flesh to the cool air of the room. “Do you know what today is?” I was breathless as the material spilled below my hips.

Chase pushed my hair aside, his tongue sweeping every vertebra until he knelt on his knees kissing the small indention of my lower back. “Sunday.”

“December fourteenth.” I needed to be the one on my knees. My legs had turned all Jell-Oy. Yeah, I wasn’t an expert in the chemistry department, but even I could sense the spark between us, the hot, electric pull. As his teeth pulled at the peach bow of my G-string, I could already imagine his cock sliding into me. He yanked the dress down and turned me around. My crotch was now at his eye level. I rubbed his shaved head, debating whether I should pull his face to my panties or hike a leg over his shoulder. Or both. I settled for the latter before my weak knees collapsed.

“It’s twelve days till Christmas,” I said. The figure eights he licked along my inner thigh made it rather difficult to carry on a coherent conversation.

“Consider tonight an early present.” He swooped in for a taste, or so I thought, as hot air breezed my pussy. Before I knew it, Chase slipped my leg off his shoulder and stood to scoop me into his arms. He lowered me onto the cold leather of the sofa, but the chill disintegrated the moment his warm body stretched over me. His large, dark pupils filled with lust — and dare I say, need? — as his dick throbbed between my legs. I squeezed my thighs, putting pressure on his cock. He let out a low groan while my body strained for more than a tease. I lifted my hips to rub up and down on his shaft.

We ground our bodies together, my gaze trapped by his own for a deliciously suspended moment. It never occurred to me this kind of intimacy was odd. I mean, most folks would be kissing and getting it on by now, but after all the exciting tension that had built all night, we suddenly slowed down…to savor. Damn, it was sexy.

Zero doubt played in my mind. I wanted this guy to help execute my plan. “I’m thinking I deserve one every day for the next twelve days,” I said as he moved in for a kiss.

The grinding of his hips against mine stopped. Chase pushed up on his elbows and stared at me, lifting a curious brow.

“Hear me out.” My fingers examined his rib cage, stopping to pay homage to his thick, oblique muscles. “I need someone like you to…” My throat closed. When had my palms become this sweaty? I took my hands off his body so he wouldn’t notice, and prayed the cool air would dry them.

“Like me?”

“Experienced…not looking for attachments.” I threw in the last bit to remind us both Chase fulfilled the role of Frog number one.

He grinned. “What do you need?”

“I want you to spend the next twelve days teaching…showing me how to make love.”

He winced, and sucked a hiss through his teeth. “You write sex for a living.”

“Writing about it and really living it are two different things.” I squirmed out of his hold. He pulled away as I sat Indian style across from him. “Look, here’s the deal. It’s been eight long years since I’ve been single, and now that I’m back on the market, I intend to be the best product out there.”

His lips twitched as his gaze roamed my body. “You’re pretty damn good as you are.”

I blushed and grabbed a red throw pillow to cover my nakedness. “Thanks, but I need, shall we say, tutoring in the fine art of love making.”

“Let me get this straight.” He barely contained the laughter in his voice. “You’re asking me to instruct you on how to have sex?”

“No dummy. I know how to have sex. Anybody can pump and hump.” The image of my ex flashed in my mind. “I want passion, chemistry and hot, sweaty multiple orgasms.” I tossed the pillow on the floor and rose, knee walking across the sofa toward him. My fingers teased the hem of his T-shirt. They finagled their way underneath the soft material and behind the waistband of his jeans. I pulled him close. “I want to make love.”

“For twelve days? Then I’m off the hook?” He looked so relieved I almost giggled.

I pushed my pelvis against his cock and smiled when it twitched back to life. “Yes.” I grabbed his ass and gave it a tight squeeze. Then, I ran my mouth up the side of his neck to his ear, nibbling the lobe. “You interested?”

*****

Guess you can figure out what Christmas carol Anna and Chase like, but since it’s February, I’m curious to learn what’s your favorite love song – current or old. I’ll just come right out and say it, I can’t pick only one. Music moves me, but my top three would be I NEED YOU NOW by Lady Antebellum, WE WERE IN LOVE by Toby Keith, and TOUCH YOU ONCE from the movie Pretty in Pink.

Don’t forgot to leave a comment to be registered for a chance to win CAN’T FAKE THIS. Please leave your email in the post. Anyone who signs up for my newsletter will receive a bonus entry plus, its a great way to stay up to date on other releases including DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, a f/m erotic coming in March. Finally, be sure to check out several other excerpts from last week’s blog hops.

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com.  On Facebook at Casey Crow and Twitter at caseyecrow.

CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer.

Buy all versions from Loose, Id.,

Kindle version on Amazon.

 

 

36 Comments

With Love Valentine’s Day Blog Hop with never before released excerpt – Three French Hens

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

 

Welcome to the With Love blog hop, hosted by The Blog hop spot! I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate CAN’T FAKE THIS winning 2011 LRC Best Contemporary and a Gold Star from JERR!

Now for the good stuff. I’m giving away an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS!

CAN’T FAKE THS is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world, Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.

So here’s an X-rated excerpt of what happens for Three French Hens:

 

He pushed the bra over my shoulders before bending to relieve me of my panties. Standing up, he said, “What do you think three French hens will bring?” He twirled a scrape of red lace around his finger, a wicked gleam in his eye.

“A ménage à trois?” My voice squeaked. I was so not ready for that.

Chase shook his head and laughed softly. “Threesomes…” He looked away, his lips turned up in a goofy smile. “Good times.” Then, he sobered and met my deer-in-headlights gaze. “Fun as they are, you’re here to learn how to make love, remember? A third person turns it into sex.”

I found it rather sweet when he tossed the panties over his shoulder and took my hand, kissed it, then escorted me to the dining room table where a gift bag acted as the centerpiece. He reached for the snowman bag and pulled out the red tissue paper.

He held the bag for me to see into. “Unless the third party helps create a trusting bond.”

I peeked into Frosty’s black top hat. “I’ve been intimate with a vibrator before.”

“Yeah, but has a man ever helped?”

I opened and then quickly closed my mouth. “No.”

He smiled, grabbed the toy, and tossed the bag to the side. The vibrating hum drowned out the bubbling gargle of the saltwater aquarium behind us. “Hop up.”

“On the table?”

“I’m guessin’ hubby never got around to using the kitchen table?”

“Not exactly.” My behind hit the cold, hard wood.

Chase placed my feet on the soft cushions of two chairs, then ran the toy cock up the side of each calf. Goose bumps zipped over my body from the tingling sensations. The dildo teased my inner thighs, skimmed across my hips, and tickled my ribs. My pussy throbbed in anticipation. I watched as he rubbed it over my stomach, hoping he would move it lower. He didn’t, forcing me to beg.

“Not yet,” he said in response.

He stepped in closer and gave me a gentle push against my sternum. I fell back on my elbows. He traced a massaging trail around the outer circles of my breasts. My nipples puckered instantly. I couldn’t take my gaze off them.

“Touch them.” I sucked in a sharp breath, lifting my tits higher. It was past time to worship them. “Please, baby, touch them,” I repeated. My voice was hollow and breathless. I couldn’t believe I was issuing demands during sex, but jeez, what a turn-on to be in control.

His mouth descended on one nipple as the vibrator hit the other. The pressure was almost too much to bear. “I need…ah…”

He lifted his head and gave me a quick kiss before standing back up. My heart squeezed from the brief contact. Shit. I needed to rethink the bit about wanting to feel something emotionally. That would screw everything up. Why couldn’t I just feel chemistry without my heart getting in the way?

Thankfully, Chase helped me refocus by dangling the toy over my pussy. “Don’t worry. I know what you need, baby.”

I lifted my backside off the table as I strained to brush my clit against the synthetic cock.

“You need patience.” His voice held a hint of mischief.

I relaxed back on the table. “Anticipation is worth the wait, huh?” I lifted a foot and ran it down his chest. “When do I get to see you naked?”

“Soon.”

I touched his cock with my foot, rubbing the hard ridge straining within his jeans. I loved how it pushed back against my toes. “Why wait?”

He swung my leg away. “The best things come to those who do.” Without warning, he brought the vibrator to my clit.

A moan rumbled from my throat as I arched my back, allowing me to better connect to the toy. Chase’s idea of mercy was to slide it deep inside me, twisting as he pulled out. He repeated the motion again and again, rubbing my sensitive spot, then plunging it in deep, only to pull it free of my clenching inner walls with that sinful twist.

I screamed. “Damn, don’t stop. More!”

I watched the concentration on his face, the admiration…the pleasure he got in making me this hot and wet. He pulled the cock out, ran it down the cleft of my ass. A whole new set of nerve endings tingled just before he shoved the toy back inside me. He spread my folds wide with his fingers and pinched my clit, massaging it until I burst into another intense orgasm.

We played the same game over and over until my mouth turned dry and my voice hoarse from screaming.

“What’s the lesson?” Chase helped me dress after practically depleting me of all bodily fluids.

 

*********

Don’t forgot to leave a comment. I love connecting with my readers and making new friends! A lucky commenter will win an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS. (International prize). Please leave your email address. Anyone who signs up for my newsletter will get a bonus entry.  Please consider signing up so you can stay up to date on other releases including DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, a f/m erotic coming in March. Finally, be sure to check out the rest of my blog for five other blog hop give-aways this week!

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com.  On Facebook at Casey Crow and Twitter at caseyecrow.

Buy all versions from Loose, Id., or Kindle version on Amazon.

CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer.

 

47 Comments

Romancing The Books Blog Hop ~ CAN’T FAKE THIS’ Instant Attraction

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

Welcome to the Romancing the Books blog hop, hosted by Delighted Reader   and Livre D’Amour! I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate CAN’T FAKE THIS winning 2011 LRC Best Contemporary and a Gold Star from JERR!

Now for the good stuff. I’m giving away an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS!

CAN’T FAKE THS is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world, Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.

So here’s an R-rated excerpt of what happens when Anna & Chase meet for the first time:

You know that show Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo, right? Of course you do. Patti Stanger rocks with her take no crap from anybody self. I love it when she says “the pecker does the picking.” Well, that got me thinking about a scene in my debut. In CAN’T FAKE THIS, Anna’s ***that other P word** does the picking. The attraction she feels for Chase is instaneous. Here’s a snippet to illustrate what I’m talking about:

Excerpt:

As I rummaged through my clutch for a dose of lip gloss, Marisol cleared her throat and cut her gaze across the room. I followed her line of vision and… Holy shit. I do believe my freakin’ heart stopped. He wasn’t supermodel gorgeous, not with his shaved head and height a tad on the short side, but his swagger… His near-predatory confidence as he maneuvered through the room made my eyes zero in on him. He locked on me, and I felt a slow, lazy smile spread across my lips. Suddenly we were the only two people in the room. My blood pressure hitched a degree with every step he took, and that feeling a girl gets when her heart beats so fast she’s on the verge of throwing up? Yep, I had it. I believe the technical term is “lust at first sight.”

A second later, his warm hand brushed my shoulder, and I’m not kidding, I thought I might melt right off that stool. Even the fine hairs on my arms stood on end, completely attuned to him and begging for attention. Needless to say, my nipples gave him a proud salute.

“Hi, I’m Chase Harris.” His heated breath tickled my ear as he leaned in to be heard over the country rock band jamming out twenty feet away.

My lungs folded and decided breathing was no longer necessary. The brief contact ignited a fiery liquid in the bottom of my tummy. My pussy simmered for the first time in years without the aid of batteries. “Anna Ryan,” I answered. “It’s nice to meet you.” Was it ever. I extended my hand, which he ignored for a hug.

My nostrils filled with the citrus scent of cologne, but underneath I detected something more masculine, more primal. I longed to bury my face in his soft gray fitted T-shirt. The garment outlined every perfect bulge. I couldn’t make out its graffiti design, but it very well could’ve said Eat Me and I would’ve happily obliged.

His gaze roamed my body, and the sexy glint in his eyes told me the risk of catching a cold in this black strapless mini was totally worth it. I might be in dire need of a boob job, but Chase didn’t seem to mind my negative As. Then the space between us grew cold as he left my side to hug Marisol.

“Cuba! Hey, woman. Great to see you.”

“Hey, yourself.” She flashed me a shrewd grin.

I so owed that girl.

*********

I’d love to hear about moments you’ve had where the instaneous attraction blows you away! Don’t forgot to leave a comment.

I love connecting with my readers and making new friends! A lucky commenter will win an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS. (International prize). Please leave your email address. Anyone who signs up for my newsletter will get a bonus entry.  Please consider signing up so you can stay up to date on other releases including DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, a f/m erotic coming in March. Finally, be sure to check out the rest of my blog for five other blog hop give-aways this week!

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com.  On Facebook at Casey Crow and Twitter at caseyecrow.

CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer.

Buy all versions from Loose, Id.,  or Kindle version on Amazon.

 

 

27 Comments

Love is in the Air Blog Hop ~ How CAN’T FAKE THIS got its title with never before released excerpt

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

Welcome to Love is in the Air blog hop, hosted by Under the Covers Book Blog! I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate CAN’T FAKE THIS winning 2011 LRC Best Contemporary and a Gold Star from JERR! Now for the good stuff. I’m giving away an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS!

CAN’T FAKE THS is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world, Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.

So here’s an X-rated excerpt of what happens on the Fifth Day of Christmas:

“I kinda like the fact I’m an original.”

“You are that.” He tugged my face to his as he pressed his lips to mine in a passionate kiss.

When he let me up for air, I asked, “How will I get the full effect of making out in a cop car if you aren’t properly dressed?”

“Baby, in five minutes it won’t matter, ’cause we’ll both be naked.” He playfully tapped my chin with his knuckles before reaching for a set of handcuffs at his side. He hooked my wrists to the cage separating the front and backseats. “Is it too tight?”

I wasn’t about to complain. I was too desperate to see what was in store with the extra set of cuffs. “No, but they’re heavier than I expected.” The metal weighed down my bony wrists. I grabbed the cage to ease the pressure. “What’s today’s lesson? Bondage is hot?”

“You’re hot.” His sexy wink made my stomach flip-flop. “Today you learn variety is the spice of life.”

“Good one. By the way, you never told me the point of yesterday.”

“It’s okay to have fun.” The zipper on my jacket slid open. “My, my, my.” He smiled.

I’d “forgotten” to wear a shirt and bra today. “Thought you might like that.”

“Very much.” He took the other cuffs and pressed the circles over my breasts.

I arched as the cool steel teased my flesh, and moaned with the touch of his tongue to my nipples. “Harder.”

He squeezed my breast, sucking the whole thing into his mouth. The sensuous pain at my nipples made me forget my aching fingers gripping the cage.

I didn’t want it to end, but I knew traveling further down this road would lead to heaven, and I’d die a blissful death. “Fuck me.”

He snickered. “Aren’t you becoming quite the vixen?” He switched to the other breast. “I like it, but we aren’t here to fuck.”

“Then make love to me, damn it! I don’t care. Put your cock inside me, and for Christ’s sake, take off your clothes.”

“Are we gonna have to work on your patience some more?”

“Hell no.” Every flick of his tongue pushed a wave of pleasure down my body. It crashed on my clit. The bud throbbed and called for more.

He chuckled and kissed my nipples one last time before sitting back to undress. I ran my tongue across my lips as I watched him take forever to unbutton his maroon shirt. Inch by inch, the material fell away, revealing a tan, clean-shaven chest, firm pecs, and broad shoulders.

“Da—amn. Come here.”

He sat up enough for me to reach his chest. I softly kissed his purplish bruise first, and Chase wove his fingers through my hair as if thanking me for taking care of his “boo-boo.” I nibbled my way to his neck and tasted the sharp bite of his cologne. The fresh scent mixed with the heavier musk of arousal from my pussy.

I slid lower, and my tongue flicked his nipple. I laughed when he hissed. “I like being in control.”

“Uh…baby, need I remind you that you’re the one in cuffs?”

I felt his fingers caress my ribs. They wiggled slightly, enough to let me know he could tickle me at any time, and I’d be left helpless.

Before he got the chance, I squirmed, rubbing my swelling clit against his bulging cock. The movement caused my wrists to shift, the metal of the cuffs clinking against the steel cage. “Who’s on top?”

“You,” he said.

“Who can inflict the most pain right now?” I slid my teeth over an areola.

“Don’t hurt me.” The tone of his voice softened.

I looked up, and in that instant, I honestly felt my heart squeeze. “I won’t.”

He nodded and ran a hand up my flimsy skirt, flipping it up. “Whose is it?” The lack of panties clearly didn’t surprise him.

“What?”

Skillful fingers nestled their way into my folds, pinched my clit, then found haven rubbing my G-spot.

“Whose pussy is it?”

“Mine.”

He quirked a brow and rammed another finger hard inside me. “Try again and remember—I have the key to the cuffs. Now, whose pussy is it?”

“It’s yours.” I grunted at the pleasure he created with each thrust.

“You sure?”

I panted as the exquisite pounding got faster. “Yes, Chase. Oh, yes. C-come inside me.”

“I want you to beg.”

The first hints of orgasm curled low in my abdomen. “Pl-please.”

He pulled out and lifted me off his thighs. “My prisoner.”

He’d hooked my arms to the cage so I half stood, half crouched with my legs wide apart in my taupe heels, an unzipped jacket revealing hard nipples, and a thin skirt Chase had somehow managed to tie into a knot at my waist.

He visibly swallowed and blew out a slow breath of appreciation. “Fuck, you’re hot.”

“I don’t feel like a prisoner. How about sex slave?” Never had a man simply stared at me with such admiration, such desire. My focus on him matched his concentration on me as he slid his pants down.

“No.” His hard cock sprang free. Precum glistened on its tip. “A goddess. My fantasy.” He donned a condom and pulled me down, sliding into me so easily, so perfectly.

It felt like my body was made solely for this man. No other had ever brought me to such heights. My head fell back, banging against the cage. “Ouch.”

“You okay?” He grinned and reached up to caress my injury.

As he sat up his cock shifted inside me. The tip touched my G-spot, and I relished the release of tight muscles relaxing to fit him. “Oh, yeah.” I couldn’t remember when this contact, this connection had felt more right.

Chase lifted my hips, then quickly drew me back over his thick shaft. He slowly slid me up and yanked me down again. And again. Our low moans heated the car’s interior. The windows fogged. The humidity clung to our bodies. Sweat beaded Chase’s temple, and I became mesmerized as I watched it fall down his cheek.

He reached for another set of handcuffs beside his thigh and slipped them between us. He pulled my folds apart and tapped the cold metal against my sensitive bud, gently drumming it, vibrating my clit to hot readiness. Chase slammed his cock into me, his thrusts quickening until he threw the cuffs aside and grabbed my ass to pump harder still. Each collision sent a flash of fire to my G-spot. My legs trembled. My wrists strained against the cuffs. They prevented me from holding him as I wanted, other than to contract my muscles, gripping his cock. He grunted and closed his eyes. The wrinkles on his forehead let me know he forced himself to hold on until I climaxed.

I came in a violent, convulsive wave. My body jerked and quivered. It didn’t matter my arms were in handcuffs; they felt like noodles anyway. As my body continued to shake, Chase unhooked my restraints, setting me free to press my bare nipples to his. He held tight to my hips as I clung to his shoulders, and all the while, we shared a passionate, openmouthed kiss. Our slick bodies met and collided with more hard thrusts.

“We aren’t fucking,” he whispered into my mouth.

“I know.”

“You feel it too?”

“You can’t fake this.”

*******

So you know what I like best about this scene? When Anna bumps her head! LOL  Don’t forgot to leave a comment. I would love to hear about your favorite Valentine tradition or gift!

I love connecting with my readers and making new friends! A lucky commenter will win an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS. (International prize). Please leave your email address. Anyone who signs up for my newsletter will get a bonus entry.  Please consider signing up so you can stay up to date on other releases including DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, a f/m erotic coming in March. Finally, be sure to check out the rest of my blog for five other blog hop give-aways this week!

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com.  On Facebook at Casey Crow and Twitter at caseyecrow.

CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer.

Buy all versions from Loose, Id.,  or Kindle version on Amazon.

24 Comments

Romancing the Valentine Blog Hop & Favorite Love Songs

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

 

Welcome to the Romancing the Valentine blog hop, hosted by Reading Romances! Thank you for stopping by to celebrate CAN’T FAKE THIS winning 2011 LRC Best Contemporary & a Gold Star from JERR. Now for the good stuff. I’m giving away an international prize, an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS!

Can’t Fake This is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world, Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.

Here’s an R RATED excerpt to tempt you:

My zipper slid down with a hiss, exposing my bare flesh to the cool air of the room. “Do you know what today is?” I was breathless as the material spilled below my hips.

Chase pushed my hair aside, his tongue sweeping every vertebra until he knelt on his knees kissing the small indention of my lower back. “Sunday.”

“December fourteenth.” I needed to be the one on my knees. My legs had turned all Jell-Oy. Yeah, I wasn’t an expert in the chemistry department, but even I could sense the spark between us, the hot, electric pull. As his teeth pulled at the peach bow of my G-string, I could already imagine his cock sliding into me. He yanked the dress down and turned me around. My crotch was now at his eye level. I rubbed his shaved head, debating whether I should pull his face to my panties or hike a leg over his shoulder. Or both. I settled for the latter before my weak knees collapsed.

“It’s twelve days till Christmas,” I said. The figure eights he licked along my inner thigh made it rather difficult to carry on a coherent conversation.

“Consider tonight an early present.” He swooped in for a taste, or so I thought, as hot air breezed my pussy. Before I knew it, Chase slipped my leg off his shoulder and stood to scoop me into his arms. He lowered me onto the cold leather of the sofa, but the chill disintegrated the moment his warm body stretched over me. His large, dark pupils filled with lust — and dare I say, need? — as his dick throbbed between my legs. I squeezed my thighs, putting pressure on his cock. He let out a low groan while my body strained for more than a tease. I lifted my hips to rub up and down on his shaft.

We ground our bodies together, my gaze trapped by his own for a deliciously suspended moment. It never occurred to me this kind of intimacy was odd. I mean, most folks would be kissing and getting it on by now, but after all the exciting tension that had built all night, we suddenly slowed down…to savor. Damn, it was sexy.

Zero doubt played in my mind. I wanted this guy to help execute my plan. “I’m thinking I deserve one every day for the next twelve days,” I said as he moved in for a kiss.

The grinding of his hips against mine stopped. Chase pushed up on his elbows and stared at me, lifting a curious brow.

“Hear me out.” My fingers examined his rib cage, stopping to pay homage to his thick, oblique muscles. “I need someone like you to…” My throat closed. When had my palms become this sweaty? I took my hands off his body so he wouldn’t notice, and prayed the cool air would dry them.

“Like me?”

“Experienced…not looking for attachments.” I threw in the last bit to remind us both Chase fulfilled the role of Frog number one.

He grinned. “What do you need?”

“I want you to spend the next twelve days teaching…showing me how to make love.”

He winced, and sucked a hiss through his teeth. “You write sex for a living.”

“Writing about it and really living it are two different things.” I squirmed out of his hold. He pulled away as I sat Indian style across from him. “Look, here’s the deal. It’s been eight long years since I’ve been single, and now that I’m back on the market, I intend to be the best product out there.”

His lips twitched as his gaze roamed my body. “You’re pretty damn good as you are.”

I blushed and grabbed a red throw pillow to cover my nakedness. “Thanks, but I need, shall we say, tutoring in the fine art of love making.”

“Let me get this straight.” He barely contained the laughter in his voice. “You’re asking me to instruct you on how to have sex?”

“No dummy. I know how to have sex. Anybody can pump and hump.” The image of my ex flashed in my mind. “I want passion, chemistry and hot, sweaty multiple orgasms.” I tossed the pillow on the floor and rose, knee walking across the sofa toward him. My fingers teased the hem of his T-shirt. They finagled their way underneath the soft material and behind the waistband of his jeans. I pulled him close. “I want to make love.”

“For twelve days? Then I’m off the hook?” He looked so relieved I almost giggled.

I pushed my pelvis against his cock and smiled when it twitched back to life. “Yes.” I grabbed his ass and gave it a tight squeeze. Then, I ran my mouth up the side of his neck to his ear, nibbling the lobe. “You interested?”

*****

Guess you can figure out what Christmas carol Anna and Chase like, but since it’s Valentine’s, I’m curious to learn what’s your favorite love song – current or old. I’ll just come right out and say it, I can’t pick only one. Music moves me, but my top three would be I NEED YOU NOW by Lady Antebellum, WE WERE IN LOVE by Toby Keith, and TOUCH YOU ONCE from the movie Pretty in Pink.

Don’t forgot to leave a comment. I love connecting with my readers and making new friends! Please consider signing up for my newsletter so you can stay up to date on other releases including DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, a f/m erotic coming in March. Finally, be sure to check out the rest of my blog for five other blog hop give-aways this week!

Visit Casey at http://www.caseycrow.com.  On Facebook at Casey Crow and Twitter at caseyecrow.

CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer.

Buy all versions from Loose, Id.,  or Kindle version on Amazon.

 

 

12 Comments

Just Romance Me Cupid’s Choice Blog Hop with never before released CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt – The First Day

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

Welcome to the Just Romance Me Cupid’s Choice blog hop. I’m so glad you’re here to celebrate CAN’T FAKE THIS winning 2011 LRC Best Contemporary and a Gold Star from JERR! Now for the good stuff. I’m giving away an ebook copy of CAN’T FAKE THIS!

CAN’T FAKE THS is about a divorcee ready to reenter the dating world, Anna Ryan is determined to be the best “product on the market,” which requires a lot more experience so she propositions sexy police officer Chase Harris to teach her how to make hot, passionate love as opposed to just having sex. He takes it a step further, instructing each lesson based on The Twelve Days of Christmas.

So here’s an X-rated excerpt of what happens on the First Day of Christmas:

“Catching a disease somehow doesn’t concern me as much as being number God-knows-what.” How did one compete with that?

His hands wandered up my chest and neck to tilt my chin. It forced me to meet his intense gaze. “Something tells me you’re gonna be memorable.”

I doubted that, not with his track record.

He yanked me to his lips. We kissed with pent-up fervor. I sighed into his mouth, telling him of my need to feel every single detail of this moment. He tasted of confidence and adventure, his lips moving with exactly the right amount of assuredness. I refused to admit it was due to experience. I much preferred to believe he just excelled at what he did; Chase knew when to nip, when to suck…when to hold back. The kiss continued to tempt as he seemingly waited for me to press for more, to breach the barrier between a simple kiss and total loss of control. He surrendered the power to me, and I loved it. I caressed his tongue with my own. We allowed our hands to roam and search, seeking any way to pull each other closer. His body melded into mine. His erection rubbed my clit, and my pussy screamed in demand. Moist heat flooded my folds as our tongues collided with more passion than finesse. If Chase’s mouth were the forbidden fruit, then I was Eve, and I wanted every dadblame apple on that tree. When he sucked my tongue, it tasted sinfully wonderful.

I could die right now knowing Frog #1 was a Grade-A kisser. My ability to think vanished. My body seemed to melt into molten lava right in his arms. I tugged at Chase’s shirt, and as I began to lift it, he eased me back on the couch.

“On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…” His voice took on a singsong quality as his hand slid under my damp panties. “Temptation in a hot package.”

I sighed. A vibrator had nothing on a man’s touch.

He traced my folds as if learning my body. It was more of a tease, exciting me for what would come. When his finger flicked my clit, the first trickle of orgasm bubbled up within me.

“Get naked.” After two freakin’ years, I couldn’t wait any longer.

He laughed at my order. “Oh, I want to and I will, but not tonight.” He tugged my panties off. “This is all about you.” A warm palm rubbed my ankle, calf, thigh…until his fingers found my clit again. My hips bucked of their own volition.

“Oh God.”

“Call me Chase.”

I was too lost to chide him. “Cha-ase.” My panting turned his name into two syllables.

His skilled thumb rotated in slow circles as a finger found haven inside me. It darted in and out, and as my muscles gripped it, he boldly inserted a second finger. He massaged my inner walls. I shuddered when he hit my G-spot. My weak legs spread farther apart, and I hiked one across the top of the couch. He smiled, then shifted his focus to my pussy, using one hand to open my slit and another to work magic.

It would have been too easy to give into only the physical pleasure since that’s what I’d always done. This time, I tried to pay attention to everything else. A fuzzy, fluttering feeling radiated from my stomach, fanning out. When it reached my chest, my heart skipped a beat. A smile spread over my face. This was unadulterated chemistry. The proof came in the heat rising from every pore of my body. My sweet perfume mixed with his fresh cologne and combined with the faint scent of feminine juices; the aroma intoxicated better than any wicked bomb.

I should have been self-conscious, lying open to his ministrations, selfishly taking all the pleasure for myself, yet I felt completely comfortable…and sexy. Maybe my lack of inhibition was because I knew after twelve days, I would never have to see him again, or maybe it was Chase’s amazing ability to show his appreciation for my body with a look, a touch, a smile. Still, the more he stroked, the more I became lost in the grip of passion. My orgasm gained momentum with each pump, every flick. My breathing hitched as my body coiled tight. God, how I wanted release, but I wanted to stay on the edge too. I wanted it all, the physical, and the emotional.

Digging my heels into the cushions, I pushed my hips up, increasing the pressure. He pulled his fingers out, and I whimpered, but a nanosecond later, he used them on my clit. In such a short time, he’d already figured out what I liked most. “That’s it, baby. You’re so wet.”

“’Cause you turn me on,” I replied between pants, the heady smell of feminine arousal overpowering now.

The fast up-and-down motion of his fingertips sent vibrations all through me; my breasts trembled with it, adding to the rapturous torment. I clamped my fists shut. My mouth dried. My ears burned. I thrashed my head back and forth. God, I was so damn close. I couldn’t remember a time when any man held me on the brink this long. I squeezed my eyes shut and focused on coming hard.

“Look at me.” The command was ragged and hoarse.

I didn’t want to. Eye contact was too intimate, but I knew that was part of the deal. To make love, I needed to go all the way. I locked gazes with Chase, and the desire I saw gave me the confidence to let go. To be myself with no self-consciousness. I watched in fascination as he inhaled the shuddering breath I exhaled.

Sex…y.

He ran one hand up my stomach to my breast, giving it a gentle squeeze before rubbing my nipple. I didn’t believe it possible to feel this much pleasure at once, but Chase proved me wrong as he picked up speed and leaned forward to whisper, “Come, baby,” just before his lips crushed mine.

The kiss ignited a string of dynamite, burning my blood and searing my abdomen as I burst into an explosive orgasm. My hips jerked as waves of hot bliss rolled through my body. I wrenched away from his mouth to cry out as spasms rocked me.

“Open your eyes.” The words were clipped, his voice raspy, as if he were fighting for control.

I hadn’t realized I’d shut them. When I looked back at Chase, his flushed cheeks gave me a thrill. He wanted me and gazed at me with such affection my heart would have given a squeeze if it weren’t so busy pumping blood to the sensitive nerve endings of my clit.

He stared at me a long time as his fingers slowed, pulling miniorgasmic surges from my core. I sighed as he took deep breaths until his jaw relaxed. Finally he licked his lips and cocked a proud grin. I smiled back. He damn well deserved to gloat.

“You like that?” he asked.

“What do you think?”

He chuckled and pecked little kisses down my chest and torso. He nipped my hip bone and brought his mouth to my pussy. I heard him breathe in and hum in appreciation.

The slick sheen of sweat covering my skin began to dry. Chill bumps surfaced almost immediately when Chase moved away to kneel on the floor. Only then did it occur to me to wonder what he thought about my lying there spread-eagle and buck naked.

“Beautiful.” He stroked the hair fanning around my shoulders.

Well, all right, then. I felt giddy—stupid, raging-teenage-hormones giddy. The man was a prince and knew how to treat a woman. Especially one who hadn’t experienced such a mind-blowing orgasm in…ever.

My limp body wanted to lie there and salivate in the afterglow, but I summoned up some energy and rolled to my side. He sat close enough to touch, so I reached for him, my index finger drifting across his covered chest. “I want to see you.”

He winced.

“Sorry. I forgot about your bruise.”

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Never. The bruise will fade, but…” He glanced away.

“What?”

“Not many things scare me, but almost dying sure puts life in perspective.” He went back to stroking my hair, staring like it belonged to him.

Like I belonged to him.

It made me feel more protected than possessed, which confused the crap out of me. Did I want to be cared for? Yes, just not by a player. When he looked at me like that though, I felt special. Chase had indeed perfected the ability to make a woman feel like she was the only one in his life.

I pushed up on my elbow for leverage and gently grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “I want you inside me.” I slid my hand toward his cock. It pulsed when I squeezed. “You want me too.”

“Fuck yeah, but here’s lesson one: a real man gets satisfaction in satisfying.”

******

So what do you think makes a real man? Don’t forgot to leave a comment. I love connecting with my readers and making new friends! Please consider signing up for my newsletter so you can stay up to date on other releases including DANCE WITH A MILLIONAIRE, a f/m erotic coming in March. Finally, be sure to check out the rest of my blog for five other blog hop give-aways this week!

Buy Kindle version on Amazon

Buy all versions at Loose, Id.

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

CAN’T FAKE THIS Excerpt

See the CAN’T FAKE THIS book trailer

Follow on Twitter @caseyecrow and Facebook Casey Crow

 

29 Comments

Too Much Technology

Posted in General on February 2nd, 2012 by Casey Crow

By: Casey Crow

I buddy of mine sent an email to me. It’s one of those joke email that gets forward around, and although I’m probably breaking all kinds of plagiarism laws, it was so dad-blame funny, I had to share. And since recently I was explaining to my son what the phrase “Imitation is the best form of flattery” means, I’m thinking I’ll defer to that sentiment regarding this post.

Now this senior citizen is fed up with technology, and sadly, I have to agree with him. I don’t have the age excuse either, so that makes it worse so here’s to those of you like me who are not blessed tech savvy skills.

When I bought my Blackberry, I thought about the 30-year business I ran with 1800 employees, all without a cell phone that plays music, takes videos, pictures and communicates with Facebook and Twitter. I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven kids, their spouses, 13 grand kids and 2 great grand kids could communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.

That was before one of my grandkids hooked me up for Tweeter, Tweetree, Twhirl, Twitterfon, Tweetie and Twittererific Tweetdeck, Twitpix and something that sends every message to my cell phone and every other program within the texting World.

My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation. I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the garage in my golf bag.

The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the Blue tooth [it's red] phone I am supposed to use when I drive. I wore it once and was standing in line at Barnes and Noble talking to my wife and everyone in the nearest 50 yards was glaring at me. I had to take my hearing aid out to use it, and I got a little loud.

I mean the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically say, “Re-calc-u-lating.” You would think that she could be nicer. It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light. Then if I made a right turn instead. Well, it was not a good relationship..

When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.

To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the cordless phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I still haven’t figured out how I can lose three phones all at once and have to run around digging under chair cushions and checking bathrooms and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.

The world is just getting too complex for me. They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store. You would think they could settle on something themselves but this sudden “Paper or Plastic?” every time I check out just knocks me for a loop. I bought some of those cloth reusable bags to avoid looking confused, but I never remember to take them in with me.

Now I toss it back to them. When they ask me, “Paper or Plastic?” I just say, “Doesn’t matter to me. I am bi-sacksual.” Then it’s their turn to stare at me with a blank look. I was recently asked if I tweet. I answered, No, but I do toot a lot.”

Us senior citizens don’t need anymore gadgets. The TV remote and the garage door remote are about all we can handle.

Leave a Comment

Welcome debut author Joan Chandler & PERFECTLY IMPERFECT

Posted in General on January 29th, 2012 by Casey Crow

My guest today is new author, Joan Chandler.  Joan’s debut novel, Perfectly Imperfect, was released January 2 from one of my own publishers Siren Publishing.

 

JOAN: It’s great to be here. Thanks for the opportunity to introduce myself to your followers.  Ask me anything.

Casey: What was the first romance novel you read?

JOAN:  When I was a little girl, my favorite book was Snow White and Rose Red.   (I’m referring to the German fairy tale, not to be confused with the Disney movie.)  I remember reading it over and over again, and every time I got to the end and that bear turned into a prince and asked Snow White to marry him, I was smitten!  Although it was a children’s fairy tale, I always say that little book was my first introduction to the romance genre.  As a teenager, I was enthralled by a paranormal romantic tragedy called Bledding Sorrow.  It terrified yet mesmerized me at the same time.  I have recently found both of those on eBay, by the way, and purchased them so I could read them again.

Casey:  How did you get started as a writer?

JOAN:  My family moved a lot when I was young, and I was a painfully shy child.  So I was a real homebody.  At some point, my sister and I started to write short stories as a past time.  Eventually, we could each fill up an entire composition notebook with one story.  They were always about ordinary girls who meet someone famous and then they’d fall in love and live happily ever after.  Years later, when I was pregnant with my first child, I had trouble sleeping.  My friend gave me a grocery bag full of Harlequin paperbacks to read on nights when I couldn’t fall asleep.  After reading about five or six of them, I decided to try my own hand at writing a novel.  It was still just a hobby for many years, and then a few years ago I set out to try to get one of my manuscripts published.  The result is Perfectly Imperfect.

Casey:  Where do you find inspiration?

JOAN:  I find inspiration everywhere – in music I listen to, or dreams I’ve had, or just things going on in the lives of people I know.   And of course, reading other people’s books can always inspire me.  I recently heard someone say that there are no new stories, only new ways to tell them.  I think to some degree that is an accurate statement.  Thankfully, romance never goes out of style!

Casey:  Tell us a little about your new book, Perfectly Imperfect.

JOAN:  It’s an Erotic Contemporary Romance –the first I’ve written in that genre.   It is first and foremost a love story.  But it is also about self-acceptance and giving ourselves permission to be less than perfect (hence the title).  I believe that until you can love yourself, you have a hard time accepting love from others.  So it’s about the heroine’s struggle to do just that, and the man who helps her see herself through his eyes.

Casey: Can you share a blurb with us?

JOAN:  Certainly, I’d love to!  Ali Baker is a corporate executive with a house in an upscale suburb of Houston. The only thing missing is the right man to share it with. But a lifelong struggle with weight has left her with low self-esteem that keeps her from taking a chance on love. A new fitness plan gives her a slimmer figure, but she hits a plateau before reaching her goal. Ali joins the local gym to rev up her metabolism, but she has no idea her love life’s about to go into overdrive, too! When she meets British trainer Daniel Wells, the heat between them sizzles. They begin a torrid affair that takes them both by surprise. Then Ali discovers he hasn’t been completely honest with her, and old insecurities threaten to unravel their relationship. Daniel must fight to regain her trust, and he’ll do anything to become the one addiction she can’t resist.

Casey: Thanks again, Joan, for being here. Now everyone go out and visit http://www.joanchandler.wordpress.com/

 

7 Comments