Review of Hour of The Lion by Cherise Sinclair

I actually finished this book a while ago, but this is the first time I’ve gotten the chance to actually sit down and write down my thoughts on it. Hope you enjoy the review, ’cause I know you’re gonna love the book!

*dragging feet* As for me, time to get back to work.

Blurb:

As a dedicated covert ops agent, Victoria Morgan follows two rules: accomplish the mission and protect the innocent. When bitten by a werecat—yeah, that was a sucky day—she must investigate beings that shouldn’t exist and are hard as hell to identify. Just how can she tell if a person is human–or an animal-shifter who enjoys Bambi-sized snacks?

During her investigation, she finds a real home and friends for the first time. Sweet, right? But there’s a flip-side: the bad guys are waiting for her to turn into something four-legged with a tail, the shifters suspect her of spying, and she has fallen in love with a pair of Thumper-eating werecougar brothers.

Her duty is to expose their existence. Or she could follow her heart and protect them with all of her deadly skills.

I give Hour of the Lion 5 strong shots…

…and I’m very tempted to throw in the whole bottle. *takes a few chugs while
admiring vodka boy’s goods on review page*

Here you go Ms. Sinclair. Bottoms up!

As a fan of Ms. Sinclair’s writing, I was prepared for a well written, smoking hot story—but then I started reading and all my expectations were smashed to bits.

After the one ménage scene in Cherise Sinclair’s last Shadowlands book, I was cautiously optimistic about reading her take on a polyamory. I tend to be very, very picky when it comes to multipartner relationship because, as far as I’m concerned, it’s still a relationship. A threesome can be a nice little thrill for a couple, but often I find the feelings of the third person are neglected. Or someone gets jealous and of course, that means the fun’s over.

I was very, very happy to see that wasn’t even an issue in this book. The three-way relationship develops at a nice pace, beginning with a good dose of sexual tension which gave way to passion and romance. Fans of erotica—and Cherise Sinclair—may get impatient for the sex, so this is what I suggest:

If you’ve picked up this book to spice up your night, put it down. Find your favourite sex scene from one of the Shadowland books—or maybe one of the Dark Havens. This is not a stroker by any stretch of the imagination.

You back? Okay, give me a minute…<g>

If you really want an idea of what this book is like, think Laurel K. Hamilton (her earlier stuff), Kim Harrison, and Jennifer Armintrout. The heroine, Victoria Morgan, is a kick-ass spy. From the very first page you get an idea of her strength and can’t help but root for her as you’re thrown right into the action. I love nothing more than a story that hits the ground running, so this was a special treat. The first chapter had me holding my breath and scooting up to the edge of my seat—I had to know what was going to happen to this woman. Part of me was sad because…well, I won’t spoil it for you, but let’s just say the lump in my throat dimmed the excitement. Not in a bad way, I was just that into the story.

What follows is constant struggles for the heroine, and the introduction of not one but two sexy, dominant men. Alec and Calum. As always, Sinclair’s men are easy to fall in love with. Alec is a bit more playful and easy-going, while Calum is serious and intense, and their differences make it easy to understand why Vic would fall for them both. But you just know Vic’s secrets are gonna be an issue. While you soak in every wonderful moment, part of you remains tense; hoping for the best, knowing the heroine will lose everything once the truth comes out.

And that’s just the romance part. What really got me was the paranormal elements and the action. Usually, when I read romance, I accept that the actual plot will be overshadowed by the relationship. But this story didn’t lack for anything. Rather than get a morsel of the same old, recycled legends, you’re given a full helping of something fresh. Yes, shifter stories have been done before, but never quite like this.

In the end, all I really want is for a book to make me forget that I’m reading—that’s not too much to ask, is it? Being a writer myself getting my damn inner editor to shut up while I’m trying to enjoy a story is hard. So far, every one of Cherise Sinclair’s books has gagged that inner critic. Hour of the Lion is no different.

This is going up on my shelf—virtual and real (soon as I can get it in print)—of favourites to be read again and again when I need a break from reality. This is a world I could get lost in for a long time—I really hope Ms. Sinclair brings us here again.

To read an excerpt or buy this book, click on the book cover.

Should have a treat for you very soon…

Ever since I got back from Ohio, I haven’t blogged very often, and I’ve been socialising less and less with some of my very favourite people. But there’s a very good reason for that. Inspiration clonked me over the head while I was on the bus ride from hell.

 I wrote short story. That stayed short! Woohoo!!!

What’s it about? Well, let’s just say it’s erotic and contains some BDSM. Surprisingly, there’s no menage, but I’ve left the option open for a sequel. There are parts that some may consider very dark, some dubious consent, and some pretty rough sex.

Then there’s an interesting twist. I won’t spoil it for you, but I really think those who enjoy my work will be pleasantly surprised.

Not as brutal as Deadly Captive, but more hard core than Rosemary Entwined. Should keep you satisfied until I finish the next parts of both.

This post is gonna be really brief because I’ve still got way too many WIPs to juggle for anything longer, but I will give you another update as soon as I know more. Hopefully I’ll have a new cover to share before long!

Aside from that, my blog need a lot of updating and I’m working on a new website. When it’s ready to be shared, I’ll hold another contest. With tons of prizes!

Thanks to everyone for being so patient. And don’t be afraid to poke me once in awhile to make sure I’m still alive. Just make sure you poke hard

 

Guest Post-The Call of the Erotica Wild

This author recently shared a very hot kiss with us, and I’ve done a review for her erotic fantasy, Three Days of Dominance. A wonderful author and a great friend, please welcome—>

Cari Silverwood

Launching into the wild landscape of erotica as a new author has been most enlightening. As you might imagine, writing an erotica novel and getting it published is half the battle.  Figuring out author promo on the internet is another half — where to go, what to do and who to do it with are all painful, hair-pulling-out questions.

Promoting yourself, like this here blog post, is the modern form of standing up on a rickety box in the middle of the village square to do a speech, with your underwear strung out on a line behind you. 

So, is my underwear still there behind me? No? Well, here goes. The third half of the erotica book battle (Maths? What maths?)…the third half is the mental struggle I went through as I began to wonder, why? Why am I writing erotica, when I could be penning War and Peace? Why do I like reading it? Why, in particular, am I dwelling on the darker side of the erotica genre, where women get tied up by handsome, well-muscled, over-bearing men who always seem to harbor an organ of gold deep down inside their…

Were you thinking pants and dicks, or chests and hearts up there? My guess is the former.  Tut tut.  Heart, my dears, a man with a heart of gold. The other would be, interesting, but probably uncomfortable. 

To dismiss the first question. I write erotica because I like, no make that love doing it, I hope it makes me some cold hard gold cash, and War and Peace has already been written.

The third part of the question — why do I write on the darker BDSM side of erotica, I’ve answered in another blog post:  LINK

That other question I ask myself up above —  why do I like reading it, is there because I’d never read pure erotica before I wrote it. I had no idea of the mental anguish I would go through. I am a very sexually repressed person, I’m sure, though you might not think so reading some of my stories.

Her wrists were drawn taut above her head, secured to the headboard by ropes of thorned red rose and bougainvillea. The pricks of their thorns threatened to puncture her dream. She resisted that, wanting more. Raising her head, she stared down the length of her body, past her protruding red nipples and along her stomach where sweat lined the floral rope fastening her thighs up against her body. With her bottom tilted and her legs spread, her pussy was open, available.

The man, his black hair floating like the rays of a sun, lifted his head from between her thighs. She gasped, rolling her hips upward. The wet tip of his tongue slid across as he licked her juices off his lower lip. Her clit, so recently probed by that clever tongue, pulsed. If he didn’t put it back there, soon…

Yes, that there above, is some nasty sexual repression. To be serious though, I’d never really worked out why I had really dark, if yummy, sexual fantasies.  At least one recent study says dominant women love to fantasize about submission to an alpha male — to a dominant man. So chances are, if you love capture fantasies, BDSM, erotica where the woman gets pursued and seduced and dominated, you’re likely an intelligent dominant woman. There are always exceptions to any rule of course, and no one’s saying that means you drag your partner around by the ear, or that you always get your way in every argument. You may even be a man who likes reading these stories because you have the same fantasy, only you’re putting yourself into the position of the male protagonist seducing the woman…or the other way around.

The old tale that women only like stories and men only like the visual, or what gets called, porn, is also not one hundred percent true.

Here’s that study by the way http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/psyched/200905/why-dominant-women-enjoy-sexual-submission-fantasies-part-2

So, at least I now acknowledge that I’m not a freak, or unusual, and I hope you readers out there know that too — these are common fantasies, and those women who have them at the back of their minds yet don’t partake of erotica are missing out on so much delightful smuttiness, it almost makes me cry. But I won’t, I’ll just send around one of my Doms to spank them.

If you have a friend who desperately needs spanking call me to book Heketoro — my fae lord from my first release, Three Days of Dominance, released on June 7^th, 2011 from Loose Id.

I’m on facebook as Cari Silverwood.

Oh, and my website is : www.carisilverwood.net where you can find a nice long excerpt or two.

Cari Silverwood’s Three Days of Dominance

Blurb: When a man with mint-green eyes steps from a lake and offers to rescue Danii’s dog in exchange for three days of total obedience, it’s obvious he must be either joking or crazy. She must be the crazy one, though, because somehow, she ends up saying yes.

Being a police officer, she usually knows how to handle the crazies, but when it comes to Heketoro, she’s the one being handled. Each day their lovemaking becomes wilder and Danii discovers exactly how far this man can take her. Though the tattoos drawing themselves on his body make it clear he’s not quite human, to Danii what’s more important is their burgeoning love for each other.

To Heketoro, what’s important is one last ritual of love needed to break an ancient curse that prevents him from returning to his world. But as the time draws near, his enemies return and threaten to destroy him by using his only weakness — Danii.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and elements, dubious consent, violence.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Her wrists were drawn taut above her head, secured to the headboard by ropes of thorned red rose and bougainvillea. The pricks of their thorns threatened to puncture her dream. She resisted that, wanting more. Raising her head, she stared down the length of her body, past her protruding red nipples and along her stomach where sweat lined the floral rope fastening her thighs up against her body. With her bottom tilted and her legs spread, her pussy was open, available.

The man, his black hair floating like the rays of a sun, lifted his head from between her thighs. She gasped, rolling her hips upward. The wet tip of his tongue slid across as he licked her juices off his lower lip. Her clit, so recently probed by that clever tongue, pulsed. If he didn’t put it back there, soon…

She panted as his thumbs glided in the slickness down below, felt them sink deep into her, then deeper inside, and gasped again, lost in the molten sensation. She tried to move her arms, her legs and couldn’t. Trapped and pinioned for him to do what he wished. Excitement screwed her insides a notch tighter. Her vagina squeezed around his thumbs. He pulled them out, and she mewed at the loss.

Slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, he rose to his feet, shifting position until his hands wrapped around her thighs and the head of his cock pressed against her entrance.

Anticipation made everything feverish bright, sent lust snaking, thick as syrup, to her groin. Her thigh muscles juddered as she pushed up in vain against the rope. The rope tightened. The thorns bit down.

The man smiled with satisfaction as her struggling subsided, becoming a trembling acceptance of what was to come. He drove the head of his cock into her, sliding inside, and halted. She groaned, anticipating the thrust as he penetrated farther.

Watching her intently, he skated his finger in tantalizing circles about her clit, sometimes touching the aching nub and sometimes not. He gripped it between finger and thumb and squeezed, then thrust with his cock, then squeezed, then thrust — the rhythm driving her closer and closer to the edge, her clit so swollen she was sure she’d explode if her release was held off a second longer. Withdrawing until the head barely parted her lips, he poised there, making her ache, making her want.

Aaah. She arched, threw back her head, opened her mouth…and something soft and furry landed on her. A long tongue swept across her face. The dream dissolved.

Danii opened one eye. Two doggy eyes looked back.

“Killer,” she rasped. Her cocker spaniel barked twice and squirmed closer. She plonked a hand on his head to still his tongue and squinted at the alarm clock.

“Six o’clock. Gah! Couldn’t you have waited one more minute? We nearly did it this time!” Not that it would have mattered. Her dreams always ended before she came, though this time had been close, much closer than usual.

Danii squeezed her thighs together and groaned. She really needed a lover. Only, good men didn’t grow on trees, especially not men who did special tricks with bougainvillea. Whoa, that had been something, way too kinky. She’d never let a man do that to her for real, but in dreams, in dreams it was…nice.

Killer barked again, more urgently.

“You want to go for your walk, don’t you?”

He ruffed and sat up, tail swishing across the sheets.

“Okay. Okay. I’m getting up.”

* * * * *

Getting her mind in gear in the early morning was something she’d had practice at for years. Within half an hour, Danii was at the lake, having pulled on jeans and a top and collected the neighbors’ dog like she’d promised. The lake was blue-green, cool, and still. The sun’s rays struggled over the horizon in little sparks and glints that hurt her eyes when she looked up.

Preoccupied by thoughts of what might await her at work later that morning, Danii barely noticed the concrete path under her feet, the ducks cruising on the water, or the myriad other life in and around the lake. She’d been here a million times, and the dogs more than made up for her inattention as they sniffed weeds, tree trunks, a patch or two of sodden grass, and eyed everything that moved.

Most likely there’d be a long list of thefts and assaults to investigate today — no court appearances, thank heavens, as far as she knew. With a wrench she brought her mind back to the here and now. Time for all the stresses of work later, when she had to think about it.

Killer and Jugsy, the neighbor’s black-spotted dalmatian, easily kept up with her on the lazy walk around the lake, though the dalmatian had a habit of doing pretzel maneuvers around Killer every so often.

A distinctive child’s hat with butterfly appliqué rested abandoned on the grass ahead. She knew Marie, the mother of the child, and went to pick it up. Jugsy’s lead tangled with Killer’s at the same time she bent over, and she absentmindedly fiddled with the lead and dropped it.

In that one millisecond of sloppiness, a dragonfly darted across Jugsy’s nose, and he took off like a spotted rocket. She lunged, then dived for the loop of the lead and missed. With a gigantic splash, Jugsy plunged into the lake and was yards out before she’d scrambled up off the grass.

Holy hells. Who was to know the animal could win an Olympic medal in dog paddle?

For a Friday morning, the park was inexplicably deserted. No one in front of me and — Danii looked back along the snaking path of gray concrete — no one behind. Just a carpet of grass up to the lake edge, low shrubs spotted here and there either side of the path, and a few timber seats randomly decorated with pigeon droppings. And one very wet dalmatian, trailing his lead through the weeds and scaring up ducks and cormorants while galumphing around on the island in the middle of the lake.

“Damn.” She wrapped the end of Killer’s leash around her hand an extra turn and gave him a quick pat. “At least you’re not stupid enough to go swimming.” Tongue hanging out the side of his mouth, spaniel ears drooping in sympathy, Killer panted happily up at her, then turned to bark at Jugsy.

“Jugsy!” Damn, damn, and damn. It seemed a good time to curse everything. As well as exercising the dogs, she came here to wind down, to forget things like the maniac burglar the sergeant wanted caught ASAP, the avalanche of paperwork on her desk, and the niggling headache that came with it. No way was she getting in that weed-infested water, tangling her legs and drowning because her neighbors’ dog had decided to go nuts.

But…she couldn’t leave him. He might be so dumb a lobotomized weevil could beat him in an IQ test, but he was adorable. She looked down at her jeans and low-cut red T-shirt. Jeans weren’t swimming gear — get them wet, and she’d find it hard to stay afloat. The alternative was to strip them off. No. No way am I stripping off in public.

She shucked her flip-flops and inched her toes closer to the murky green water. In the depths, something flash-wriggled past. Give her a recalcitrant criminal and she’d leap in with handcuffs flying, but this — no way. Water, deep water, that went down into green depths…it was enough to give her a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. She stared, feeling a prickle of anxiety that she knew was only an eyeblink away from becoming full-blown, mind-churning panic.

Liar. Any water made her want to cut and run.

“Need a hand?” From behind her came a deep voice with enough gravel in it to finish her driveway.

She jumped, stepping back at the same time as she swung to see who’d spoken. Her heart pounded ten times faster than it should. As she peered out through the swathe of hair across her eyes, the sun made gold and red haloes on the strands of auburn. Calm down, girl, it’s just a man.

She snagged back her hair. “Hi. My friend’s dog is stuck on the island.”

Reality shifted abruptly, and her stomach twisted. She knew him — he was the man from her dream fantasies for the last year. The resemblance was unnerving. Keeping her face from showing shock was a struggle.

If she talked fast, the man might not notice her blush. In her last dream, she’d been naked and tied to the headboard.

As if he could read her thoughts. Dreams were just…dreams.

He stood there, dripping wet, as sleek as a well-dressed seal, in skin-hugging black pants and a long-sleeved shirt that looked to be made of something like thin neoprene. He’d been swimming? His jet-black hair was tied in a ponytail. He was a little on the thin side for her tastes, and his irises were an odd color that was almost as green as the grass under her feet. Contacts, surely.

It was hard not to stare. Where had he come from?

He smiled. “Would you like me to get the dog back?”

Ooh. His voice went deep enough to turn her bones to jelly.

Killer gave a halfhearted woof, then wagged his tail. A guard dog, he was not.

“Uh. Um. You’d do that? I mean…” She tore her gaze away. “Look at it. There’s weeds in there that could pull you under.” She tucked her thumbs in her belt loops — only to realize it made her breasts push out. Casual-like, she unhooked her thumbs, then threw out some words to cover her embarrassment. “Are you trying out a scuba tank or something?”

He took a step closer. “My name is Heketoro. I will do this in return for one gift.”

A gift? Surely he joked? But the man said it straight-faced, looking down at her with those green eyes, and she noticed for the first time a tiny, undulating tattoo on his temple. Her throat tightened, her heart shifting gear into full speed ahead. Not from fear, though; she knew that feeling. Desire. Her body was telling her something she didn’t want to know, and it was all the fault of those stupid dreams.

He hadn’t moved at all. He was serious? Okay, she could hear others talking now, farther along the path where houses crowded in toward the lake; besides, how crazy could this Heketoro be?

“A gift? Sure, what sort? Ten dollars?”

“No. You will do as I bid you for three days,” he said quietly.

Click on the cover to buy the book!

Guest Post-Wading Through Quicksand

While at the Lori Foster’s 7th Annual Reader and Author Get Together, I met many great people. The barmaids were my favorite! LOL!

Seriously, I was in awe of the authors with vast experience, those who’d travelled far and wide to share their books with readers. Today I’d like you to meet one of them. But he’s not here to talk about travelling–which is very good IMO, part of the reason I’m in awe of him is because I don’t know if I ever want to travel again! However, he is here to talk about a subject I find facinating: Male romance authors. I’ve got mixed feelings about that particular breed, but I won’t comment now.

Let’s see what he has to say. Please Welcome—>

Tim Smith

Here’s something you don’t run into on an author’s blogsite every day – a male author of straight contemporary romance books. Okay, I know what you’re probably thinking – “A man writing romance stories who gets the details right? It can’t be done!” Trust me, I get that a lot. I began published life as a writer of mystery thrillers set in The Florida Keys involving a former CIA spook named Nick Seven, who is always trying to stay out of the intrigue game but never manages to. Two of my three novels featuring this character won awards and I had a nice following. While they all contained romance and sex, I never considered writing a full-fledged romance novel. Why should I, when I had what appeared to be a niche career?

That’s when I decided to wade into the quicksand known as “contemporary erotic romance.” A few years ago I wrote a romantic comedy, Anywhere the Heart Goes. My friends who eagerly anticipated another Nick Seven thriller were aghast and asked me “How could you do such a thing???”  The answer is pretty simple. I was attending a book festival and while my books were selling well, I noticed other authors drawing bigger crowds. They were selling romance novels and after reading one of them, I thought it would be fun to write one of my own, but told primarily from the man’s perspective and with more humor. I also knew I could write something better than the one I’d read. This first one did well enough that I followed it with two more lighthearted erotic romances. I recently released a romantic intrigue story, The Bundle.

No matter what type of story I’m writing or where it takes place, I strive to make it as atmospheric as possible. I love it when a reader tells me they felt like they were in the scene with the characters. I use realistic dialogue, writing what I hear people say on a daily basis. I also take great pains to craft characters with human flaws and quirky personalities, to make them step off the page. I’m not a fan of cardboard characters and heroes who come off as perfect. The one difficulty I had to overcome when I switched genres was the way I wrote sex scenes. They were abundant in the first three books, but for this new market I had to turn up the heat and be more explicit. I’ll admit it was a little awkward for me at first, but I soon reached my comfort level and stopped blushing when I wrote something down and dirty.

I think of fiction writing as being in the entertainment field because that’s what writers do – we write to entertain. I don’t write for the critics – I write for the person in Rugby, North Dakota or Parma, Ohio who wants to escape the daily grind and lose themselves in a good story. I’m often asked what I think of reviews, and it’s a tricky one for me to answer because I am a reviewer for an online romance site. At the risk of shooting myself in the foot, I’m not convinced that a good review has that much impact on a book’s sales. I say that because no one has ever told me they bought one of my books because so-and-so gave it five stars.  The nicest compliment I can receive is when someone tells me they can’t wait to read my next one. Man, it doesn’t get much better than that!

I just released my seventh novel, The Bundle, through Extasy Books. This is the first in a series and lets me return to my mystery thriller roots. The main character is an ex-cop named Vic Fallon, and he’ll be the only recurring character, with a different gal pal to get involved with in each installment. The style harkens back to the pulp fiction writing of Raymond Chandler and Donald E. Westlake, with a dash of Mickey Spillane thrown in – tough hero with a romantic side, equally tough heroine who needs his help, atmospheric locations, wisecracking dialogue and some serious sex. What more could you ask for?

“The Bundle” blurb –

Vic Fallon had little use for the rich and famous when he was a police detective, and his attitude hasn’t changed since he was forced to turn in his badge. When pop singer Kimberly Daniels returns to her hometown of Cleveland, Ohio to promote her latest album, Vic reluctantly agrees to be her bodyguard as a favor for a friend. He isn’t told that she has a death threat hanging over her head, with no shortage of suspects. The set-up takes a bizarre twist when her stalker shows up and Vic uncovers family secret Kimberly would like to keep hidden. Things get more complicated when they develop a strong attraction for each other, in spite of their different lifestyles. Can Vic ensure Kimberly’s safety until she returns to L.A.? Will Kimberly decide to ditch her glitzy celebrity life and stay with the rugged ex-cop she’s fallen for?”

Okay, now that you’ve read the trailer, here’s the feature. This is a PG excerpt. A hotter one can be found at www.extasybooks.com. More information about all my books can be found at my website, www.timsmithauthor.com.

“The Bundle” excerpt -

Vic took off his coat, tossed it on the bed in his assigned bedroom of the hotel suite then loosened his collar, removed his tie and contemptuously flung it onto the dresser. He slipped off his shoulder holster, hung it on the back of the chair at the desk and checked the safety on the Smith & Wesson .45. He took out the bottle of Passport scotch he’d brought with him, pouring some into a glass, followed by two ice cubes from the bucket. He eased himself into the padded club chair at the small cocktail table, stretched his legs in front of him and exhaled a deep breath. A day of mingling with the Tinseltown set left him wishing the job was over so he could return to his comfort zone.

He became aware of a presence and looked at the open doorway. Kimberly stood there, dressed in a pink velour jogging suit with her initials embroidered in red sequins on the left breast. She wore no shoes or socks. Her hair carelessly outlined her face, adding a degree of sexiness. Vic noted that the zipper on her top was halfway down, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. She offered a tentative smile that still retained a hint of shyness.

“Do you always drink alone or would you mind some company?” she asked in a soft, husky voice.

Vic set another glass on the table and pushed the bottle toward her. She settled into the chair across from him, poured some Scotch into her glass and added ice. She took a long swallow then set the glass on the table.

“Won’t Pasta object to you drinking with the hired help?” Vic asked.

“Right about now, Pasta’s cruising the bars, looking for a cock to wrap his lips around.  Won’t see him until morning.”

Vic laughed softly. “That answers one question I had.”

Kimberly gave him a look of surprise. “You thought Pasta and I were…?”

“Uh-huh.”

She laughed at the notion. “I wouldn’t pass the physical, but you’d better be careful.”

“I’ll sleep with my gun under my pillow.”

Kimberly took another sip and looked at Vic with a sultry glow. “You’re not what I expected. When Evan said he retained an ex-cop to look after me I thought you’d be older, with a pot belly and no hair.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

“I’m not disappointed.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, held it for a moment then slowly exhaled. “It feels good to be back home.”

Vic sipped his drink then cradled his glass while looking at her, appreciating her beauty.  He mentally compared what he now viewed in person to what he’d seen in the press and on the occasional TV show. The cameras didn’t lie. Kimberly Daniels was a beautiful woman. He recalled a sexy lingerie spread she’d done in a men’s magazine the year before and wondered if those photos were accurate as well.

“Are you really the sentimental type or was this trip a publicity stunt?”

Kimberly opened her eyes and laughed softly. “I could tell you weren’t too enthused about accepting this job.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I can read people pretty well.” She laughed again. “But I loved the way you stood your ground with Pasta. He’s not used to people talking back to him.”

“I’ll apologize to him over breakfast. Just what is his function?”

Kimberly downed the last of her drink and poured another. “He’s my personal assistant. I’d be lost without him.” She took a small sip. “So what’s my celebrity ass worth these days, bodyguard-wise?”

Vic eyed her for a moment. “Does it really matter?”

She shrugged. “Guess not, as long as you’re not complaining.”

“If I have any complaints I’ll let you know.”

Bio:

Tim Smith is the author of seven books, ranging from thrillers to contemporary erotic romance. Two of his books have won awards and he’s also an award-winning freelance photographer. When he isn’t pursuing those passions, he works in the human services field, serving adults with disabilities. He can often be found in The Florida Keys, doing research in between parasailing and seeking out the perfect Pina Colada.

As a nice little bonus, Time Smith is doing a giveaway of hise-book “Mistletoe and Palm Trees” for the answer to a trivia question from the excerpt – What is the name of Kimberly’s personal assistant?

Review of Three Days of Dominance by Cari Silverwood

Blurb:

When a man with mint-green eyes steps from a lake and offers to rescue Danii’s dog in exchange for three days of total obedience, it’s obvious he must be either joking or crazy. She must be the crazy one, though, because somehow, she ends up saying yes.

Being a police officer, she usually knows how to handle the crazies, but when it comes to Heketoro, she’s the one being handled. Each day their lovemaking becomes wilder and Danii discovers exactly how far this man can take her. Though the tattoos drawing themselves on his body make it clear he’s not quite human, to Danii what’s more important is their burgeoning love for each other.

To Heketoro, what’s important is one last ritual of love needed to break an ancient curse that prevents him from returning to his world. But as the time draws near, his enemies return and threaten to destroy him by using his only weakness — Danii.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: anal play/intercourse, BDSM theme and elements, dubious consent, violence.

I give Three Days of Dominance Four and a half strong shots

This book starts with a dream. I usually hate—I mean, really HATE—books that start that way. The thing is, Ms. Silverwood doesn’t ease you into a fluffy, pretty, dreamworld. She dumps you right in the middle of some damn hot sex and the heroine chooses not to wake up. Not that I blame her! If I had dreams like that, I’d never get out of bed!

Now if the initial dream sex is scorching, can it get any hotter?

Oh, hell yeah.

This isn’t the first book I’ve read by Cari Silverwood, and it definitely won’t be the last. If you’re in the mood for some hot loving, she’s among the best of any erotic author I’ve read. If you, like me, enjoy some story with your tie-me-up-and-give-it-to-me-hard, you won’t be disappointed. The second the soaking fae stud, Heketoro, tricks the heroine, Danii, into submitting to him for three days, you can feel the tension rise. Heketoro isn’t just after Danii to get his rocks off, his motivations are rooted deep and easy to sympathise with.

The reason I’m giving this story 4 ½ shot is simple. Much as I enjoyed this book, Ms. Silverwood has another novel coming soon that I absolutely loved. That book will get 5 shots if not a bottle. Cari Silverwood may be a newly published author, but she’s going places fast. If you can read this book, or any that she writes, without needing to take a break to…indulge yourself…well, you’re a lot stronger than I.

To buy this book, click on the book cover.