I have a new release out with Ellora's Cave called SUBMISSION BECOMES HER and it's hot, hot, hot! It's also my first romance that focuses primarily on the BDSM aspects of a relationship. .

You're thinking, what the heck is she talking about, right? Because you know I always put a little sexy spanking and bongage in my books. At least whenever the h/h will go for it!

But this is the first book that's all about the hero dominating his very willing and submissive lover in the bedroom. Of course, there is still the overarching true-love romance, but in this case, I really tried to delve into exactly what the heroine is experiencing in her head during the BDSM scenes.

I wasn't sure how this approach would work for me - I usually write in a style that most would call "BDSM-Light." But I ended up having a really good time with this story, as I hope you will. Trust me - it's hot, it's sexy and it's romantic!

Happy Reading!

She wants to be dominated by a man and he's going to help her live out her every

Josie Roberts has a secret fantasy. She wants to be dominated, to feel owned by a man in the bedroom while being his complete equal outside of it. Finding that man has been difficult, however. But then she meets “Sir Dom” in an online BDSM chat room. After weeks of cyberspanking, Josie and her online Dom are both ready for the real thing, so they decide to finally meet in person.

When Josie arrives at the restaurant, she’s stunned to discover “Sir Dom” is none other than her ex-boyfriend Gavin Elliot. She can’t believe it. He might be gorgeous, but when it came to sex, he was about as vanilla as a man could get. Or so she’d always thought.

It turns out Gavin had kept his dream of dominating a woman in the bedroom a secret, too. And now, he’s going to live out every fantasy he’s ever had by tying her up and spanking her until she begs for more.


Without a word, he snaked his hand in her hair and with a firm, but gentle tug, tilted her head back. The show of dominance made her go gooey inside and she gripped the front of his shirt for support as he claimed her mouth in a scorching kiss.

“Tonight, and for every night after, you’re going to be my submissive when we’re in this room, and I will be your master,” he rasped. “Is that understood?”

“Yes,” she panted.

“Say it,” he demanded.

“Tonight, and for every night after, I will be your submissive when we’re in this room,” she promised. “And you will be my master.”

The words were a vow, and as she said them, Josie knew they tied her to Gavin as completely as if they were married.

Taking her hand, he picked up one of the leather cuffs from the bed and slipped it over her wrist, tightening it so that it fit snuggly. Then he did the same with her other wrist. Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he must be able to hear it, but he made no comment as he led her over to the foot of the bed. Turning her to face it, he put his hand on her back and bent her over the bed. She wondered if he was going to cuff her hands behind her back with the sturdy- looking hooks that were attached to the leather. The image sent a quiver through her.

But he instructed her to put her hands above her head. She started to ask why, but remembered the vow she’d made and caught herself. She rested her cheek on the coverlet and obediently placed her arms out in front of her on the bed. Gavin took her right wrist and slid her arm closer to the edge of the bed. A moment later, she heard a click as he attached something to the leather cuff. Or rather, attached the cuff to something on the bed. She automatically gave her wrist a tug, but it wouldn’t give. That was when she saw the strap hanging over the side of the bed. It was some kind of restraint system, she realized as Gavin secured her other wrist to the opposite side of the bed. She gave that one a tug, too, but it was just as tightly bound as the other.

“Spread your legs,” he said softly.

Josie was so busy thinking about the restraints on her wrist, she didn’t realize Gavin had come around the bed to stand in back of her. Afraid he would think she’d forgotten her place already, she quickly spread her legs. It was only after she did that she realized just how vulnerable she was in that position, and as Gavin fit the leather cuffs around her ankles, she had to fight the urge to close her legs.

She expected him to secure them to the bed the same way he’d done with her wrists, but instead, she felt him attach something to the inside of the cuff around her right ankle. When he did the same to the cuff on the left one, she realized it was some kind of bar designed to keep her legs spread. If she’d thought she felt vulnerable before, that was nothing compared to how helpless and exposed she felt now. It had her so wet, she was practically gushing.

She sensed Gavin straighten up behind her. She automatically tensed, waiting for him to reach for either the paddle or the leather strap—both of which were still on the bed and in view. But he only ran his hand over the curve of her ass. Then gave it a firm squeeze.

Watch the Trailer!

Buy it at Ellora's Cave!


"Stories so hot, they'll make your cheeks blush!"

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MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE, Regency Christmas comedy


On Nov. 25, all digital titles, including mine, are 30% off at The Wild Rose Press with code e8f302ffef

My books are here:

A man who sees mistletoe everywhere is mad--or in love.

Charles sees mistletoe. Not surprising, since he's spending Christmas at Mistletoe Manor. But why does no one else see it? And why does it always appear above Penelope, the despised lady who jilted him after their last meeting?

Penelope wants nothing to do with the faithless Charles, the man who cried off after she accepted his marriage proposal. But he still stirs her heart--and he stares at her all the time. Or rather, he stares at the empty ceiling over her head…What does he see?

According to folklore, mistletoe is the plant of peace. Can Penelope and Charles, so full of hurt and anger, heed the mistletoe's message and make peace?

After Charles had heaped his plate with more food than he wanted, he took one of the empty chairs at the table bottom, as far from Penelope as possible.

His tensed muscles eased as he joked with his friends. Smythe made a comment and Charles turned to answer. He caught sight of Penelope…and a monstrous bunch of mistletoe above her.

"Gordon? What is it?" Smythe swiveled in the direction Charles was staring. He looked up and down, and from one side to the other. "I say, with your mouth hanging open like that, you must see something spectacular, but damned if I know what it is."

With an audible click, Charles clamped his jaw shut. "I thought I saw…" He forced his gaze back to his companion. "Nothing. I imagined I saw mistletoe."

Smythe's eyebrows rose. "Mistletoe?"

"Yes. The house is named 'Mistletoe Manor', so the place is filled with mistletoe decorations. Pictures, wall hangings, ceiling trim, whatnot."

"Indeed." Smythe's eyebrows rose higher. "That 'mistletoe' you saw is over that Miss Lawrence. Lovely little filly." His lips curved into a knowing grin. "My jaw dropped the first time I saw her, too."

Charles stiffened. "I was not looking at Miss Lawrence. I believed I saw mistletoe over her."

"'Mistletoe'." Symthe's grin widened. "Of course."

And I hope you got what you wanted for Christmas, too!

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Author Bio:
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!

I'm Linda Banche, and I write witty, sweet/sensual Regency romances with nary a rake or royal in sight. Most contain humor, some fantasy, and occasionally a little paranormal. But comedy is my love, and I've created my own wacky blend of humor and Regency with stories that can elicit reactions from a gentle smile to a belly laugh.

Like many other romance authors, I read romances for years before I wrote my own. Once I tried, I quickly discovered how difficult writing is. Did I stop? No, I'm persistent--that's French for "too stupid to quit".

I'm a two-time EPICON finalist, I live in New England and like aerobics and ducks.

So, laugh along with me on a voyage back to the Regency era. Me and my ducks. Quack.

I have four Regency novellas, all from The Wild Rose Press. LADY OF THE STARS (time travel, finalist in Science Fiction Romance in the 2010 EPIC eBook Contest), PUMPKINNAPPER (finalist in the 2011 EPIC Contest in the Historical Romance category. I'm two for two now. I've entered the EPIC contest twice, and I've finaled twice.), MISTLETOE EVERYWHERE, and my latest, GIFTS GONE ASTRAY.

Thank you all,
Linda Banche
Welcome to My World of Historical Hilarity!

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I hunch up and hug my arms. Still freezing. Whoever said Anchorage, Alaska, gets more sunshine than Seattle ought to get shot. Or forced to move here permanently, with no vacation rights in warmer parts of the world such as Hawaii, the Sahara Desert or even... yeah, even Seattle.

Here I am, Sarah Hadfield, age 28, born and bred in the rain of Seattle, exposed to the icy whips of the Arctic winds. A whim? A hunch? Following a dream?

Wikipedia puts Anchorage’s temperatures between 5F in the winter up to toasty seventy-eight degrees in summer, but if this is five degrees, I’m Gossip Girl.

“Allow me.”

Woollen bliss wraps around my shoulders. It smells of fresh pinewood chippings.

“Thanks,” I mumble into the lining. “Where are you heading?” A cursory civility on my part, for no matter where this stranger was going with his wonderfully warm jacket, he’s now coming to the museum with me. At least his jacket is.

He must have read my mind. “I’ll just follow you.”

OK, this is going to be awkward. Maybe. People accuse me of acting first and thinking later. Best to get it over and done with.

“I’m on my way to the museum.” No need to say which museum, Anchorage has only the one. Moving my lips gives me the illusion of exercise-induced warmth, so I plough on. May as well get it out in the open. “They have a speed dating evening in their café.”

“In the Muse? Cosy.”

Oh, I hope so. The longer I stay in the jacket’s embrace, the more I loathe the idea of ever being cold again.

(excerpt from Speed Dating In The Cold)

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I love writing holiday romances, especially Christmas-themed ones, but when my hubby (who is also my writing partner!) suggested we write a story about one of Santa's Elves, I was like, "You're kidding, right?" Silly of me, actually. I mean, we pulled off a zombie romance in DEAD SEXY, which turned out to be an EPIC Award Finalist, by the way. Hubby still had to do some convincing, but he did it, and as we outlined the story, I completely fell in love with the heroine Sosie, a guileless elf who doesn't fit in up at the North Pole and ends up stranded in NYC on Christmas Eve where she meets and falls head over heels for a hunky cop. I think you'll fall in love with her, too!

Happy Reading!

Being one of Santa’s elves isn’t all sugar plums and candy canes.

At least not for Sosie. Taller than the other elves, she’s always had a problem fitting in at the North Pole, so when the transport sled she’s on breaks down in New York City on Christmas Eve, she can’t resist slipping away to explore the world of the “big people.” While she’s having fun, the transport sled takes off, leaving the naïve elf stranded.

Fortunately, handsome police detective Derek Clayton comes to her rescue, offering to let her stay at his apartment. Having heard horror stories about the big people, Sosie is both surprised and relieved to meet such a kind, sweet man. Not to mention one so gorgeous and well-built.

Even though Sosie expects the North Pole to send out a search party any day, she finds herself falling for Derek. She desperately wants to tell him she’s an elf, but knows he’ll never believe her. When the lies and omissions start to pile up, Derek can draw only one conclusion—Sosie is working for the mob boss he’s been after for years.

Just when things seem like they can’t get any worse, the chief of elfin security shows up to drag Sosie back to the North Pole. How is a runaway elf supposed to overcome a determined security elf, dangerous mobsters and a suspicious boyfriend all while keeping her pointed ears a secret?


By the time the party wound down a few hours later, Sosie was more aroused from her fantasies than she’d ever been in her life. She was an elf in lust and nothing was going stop her from getting Derek into bed with her tonight. She didn’t care how much of a gentleman he was, there was no way he was sleeping on the couch again. In fact, if she had her way, he wasn’t going to be sleeping at all.

After they got back up to his apartment, however, her confidence faltered. But then she thought of the frustrated night she would assuredly have ahead of her if she didn’t proposition Derek, and how much she would regret it when she left.

Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him. “I had a great time at the party. It was very nice of you to invite me.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you came. I had a good time, too.”

Sosie nibbled on her lower lip. Okay, it was now or not at all. Time to be a bold elf. She looked up at him. “You know, I feel awful about putting you out of your bed again. I was thinking maybe you might want to sleep with me tonight.”

He studied her in silence, his dark eyes unreadable. Sosie held her breath as she waited for him to say something. What if Tracee and Linda had been wrong? What if Derek wasn’t as “into her” as they’d thought?

“If I share the bed with you, Sosie,” he said softly, “sleeping is the last thing either of us will be doing.”

She gave him what she hoped was a flirtatious look. “Good. Then the mistletoe won’t go to waste.”

His mouth curved into a grin at the tiny sprig of greenery dangling from her fingers. “Mistletoe, huh?”

“I thought I could put it wherever I want you to kiss me.”

He chuckled. “Honey, you don’t need mistletoe for that. I’ve spent the past two hours fantasizing about kissing every inch of you.”

Her pulse skipped a beat. “You have?”


Cupping her face in his hand, he bent his head to cover her mouth with his. This time, there was no hesitancy in the kiss. This time, his mouth moved over hers with an urgency that left her breathless, and she had to cling to his shoulders to keep from melting as his tongue plunged into her mouth to take possession of hers. It was as if he couldn’t seem to get enough of her. The desire was mutual. She couldn’t get enough of him, either.

With a groan, Derek swung her up in his arms and strode toward the bedroom. She’d never had a guy do something so romantic before—mainly because she was always taller than the elf guys she’d slept with—but she decided it was very hot.

Once beside the bed, Derek set her on the floor, letting her slide slowly and deliciously down his body. Arms still looped around his neck, she pulled him down for another kiss. This time, she was the aggressor, her tongue seeking his and exploring every inch of his tasty mouth.

Derek groaned and ran his hands down her back to firmly cup her ass through the tight jeans she wore. She murmured her appreciation against his mouth as he pulled her more tightly against him. His erection strained against his jeans, pressing into her tummy. Mmm. Well, that answered the question as to whether he was well built everywhere. It felt as if he had a huge candy cane hidden in there.

Suddenly impatient to see how well built, Sosie ran her hands down his chest to the bottom of his shirt and urgently pushed it up. Derek must have thought she needed some help because he reached back and pulled it over his head to toss it on the floor.

She’d thought getting a glimpse of him without a shirt last night had been a treat, but seeing all that sculpted muscle up close was even better. Figgy, he was gorgeous.

5 Hearts from Sizzling Hot Books!

"Sosie is an elf that has never really fit in at the North Pole, so she decides to try the South Pole. But, when the sled she is on has trouble, she is enchanted by the city lights, the BP world (Big People) and wanders away. Needless to say, the sled takes off without her and she is stranded in the city. Sosie is a charming character. She knows only what has been shown on the local North Pole news about the big world and so while a little bit knowledgeable, her innocence and naivety are absolutely charming and funny.

Derek is a detective with the NYPD and when he finds Sosie, he can’t just let her venture about on her own. Taking her home may have been the best decision he’s ever made or it may turn out to be the worst when things start to fall apart. Derek is definitely an alpha male, but a gentleman with a heart of gold who likes to help women in trouble.

I have to admit that I read Santa’s Wayward Elf in one sitting - I couldn’t walk away from Sosie. This is one of the most unique, sweet and yet still sensual holiday stories I have read in a long time. There wasn’t a slow point to be found in Santa’s Wayward Elf as Paige Tyler weaves for us remarkable characters within a fairytale life that really embraces the Christmas spirit and spreads it to everyone that touches the pages!"

Watch the Trailer!

Buy it at Whiskey Creek Press Torrid!


"Stories so hot, they'll make your cheeks blush!"

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Anniversary Post: Small town romance, big town suspense

This is the third anniversary of the printing of my Hometown Mystery.

What happens when an FBI agent tries to go 'undercover' in a small town? Yep. You guessed it. Everybody knows who he is ... including the woman he's tracking...

Setup: undercover FBI agent Nick Baxter has been sent to New Providence, Iowa to investigate recent widow Shannon Delgardie. Shannon's husband was suspected of treason. What Nick doesn't know is that Shannon (and just about everybody else in town) knows who he is because Shannon's father was in the CIA and she has 'contacts' who have helped her research Nick.

“How many people know about this?” Shannon went very still then wiggled, trying to get out of his arm. Nick held her firmly. “Shannon?”
“I told Judi and Evie some of it. Not the details but they were there when I got one of the death threats. They told Richard and Chris. And my Mom knows.” Shannon hurried on when she saw Nick’s outraged look. “I can never keep anything from her. So I suppose Aunt Joan knows. Uncle Matt might know and probably cousin Terry. Maybe. Terry doesn’t get along very well with Joan, so maybe she doesn’t know yet.”
Nick looked at her, open-mouthed. “In other words, most of the town knows you’re in trouble?”
“Oh, sort of,” Shannon mumbled. “When I bought the gun, I sort of mentioned I’d been mugged and I was worried. I mentioned it to Nancy Jensen’s husband, Bubby, he’s the one who sold me the gun.”
Nick leaned his head back on the swing. “Shannon, are you telling me all of these people know and no one suggested you contact the FBI or the police and turn it all over to them?”
“They all did,” she assured him. “But I wasn’t sure who to trust. I suppose it was inevitable somebody would let the cat out of the bag. I’m going to beat Richard up for this.” She struggled in his arms and once again, Nick pinned her to him. “You’re bullying me.”
He looked down at her and smiled. “I like having you here. You’re not going to beat up Richard. I’m going to thank him, personally.” He kissed her. “Shannon, you can trust me,” he whispered after he released her lips.
She leaned into him. “I want to. I’ve been scared for so long.”
Nick hugged her, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “What did you plan to do?”
“Once the code is broken, I’d know who I could trust and who I couldn’t trust. Then I’d decide who to give the files to.”
“What do you think is in the files?”
Shannon sighed and that sound raced all the way down to his toes. His body stirred in response. “I think it’s gaming software.”
“Hunh?” He was distracted by her effect on him. The words didn’t soak in at first.
“Gaming software. You know, a revolutionary new program.” Shannon saw Nick shaking his head. “What then?”
“Oh, no. John didn’t have access to anything.” But her voice faded as she considered his words. “Chip design. John had access to chip designs because the programs he was working on would take advantage of the new chip designs. And of course there was the D.O.D. stuff.”
“John had Department of Defense clearance. The gaming software he was working on is often used with a few changes for war simulations. That’s got to be it.” She frowned in concentration. “It can’t just be that, though. Chip designs are always leaking around the Valley.” She saw Nick’s blank look. “Silicon Valley.”
“How far away are your friends from hacking the encryption?” He inched one hand under her blouse and smoothed the skin of her back. Nick began to nibble the side of her neck, putting small kisses along the edge of her jaw.
“Close,” she sighed, angling her head so he had better access. “Very close.”
“Hmm.” He shouldn’t be doing this. He should be focusing on the problem, focusing on the encrypted files. Right now Nick was more focused on getting her blouse unbuttoned.
“I was afraid whoever was sending me the messages might know you were FBI,” Shannon said breathlessly. “That’s why I pretended not to know. Because if it looked like I called in the FBI, then I’d be in danger and so would Mom.”
Nick paused in the act of unhooking her bra. “You’re right.” He pushed her bra out of the way and closed his fingers around her breast. He felt the firmness of her nipple. “If someone is keeping an eye on you, then they might be watching us right now.” She struggled briefly in his arms and he smiled at her. “So let’s give ‘em a show.”

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Veteran's Day Excerpt from Moonlight and Illusions

In honor of Veteran's Day today, I would like to share with you an excerpt from a scene in MOONLIGHT AND ILLUSIONS, my latest paranormal. The hero, STEPHEN ELLIOTT, is an immortal magician, born in the 1800s and now in the middle of WW II.

October 1944
Leyte, Philippine Islands

Someone had once said, “Be careful what you wish for.” Stephen had wanted to make himself useful in this crazy twentieth century, since it didn’t look as though he would be leaving it any time soon. Now he found himself in a living nightmare. He pulled his gun closer and checked to make sure no mud had gotten into the mechanism. His M-1 semiautomatic was an amazing piece of technology, far more advanced than the front-end loading rifle he had used as a boy. He could kill many men in a short amount of time; and he did.

A shell screamed overhead. Someone in the trench sobbed and another prayed. He couldn’t blame them. The young men under his command were barely old enough to shave, let alone die in a muddy hole in Leyte.

The swarming chaos and noise of men and vehicles moving in every direction was incredible. Stephen, along with thousands of other American soldiers in the Sixth Army, had landed here, and now they were attempting to reclaim the Philippine Islands from the Japanese. Machine guns rattled. The drone of air support came from overhead, and in minutes bombs dropped and palm trees exploded in fireballs, along with the enemy’s ammunition depot some distance away.

“Keep your eyes open, boys, they’re flushing them out. Get ready when they come our way!” he yelled.


Stephen swiveled to see a soldier in green fatigues like his, making his way toward him, radio in hand. “What is it, Jones?”

“The captain says the enemy is moving up to the mountains. He wants you to take a group to clear out any stragglers.”

Jones passed the radio to Stephen, who listened to his commander’s orders. “Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

A few minutes later, he and his men, rifles in hand, crawled out of the trench, heading cautiously toward the flaming supply depot. The U.S. planes had done a fairly thorough job bombing and strafing the area, so he didn’t expect too much resistance.

Stephen scanned the area continuously as they progressed. Flames consumed crates and smoke belched from a smoldering vehicle, now unidentifiable. His eyes stung as the stench of burning wood, rubber, gasoline, and human bodies reached them.

Gunfire rang out, and Roberts let out a yelp and went down. Neely went to his aid immediately as they all scrambled for cover.

“Sniper!” someone yelled.

The pop-pop-pop of sporadic shooting continued. They were pinned down.

“How’s Roberts?” Stephen yelled.

“He needs a doc, sir,” Neely called back.

“Smith and Neely, get Roberts back for help. The rest are coming with me. You three go around to the right,” he pointed to three of his young charges. “The other three go to the left. Brown, you and I are going straight in. The sniper is behind the stack of pipes. Everyone fire at him, but keep spread out.”

Through a haze of smoke they advanced slowly. The sniper answered their gun fire. They had to take out the man before he killed again.

Stephen glanced at Sammy Brown. The soldier was intently focusing his shots on the unseen gunman and didn’t glance back. He decided to risk a bold action. Shifting his rifle to his left hand, Stephen extended his right arm and concentrated. Under his uniform, a spot on his chest grew warm. The Companion Spirit’s energy pulsed through his body. From his fingertips greenish light flew out, barely visible in the smoky haze. As the energy struck them, the metal pipes sheltering the sniper rattled. Suddenly the top one rolled off. Moments later the entire pile came tumbling down in a loud clatter of metal on metal.

With satisfaction he saw the startled expression on the Japanese soldier’s face. But the feeling was short-lived. Searing pain tore his leg out from under him then slammed into his belly and hand before he could shoot. He collapsed forward clutching his stomach and watching while his men took care of the problem as expected. There was one less enemy soldier.


I hope you enjoyed this excerpt. For more information go to You can also take a look inside the book at Amazon.


Amazon Kindle
Amazon print
B&Nook and print
Vinspire Publishing 

Thanks and Happy Veteran's Day!
~Diane Wylie

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'Voices in the Dark': romantic excerpt set in Venice

To celebrate the re-issue of my romantic suspense, 'Voices in the Dark,' here is a romantic excerpt where the hero Roberto and heroine Julia go to Venice.


Venice. Neither Julia nor Roberto had ever been to the floating city. Free of memories and ghosts, deserted by tourists in a day of freezing fog, Venice was theirs.
      Leaning out on the Rialto bridge, Julia spoke their united thought. 'Glad we came.' Time, their constant harrier, glided like the mist gilded streams under their feet as they regarded each other.
      They kissed on the bridge, the silver fog rising from the water hiding them and the city in a secret embrace.
     'I wish we could stay,' said Roberto, when they surfaced a little from the kiss. Julia turned a dreamy open face sidelong and ran her eyes over him. She wanted this rippling quiet, this day of misted sun glinting on the tops of suspended marble palaces, to go on for ever. No more struggle for success no more troubles. No more Scarpia.
     'I can't get used to you without that plaster cast,' she murmured, obliterating the world as she pressed her cheek against his chest. 'I like the suit.' Dark grey, classically cut, worn with eye-grabbing panache, the suit had been a revelation. She already had designs for borrowing the waistcoat. She hugged him tight. ‘You look great.'
     'And you are truly gorgeous.' Roberto stroked a hand down her back. 'Why do you hide those legs?'
     His hand, and even more his eyes were doing things to her.
     'Shall we?' he said.

'Snow and Fog on the Grand Canal', by Ippolito Caffi
      They took a gondola. Paying the gondolier not to sing, they settled against the heart-shaped backrest, Roberto giving Julia his cushion. Whilst he chatted to the gondolier about the latest football scores, Julia trailed her fingers through mist to cold, silken, softly grey-green waters. Both were too aware of each other to need more than the lightest touch of their bodies, side by side as they floated on the cradle of Venice's canals.
     Venice in a shimmering winter mist was as one of its more extravagant glass creations, cloudy and baroque at the base, its marble statues and wrought-iron house-grills looming through the mist like porcelain flowers stuck on Venetian chandeliers. Then halfway up the narrow buildings - just over the top of Roberto's brown spiky curls, Julia calculated - the mist thinned and sunshine dusted each white campanile.
     ‘We're here,' Roberto said softly. The gondola swayed against a painted landing post; a doorstep floated inches above the water. This was his surprise to her: a home, not a hotel, their own private place. He had booked it, along with a few extras, at Florence airport before they made their flight.
     He opened the front door. The gondolier, paid and tipped, was gossiping into his portable phone about having met Roberto Padovano. ' . . . and you know he's really normal . . . great bloke . . . asked about the big match, you know, Roma versus Inter-Milan . . .'
     Someone in the Romanesque palace opposite shook their shoes out of the balcony window. Hidden by a curve of buildings, muted by fog, two waterbuses honked as they passed on the Grand Canal.
     Julia rose circumspectly to her feet. The last thing she wanted to do was spoil the moment, shatter the delicious tension by an ungainly lurch off the boat. In jeans and trainers she would not have thought twice, but high heels and a fitted coat were a different matter.
     Roberto did not offer his hand but merely plucked her from the gondola, swinging her lightly off her feet into his arms. They entered the Venetian house that way, Roberto crossing the threshold carrying Julia. Closing the door on the grinning gondolier, he continued an unhurried advance to the bedroom.
     'Didn't I see a piano as we whisked through the living-room?' asked Julia. 'And a log fire and a Christmas hamper?'
     'You did,' answered Roberto, unbuttoning her coat, ‘This was once a composer's house. Now it's a luxury holiday home.' Slowly, he unfastened her shoes.
     Julia closed her eyes as his strong fingers brushed her ankles. ‘Which composer?' she asked softly, as her high heels went skating across the mosaic floor to the big sunlit window.
     'A German. He wrote many beautiful hymns - but then German is a spiritual language.' Spirit was not what Roberto was feeling at that moment. He swept her out of her coat onto the gold satin sheets.
     Julia helped him to shrug off his jacket and loosen his tie. 'What kind of language is English?' she asked, her nimble fingers undoing his waistcoat as his hands deftly slid into her dress, dispatching the fastenings. Her fingers brushed warm flesh as his thumbs circled the engorged nipples of her breasts.
     'Definitely pastoral.' Roberto's hands slipped gently between her thighs. 'Country matters.' As she gasped he kissed her.
     Off came the rest of the clothes, in silent, feverish haste. The pleasure of seeing each other naked was to be fully enjoyed in a later, less urgent moment; now it was contact, the mutual desire for possession. They burned in each other's arms.
     ‘What about French?' Julia murmured several long moments later, fingers teasing an intimate caress. He was so firm, so good to touch; she wanted all of him.    
     'Intellectual.' Her hand guided. Her body enfolded. It was better than anything he had known before. Sweating, rigid in delight, Roberto forced himself to be slow.
     Julia felt him moving deep inside her. The virtues of Spanish and Italian must keep. She kissed his throat. His arms tightened around her. The spikes of pleasure intensified as his hips ground against hers. She writhed beneath him. As he came he shouted her name. As she came she kissed him on the mouth.
     For both, it had been worth the wait.

Smashwords and Kindle 2011

Buy the ebook:

Amazon Kindle (US)
Amazon Kindle (UK)

Reviews from the original UK print edition:Birmingham Sunday Mercury:
Lindsay Townsend's mixture of arias and skullduggery turns into a highly readable thriller.

Yorkshire Post:
Confident debut.

Grimsby Evening Telegraph:
She obviously has a passion for writing. This is a book you will not be able to put down.

Lindsay Townsend

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Anniversary Post: A cross-country scavenger hunt

This is the 1st anniversary of the print (and digital) release of my 18th book, which features a book store owner, an ex-cop, and a cross-country scavenger hunt with romance novels as the clues!


Setup: Odetta and Jack are on a cross-country trip together, trying to solve a mystery left to Jack by his ex-wife, Sandy.

“I lost track of her. She was, well,...Sandy was sort of, um...”

I leaned on the big book bag serving as a dividing line between us on the front seat. “She was sort of what?” I propped my chin on my hand and stared at him.

Jack cleared his throat and his blush rose again. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and I shot him another bright, innocent look. “She was getting into kinky things when we broke up,” he said, his words tripping over each other in his haste.

“Ooh,” I breathed. “Kinky things. What a woman. Like what?” I almost laughed at the sight of his blushing face. “You can tell me. S&M? Bondage? Domination? Whips? Silk scarves? Mutual masturbation? Leather? Sex toys? Farm animals? Sex in public? Multiple simultaneous partners?”

“Holy shit, Odetta! How do you know so much about it?” He glanced at me, his face flaming with color.

“I read a lot.” I smiled blithely. “And, in my youth, I was...experimental.”

He almost choked. “Gees, I don’t believe I’m talking to you about this! I just met you. I shouldn’t be talking about this stuff with you!”

“Heavens, Jack, it’s just sex,” I said in a no-nonsense voice. “Everybody does it. Or, rather, everybody who’s lucky does it. So what was it? Maybe it has something to do with what she said in the note.” I smiled guilelessly and fluttered my lashes at him.

He blew out an exasperated sigh. “Man, I don’t believe this.” His fingers opened and closed on the wheel. “Bondage. She liked to be tied up. And she liked some...pain.” He shook his head. “I didn’t understand it. I thought she was kidding, but she really did like it that way. When I found her and Sam, she was tied up and he was—”

“Okay, okay,” I interrupted. “Let’s just say she didn’t communicate clearly to you what you could do to please her.”


“She didn’t train you, as it were. If a woman wants special things, she has to train a man how to do them for her. And vice versa, of course. I mean, we’re not mind readers, are we? If a man wants something special, he’s got to either speak up or show me, right?”

Jack hinged his jaw back up and stared at the pavement in front of us. “Uh-hunh.”

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The Promise up for Book of the Year!

Over at Deep in the Heart Romance! Voting ends Dec 31st.

Tory Richards

Shannon Hayes' husband David was killed in Iraq nearly a year ago,and now she must face her first holiday season without him. With a toddler in tow, she travels to the Vermont farm where the rest of the family has gathered for the holidays. There she comes face to face with the man who was with him when he died, and her destiny, his older brother Ryan.

For the first time in years, Ryan returns home to keep a promise he made to David—to take care of Shannon and their daughter. It's a pledge Ryan is reluctant to keep because he's been secretly in love with Shannon since first setting eyes on her. Their attraction to each other is instant, intense and soon the promise isn't the only thing between them.

Excerpt -

Just as she stepped off the bottom step, she heard a noise at the front door. She hesitated, unsure what to do. Who could be visiting at this hour? Just when she expected to hear a knock, she heard something else
instead. A key was being inserted into the lock, and right before her startled eyes, she watched the knob turn and the door open. Her gaze landed on a pair of army boots and slowly traveled upward, taking in the
muscular body in military fatigues. Her mouth dropped open in shock.

Ohmygod! Ryan had come home!

He appeared just as startled as she was. Halting in the threshold as their eyes meet, his rugged expression carved in granite. Only his eyes, those piercing blue orbs, showed any sign of life, if you could call it that. Shannon had a feeling that Ryan Hayes didn't reveal any emotions that weren't hardened by years of combat. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to speak and half expected him to back out and leave.

"Do you mind if I come in?" His deep voice was just as Shannon remembered. "It's damn cold out here."

For the first time she realized she was blocking his way. Swallowing, she stepped back enough for him to enter and close the door behind him. He dropped a large army bag on the floor by his feet, and shook off the
snow onto the floor mat. All the while keeping his eyes trained on Shannon, as though she were the enemy. She took a nervous step further into the foyer, directly into the soft glow of the lamp that had been left on in the living room.

Ryan looked just like he did the last time she saw him. Big and tall, cloaked in that attitude of quiet strength he seemed to possess. His black hair cut in military fashion and suited his strong, square boned face. Though sporting a tiny scar over his left eyebrow and another, bigger one halfway down his left cheek he was still a handsome man. He eluded danger in practically every move he made, every glance. His eyes dropped, running over Shannon rapidly, making her painfully aware of her disheveled state.

She refused to reach up and smooth her hair back, knowing that it would do no good. The tiniest quirk on his full, sensuous mouth revealed he found her condition amusing. Quickly, his lips thinned almost menacingly
when his gaze narrowed on her breasts. It was then that Shannon reached up and pulled her ruined blouse together where the buttons had come off.

She finally found her voice. "Welcome home, Ryan."

"Where is everyone?" His tone seemed hard, gruff, more commanding than inquiring. He slipped off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the back of the door, and then bent to slip off his boots.

"Mom went to bed with a headache. Sheila must be putting the kids to bed. The rest won't get here until tomorrow night." Shannon couldn't help but notice the quick glance he shot her way when she called his
mother mom. She watched quietly as he set his boots against the wall and stood, towering over her again.

"It's just as well. I'm tired as hell and want to turn in early myself. But first, I want to find something to eat. I'm starved." Closing the distance between them, Ryan halted when he reached Shannon. "Is that okay?"

Shannon felt a telltale heat rush up to her cheeks when she realized she was watching Ryan's mouth form the words. What the heck was wrong with her? Jet lag, that's what. She gave her head a little shake. She must be more tired than she thought. As his words became clear, it dawned on her that she was once again blocking his way.

"Oh! I'm, ah sorry." Instead of moving to let him pass, she turned and began to walk in the direction of the kitchen. "I'll be glad to fix you something to eat."

"Thanks, but that won't be necessary." He was right on her heels.

"That's okay." Shannon pushed the kitchen door open and flipped on the light switch on the wall next to it. "Sheila put a plate for me in the oven and if I know her, she left enough for two. I don't mind sharing." Not waiting for Ryan to acknowledge her, Shannon took the potholders from the counter by the stove, opened the oven door and retrieved the plate. "Just as I thought."

She turned and showed him the full plate of corn beef hash. But the expression on Ryan's face almost made her drop it. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and he'd turned pale, his lips were thin as a muscle
twitched in his jaw that had hardened in an effort to hold back that he was in obvious pain. Intense pain. He was clutching the island counter in the middle of the kitchen as if it alone was holding him upright.

"Ryan!" Shannon set the plate down and rushed to his side. "What is it? What's wrong?"

He held a hand up in a silent warning for her to back off. She stopped immediately and waited for another sign from him, afraid he was having some kind of attack. After a few more seconds, he sucked in several deep breaths and released them slowly. It was clear by his expression that he hated showing her even that one small weakness. It was very clear that he didn't intend talking about it. Shannon knew the moment the pain left his body when his expression relaxed.

"You said something about sharing your dinner?" He pulled out one of the barstools from around the island and sank down onto it. Shannon hesitated for a moment, fighting the urge to question him. Something was
terribly wrong, she just knew it, but she didn't know Ryan well enough to feel she had the right to ask him anything personal. The look in his cold eyes warned her she'd be shot down before she managed to speak the first word. Forcing a smile she was far from feeling, she turned to get a second plate.

"I'll thank you not to mention what just occurred to my family," Ryan surprised her by saying while her back was turned to him.

"If that's what you want," Shannon responded, opening a cupboard door. She glanced with surprise at where the plates were usually stacked. Glasses had replaced them. Marsha had obviously done some rearranging
since the last time Shannon had been there. She opened up several other doors before finding the plates, stacked on the second shelf. Standing on tip toe she strained to reach them.

"Here, let me help you."

"Oh!" Feeling Ryan brush up against her, Shannon spun around before she could think. Suddenly, it wasn't her backside feeling his hardened muscles. Since he was in the process of reaching over her head for a
plate, they were now flush against each other. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest, the lower halves of their bodies were shockingly aligned, and their thighs were touching. Mouths within inches of each other, their breath mingled. It was crazy but Shannon was sure she felt their hearts beating in rhythm. She began to tingle everywhere and held her breath.

Their gazes met and held and Ryan became motionless, his arm still above her head reaching for the plate. It struck Shannon that she was seeing the dangerous side of him, the soldier sizing up the situation and
preparing for action. Only in this case, what would that be? She refused to let her mind go there.

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New Release: Narcissist Seeks Narcissist, a lesbian erotic comedy

This summer, I realized I didn't have many lesbian books on the market, so I wrote a new one. I was in a good mood at the time, so I wrote a comedy. It's silly, I should warn you, and a little over-the-top, but great fun:
By: Giselle Renarde

Published By: New Dawning Bookfair

Published: Nov 04, 2011

ISBN # 9781466028388
Word Count: 12,400
Heat Index

Szuszu the former model has survived on women and scotch since she was just a teenager. All these years, she's had her best friend Babette by her side, but now that Babette is married and setting off on a world tour, Szuszu feels utterly abandoned. As a pre-departure joke, Babette writes up a silly and snide little personal ad, which narcissistic Szuszu posts in hopes of attracting a woman who looks just like she did when she was young.

Naomi thinks Szuszu's post is hilarious -- what a great sense of humor! She can hardly believe the centrefold she stole from her dad's collection way back in the day is looking for love. It's not like her to answer a personal ad, but for the infamous Szuszu she'll make an exception. She thinks Szuszu looks fantastic, and Szuszu (who refuses to wear her glasses) thinks Naomi looks just like her. What could ensue but sex, love, and a whole lot of comedy?


"What's that you're scribbling, darling? It's about me, isn't it?"
Szuszu reached across the table, nearly knocking over her backup scotch
and soda. "Hand it over, Babs. Let's have a look."

Babette pressed the cocktail napkin flush to her chest, setting down her
slim gold pen. "It's nothing, Szusz. Just my shopping list." She shook
her head, eyes wide, guilty as sin. "Just my groceries."

"Shopping!" Szuszu cackled, knocked back the scotch in her hand, then
slammed the glass down on the table. "Darling, you haven't done the
shopping since you shacked up with that dairy cow you call a wife. You
don't need to shop -- just bend the old hausfrau over a bucket and
you've got your milk for free."

"Leave Matilda out of this." Babette shoved the cocktail napkin in her jacket pocket.

"Ah!" Gazing across the table through the amplifying lens of an empty
scotch glass, Szuszu pointed to Babette's chest. "There! I see what
you've written. It's all smeared across your tits, darling." Squinting,
she tried to make out the loopy handwriting smudged on Babette's skin.
"noitaroda… lautum… rof… What is that, darling, Latin? Or have you had a

Babette glanced down at the writing on her chest, wetting another
serviette with Szuszu's next scotch and rubbing it over the pen marks.
"It's backwards, darling. It's an imprint, you know." After setting the
wet serviette down on the table, she pulled the dry one from her pocket.
"Fine, then. Fine, if you're so curious. Here it is. That's what I

Squinting at the flimsy square of paper, Szuszu held it up close and
then away from herself, but the words still wouldn't come into focus.

"I think you need to get yourself a good pair of specs, Szusz."

Szuszu's eyes twitched at the blasphemy. "Nobody wears glasses, darling,
except librarians and Elton John. I was a model, you know."

"Yes, I know, Szusz. Everybody knows." Babette rolled her eyes like a
teenager. "You do realize you've gone up to every person in this bloody
lounge to tell themI was a model?"

"Well, I was on the cover of all the magazines in my day."

"In your day, right, you were. Headlines read: War is over. Szuszu greets sailors at port."

An overwhelming desire came over Szuszu to kick her dearest friend in
the shins, but when she let loose, her snakeskin boot met the cylinder
of metal holding up the table. "Oh, for Christ sake," she moaned,
rubbing her toe. "If I wasn't legless, I bet that would smart."
Defeated, she handed the napkin back across the table. "Here, read this
for me, Babs. I can't see straight."

"Can't even think straight," Babette mumbled. "All right then, you want
to know what I wrote while you were babbling on about your glory days? I
wrote up a personal ad, darling: Narcissist seeks narcissist for mutual
adoration. Turn-ons include mirrors, soup spoons, darkened windows, and
other reflective surfaces. Must enjoy photo albums, the sound of her
own voice, and endlessly reliving days of cover girl glory.
Doppelgangers will receive preferential treatment--see attached photo.
Looks trump substance. Models preferred. Serious enquiries only."

When Babette had finished reading from the serviette, Szuszu offered
weak applause. "So you're going to dump the dairy cow after all these
years. Good show, darling. It's about time."

Babette's ears turned bright red and she shook her head. "I am not
dumping anybody. This ad isn't for me--it's for you. You're the
narcissist, darling. You're the one unlucky in love."

"Luck has nothing to do with it, Babs." Szuszu polished off the last of
her scotch and held up her glass for more. "I'm not like you, darling. I
don't buy into your little cult of Noah's Ark, everyone in neat little

"It's hardly Noah's Ark if it's full of lesbians," Babette muttered.


Narcissist Seeks Narcissist is Available Now from:


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Caveat Emptor 5: Forgotten Lover by Zenobia Renquist

Caveat Emptor 5: Forgotten Lover
by Zenobia Renquist

Changeling Press

eBook ISBN: 978-1-60521-681-2
Genre: Erotic, Paranormal/Fantasy, Vampire, Interracial, Magic
Price: $3.99

Can she bring herself to resume loving a man who is supposed to be her enemy?

Captured by mages, Medusa is more upset at her own weakness than the mages' idea of torture. Once free of them, she plans to slaughter them all. Except, there is one mage who awakens long buried memories of desire from a past best left forgotten. She knows this man to the depths of her soul, but she and Darius are on opposite sides of a war that has raged for centuries. It's more than her heart at stake if she gives in to her desires.

Buy Now:

Read Excerpt:


Lord Arundel reached for her. She thought he would touch her hair. He and the others had seemed enamored of it and the mythology of her namesake. She jumped with a startled squeak when he cupped one of her breasts instead. She looked at him in question. “My lord?”
“You, on the other hand, are very beautiful, Medusa. I would not mind taking what Adelaide offered from you instead.” He stood.
Medusa shook her head at him. “I am not… I could not possibly… Miss Adelaide will want me to return with your answer.” She looked at the door quickly, wondering if she could run to it in time should Lord Arundel attack her.
“That little twit will wait with bated breath until the end of time so long as she thinks she will gain what she wants. So let her wait.” He flicked his free hand at her.
All of Medusa’s clothes flew from her body. They landed in a neat, folded pile near the door. She couldn’t understand what had just happened. How had he done that with only a gesture?
Her questions would go unanswered, as she had other things to worry about. Lord Arundel bore down on her, herding her toward the bed. She sat against its softness, staring up at him.
He said, “There’s no need to be frightened. I plan to make you feel very good, Medusa. I have wanted to touch you since first laying eyes on you earlier this day. It is my luck that Adelaide was foolish enough to send you to me with a late night message.” He smoothed his hand up her leg.
Medusa didn’t know what to do. If she denied him, Lord Arundel might accuse her of trying to seduce him. That would make Miss Adelaide angry, and the woman might force Medusa to leave. Medusa had no other place to go.
She sat still as he touched her stomach and her breasts. Fine shivers shook her body.
Lord Arundel said in a soft, soothing voice, “There’s no reason to be afraid, Medusa. I will not hurt you. Just the opposite.” He dropped to his knees before her and smiled up at her. “Open your legs. I’ll show you what I mean.”
She hesitated for only a second before doing as he bade.
She opened her legs more. Embarrassment made her whole body flush as Lord Arundel stared at her pussy. What did he plan to do?
He drew his fingers over the insides of her thighs. “A little more.”
She nodded. She had to brace her hands on the bed and scoot to the edge so she could open her legs as wide as they could go.
Lord Arundel leaned in close to her. She could feel his breath on her intimate flesh. She wanted to close her legs.
“Have you ever felt a man’s touch, Medusa?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Achilles. He’s a stable hand. We… once, out of curiosity, we embraced.”
Lord Arundel rested his chin on her thigh. “Did you enjoy it?”
She shook her head. “No, my lord.”
The encounter had hurt. She couldn’t understand why the books had described such an act as pleasurable. It had been fumbling and awkward and messy. When Achilles would have engaged her again, she refused him flatly. They hadn’t spoken more than was necessary since.
Lord Arundel chuckled, sending his warm breath over her skin. “This Achilles did not know what he was about if he could not satisfy you. But I am not upset by his misstep. It means the pleasure of hearing your first cries of orgasm will be mine alone.” He spread her pussy lips wide and then ducked his head.

Buy Now:

Zenobia Renquist
Discover Different and Unique Romance
Caveat Emptor Series - Follow three couples as they struggle with love during a vampire-mage war.

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