Decadent, Excerpt, Giveaways, Guest Blog, Spotlight

Guest Blog featuring Lea Bronsen’s High-Risk Fever w/a $10GC & ebook giveaway!

High Risk Fever Tour Banner

 

High-Risk Fever

Lea Bronsen

Decadent Publishing, @57k words

Contemporary, Erotic Romance, Menage/multiple partners, GLBT/gay

 

 

Two young and indecently handsome bicyclists visit a village in the French Alps during the summer holidays. Forced by a raging storm to spend the night at the local bed & breakfast, they invade the quiet lives of hostess Anne and her husband, Brian.

A power outage plunges the foursome into darkness, encouraging new liaisons to form, life-long secrets to be unveiled, and steamy lessons to be learned. But once the storm moves on, can the four find a balance and resume their normal lives?

 

 

BUY LINKS:  Decadent | Amazon.com | Amazon.uk | Kobo

Barnes & Noble | Smashwords | All Romance eBooks

Add it to your Goodreads list!

 

 

EXCERPT:

Breathing deeply to calm her nerves, she approached the unfortunate bicyclist and bent to grab his handlebar.

Surely by pure coincidence, one of his gloved hands landed on hers, curling strong fingers around her small ones and helping her pull until the bike stood upright between them.

Still, even as he stood on his feet, his hand lingered, holding hers firmly on the hard-plastic handle.

Anne looked up into his face, seeing him for the first time. How in the world had she missed such a jewel earlier? Among tanned, Latin features, a pair of black diamonds sparkling with mischief stared back without shame. His long, black locks were swept back in a ponytail, revealing a single golden earring in his left lobe. Large chest muscles heaved beneath a tight, pink spandex shirt, begging to be caressed by a woman’s hand, and black chest hairs peeked from the open collar.

Unable to believe the seductive intensity he exuded, she sucked in a breath and held it while the world narrowed. Her head buzzed. “What?”

“What?” The beautiful bicyclist used the same low tone, his full lips forming a teasing grin inches from her face. He was so near she could smell his hot breath. Intoxicating.

How had he come so close? And how long before her husband noticed?

Thankfully, Brian’s calm, indifferent voice rose behind her, addressing the blond bicyclist. “So you’re looking for a place to stay?”

“Yeah. We’ve already asked in several different villages on our way here.”

Anne tugged at her trapped hand and took a demonstrative step back. “Please.”

“Oh.” Feigning surprise, the dark beauty lifted an eyebrow and removed his hand, allowing her to retrieve hers. “Sorry,” he added, rolling a thick R with his tongue, keeping his lips parted a second too long. A move so deliberately naughty, her stomach knotted with need.

As she retreated, he studied her face with a grin, arrogance and amusement gleaming in his dark eyes, before turning his attention to the two other men.

Blood pulsing in her temples, she copied his movement.

 guestpost

Have you ever wondered why authors write about certain subjects or seem to insert subtle “messages” into their books?

 

My new Decadent release High-Risk Fever was intended to be a simple erotica novel, a sexy story throughout, but the influence of real-life events caused it to be so much more. When I started writing it in March 2013, the ongoing “Marriage for all” debate in France, with its massive demonstrations and fiery arguments from all sides of the political spectrum, was beginning to seriously bug my mind and plague my conscience. It was constantly on the news, and my surroundings kept bringing the topic into our conversations. For the sake of peace, I needed to respect everyone’s right to have an opinion, but whenever a lack of tolerance in any form toward gays, lesbians, and bisexuals was evident, for example a questioning of their right to have children, my anger rose dangerously. I soon decided speaking up in private wasn’t enough. I had to do something more concrete, more lasting; a statement on a public arena. My erotica WIP became my channel and I used every single opportunity offered by the plot to voice my not-so-subtle socio-political opinions.

 

Now, I hope, even if you don’t necessarily agree with me, you’ll still enjoy the book for its intriguing storyline, drool worthy characters, and steamy scenes J

HighRiskFeverHighRes

 

ABOUT LEA BRONSEN:LeaBronsen graphic

Lea has always had a vivid imagination and written since an early age. Now juggling life as a mother, full-time worker, and thriving author, she struggles to find any reading time – but when she opens a book, she wants it fast, hot, and edgy! Striving to give her own stories the same intensity, she currently divides her writing time between psychological thriller, erotic contemporary romance, and dripping erotica.    She loves to interact with her readers, so send a mail to leabronsen@yahoo.com or come visit her on Website | Facebook profile | Facebook page | Twitter | Goodreads | Amazon | Smashwords

 

*****

Giveaway

3 ebook copies & $10 Amazon GC

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Book Trailer, Decadent, Excerpt, Giveaways, Release Day

Happy Release Day to London Saint James’ Spanked by the Bad Boy w/a GC giveaway!

 

 

Spanked by the Bad Boy
Bad Boy Fever Series
London Saint James
Decadent Publishing
Cover Art by Mina Carter
57 pgs, 49k words
Contemporary Erotic
Romance (Spanking),
Suspense, Thriller, Heat
level 5
As the personal assistant to the owner of one of the top engineering firms in Denver,
Tiffany Brooks has worked hard at maintaining a professional façade, intent on
ridding herself of terrible habits—like her attraction to bad boys. But when
the owner of DC Construction rides his chopper into her world two years after
their one-time anonymous sexual encounter, everything turns upside down.
Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.
Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?

 

Buy Links:   Decadent Publishing    Goodreads     
Decadent Publishing http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=1007&osCsid=6c1232251c1e45744bd0b3ee7262f414

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/Spanked-Bad-Boy-Fever-ebook/dp/B00P041SBG/

Amazon UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/Spanked-Bad-Boy-Fever-ebook/dp/B00P041SBG

Kobo http://store.kobobooks.com/en-US/ebook/spanked-by-the-bad-boy

iTunes https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/spanked-by-the-bad-boy/id935011222?mt=11

Regular Excerpt:
When a commotion broke out somewhere not too far behind Declan’s table, he twisted in his chair to see what was going on. His brow crinkled.
“I’ll be back,” he said without looking at his employees.
Declan stood and made a beeline for the hallway leading to the restrooms, stopping when he came to a guy in a suit and a woman he recognized.
“Is there a problem here?” he asked.
The woman spun around to see him, shock and perhaps a little fear written all over her features. “Mr. Cage?”
“I see we’ve made progress, Ms. Brooks. You’ve remembered my name twice today.”
“There’s no problem, buddy,” the man said, puffing his chest out, reminiscent of a peacock. “You need to go back to your table and mind your own damn business.”
“The lady is my business.” He hooked his fingers around Tiffany’s elbow and maneuvered her beside him. “Are you all right? Is this guy bothering you?”
She gazed up at him with large blue eyes. “I’m okay. Everything’s okay.”
“It didn’t look that way to me.”
The guy she was with squared his shoulders. “Listen, asshole.” The distinct smell of alcohol rolled from his breath. Obviously, The Suit couldn’t hold his liquor and falsely thought he was some sort of tough guy when he drank. “The lady said everything is fine.”
“You’ve had one too many,” Declan said. “You should probably go home before you do something you’ll regret.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me what to do?” The man stupidly poked his finger into Declan’s chest. “Besides, I won’t have any regrets about beating you like a redheaded stepchild.”
The dude was a walking cliché. What a douchebag.
“I haven’t had a beating since I was nine, and I doubt you’re going to change my track record, but you’re more than
welcome to try.” He tucked Tiffany behind him in a purely protective move.
“I’ll even let you take the first swing.”
Tiffany tugged the back of his shirt and said, “There’s no need to make a scene.”
“No scene here, sugar. I’m only giving the guy what he wants.”
The man in the dark suit took a horrible roundhouse swing. Declan didn’t put any real effort behind his counter move. He ducked to the right. The guy missed, spun around, and stumbled away. He figured Mr. Fancypants had had enough, but no. It took The Suit a second, then he straightened and came toward Declan,
all wild-eyed and doing a boogedy-boo, I’m-crazy-scary motion with his arms.
Declan waited until he came close again then punched the man in the nose. Immediately, the guy’s own blood soiled his silver-white shirt and tie. He staggered back, dazed, before he cupped his hands over his nose. Blood
dripped from his fingers, dribbled down his wrist, and trickled over the expensive watch he wore.
“I think you broke my nose,” he mumbled in a nasal sound from behind his hands.
Declan’s men had flanked hi —feet spread, arms at their sides. He ignored them and nodded. “Yep. It’s broken.”
“Hey! Hey,” the manager of The Last Inning sputtered, waggling his bony finger at them as he came over. “I’m not having this kind of thing going on in my establishment.”
The Suit kept his nose covered, but aimed his pinky at Declan. “He started it by—”
“No,” the manager said. “I don’t want to hear it, and I don’t give a rat’s ass who started what.” He turned to glower at Declan. “Pay your bill then all of you, get out.”
“This ought to cover it.” Jett handed the manager a hundred.
He practically ripped the money from Jett’s hand.
“Fine. Now, go,” he said, shooing them away.
“No problem. We’re leaving,” Declan said and took Tiffany by the hand. She trailed behind him while they headed for the door then, suddenly, she resisted. He stopped and studied her, unsure what the holdup was. She held her right foot out. His gaze started at the pointed toe of her black shoe, skimmed up her shapely leg,
hip, small nipped waist, bountiful breasts, slender neck, nose, and then finally looked into her eyes. “What?”
“Shoes,” she said in an exasperated tone. “You’re pulling me too hard, and I’m walking too fast on a tile floor. I’m stumbling.”
He glanced at the spiked heels and shook his head. “I’ll slow down.”
He slowed their pace but didn’t let go of her until they made their way outside and into the cool night air.
Standing beneath the covered porch of the sports bar, he observed his workers come out, their expressions serious.
“What’s going on, DC?” Jett asked.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” He motioned with his hand. “Guys, this is Tiffany Brooks, by the way. Tiffany, that’s Jett, one of my foremen, and over there is Chris. Chris is my concrete guy.”
“Hi,” she said in a small voice.
Jett and Chris nodded. “Ma’am,” they said, almost in unison.
“You guys go on home,” Declan said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Are you sure you don’t need us to stick around?” Jett asked.
“Naw.”
“Okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.” Declan pulled his wallet from his back pocket and plucked a stack of twenties out. “Here, Jett.”
Jett waved. “You don’t need to pay me back for the bill.”
“I do,” said Declan. Jett reluctantly took the money. “Go on home, and get some rest.”
He shoved his wallet into the pocket he’d pulled it from.
Once his workers left, he gave Tiffany his undivided attention. “I want you to tell me why the man you were with was shaking you, maraca style?”
Author Bio & Links:
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met
the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky
Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who
thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
Bad Boy Fever FB Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/badboyfever

 

 
Giveaway: a $10 GC

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Cover reveal, Decadent, Excerpt

Cover Reveal for Spanked by the Bad Boy (Boy Boy Fever series #1) by London Saint James

 

Spanked by the Bad Boy
Bad Boy Fever Series,
Book 1
London Saint James
~ Decadent Publishing ~
Contemporary Erotic
Romance (Spanking)
Spanked
by the Bad Boy Official Long Blurb
As the personal assistant to the owner of one of the top engineering firms in Denver,
Tiffany Brooks has worked hard at maintaining a professional façade, intent on
ridding herself of terrible habits—like her attraction to bad boys. But when
the owner of DC Construction enters her world two years after their one-time
anonymous sexual encounter, everything turns upside down.
Declan Cage is the type of guy who makes a lasting impression, especially with women, yet the gorgeous assistant at Stoub Engineering never remembers his name—or does she? Intrigued by her game, her sexier than sin body, and an infuriating prissy attitude, Ms. Brooks is begging to be taken into hand, and he’s the man to do it.
Armed with the knowledge Declan doesn’t recognize her, will Tiffany give in to her desire for him yet again, or will her past come back to haunt them both and ruin their chance at something real?
Coming
Soon From Decadent Publishing
Spanked by the Bad Boy Excerpt
Tiffany Brooks heard the familiar tocato-tocato-tocato sound of a purring motor. She swiveled in her office chair to look out the window and saw him park his custom chopper next to her car on the paved lot of Stoub Engineering.
Straddling his chrome bike wearing chunky leather work boots, jeans, and a simple white T-shirt, Declan Cage set her heart to pitter-pat.
She touched her chest and groused, “You’re not attracted to him, Tiffany.”
Tucking a piece of sable brown hair behind her ear, she straightened her shoulders and put on her toothy-white smile.
“Good morning,” she said when he entered the building.
“Morning, Ms. Brooks.”
She observed him coming toward her desk and willed her face to look pleasant, yet restrained. She needed to keep her gaze particularly uninterested in him although the smug politeness she plastered across her features was hard to accomplish. Declan had a swagger that made her want to gawk at him.
“How are you today?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“And you?”
“Fabulous.”
Her response was a blank-faced, “I’m sorry. I’m not good with names.” 
He crinkled his brow, and the muscle in his jaw flexed. Yeah.
There it was. The look. She’d definitely gotten under his skin.
“I’m Declan.” He turned slightly to show her his back and gestured over his shoulder toward the logo.  The silver skull ring he wore on his thumb gleamed. “From DC Construction,” he said. She couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bulged beneath the shirt.
“Oh yes.” She waved her hand about.
She knew who he was and had immediately recognized him the first time he sauntered into the office over a month ago. She’d played it cool then, and she’d play it cool now. Besides, revealing her little secret would be nothing but detrimental. Yet even if it
were a dangerous game, she loved bugging the hell out of him with her “I’m bad with names” thing, especially since she imagined he wasn’t used to a woman forgetting him.
Continuing with the “I’m a busy professional who’s not impressed by you” farce, she casually glanced at her laptop, flipped the lid closed, then looked back up at him. “How may I help you today?”
 “Matthew called me this morning. He said he left some plans here, and I should come by to pick them up.”
“Plans for the Cherry Hills project, right?”
Declan smiled, and his dimples made an appearance through the brownish stubble on his face. Tiffany shook her legs beneath her desk a couple of times then stopped the nervous movement, glad he couldn’t see them.
“Yes,” he said. “For the parking garage.”
She rolled her chair back and stood, sliding her hands down the sides of her hips, hoping to smooth out any wrinkles in her skirt and secretly wishing to bring attention to her curves. She removed her sweater so the silk and lace tank top hidden beneath
could be seen. When she flopped the garment over the back of her chair, she straightened her spine and pressed her ample breasts out.
“Follow me,” she said, tugging at the bottom hem of her shirt.
Satisfied she’d given him a fairly good view of her hourglass figure, she glanced up. Declan stood beside her, and even though she wore four-inch heels, he towered above her. His height sort of intimidated her, but her body didn’t seem to impress him.
Crap.
He pulled a cell phone from the leather holder hooked to his jeans and stared at the screen. “Sorry,” he said in a bored tone. “I forgot to send a text.” His fingers tapped. He put the phone away in a lackadaisical manner. “Lead on.”
Unwilling to let his lack of interest faze her, she gave Declan her back and walked. “The plans are in Mr. Stoub’s office.”
“Super,” he said.
She sashayed across the room with her chin held high, stopping at the marble counter across from the conference room and pointed toward the fancy coffee maker. “There’s fresh coffee. Can I get you some?”
“No. I’m fine. But thanks for offering,” he said.
“Mm.” She continued toward the office, Declan following behind her. “Well.…” After walking in, she eyed several elongated white tubes sitting on top of the oversized desk and gestured toward one wingback chair. “Have a seat. It will take me a second or two to find the right drawings.” She walked around the office furniture as Declan sat on the edge of the chair. Picking up one tube, she read the label. “Sawyer,” she said and set it down in too much of a rush. Her hand accidently hit the other containers. They jostled and started to roll. She tried to stop their momentum, but several of the cylinders went over the side and hit the ground.
“Geez Louise.” Tiffany sidestepped and bent to get them.
Declan had already jumped up to help her.
“Here, let me,” he said, coming to her side and squatting next to her.
When he reached for the mess, his right arm brushed against the top portion of her left shoulder. She sucked in a breath at the contact and thought her heart would stop from the frisson of energy snapping over her skin. Every part of her body became aware
of him. He was potent. And virile. A rough, intoxicating man in his prime.
Refusing to be reduced to a quivering weakling, she reminded herself he was only a man, akin to any other, and turned to see his face. “Thank you.”
He met her gaze.
“Anytime.”
Those eyes. The color of the sea. Deep, blue-green, and fathomless.
Who was she trying to kid? Declan Cage wasn’t just any man. She looked away and focused on something else.
Tiffany fixed her attention on the clutter she’d created, but she was still watching him—staring at his large hands while he gathered up the blueprint holders. She licked her lips and pictured those hands on her body, fondling her.
“I think this is what you’re here for,” she said and tugged one tube out of his grip. “Cherry Hills.” She turned the container around so the label faced him. He nodded. “I’ll trade you.” She switched her lone cylinder with his three, tucking one up against her side before she straightened and went to the desk. “I’ve tried to get Mr. Stoub to put these plans away and not keep them on his desk.”
Carefully, Tiffany placed each blueprint tube alongside the others on the desktop and watched to make sure she wasn’t going to have any runaways. When she was satisfied they were going to stay in place, she glanced up. 
Declan had already taken the plans out and unrolled them, eyeing the specs where he stood.
“This is exactly what I need,” he said.
“Great.”
He slightly turned the large parchment. The cords in his tanned forearms worked, jumping beneath the light smattering of crisp sun-bronzed hair. His biceps flexed. She focused on the tattoo. The tatt wandered up his right arm and kept going—the end hidden beneath the material of his T-shirt. She made a fist, trying to stop the itch to trace the colorful artwork imprinted on him, and studied the width of his shoulders and breadth of his chest instead. Compelled, her gaze lowered to his jeans. Oh, my. The denim was worn white in all the right places.
 Coming
Soon From Decadent Publishing
About the Author:
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author,

London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring
characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
London’s Links:
Bad Boy Fever FB Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/badboyfever