Historical moment


Those of you who know me, will know I am not a big fan of historical/regency romance. (With a few exceptions of course!)

Given the choice, I will select almost any other genre other than regencies. Yet over the past couple of weeks I’ve read not just one, but two regencies that I have thoroughly enjoyed.

The first one I would never even have heard about but for a chance meeting at RT 11. There I was standing in line for the “Free Books Room” (Yes, any romance readers dream – a room full of free books that we could select seven of and keep. Forever) and a woman standing behind me starts chatting to me. She was lovely. Warm, friendly and quite excited. See, it turned out, one of her books was piled up in that lovely room. The woman’s name? Kieran Kramer. And her book? A novel called “When Harry Met Molly.”

Soon as she told me the title, I knew I’d have to read the book. After all, it is a play on one of my favorite movies ever: When Harry Met Sally. It was my first choice in that fantastic room.

When Harry Met Molly

When Harry Met Molly

He’s always been a player.
Dashing Lord Harry Traemore is perfectly content to live out his days in the pursuit of pleasure. But when he’s named by the Prince Regent as one of society’s “Impossible Bachelors,” Harry is drafted into a ribald romantic wager. The rules of engagement are scandalously simple: The bachelor whose mistress wins the title of “Most Delectable Companion” gets to remain unmarried. Harry is utterly unconcerned about his status…until his latest lightskirt abandons him.

Who will win this game of love?
Enter Lady Molly Fairbanks. Harry’s childhood friend—actually, “foe” is more like it—is the most unlikely companion of all. She’s attractive but hot-headed, and in no mood for games. Besides, what could the self-indulgent Harry possibly know about what makes a woman delectable? It’s time for Molly to teach him a lesson once and for all…but will it lead to “happily ever after?”

Ah, the book was an absolute delight. Seriously? I thoroughly enjoyed it. Enough to jump on Amazon, and download the next three books in the Impossible Bachelors series. And who wouldn’t want to download them with titles like these:

Dukes to the Left of Me, Princes to the Right

Cloudy with a Chance of Marriage and

If You Give a Girl a Viscount.

(Unfortunately, none of these books is available yet on Kindle, and Book 3, If You Give  A Girl a Viscount, only releases in Sep.)

The next book I read was another gift from RT 11. A book by Sabrina Jeffries, called How to Woo a Reluctant Lady.

This was  a book I hadn’t even intended to take home. One look at the cover told me it was a regency, and therefore not my cup of tea. However, someone (either Lexxie or Sami) told me I should really give the book a try, because the series, The Hellions of Halstead Hall, had received brilliant reviews.

I took it. I read it. I loved it.

How to Woo a Reluctant Lady

Lady Minerva Sharpe has the perfect plan to thwart her grandmother’s demand that she marry by year’s end:  become engaged to a rogue!  Surely Gran would rather release her inheritance than see her wed a scoundrel. 

And who better to play the part of Minerva’s would-be husband than wild barrister Giles Masters, the very inspiration for the handsome spy in the popular gothic novels she writes?  The memory of his passionate kiss on her nineteenth birthday has lingered with Minerva, though she has no intention of falling for such a rakehell, much less marrying him!

Little does she know, Giles really is a covert government operative.  When the two team up to investigate the mystery behind her parents’ deaths, their fake betrothal leads to red-hot desire. Then Minerva discovers Giles’s secret double life, and he must use all the cunning tricks of his trade to find his way back to her heart.


So to Kieran Kramer and to Sabrina Jeffries:

Thank you. For writing such wonderfully entertaining books, and more than that, for giving them as gifts at Rt 11.

Your generosity has definitely got you both a brand-new, all-reformed fan.


The Delightful Dawn and Daydrmzzz Blog


Dawn, RC and I (Dawn's the sexy thing in the middle)

When RC and I first arrived in LA for the Romantic Times convention back in April we were unable to sleep. Jess and Sami crashed in bed, but RC and I found ourselves in the hotel bar chatting away and taking in the glorious fact we were on the other side of the world. Enter Dawn. Dawn and Ive and KittyKelly are three totally brilliant, utterly lovely, completely irrepressible readers who were at RT to mingle with fellow readers, party hard and meet their favourite authors. On their first night they met RC and I. Probably not what they were expecting, but RC and I wowed them with our Aussie charm and by 4am all five of us were as close to firm friends as two jet-lagged Aussies and three cheeky, naughty, awesome American readers can be. In otherwords, we had a blast.

Suffice to say, the rest of RT was spent laughing and partying often with Dawn, Ive and KittyKelly (and let me tell you, there is nothing like three women standing at your table and screaming “Oh my God, you’re Lexxie Couper!!” at the top of their voices during a booksigning).

So why am I telling you all this? Because Dawn has started her own blog, it is brilliant and all this week she has been featuring us, the Down Under Divas. There’s prizes, free books and a series of interview question and some very deep revealing answers. Head on over and take a look at Daydrmzzz Blog, leave a comment, say g’day to Dawn from me and take a wander around. I promise you won’t be bored or disappointed 😉

Something to make me feel better


I’m sick. Poor me, boo hoo. I say this to forewarn you that this is going to be a lazy post, as staying propped up at the computer when you have an inner ear infection is more problematic than it sounds.


See? Now I feel better. David B lies around on the couch a lot too. Now if I could just share his couch my recovery would be complete :).

Have a good weekend,


The height of frustration


As I sit here, relentlessly refreshing my inbox, waiting for a couple of emails to arrive that are simply not arriving, I have to take time out to assess all those little, tiny, meaningless things that frustrate me no end.

Because waiting for an email, and not getting it, is indeed, the height of frustration. I am utterly powerless. Even refreshing that inbox is a useless activity. Until the sender is ready to send it, it will not arrive.

So rather than be productive and write another chapter, or finish a scene, or edit an already written scene, I’m pondering what frustrates me the most in life. Here’s my list – all of which have happened to me in the last couple of weeks.

1) Not receiving the email you’re waiting for. (Gee, I bet you never saw that one coming.) 😉

2) Not receiving that package in the post you’ve been waiting weeks for. (And darn it, you can refresh your inbox, you cannot refresh your post box.)

3) Waiting for your boss/editor’s thoughts on that report/book you’ve just written.

4) Finding the ideal pair of boots (I mean the perfect pair, that you’ve searched for the whole year, and there they are, dancing before your very eyes…) and they don’t fit. (Feel free to replace boots with jeans, top, jacket etc.)

5) Knowing you have to be up at some ungodly hour in the morning, and try as you might, you simply cannot fall asleep.

6) Hearing the clock tick ticking away the minutes until your deadline is up – and you cannot think of one single word to write!

7) Sharing your most favorite treat in the whole world. (Yes, sharing is caring and all that crap, but damn it, when there’s only one, and it’s small, you don’t really want to share!)

8) Leaving the hairdresser after a really bad hair cut and knowing there is nothing you can do but wait for your hair to grow out.

9) Waking up in the middle of the night needing to pee and deciding you won’t coz you’re too tired and would rather just go back to sleep. And then an hour later, after obsessively trying to go back to sleep, you’re busting so much you get up to pee anyway.

10) Finally accumulating enough points to book a frequent flyer ticket – and the flights you want are all fully booked.

11) Phoning to complain about your mobile/cellular phone service, and getting through to someone (in another country) who doesn’t understand English and puts you on hold for at least an hour.

12) Racing to a public “ladies room”, only to find a line of 25 woman waiting in front of you. (Damn it, why don’t men have these problems?)

13) Going to make a cup of much needed tea, only to discover the milk has gone sour.

14) Recording your favorite program – and finding the crucial last eight minutes never taped.

15) Making an avocado sandwich for your child for school lunch (because he won’t eat anything else. I mean not one other thing) and uh-oh! There is no avocado.

16) Working a full day, racing around with kids, getting them to every after school activity ever created, coming home on a cold, dark winter’s night – absolutely starving –  0nly  to remember you haven’t got one damn thing to make for dinner. (I confess, this happens to me on glorious summer days too. And fresh spring ones. And chilly autumn ones.)

Well, there you have it. My “Height of frustration list.”

So tell me, how does yours compare?


The game is out of the box.


Well I can’t really call the post ‘the cat’s outta the bag’ when I’m telling you about the Party Games series I’m writing with Lexxie Couper can I? *grin*

Lexxie gave you a taste of her first Party Games release the other week and now it’s my turn to tell you all about my first book in the series, Truth Or Dare. It will be releasing January 17th and I’m not sure I how I’m going to stand waiting that long. But anyway, let me give you the ‘unedited’ blurb and excerpt:-

Truth Or Dare by Rhian Cahill available from Samhain January 17th 2012
Truth or Dare? Are you game?
Miki Drummond wouldn’t dare put her heart on the line again, not after the hell her marriage put her through, but she never dreamed she’d reconnect with Dayne Pearce and Grant Rogers at the most insane party she’s ever attended.
Grant and Dayne never forgot Miki from school. Ever. And now they have her, they’re not letting her forget them, no matter what the truth behind her wounded heart. They’ll do everything in their power to keep her, including offering more pleasure than one woman could ever imagine.
One night of pure fantasy is all Miki dares to take, but come morning the hard truth is—walking away isn’t an option.
Warning: The author cannot be held responsible for any truth you may tell or dare you make take after reading this story. And if you find yourself sandwiched between two hunky men…take the dare.


Dayne’s hands moved between her legs and every serious thought in Miki’s mind evaporated. He pressed the bundle of nerves at the apex of her slit and her pussy clenched and her legs shook. Grant, finished with her hair, brought his hands around her waist and cupped her breasts in his palms. His fingers plucked at her nipples, pinched and tugged. With a moan, she arched her back and thrust her body against their questing hands.

Gently and easily, they drove her up. Grant played with her breasts until they felt swallow and heavy, and still he kept going. Dayne slid two fingers inside her, used his thumb to keep up the pressure on her clit while pushing his other hand between the cheeks of her arse. He probed her back entrance, circled the puckered opening before pressing into the dark depths. Her hips jolted as though she’d been struck with a livewire.

The orgasm flowed over her. Like falling rain, it trickled, unhindered along her nerve endings. She bowed into Dayne, crushed her chest to his, trapping Grant’s hands between them. Both men pressed against her, Grant’s cock riding the crease of her arse and Dayne grinding into her hip. Miki wanted them inside her. Wanted to feel their cocks pounding into her at the same time.



So what do you think?


Celluloid Sex

Leave a comment

I came across an article today about a couple that embraced passionately during riots in Canada, and I thought, aww. That’d make a great romantic movie scene. It’ll probably turn out to be a publicity stunt meant to generate interest in a new men’s cologne or something. The photo looks suspiciously posed. Still, this got me thinking about the great romantic movie moments… which got me thinking about movie sex scenes. What can I say it’s how my mind operates. I compiled a top five, my a favorite movie love scenes.

  1. An Officer and a Gentleman – I must admit to having a serious thing for Richard Gere. I’ll have to do a post about Silver Foxes one of these days. This is probably my favourite of all his movies. The scenes between him and Debra Winger were so steamy it proves the only thing better than a man in uniform is a man out of one!
  2. The Big Easy – I love the mood of this movie. The sultry atmosphere, the southern accents… and Denis Quaid’s abs aren’t bad either. There’s a scene when he’s seducing Ellen Barkin and he tells her that things are done nice and slow in the big easy that makes me want to hop a plane and go there. And not just for the Gumbo. 
  3. BullDurham– Kevin Costner and Susan Sarandon put some interesting visuals to the musical lyrics ‘Sixty Minute Man’. There’s actually no nudity, only very strong suggestion of what’s going on. Is there such a thing as explicit suggestiveness? Who can forget the bath water sloshing over the side of the tub, or Kevin tying Susan up to… paint her toenails. Now that’s a pedicure. 
  4. Unfaithful – When I first heard about this movie I didn’t get it. The character played by Diane Laneis married to a character played by Richard Gere. My Richard Gere thing raises it’s head again. How could anyone cheat on him? Then I saw the movie and I got it. The picture below pretty much says it all. 
  5. Titanic – no matter what else you or I might say about the movie, i.e. that it’s a tad long and a manipulative tear jerker, that scene in the car is damn memorable. Kate Winslet’s hand sliding down the window, all that panting. It’s pretty sexy and made the three hours I spent at the cinema worthwhile—if not the experience of that song. My poor, poor ears.


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Love your weekend, 


Can I Get A Muppet Flail?


Yesterday I found out two things:

One – Suck and Blow has a release date (15th November)

Two – My Samhain editor (the most brilliant Heidi Moore) offered a contract on Whispers in the Night.

Today I discovered one thing: Tropical Sin is on the Samhain Coming Soon Page.

All three things are pretty damn exciting enough to warrent a Muppet Flail, I believe.

Now that I’ve got that out of my system, I thought I might share a little something from/about each of the above titles. Ready?

Tropical Sin

Tropical Sin part of a four book contemporary (erotic menage) anthology I wrote with the most fantastic Vivian Arend and Jess Dee. All books are set on the fictious resort, Bandicoot Cove on the fictious Bilby Island in Tropical Australia. What’s even more fantastic about this anthology is the first book, Exotic Indulgence, is FREE! Yep, Free. The Bandicoot Cove series follows the sensual exploits of a group of close friends and family members during the soft opening of the resort. Let me just say, if you liked Triple Dare, you are going to luuuuurve Tropical Sin. Trust me 😉

It takes more than a rock star to rock your world. Sometimes you need a friend.

Tropical Sin

Bandicoot Cove, Book 3

Available 6th September from Samhain Publishing
McKenzie Wood is Australia’s star gossip mag journalist, and she’s just spied the story of a lifetime: rumor-shrouded rock star, Nick Blackthorne—who thinks he’s incognito at Bandicoot Cove resort. The word is Nick’s a sex addict about to come out of the closet, and who better to lure Nick out than her BFF, Aiden Rogers—a pulse-poundingly gorgeous firefighter who is always there when she needs him, no matter the challenge.

Aiden admits it’s pretty damned pathetic that he can rush into burning buildings, but not have the guts to tell McKenzie he’s in love with her. No way can he tell his best friend he’d like to do some seriously sinful things to her, especially since she’s never shown one iota of sexual interest.

Nick looks forward to some “unfamous” downtime in his home country. He’s surprised to find his creative muse stirred—more like brought to rigid attention—by a couple so sexy that all he can think about is the three of them. Together.

Three bodies move together as one, and the music becomes a smoldering beat that rivals the island’s heat. When the truth inevitably comes out, the heat might be enough to save three souls…or end up just another sinner’s lament.

Oh, and incase you were wondering, Exotic Indulgence is Book 1, Viv’s Paradise Found is Book 2 and Jess’ Island Idyll is Book 4.

Check out an excerpt here

Whispers in the Night

The thing I want to tell you about Whispers in the Night is that there was something magical about writing it. I can’t tell you too much more at this point because it would give too much away, but it was a book that had me both scared witless because I had no idea what the characters were doing, had me in tears when I discovered what they were doing, and had me wondering where I’d lost my brain because it is by far the deepest, most emotionally wrought and yet romantic book I’ve ever written (and remember, I wrote a hero once who had brain cancer). Mari Carr (who I so want to be when I grow up) called Whispers in the Night my best book yet.

Oh, and when it’s released I promise you’ll fall in love with the hero. 😉

Suck and Blow

I love this book. I love it’s heroine, a wild-child, hellion if ever I’ve written one, called Frankie Winchester. I love the title. But most of all, I love that Rhian Cahill asked me to write a four book series with her around the brilliant premise of adults playing party games, the kind teenagers play when they’ve got the house to themselves. Yes, those kind of games. Here, take a look…

Chapter Two

Frankie stared up at Alec, her heart thumping into her throat. So much for running away from him. She’d thought she’d lost him in the house. She thought she’d given him the slip.

She’d thought he hadn’t come after her in the first place. Why would he? In all the years they’d known each other, they’d never shared anything more than a stilted word after whatever event or competition he’d thoroughly trounced her at. Why on earth would he follow her?

It didn’t matter though. Rational thought had deserted her the second she’d laid eyes on him. Deserted her, and here she now was, hiding out in a game of Suck and Blow with Alec bloody Harris standing before her, showing her once again, how monumentally stupid she was. Damn him.

It’s been ten years, Francesca. It’s time you grew up, don’t you think? Besides, he may not even remember you.

She gazed up at him and her breath stuck in her throat. Did he remember her?

Brilliant blue eyes moved to her, direct and way more confident than they’d been as a teenager. “Hello, Francesca.”

Her sex constricted, an involuntary response to his stunning good looks and the sinfully sensual way he murmured her name. Had to be involuntary. Why else would she be feeling all squirming and…and…

“Fuck off,” the guy beside her growled.

Alec gave him a wounded look. “C’mon, mate. This is my old girlfriend from school. I haven’t seen her for ten years.”

Frankie’s mouth fell open. Okay, that’s not what she expected him to say. What the hell?

With a lopsided smile, Alec raised one sublimely muscled arm, pressed one straight finger gently underneath her chin and, his grin growing wider, slowly closed her mouth.

And she let him.

She let him. What the hell was she doing? She let him?

The guy standing beside her, a bit-role actor if she was correct—and she always was about this kind of thing—slid his own striking blue eyes in her direction.

“C’mon, mate,” Alec said and, God help her, Frankie’s pussy constricted some more at the languid confidence in his voice. “Help a bloke out.”

Before Frankie could say anything, or do anything—like, hmmm, slap Alec’s hand from under her chin perhaps—the guy on her right let out a disgruntled snort and stepped out of the line, holding out his arm for Alec to take his place. He gave Frankie a steady look. “I’ll be at the Twister station if you’re interested.” He flicked Alec a glower. “After Mr. Ex is done no doubt reminding you why he’s Mr. Ex.”

“Oh, he was a witty one,” Alec commented, watching the man shove his way through the crowd. He swung his attention back to Frankie, giving her a wide smirk. “But a little too tame for your standards if I remember rightly?”

Frankie opened her mouth again, a searing heat flaming through her. Just as Alec nodded toward something behind her back. “Head’s up, Francesca,” he murmured with a grin, closing his fingers around her shoulders just as gently as he’d pressed his finger to her chin. “It’s our turn.”

He turned her around, in time for her to see the man next to her in the line lean forward, the ten of hearts stuck to his lips.

She blinked, her ears roaring. Alec’s fingers held her shoulders with steady pressure, the warmth of his tall, lean body licking at her back.

A prickle of something far too unnerving washed over her, something too aware of his maleness, his nearness, and then the man with the playing card on his mouth was pressing his lips to hers as Alec’s hands smoothed down her arms to come to rest on her hips.

She sucked in her breath, the sudden gasp fixing the playing card to her lips. His fingers scalded her through the supple leather of her pants, his grip loose and relaxed and far from suggestive. So why was her heart thumping so hard? Why was her pussy fluttering like a psychotic horde of ADHD butterflies?

The man currently nose-to-nose with her pushed his face a little closer, an over-powering smell of Jean Paul Gaultier’s Pour Homme slipping into her nostrils and she staggered back, Alec’s hips brushing her backside as she did so.

Oh God.

Her heart leapt away from her, the soft pressure of his fingers at her waist making her head swim. Or was it the fact she was holding her breath? Holding her breath with the goddamn ten of hearts stuck to her lips?

Do something, woman!

She didn’t have to. Alec did it for her. With a gentle push and pull on her hips, he turned her around to face him, his blue, blue eyes holding hers, his dimples flashing as the sides of his mouth curled. “So, who’s going to win this one, Frankie?”

The question was asked on a low chuckle, each word making her sex constrict.

She stared at him. Watched him lower his head to hers. Watched him draw closer. Closer. Her lungs burned. Her head swam. The room fell silent.

And her breath ran out just like that, the card slipping from her lips at the loss of suction a mere second before Alec’s mouth pressed to hers.

Explosive heat shot through Frankie, like she’d suddenly and inexplicably grabbed a live wire on an electrical fence. Except it wasn’t electricity charging through her, singeing her nerve-endings and making her nipples pinch hard but arousal. Instant and undeniable. A wicked ribbon of warm tension unfurled through her belly and into the junction of her thighs, and before she could stop it, a low groan vibrated deep in her throat.

His lips were warm, soft. They melded to hers with perfection, slightly parted, his intake of breath drawing her exhalation into his mouth.

He’d expected to feel the playing card pressed to his lips now, of that she had little doubt, but instead of pulling away as she thought he would, his lips lingered on hers. Slanting over them as his fingers on her hips curled a little more firmly against her body, tugging her closer to his body with an insistence that made her head swim just as much as her earlier oxygen deprivation.

She stiffened, for the first time in her wild, uncontrolled life she was utterly and completely bamboozled as to what she should do next. Her feet stumbled over each other, her lurching forward momentum halted by Alec’s hard form.

And he was hard. Very hard. All of him. Hard and big and impressive.

His stomach pressed against hers like a sculpted plane of marble. His chest was hard and smooth under her palms.

Her palms? Frankie’s already rapid heart beat kicked up a notch, thumping against her breastbone like a bloody sledgehammer. When had she put her hands to his chest?

Who cares? The brazen thought whispered through her head at the very moment Alec’s lips parted against hers and his tongue dipped into her mouth.


He tasted of sinful paradise. Pineapple and coconut and rum. It was intoxicating. She wanted more.

Snaking her hands up over his shoulders, she tangled her fingers in his messy crop of blond hair, opening her mouth wider to his kiss and stroking her tongue against his. She rose onto tip-toe, the elevation aligning her hips to his, the hard heat of his cock nudging at her groin.

Oh. The single word was nothing but a soft sigh in her mind—a mind furiously trying to remind her just who in the bloody hell she was kissing. Alec Harris. Alley Cat, Francesca, you’re kissing Alley Cat.

And he was kissing her back. And doing a superb job of it.

There was nothing chaste about it. Nor was it aggressive and arrogant. His tongue danced over hers, a teasing caress that sent a shiver up her spine and a liquid tension into her pussy. It was, simply put, a kiss designed to do one thing and one thing only, make her want more.

Oh, fuck, this can’t be—

A munitions dump exploded around them. Or at least it sounded that way.

As one, the partygoers squashed into the media room roared with deafening cheers, some stamping their feet with drumming force, some clapping with equal ferocity, others wolf-whistling and caterwauling and crying out “yeah!” like a crowd of horny teenagers.

Frankie jerked backward, her lips burning from Alec’s inexplicable kiss, her heart slamming up into her throat.

She stared up at him, the sight of his lips glistening with moisture—her moisture from her kiss—making her pulse pound.

He stared back, ignoring the slaps on the shoulder and back the other men around him were giving him, ignoring their guffaws of encouragement and congratulatory chuckles. His blue eyes held hers, even as his hands slipped from her hips, his expression growing…closed.

“Looks like I win again,” he said, no hint of humour in his deep voice.

Someone sucker punched Frankie in the stomach. Some unseen, invisible assailant. How else could she explain the way her gut suddenly seemed to knot? Or the way her breath burst violently from her lungs. She blinked. “What?”

Her face filled with heat. Not just a delicate blush, but a burning heat that didn’t just creep up her chest and neck to paint her face red, but engulfed it with a greedy ferocity. She shook her head, stumbling back another step, bumping into the guy behind her, her backside pressing against his groin. He laughed, his hands falling onto her shoulders to steady her.

“Bloody hell, mate,” he said over the top of her head, and Frankie didn’t need to turn around to see his exclamation was directed at Alec, “why couldn’t I have been standing in your spot?”


So, what do you think? After the above three discoveries and announcements, can I deserve a Muppet Flail? Do I?

Just for a Laugh


Someone sent these to me claiming they were sentences typed by real emergency room receptionists in Glasgow. Don’t know if that’s true but they made me laugh so I thought I’d share them.

1. The patient has no previous history of suicides.

2. Patient has left her white blood cells at another hospital.

3. She has no rigors or shaking chills, but her husband states she was
    very hot in bed last night.

4. Patient has chest pain if she lies on her left side for over a

5. The patient is tearful and crying constantly. She also appears to
    be depressed.

6. The patient has been depressed since she began seeing me in 1993.

7. Healthy appearing decrepit 69-year old male, mentally alert, but

8. Patient had waffles for breakfast and anorexia for lunch.

9. She is numb from her toes down.

10. While in ER, she was examined,  x-rated and sent home.

11. Occasional, constant infrequent headaches.

12. Patient was alert and unresponsive.

13. She stated that she had been constipated for most of her life
      until she got a divorce.

14. Examination of genitalia reveals that he is circus sized.

15. Skin: somewhat pale, but present.

16. The pelvic exam will be done later on the floor.

17. Patient has two teenage children, but no other abnormalities

18. When she fainted, her eyes rolled around the room.

19. The patient was in his usual state of good health until his
      airplane ran out of fuel and crashed.

20. Between you and me, we ought to be able to get this lady

21. Patient was seen in consultation by Dr. Smith, who felt we should
     sit on the abdomen and I agree.

22. The patient was to have a bowel resection.  

      However, he took a job as a stock broker instead.

Have a great weekend


Guest Blogger Caitlyn Nicholas


Today we have another guest blogger, a VERY special guest and all round cool chick. I first became aware of Caitlyn Nicholas when I saw her book for sale at the Samhain Publishing website. I emailed Cait straight away in one of my blustering messages that went something like ‘Hey you’re Australian too and we’re both have our first books coming out with the same publisher at almost the same time! How cool are we?’. It was something along those lines I’m sure. This was one of those times when making a bit of a fool of myself paid off—I’ve kept in contact with Cait ever since and I so enjoy reading her hilarious blog posts on parenthood, writing, life in general and growing vegetables. I can so relate to all of it… except the growing my own dinner part. I don’t know how she has the patience for that.

I’m not alone in my appreciation of Caitlyn’s unique take on modern life. She’s been nominated as one of Australia’s 50 top bloggers by kidspot.com.au, and voting is still open so if you want to pop over and read her blog and subsequently become a HUGE fan (it’s absolutely bound to happen just like that), please take the time to vote for her.

Along with her enormously popular blog Cait writes wonderful romantic adventures. So without further ado, here’s Cait!

WELL HELLO, I’m a first time poster, and a long time reader :).  A bit about me before we get onto today’s perplexing blog topic. I’m Caitlyn Nicholas, I blog over here and I’ve known the Divas for more years than I’d like to admit.  Three things brought us together; living in Australia, taking to e-publishing back when everyone said it’d never catch on, and being published with Samhain Publishing.  They’ve been a wonderful group of writerly friends, and I am just thrilled to be asked to blog for them today.

 So, the beardy hero.

 I write romantic suspense, and at present am planning my next novel.  It’s pretty much at the beginning-to-write stage, but, I was out on my walk the other evening when an idea popped into my head; what if the hero HAD A BEARD???

 A beardy hero. But wouldn’t that mean…

Ew. Shudder.

So I did a little googling and discovered… 

 Hmm, warming to the idea

Argh. NO. 

Well, hello Mr. Clooney. Purr.

A beard, it seems, is in the eye of the beholder.

 Still, I’m not convinced about my romantic suspense beardy hero.  Yes, Mr Purr Clooney is hawt, but could I convey his hawtness to a reader, who might see the word beard and think of her Uncle Robert (the one who always keeps bits of dried up egg yolk in his).

 And then there’s the research dilemma. See hubs has no beard, in fact I lived my wild youth in the 80s and facial hair was along these lines

And it doesn’t matter how many Bacardi and cokes you’ve had, you ain’t going anywhere near that at the age of 18.

So HOW am I going to research beardy kissing??

Gah, it’s a dilemma.


Note from Sami: Actually I’ve always had a highly inappropriate thing for Sam Eliot :).

Thanks to Cait for coming over today. If you’re interested in reading a fabulous romantic suspense, check out her books at her blog.

Care to Blow Off A Little Steam?


It’s here. Blowing it Off, my fifth Ellora’s Cave book, my second m/f/m menage and my second erotic contemporary release* The title for Blowing it Off has been in my head since May 2011 when I was sitting in on the editor’s session at the Romantic Times Reader Convention in Columbus Ohio. I remember thinking about my most current release at the time, Copping a Feel, and playing around with the verb/noun structure of title. Then I gave myself a challenge to see if I could come up with one as naughty as Copping a Feel. Ten minutes of chewing on the end of my pen (and watching Kelli Collins, my EC editor, talk about what makes brilliant erotic romance) and the title, Blowing it Off came into my head.

It would take me a year to write it (sorry, Kelli) but eventually I did. Yay! Blowing it Off is the first book in the Stimulated series, a five book series all containing a verb/noun title structure. I’d love to share with you the other four but you know me, I’m a terrible tease. Suffice to say, the next four heroines’ occupations include motorcross rider, assassin, professional gamer and either news anchor or sex toy tester (I haven’t decided on that last one yet *grin*)

But enough carry -on. Reading World, I give you Blowing it Off. Enjoy.

Stimulated, Book One

A fire has destroyed the studio of glassblower Phoebe Masters. And she knows what that means—a visit from the arson investigators. The two men who reduced her heart to cinders. Men she’d hoped never to see again.

One wild weekend with Phoebe overwhelmed Will Bradley and Damon Hunt. Like wankers, they blew it off, burning any chance for a future with the talented beauty. The investigation gets them back in her life, but now they have to prove the three of them were meant to be together. Their strategy?

A body-blazing inferno none of them will ever be able to extinguish.


“Head’s up, Tiny, we’ve got a job.”

William Bradley spun on his desk stool to glare at the tall man crossing the room toward him. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me Tiny?”

Damon laughed, dropping into the low, beat-up couch sitting in the middle of their cramped office. “Well, seeing as it’s been eight years now since I first met you, I’m guessin’…” he affected a pensive expression, crossing his ankles on the cluttered coffee table and lacing his fingers behind his head, “a lot. Besides, you’re a short-arse. What else am I going to call you?”

Will shook his head and rolled his eyes, giving his partner an exasperated look. “I’m two inches shorter than you.”

Damon held out a hand. “There you go. Short-arse.”

“You’re six foot three!”

Damon grinned. “My point exactly.”

Will threw a tennis ball at him. “Yeah, yeah, Stretch. Tell me about the job.”

“You’re going to love this. It’s in Morpeth.”

Every muscle in Will’s body tensed. He drew in a slow breath, leaning forward on his stool. “Morpeth?”

Damon gave him a single nod, his brown gaze steady.

Will pulled in another breath. Morpeth. The village pretending to be a town north of Newcastle was populated by entrenched, born-in-the-blood locals and artisans inspired by the timeless beauty of the place. Not the kind of place an arson investigator usually found himself. But then, he’d felt an almost palpable urge to jump in his car and drive north more than once since a particular artisan took up residence.

Damn, his heart shouldn’t be thumping as hard as it was.

He narrowed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge how dry his mouth had become. “What’s the job?”

If possible, his partner’s eyes grew mischievous and intense. “Investigating a suspicious fire that destroyed an art studio.”

Will’s heart thumped harder. “What kind of art studio.”

Damon’s lips curled. “A glassblower’s art studio.”

“I take it by the smile on your face the artist wasn’t in the studio when it went up?”

Damon shook his head. “Not according to the report from one Captain Keith Kilgour of the Morpeth Bush Fire Brigade. The owner of the studio was, to quote Captain Kilgour, ‘extremely agitated and reluctant to notify the Newcastle Arson Investigation team’, end quote. Reading between the lines, I suspect Kilgour wonders if the artist is pulling an insurance job.”

The wind left Will’s lungs in a gush. He slumped back on his stool, dragging his hands through his hair. Fuck. He’d spent the last six months doing everything to convince himself what he and Damon had shared with a certain glass artist now living in Morpeth was nothing more than a weekend fling. He’d tried his hardest but now, here he was—palms sweaty just thinking about the possibility of seeing her again, of more than seeing her, when he should be thinking of nothing else but a fire scene.

Easier said than done when Phoebe Masters was involved. Bloody frustrating pain-in-the-arse woman. Knowing her, the moment they walked into her studio she’d walk out the other door.

But what if she’s happy to see you? It’s been six months since she left. Six months to forget how monumentally you and Damon fucked-up the last time all of you were together. What if she’s calmed down? Changed her mind?

Damon cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re thinking one of two things, Tiny, and both are going to send you crazy.”

Will’s own eyebrows rose up his forehead, his gut churning. “What are they exactly, Stretch?”

Damon returned his feet to the floor and leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. “One, the second we cross the threshold of Phoebe’s studio, she’s going to throw herself at us and beg us to pick up where we last left off—in bed together, fucking each other senseless.”

It wasn’t just Will’s stomach that reacted to Damon’s first scenario—his balls and dick tightened, the image his friend painted affecting him with the subtle blow of a sledgehammer.

“Or two,” Damon went on, his stare locked hard on Will’s face. “She’s going to tell us to fuck off.”

The sledgehammer slammed into Will’s gut again. Damn Damon and his keen insight into the human mind. Made for a bloody brilliant arson investigator, a great boss; made for a bloody annoying best mate.

The man studying him hadn’t started out his best friend but somewhere over the last eight years of working together, that’s exactly what he’d become. Which meant Damon knew just about everything going on in Will’s life, and was involved in just about everything going on in his life as well. Sometimes Will had to wonder if that was a good thing. He bit back a curse. “And how did you arrive at those options, boss?”

Damon gave him a wry grin. “’Cause I thought the same fucking things the second I read Phoebe’s name on the report.”

The confession jerked a humored snort from Will. “So much for being the detached wankers Phoebe accused us of being the day she left.”

Damon laughed. “No, she accused you of being a detached wanker. She called me a flippant, indifferent arsehole.”

Will scrubbed at his face with his hands. “She’s not going to be happy to see us, is she?”

Damon laughed again. “After the way we behaved? Not at all.”

“So what do we do?”

Damon flashed him a broad grin. “Hope to fucking God we can change her mind.”


“You better believe it.”

“She told us what we did together was never going to happen again.”


“That after the pair of us blew it off as a simple been-there-done-that fuck-fest instead of acknowledging what it really was, the pair of us could kiss her arse goodbye.”

“You’re right.”


Damon laughed a third time, the sound far more deprecating than any Will had heard from his friend before. “Be our charming, lovable selves?”

Will rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s going to work.”

“It worked the last time.”

“Until she accused us of being indifferent arseholes and detached wankers the night before she moved to a whole other town.”

Taking my heart with her.

A heavy pressure squeezed Will’s chest at the thought. That’s exactly what had happened. None of them—neither he, nor Damon nor Phoebe—had anticipated a night out for drinks to celebrate Phoebe’s new, dedicated studio in Morpeth would turn into a weekend in bed together. But it had. Three years of knowing each other, of relaxed flirting, friendly banter and good-humored mocking over other boyfriends or girlfriends had unexpectedly and surprisingly led them to a situation so unbe-fucking-lievable, the shock had sent them all for a spin.

A bloody big spin. Because Will knew after two mind-blowing days and two equally mind-blowing nights of watching his mate fuck Phoebe, of fucking her while his mate watched, of all three of them fucking each other at the same time, that two days and two nights wasn’t enough. He’d had no idea what Phoebe expected after the weekend ended, but he knew what he wanted—more. And he knew Damon wanted more as well. Not just sex, but…more.

It had scared the shit out of Will, big time. The knowledge that he was prepared to commit to a relationship society deemed unacceptable with his two best friends left him reeling. And even though Damon hadn’t admitted it at first, it had scared the shit out of him as well. So they’d acted like it was nothing, like it was just a bonk to say adios. By the time he’d seen the truth in Phoebe’s eyes, the proof that she wanted more than just a goodbye fuck, that her silence was wounded embarrassment, it was too late. They’d brushed off something incredible and swept Phoebe’s heart away with it. Dickheads.

“We were chicken-shit cowards the last time.”

For a second time, Damon’s unexpected confession made Will snort. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“So this time, we’re not. We don’t pretend otherwise. We don’t pretend the whole thing is just a same-old, same-old.”

“And how are we going to do that? Considering she doesn’t want jack-shit to do with us?”

Damon flashed a grin—the same grin Will had seen him use more than once when on the scent of an arson, the grin that said I have you in my sights, buddy, and you are going down. “We hit her with both barrels and let her know without doubt what we want…

“Her. Forever.”


So…who noticed the little * in the beginning of this post? Hee. The little * means Blowing it Off is actually my THIRD erotic contemporary. Crooked Triangle was in fact my first, but it is a Quickie length tale available from Changeling Press I don’t think anyone in the word has read. Which is a pity, because its a damn fine, funny, twisted exploration of the power-play of a high powered executive couple. Oh, and it has a glass dildo ;)

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