HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Happy Holidays! Watch out for that one in the middle :). I'll be back Monday, January 3, 2011.

MEET THE HEROESStryver and Blue from Blue Heaven

I'm thrilled to welcome Jadette Paige as she celebrates her first release with Siren. Isn't that a fantastic cover?

Thanks so much for allowing me to be a guest on your blog. This is a new and wondrous experience for me. Having an erotic m/m novel released is so thrilling. I wasn't sure how I would react to it but honestly, I love it cause I happen to love my characters in this book. They are very memorable to me and I hope they will be to anyone who reads the book.

Blurb:

Take him from Heaven’s Seat. Bring him to me. We will protect his sacred head.

Stryver Zorti’s mission appears simple. Kidnap the Godchild and deliver him to his master. But with the first meeting of the holy man’s azure gaze, desire surges in him to strip bare the God and touch the man within.

Worshiped all his life, the Godchild is shocked by the stranger who dares lay hands on him, even if it is to save him from assassins. With a different name given by his new ally, Blue is freed from the constraints of the holy order for the first time. He revels in the extraordinary experiences opening to him, then in the passion that sparks between him and the hard-edged, oddly gentle Stryver.

But a god does not love, and if discovered, their precarious utopia will shatter, destroying any chance for a future together--that is, if the assassins don’t kill them first.

Excerpt:

Stryver leaned against the broad trunk, waiting with waning patience. Blue had been fine until the rain. He had melted with the first drops, shivering and gasping until Stryver helped him move under the protection of the oak.

He frowned at Blue where he huddled among the roots’ knobs at the base of the trunk. His knees were drawn up against his chest, his thin arms wrapped around them.
Rain never hurt anyone. Why him? Stryver couldn’t figure it out.

Everything about the holy man confused him—in particular, the reason why someone wanted him dead. He didn’t appear to be a threat to anyone, yet from what Aidal said and what Stryver had witnessed in the cathedral, his life was in imminent danger.

Shaking his head, Stryver dug a cloth-covered bundle from his supply bag. He unrolled half a loaf of bread and a small wedge of cheese. He squatted next to Blue, his own back pressed against the bark. He stared at the holy man, his hand frozen in the act of offering him a share of the bread.

Head lowered, gaze caught on something next to him, Blue held one finger out. A small, black ant crawled onto the tip. He lifted his hand, his gaze centered on the ant.

Uncomfortable with the intensity of Blue’s survey of the insect, Stryver released a low laugh. “You act like you’ve never seen an ant.”

Blue’s gaze stayed riveted on the tiny creature as he murmured, “That is its name?”

Confused even more by the strange question, Stryver shook his head. “Yes. You’ve never seen one?”

“No. It’s different from us. So fragile.”

Disbelief replaced his confusion. “There had to be ants at the monastery.”

“No. Only the monks and myself. No other creatures were ever allowed to enter.”

Stryver looked at the ant. What sort of problems could an ant cause? “Why?”

“No distraction, nothing to influence or interrupt my growth. No threats to my development.”

Amazed at the calm, accepting manner with which Blue repeated this simple mantra, Stryver asked, needing an answer, anything to clear the muddle in his mind, “What is your ability?”

This question brought the azure gaze over to meet his. The gentle patter of the rain striking the dirt road and leaves surrounded them, enfolding them in a secluded place. For the space of a breath, Stryver forgot to look away. Then he blinked, focusing on the ant again, making sure not to stare into the innocent orbs studying him.

“I was instructed not to tell anyone.”

“You can’t tell me your name. Now, it’s your true power. Why the secrets? The last Godchild’s name was proclaimed across the land. People rejoiced in his abilities.”

The finger lowered to the ground. The ant hurried away to resume its work. Blue spoke low, and Stryver had to lean closer to hear. “Some things are best not known.”

Unease rippled along Stryver’s back. So there were reasons why the assassins tried to kill him. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?”

“No.”

“Even if it means life or death for both of us?”

Fresh, crisp, rain-washed air breezed over Stryver’s face with the gentle shake of Blue’s head.

The answer struck Stryver full force. So the odds for this mission to fail had increased. His mortality loomed in front of him. All because of one small, quiet man. Compassion for him and unease for what the future held washed over Stryver.

When he broke the quiet, his words came out low and gruff. “Here. Eat. You have to keep your strength up.”

Blue’s slender fingers broke off a small hunk of bread. Stryver pulled the cheese apart and gave him the larger half.

As he chewed in the peaceful rain, he tried to find a way to discover the truth about the Godchild. His life depended on knowing it.

HUMP-DAY HUNK -- Thierre di Castro

Where's my friend Cari Quinn? I found another hottie for you. What is it about those Brazilian men? I think we need to plan a trip, gf.

I love a man who knows how to smile! On a dare from his trainers, Thierre di Castro, born in 1979 in Rio de Janeiro, prepared for and won the 2010 Model Universe Championships in Miami. The 6'2" former beach volleyball player moved to Hollywood in 2010 where, a month later, he was featured in a national campaign for the Zoosk dating website and an Old Navy TV commercial.

Do you think all the guys on Zoosk look like him?

HUMP-DAY HUNK -- Ivan Scannell

Now that's a six-pack! Ivan is an Australian model and athlete. He's a cub, girls, born in 1985. Feeling the cougar instinct yet? He's a track sprinter and hopes to represent Australia in the 2012 Olympics. I know I'll be watching...

MEET THE HERONick from A Night for Miracles

Known for her gritty yet romantic historical westerns, Cheryl Pierson has penned a beautiful holiday tale with A Night for Miracles -- and it's on sale right now at The Wild Rose Press. You can find it here.

A Night for Miracles is a wonderful Christmas tale that is assured to warm your heart. Its characters are so life like you will question if the story could have actually occurred. It is one that will be the perfect way to spend Christmas Eve for its short tale is easy to finish in one sitting.

~Romance Junkies Reviews

Blurb:

When widow Angela Bentley takes in injured ex-gunhawk Nick Dalton and three orphans on Christmas Eve, she is determined only to lend a hand where needed. But when the children drag in a small, scraggly Christmas tree, Angela finds herself wanting to create a memorable holiday for them. Can these visitors become the family she longs for? For those who believe in miracles, anything is possible--even true love, in the most unlikely circumstances.

Excerpt:

He spoke first. “What…what’s your name?” His voice was raspy with pain, but held an underlying tone of gentleness. As if he were apologizing for putting her to this trouble, she thought. The sound of it comforted her. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t want to think about it. He’d be leaving soon.

“Angela.” She lifted his head and gently pressed the metal cup to his lips. “Angela Bentley.”

He took two deep swallows of the water. “Angel,” he said, as she drew the cup away and set it on the nightstand. “It fits.”

She looked down, unsure of the compliment and suddenly nervous. She walked to the low oak chest to retrieve the bandaging and dishpan. “And you are…”

“Nick Dalton, ma’am.” His eyes slid shut as she whirled to face him. A cynical smile touched his lips. “I see…you’ve heard of me.”

A killer. A gunfighter. A ruthless mercenary. What was he doing with these children? She’d heard of him, all right, bits and pieces, whispers at the back fence. Gossip, mainly. And the stories consisted of such variation there was no telling what was true and what wasn’t.

She’d heard. She just hadn’t expected him to be so handsome. Hadn’t expected to see kindness in his eyes. Hadn’t expected to have him show up on her doorstep carrying a piece of lead in him, and with three children in tow. She forced herself to respond through stiff lips. “Heard of you? Who hasn’t?”

He met her challenging stare. “I mean you no harm.”

She remained silent, and he closed his eyes once more. His hands rested on the edge of the sheet, and Angela noticed the traces of blood on his left thumb and index finger. He’d tried to stem the blood flow from his right side as he rode. “I’m only human, it seems, after all,” he muttered huskily. “Not a legend tonight. Just a man.”

He was too badly injured to be a threat, and somehow, looking into his face, she found herself trusting him despite his fearsome reputation. She kept her expression blank and approached the bed with the dishpan and the bandaging tucked beneath her arm. She fought off the wave of compassion that threatened to engulf her. It was too dangerous. When she spoke, her tone was curt. “A soldier of fortune, from what I hear.”

He gave a faint smile. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Miss Bentley.” From the hint of chiding tolerance in his voice, she knew she wasn’t the first to censure him to his face. Nor would she be the last. Somehow, the thought unsettled her. She shored up her determination to show him she didn’t care one whit about his feelings. Or her own rudeness. He was a gunhawk, after all.

“Meaning?” She sat down on a chair next to the bed and pulled it close. Her heart raced as she leaned near the gunman. His dark, tousled hair fell across his tan forehead. His smoldering blue eyes regarded her lazily from behind heavy lids. He’d lost a lot of blood, but not enough to remove the threat completely. He was dangerous. Deadly. Still, she couldn’t help the stirrings of compassion she felt. Or the unwanted feeling of attraction that had shot through her when she’d touched him. She cleared her throat when he didn’t answer. “What should I expect from you, Mr. Dalton? That you’ve changed?” Her voice sounded clipped and distant.

“I guess that all depends on whose version of my life you’ve been listenin’ to, doesn’t it?” He looked away, suddenly seeming to let his guard down. “I might’ve done a couple of good things to go along with the rest,” he said softly. “Whatever you’ve heard, I’m not all bad.”

Cheryl Pierson is a native of Oklahoma. She lives in the Oklahoma City metro area with her husband. The mother of two grown children, and pet-sitter on occasion, she is always busy. A romance author who loves to read, Cheryl also teaches novel writing classes and is co-owner of West Winds Media, an editing/teaching business for writers. She writes true short stories that have been published by Adams Media and Chicken Soup, fictional short stories that have been published through The Wild Rose Press and Victory Tales Press, novels and a screenplay. Her novel Fire Eyes was an Epic Award Finalist and Cheryl received the 2010 PNR PEARL Awards Honorable Mention as Best New Paranormal Author. She also placed third in the San Antonio Romance Authors (SARA) Merritt Contest (historical) with her newest novel, Gabriel’s Law. In addition, Sweet Danger, her contemporary release through TWRP this past October, has received wonderful reviews. She just had three Christmas short stories released through Victory Tales Press. To learn more about Cheryl and her exciting books, visit her at www.cherylpierson.com.

Please Vote for Calendar Boy!

As promised, here is the link to vote for Calendar Boy for Best Book of the Week over at Whipped Cream. Thanks so much in advance!

And for your viewing pleasure...

Ah, Island Time...I Miss You...

The dh and I just got back from nine relaxing sunny days in Negril, Jamaica. We spent time with good friends (most of whom are still there -- if you're reading this, you suck! lol), ate some great food, drank frou frou island drinks, partied till early in the morning, and generally escaped real life.

I came back home to a lovely review for Calendar Boy. Sweet Pea at Whipped Cream Reviews says:

...Once I picked up this book I couldn’t put it down. I was riveted from page one to the very end. I love Cougar stories and this has just made my top five. I highly recommend this book.

Calendar Boy is up for Whipped Cream's Book of the Week. Voting starts tomorrow and continues through Sunday. I'll post the link tomorrow morning. If you read the book and enjoyed it, I'd appreciate your vote :).

Please stop back here on Monday when my good friend Cheryl Pierson will be visiting to talk about her historical western holiday story, A Night for Miracles.

Until then...Ire!