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The Anatomy of a Cake

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My cherub recently turned 5. I remember all too well being the size of the average dual cab truck and weighing much the same as one too. Good God I was big with her! But now here it is 5 years later and I’m back to the size I was before I had kids. That doesn’t mean of course that I have or ever will give up CAKE!!!!

Here is the process I went through in order to make my Cheurb’s birthday cake, in pictures:

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You don’t want to know the discussions that were had over who got to lick her nipple tassels off. Eww. (BTW nobody did. It was too disturbing a concept for me)

But the cake was delish :).

Sami

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A Reading from GUARDED DESIRES

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So I went and recorded myself reading a snippet from Guarded Desires. Because, well, I was procrastining 🙂

Desire like this wasn’t in the script…

Heart of Fame, Book 3

Small-screen sex symbol Chris Huntley is on the fast track to becoming the next big action-blockbuster movie star. When his latest movie takes him to Australia for a red-carpet premiere, he thinks he’s ready for anything.

But nothing could have prepared him for his raw, carnal response to his Aussie bodyguard. Sexual attraction to a man is a first for Chris. Now he realizes why his relationships with women have never felt quite…complete.

Liev Reynolds is comfortable with his bisexuality, but his attraction to Chris is an inconvenience he must ignore. For starters, there’s his professional ethics. Then there’s the long trail of female broken hearts in Chris’s wake.

Hard as they both try to keep their minds on their jobs, desire and a little matchmaking tip them over the edge. But Hollywood endings aren’t real life. And when the truth leaks out, their careers aren’t the only collateral damage.


Product Warnings

A hunky Hollywood sex symbol. A smoldering, stubborn Australian. A desire so powerful it cannot be denied. A kiss. And a photograph. This isn’t your normal boy-meets-boy story.

EXCERPT

The squeals were deafening. The feverish fans pressed at his back in a wave of maniacal rapture. He pressed back, holding his right arm out to protect Chris as he maneuvered on the backseat.

The actor looked up at him, his grin bemused. Their eyes connected for a second, just a second, but what Liev saw in their light-blue depths stole his breath. Slammed into him with more force than the screaming crowd trying to mow over him in an effort to see and touch their idol.

Desire.

Chris Huntley looked at him with desire.

There was no denying it.

Jesus.

“Let’s go,” he said, forcing his voice to sound stern as he threw the crazed crowd a threatening glare.

Chris alighted from the SUV.

The crowd squealed again. Surged forward. Pressed against Liev’s back.

He braced against the pressure, curling his hand around Chris’s upper arm to support him.

Protect.

Touch him.

Hot energy shot down his arm. Into his chest. His soul.

He ground his teeth. Ignoring the disturbing reaction, he pulled Chris into his body, tucking him close to his side. The subtle scent of expensive aftershave threaded into his breath and, completely indifferent to the volatile moment, a tight lick of heat stole through his groin.

Clenching his jaw harder, he turned just enough to shield Chris from the crowd and began walking, parting the shoving fans with one arm.

They protested louder but scurried backward, enough for Liev to hurry Chris toward the entrance.

And then a stark white light flash right in front of Liev’s eyes.

He flinched, raising his hand to his face. Chris stumbled, his shoulder bumping into Liev’s armpit. The flash fired again and a man chuckled. “Nice.”

Liev caught the actor before he could trip again. But the action was enough for the crowd to sense weakness.

“Oh my God, I love you, Chris!” a female voice screeched at Liev’s right.

“I love you, Chris!” a new female voice squealed.

“I love you, Chris!” another woman cried.

“I love you, Chris!”

“Chris!”

“Chris! Chris!”

The horde erupted, pressing in with greedy excitement. Hands snatched out. Fingers scraped at Liev. Chris let out a shout.

With a snarl, Liev hauled the actor hard to his side and swung out his arm, his fist bunched.

People went tumbling, falling over each other. The flash fired again, joined by others.

Madness took over. Like a feeding frenzy, the mob attacked.

Liev didn’t let Chris go. Nor did he falter. Shoulder down, he barged forward.

He didn’t know where Bethany was. He couldn’t risk looking for her. She was smart. Smart enough to sense the crowd and not get out of the SUV. At least, he hoped to God that was the case. For now, all he could focus on was getting Chris off the street. Out of danger.

Away.

“Here!” a man shouted somewhere in front of him. “Mr. Reynolds, here!”

Liev flicked his attention upward, glaring at the screaming mob. Behind the wall of waving, grabbing people, a man in a suit pushed toward him. His face was red and covered in sweat, his hair disheveled. He grabbed at shoulders and clothes, yanking people out of his way, clearing a path for Liev and Chris. “This way,” he shouted.

Without hesitation, Liev tightened his grip on Chris and charged forward.

Hands and fingers raked over his back and arms and shoulders, but he didn’t slow. Behind him, growing louder every second, a police siren wailed over the noise.

“This way,” the man shouted, a second before Liev reached him.

He waved Liev and Chris through the open restaurant door, muttering something Liev didn’t hear.

For a split second, Liev dared to slow, to draw breath, and then the man behind him slammed into his back and he stumbled forward.

“Through the kitchen,” the man shouted, just as Liev watched the crowd surge through the door, even as the man tried to shut it. “To my office. Go!”

Without a word to Chris, Liev pulled him through the restaurant. Passed the gaping diners, passed the wait staff, through the kitchen with its busy cooks and into an office.

Releasing Chris, he spun around, slammed the door shut and rammed the locking bolt into place. “Damn,” he ground out, palms flat on the door. “That was insane.” He looked over his shoulder at the panting, gasping actor. His gut churned at the stunned shock on Chris’s face. “I’m sorry, Mr. Huntley. That was—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

Chris grabbed his shoulder, yanked it hard enough to jerk Liev around and kissed him.

Liev froze.

For a heartbeat.

And then he growled into Chris’s mouth, dug his fingers into the man’s biceps, spun him around and drove him backward. Pinned him to the door.

Their tongue battled in a fierce mating that sent shots of scalding need straight to Liev’s groin. Chris bit at his lip, sucked on it. He tore at Liev’s clothes, seeking the hem of his shirt.

Liev’s heart beat harder when Chris’s fingers found his flesh.

***

You can buy GUARDED DESIRES releases TODAY at AmazonBarnes and Noble and Samhain (click on the seller’s names to go straight there!)

Five Reasons Thrillers Aren’t Romance Novels

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I’ve been reading a few thrillers lately. They are a great escape from Romancelandia when I need to simply chill out and read without accidently working like I do when I read romance novels, and have ever since I became an author. But I have gotten a bit of a chuckle about the difference between the way sexual relations between men and women are portrayed by thriller-writing men and what I’m used to with reading and writing romance.

  1. In thrillers women ask strange men who look like scary-looking vagrants to come home with them for a home cooked meal and some conveniently unemotional sex. This arrangement can continue unabated, even while this man–who the woman barely knows–proceeds to brutally kill close to a dozen people without the appearance of a conscience. Why bother changing the locks, right?
  2. In thrillers women never bug the hero to talk about his feelings—not even about the five guys he just garroted. A thriller-woman will simply offer him a shower, a hot meal and another tension releasing bonk.
  3. In thrillers, the women initiate all sexual contact by undressing and basically throwing themselves in front of the hero’s dick. No need to buy her dinner fellas. This is man fantasy town.
  4. In thrillers, four paragraphs is long enough for the hero to satisfy a woman’s every sexual need (as a comparison, the average length of one of my sex scenes is around 4000 words). Yep, after four paragraphs she’ll be squirming with delight and copious praise for his performance, even though she’s the one who got undressed and threw herself in front of his dick. I mean, who did all the work there?
  5. In thrillers, women make no demands beyond the sex. They don’t ask for a relationship or exclusivity or even a blood test. They have sex for the sake of it and get out of the guy’s way so he can go shoot some more dudes. Basically, thriller-women are men with extraordinarily welcoming vaginas.

 I love you thrillers. You make me smile and give my brain such a much needed rest!

oxox

 my bookshelf: now with 30% more thrillers

my bookshelf: now with 30% more thrillers

 

 

Sami

The Entire First Chapter of Guarded Desires

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Book Three of the Heart of Fame series, Guarded Desires, releases next week (16th). I can’t believe it’s almost here. I also can’t tell you how excited and nervous I am for this book to be free in the world. If you don’t know already, this is the very first male/male erotic romance I have written. I’m incredibly proud of it. (And holy smokes, look at that cover!!!)

So without any further carry-on, here’s the entire first chapter for your reading pleasure. I hope you enjoy it. (Oh, and there’s a contest at the bottom *grin*)

CHAPTER ONE

Chris Huntley’s reaction to the tall man in the dark sunglasses scared the shit out of him.

Standing on the balcony of the harbour-side mansion the studio had rented for this trip, Chris watched the imposing Australian stride along the mansion’s private jetty away from the yacht that had delivered him. Faded blue-denim jeans barely contained thighs that were long and muscular. A broad, sculpted chest and powerful shoulders strained against a snug white T-shirt, as did biceps that spoke of impressive strength.

Aslin had said the guy was built, but damn, he hadn’t mentioned like a goddamn wrestler.

Liev Reynolds moved with the confidence and potency of a man threatened by nothing. Chris knew the attitude well. Aslin Rhodes, his brother-in-law, moved the same way. A menacing calm that said loud and clear you would get hurt and hurt badly if you tried to mess with him. Chris had always assumed it came from being an ex-soldier, but as he watched the Australian approach the mansion, he knew it had nothing to do with military training. For starters, Liev Reynolds had no military background at all.

Chris gripped the stainless-steel balcony railing harder.

His entire life, he’d cast himself in the role of sexy, funny ladies’ man. His reputation—hell, his career—was built around that role. The guy that made women laugh with his sharp wit even as he made them want to strip off their clothes and beg him to have sex with them. Just about every time he left the comfort of his home in Beverly Hills and went out in public without Aslin and his sister, more than one woman would do that very thing.

He’d made millions of dollars thanks to his sex appeal. The studio that produced his sitcom milked his sex appeal for every advertising penny. The studio of his first action film had capitalized on it in their pre and post-release marketing. The critics of the film had noted it. The pre-production media buzz of his next film, a comedy horror, was already talking about.

He was, for want of a better word, a mega sex symbol. Up there with the best of them, with the sexiest men alive. Linked to almost every delectable woman the gossip mags and celebrity sites could name. If there was a single, sensual, eligible actress out there, Chris had apparently slept with her.

He didn’t fight the reputation. In fact, he welcomed it. True, he didn’t have a girlfriend. Nor even a steady fuck-buddy, but when it came to the media important facts didn’t matter.

Chris could live with that. He’d learned to live with it. It was part of his life now. He was a sex symbol, women wanted to sleep with him and he slept with women. That was the way it was.

Which explained why he was petrified watching the Australian bodyguard his brother-in-law had arranged to protect him while back in Oz draw closer. Because he’d never ever had his dick harden at the sight of a man. Harden, for fuck’s sake.

His gut churned. A vise-like invisible band wrapped his chest. His breath grew shallow. Rapid.

With every step Reynolds took closer to the mansion, an unmistakable tension stirred in Chris’s cock.

The kind Chris only experienced in the presence of a beautiful woman.

What the fuck?

Since when was he attracted to men?

Since never, that’s when.

He stared hard at the Australian, his heart beat a rapid trip-hammer. It had to be something else. Something not Liev Reynolds.

Chris searched his brain, trying to remember what he’d been thinking about before the privately chartered motor yacht had delivered Reynolds to the mansion.

Bethany. Asleep on your shoulder. Her hair tickling your face.

Chris snapped straight, clicking his fingers. “That was it,” he muttered. He’d been thinking about the flight over and how his new personal assistant had fallen asleep on his shoulder. The first non-professional thing the young woman had done since his sister and Aslin employed her six months ago.

He’d been thinking how nice her hair had smelt, like coconut and some exotic flower. He’d been thinking about the warmth of her cheek seeping through the cotton of his shirt. He’d been thinking how disapproving his sister would be. How Rowan had been adamant his new P.A. stay as emotionally detached from him as possible.

He’d been thinking about how much fun he was going to have telling Rowie about the flight.

That had to be it. He was thinking about an attractive young woman now in his employ and his cock had taken the messages from his jet-lagged, sleep-deprived brain and mixed them up into something else. And those messages just happen to reach his cock when his gaze fell on Liev Reynolds climbing from the motor yacht.

Simple.

He chuckled out a shaky breath. Simple. Sort of. He didn’t think he was sexually attracted to his new P.A. Fuck, that would complicate things a tad, but he was sure as shit that was less complicated than being sexually attracted to the Australian bodyguard currently striding along the jetty. Being sexually attracted to a man would complicate the shit out of things. And confuse the shit out of Chris as well.

But he wasn’t. So there was nothing to worry about.

He gripped the balcony’s railing and dropped his stare to the man in question.

And bit back a groan as a thick spasm claimed his cock.

Chris’s mouth went dry. Jesus, what the hell was going on?

Think of Bethany. Think of Bethany.

Closing his eyes, he turned his thoughts to his P.A.

His cock didn’t spasm.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the Australian drawing even closer to the mansion.

His groin throbbed. His balls grew heavy.

Chris stepped back from the railing. He ground his teeth. Bunched his fists. Fuck.

Looking down at his crotch, he choked back another groan.

In a few minutes time, he was meant to be discussing with Liev Reynolds the expectations of being his bodyguard during the Dead Even press junket in Australia. How the hell was he to do that with the goddamn obvious makings of a goddamn erection?

Exhaling a slow breath through his nostrils, he slumped against the railing and watched Reynolds disappear from his line of sight beneath the balcony’s overhang.

Fuck. Maybe he should reschedule the meeting? Maybe he should have a shower and fix the unsettling erection with his hand? Maybe he should ask Bethany to join him, just to be sure that’s what the stupid erection was all about in the first place?

Maybe he should—

The soft chime of the mansion’s doorbell ended the unnerving question. He jerked around, his heart slamming fast into his throat.

A petite young woman with wild strawberry-blonde ringlets tumbling about her freckle-dusted face looked up from where she sat on a leather sofa situated in the middle of the living area. “I think Mr. Reynolds is here, Mr. Huntley. Shall I let him in?”

Chris drew in a slow breath, forcing his heart rate to slow as he counted to ten. It was a meditation technique Aslin had encouraged him to use during the filming of Dead Even, the action blockbuster on which he’d met his brother-in-law, the very film he was back in Australia to promote with a press junket and red-carpet screening. He hadn’t needed to meditate since filming ended. His sitcom was on hiatus while he was in Australia and life was pretty damn stress free at the moment.

“Mr. Huntley?”

Chris flinched at Bethany’s voice. She was only six months in to the job and already better at it than his last personal assistant. She was proficient, friendly but detached and utterly professional. And so far it didn’t seem like she was planning to kill everyone important to him like the last nut job that had been his P.A.

He smiled at the young woman, letting the tension melt from his shoulders. “Sorry, Bethany. I was wool gathering. Let him in please.”

Bethany Sloan smiled back and nodded, rising to her feet as she did so. “As you wish, sir.”

She placed the iPad on which she’d been busy arranging his schedule for the next seven days onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. Straightening the simple linen pantsuit she wore with an efficient brush of her palms, she walked from the room.

Chris watched her go. Efficient, affable and professional. Not ditzy or quirky or a closet psycho. Selected by his sister and Aslin for those specific attributes, along with the fact her security background check was spotless.

When it came to looking out for Chris’s wellbeing, his sister was thorough.

Letting out a sigh, he turned back to the stunning view of the harbour and gripped the stainless steel rail.

It made sense the arriving Australian bodyguard wasn’t responsible for his unexpected arousal. He was jet-lagged. He’d only arrived in the country three hours ago, and the flight attendant in the first-class section on the flight over had flirted with him the whole fourteen hours, even while Bethany slept on his shoulder, enamored enough with Chris to suggest—in a not-so subtle way—a threesome. Perhaps his arousal was a delayed reaction to that? He’d never had sex with two women at once. Maybe after Reynolds left he’d ask Bethany to locate the flight attendant, invite her to the mansion and suggest she bring a friend.

A wry snort sounded in the back of his throat at the thought of asking Bethany to do such a thing. His off-handed suggestion they both have a glass of wine when first arriving at their new home for the next seven days had been met with a frown and disapproval.

Come to think of it, the more he thought about Bethany the more he realised his hard-on—now currently deflating, thank fucking God—had to be a sleep-deprived reaction to her untamed hair, her freckles, her super efficiency and her complete and utter lack of adoration toward him.

Yeah, that had to be it. He was used to women of all ages throwing themselves at him, flirting with him. It stood to reason he’d be turned on by one that didn’t, right? He’d also found a challenge appealing, hence his move from award-winning sitcom star to action-film movie star. His agent hadn’t approved of the move, nor had his manager. The only one that had thought that particular challenge a good idea was his sister, and Rowan was currently on the other side of the world about to give birth, Aslin no doubt hovering over her like the proud, protective British mountain of muscle soon-to-be father he was.

If only Rowan and Aslin knew what they’d done by employing Bethany. Chris’s stupefying physical reaction to the sight of Liev Reynolds striding along the jetty had nothing to do with the man and everything to do with the young woman’s complete lack of interest in—

“Mr. Huntley?” Bethany’s clipped voice with its New York accent sounded behind him, and he started. “Mr. Reynolds is ready for you.”

For some stupid reason, Chris’s heart smashed up into his throat again.

With one final look at the sweeping harbour view before him, he sucked in a deep breath and turned to face his P.A. and the Australian bodyguard recommended to him by his brother-in-law.

He had to bite back a soft groan when his gaze fell on the man.

There were a lot of similarities in Liev Reynolds’s physique to Aslin Rhodes. Both were tall, menacing and powerfully built. However, that was where the similarities ended. For starters, Chris didn’t get a wholly disturbing stirring in his groin when he’d first met the Brit who eventually married his sister.

Reynolds was taller than he’d appeared from a distance. Taller. Broader. Stronger. Laugh lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, eyes a brilliant blue and framed by thick dark-blond lashes. His square jaw was clean shaven, his neck a muscular column, his shoulders wide. Under the snug white T-shirt, his chest was well sculpted and muscular. As were his deltoids, biceps and triceps. A six-pack set of abs was hinted at in the shadows of the white cotton. His hips were low and narrow, and faded blue jeans did, in fact, hug thighs that were muscular and corded, just as Chris had suspected from his first view of the man. Liev Reynolds was, to put it bluntly, the epitome of male potency.

Chris’s stomach lurched.

Jesus, what was going on with him?

The Australian bodyguard took a step forward and extended his hand. “G’day, Mr. Huntley. Liev Reynolds.”

Chris looked at the offered greeting, one socially accepted between men throughout the western world. His mouth grew dry.

The Australian chuckled. “I’m not into fist bumps. Sorry.”

Chris blinked, the realization he hadn’t shaken Reynolds’s hand hitting him with sinking horror. “Sorry,” he blurted, snatching the man’s hand just as Reynolds was retracting it. Hot licks of tension shot through him at the hasty contact, spearing into his groin. His cock throbbed. “Sorry,” he repeated, ignoring the unnerving sensation as he shook Reynolds’s hand with an up-and-down motion he knew was borderline frantic. “I’m jet-lagged.”

Beside the Australian, Bethany raised one straight red eyebrow.

Reynolds laughed, returning Chris’s shake with a firm, steady grip. “No worries, mate. I can only imagine what it’s like flying halfway ’round the world. Rhodes told me to go easy on you.”

Chris’s gut clenched. He gazed up at the taller man, wishing to fuck Aslin was here right now so Chris could beat the shit out of him.

Goddamn it, thanks to the Brit, he was about to spend the next seven days in the constant company of a sexy woman who wasn’t interested in him and a…a…fuck, there was no other way to describe Liev Reynolds but sexy as well.

Sexy.

Jesus, what the hell was going on?

***

So what did you think? Now, CONTEST TIME!! Leave a comment below about the chapter and in 24 hours I’ll draw one lucky person’s name. That person will win an e-copy of Book One and Two of the Heart of Fame series, Love’s Rhythm and Muscle for Hire.

You can pre-order Guarded Desires at Amazon Kindle, Barnes and Noble NOOK and Samhain Publishing (just click on the sellers’ names to go directly there)

I’m off sailing the seven seas

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Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. I’m just sailing down one ocean, and even then, just a small way down the ocean.

But it is a part of the ocean I’ve always dreamed of sailing down – the one adjacent to Alaska.

The Sapphire Princess – the boat we’ll be cruising on.

As you read this, I’m on my dream trip – a cruise through the glacial passage of Alaska. But that’s not all we’re doing. We’re taking a three day land tour of Alaska too, exploring Mt McKinley and Denali Park. In fact – today, the 4th of July, we are flying around some of the peaks of Mt McKinley and landing on a glacier!

Honestly, I’ve waited my whole life to take this trip, and when DH finally agreed, it was like all my birthday wishes had come true.

Here’s what I’m most excited about:

The wildlife. Whales, bears and bald eagles? If I see one of each I will be delighted. More than one? In seventh heaven.

It takes a while to get to Alaska from Sydney, so we thought we’d break the trip in Seattle. Never been before, but the Boeing factory is there, and since Mr Dee and Mr 8 are both obsessed with flying and airplanes, we decided it would be an awesome place to stop. (And no, it’s not lost on me that Seattle is also the home of Starbucks coffee. Is it terrible to confess I’m more excited about that than the Boeing factory?)

And the final cherry on the top is the family we’ll be touring with. We’re meeting DH’s parents, sisters, BILs, and some of our nieces and nephews – all of whom live in Canada.

A very special holiday indeed.

Forgive me if you don’t hear from me a while. I’m soaking up every second of this trip!

🙂

Jess

PS – wishing all our America friends a happy 4th of July.

Yes, I’m a REAL Author

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I can’t help it really. I grew up and fell in love with books in a time long before the digital revolution brought e books to the forefront (loooong before :)). I used to love walking into a book store and seeing all those shelves of new unread stories. I loved the smell of both new paperbacks and old. I loved seeing books lined up on my shelves–sometimes I would take them all out and just look at their covers, filled with anticipation at the thought of what I might read next. It was all so delicious! And even though I’m now primarily an e book author and a digital convert (I love the convenience of my Kindle, the instant gratification of downloading any book I want at any time day or night), I have a slight hangover from those early days. I still feel on some level that being a published author isn’t quite real, as in REAL real, until I can pick up my own book in my hands and flip through the pages.OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Ahhhh, smell that anticipation.

Today–ten months after the digital version was released, almost two years since it was accepted, three years since I wrote the first sentence by hand in the notebook I’ve kept by my desk all this time–my MMF erotic romance novel, Erica’s Choice, is finally released in print.

Yep, I’m a real author! (and yes I know digital is real too and I’ve learned to be just as excited, if not more excited by digital release days and seeing my book on digital shelves, but please read the first paragraph again).

 **************************CONTEST***********************************

To celebrate I’m running a contest especially for Australian readers (sorry US folk, but if you’re in need of something to read, check out the massive contest they have running over at International Heat this week–heaps of ways you can win a massive booty of reading treasure!).

All you have to do is comment on this post, follow me on twitter, or like Sami Lee Author on Facebook. All new follows/likes/comments will go into the draw to win a signed print copy of Erica’s Choice. You don’t have to do all three, only one of these to go in the draw, but if you do all three your name’s going to go in that hat 3 times (yes, I use an actual hat and my girls draw the names for me :). It’s totally random!).

I’ll keep entries open until the end of the week and make the draw on the weekend.

Erica’s Choice

EC Cover 200x300One three-alarm night ignites a firestorm of complications…

High school teacher Erica Shannon isn’t a one-night stand kind of girl. Pair that with an aversion to relationships, and she’s resigned to no love life at all. Then one horrifying discovery propels her off her take-no-risks path, and into the arms of the stars of her midnight fantasies.

When his friend and fellow firefighter threatens to make a move on Erica, Corey figures he’d better get over the notion that she’s way out of his league—fast—before he has to get in line.

Griff never thought he’d get the chance to introduce Corey to the combustible delights of multi-partner play, until he senses the sheer volume of sexual energy surging beneath Erica’s repressed exterior.

A blazing night of passion has unexpected consequences. Corey is surprised to discover the woman of his dreams, and that he doesn’t mind sharing her—or himself—with Griff. But Griff finds his heart pulled down a romantic path he vowed he’d never venture again.

Erica? She’s got a problem on her hands. Hold two, hardwired-to-rescue firemen at arm’s length—and away from her heart—until she’s fought and won a battle that may well destroy her.

Warning: One tortured woman and two hunky Aussie firemen indulging in three-way love. Scenes of the male/female, male/male, male/male/female and the male/female/male variety (whew!). Also includes anal sex, mild spanking, cussing, phone sex, fire trucks and tearjerker moments.

Thanks everyone!

Sami

 

The Playlist of the Heart of Fame Series

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I’ve been working on the Heart of Fame series now since 2011. Love’s Rhythm was the first book in the series. When I first met Nick Blackthorne in Tropical Sin I had no idea what lay ahead of me, the journey he would take me on. But here I am, hard at work on the sixth book in the series (Books One and Two have already been released, Book Three – Guarded Desires – releases on the 16th of this month) and it doesn’t look like it’s slowing down any time soon (this morning I woke with a plot bunny for the ninth book in the series, about a famous, playboy professional soccer star and the woman who finally sends him to the sin bin *grin*).

This whole series looks at fame and the impact it has on romance, desire and ultimately, Happy-Ever-Afters. It also spends quite a lot of time in the world of rock and roll (thanks, Nick *grin*). And like every book I write, music greatly influences my muse.

Today, I thought I’d share a few songs from the ongoing (and ever growing) Heart of Fame playlist. Click on the songs to hear just what I’m listening to as I write…and what I’ve been listening to since late 2011 when Nick first demanded I write his own book.

Enjoy…

Tribute ~ Tenacious D

Rock and Roll Dreams Come Through ~ Meatloaf

Lifestyle of the Rich and the Famous ~ Good Charlotte

Some Nights ~ Fun.

Hall of Fame ~ The Script

Rolling in the Deep ~ Adele

So, what’s your favourite on that list? Any songs you think I need to add to my list for future books?

Lexx