Sunday, September 7, 2014

Please Make Welcome, Romance Author, M S Spencer

Hello Readers,
Please take a minute to say hi to, M S Spencer, and make her feel welcome. Leave a comment for a chance to win one of Ms. Spencer's novels. Please a way to contact you in case you're the winner.
Although she has lived or traveled in every continent except Antarctica and Australia (bucket list), M. S. Spencer has spent the last thirty years mostly in Washington, D.C. as a librarian, Congressional staff assistant, speechwriter, editor, birdwatcher, kayaker, policy wonk, non-profit director and parent. She has two fabulous grown children, and currently divides her time between the Gulf coast of Florida and a tiny village in Maine.

Ms. Spencer has published nine romance novels. The first two, Lost in His Arms and Lost and Found, were published by Red Rose Publishing. The other six—Losers Keepers, Triptych, Artful Dodging: The Torpedo Factory Murders, Mai Tais and Mayhem: Murder at Mote Marine (a Sarasota Romance, Lapses of Memory, and the Mason's Mark —were published by Secret Cravings. Whirlwind Romance, her ninth, was released September 2014.

What do pirates, princes, Puritans, and propaganda have in common? Lacey Delahaye, forager and jelly maker, finds out in this romantic suspense set in the western Caribbean. A randomly chosen comment will win a copy of this wonderful story.
In the aftermath of a hurricane, Lacey Delahaye finds herself marooned on the Gulf coast of Florida with a mysterious man. They are immediately drawn to each other, but before Armand can confess his identity, they are kidnapped and taken far from civilization to a tiny, remarkable island in the western Caribbean. With the help of her son Crispin, a small, but proud young boy named Inigo, and a cadre of extraordinary characters, Lacey and Armand must confront pirates, power-mad ideologues, and palace intrigue if they are to restore the once idyllic tropical paradise to its former serenity and find lasting happiness.

Excerpt (R) : A Wet Reunion
Lacey fidgeted. Inigo said she would see Armand, but when? And how? She enjoyed Maitea’s and Edrigu’s company, but if she didn’t find herself in Armand’s arms soon she’d go stark raving mad.
“Dinner is served.”
They filed into the dining room. Lacey peered into every corner, hoping to see Armand. No one except the butler and a footman peered back. After dinner, Maitea suggested a stroll on the battlements. Lacey lagged behind in case Armand lay in wait for her. Nothing. They did two circuits and, as the moon rose, Maitea yawned. “It’s been a long day. I’m sure you’re tired. Come on, I’ll walk you to your room.”
No one waited for her there either. She even checked the shower just in case. At last, she undressed and lay down. She remembered this room and the bed, and a beautiful night of lovemaking. Now she couldn’t sleep. She went out on the balcony. The moon rode high, walking a carpet of stars. Their myriad needles of light bounced off something below. A terrace? No, a swimming pool. Funny, I didn’t notice it the last time I was here. A swim in the moonlight might relax me. She slipped out of her nightgown, threw on a thin robe, and followed a set of rough, rock-hewn steps down.
At the bottom she found an oval pool, almost hidden by tall pink oleander and night-blooming jasmine. A waterfall tinkled at one end. She slipped into the water. It felt cool against her skin. She floated on her back, gazing up at the sky. Contentment filled her. I can wait for Armand—there’s all the time in the world. Anticipation is half the fun anyway.
The whisper wafted across the ripples. “So you have come back to me.” For a horrible second she thought Damien—or worse, Traficant—had found her. But then a wet head rose next to her and shook the glistening black locks out of a dear face.
He swam a lap around her. “Who did you expect?”
Dazed, she touched his face. “I’d about given up hope for tonight.”
“I’ve been waiting here for you. Come to me.”
If this were a scene suitable for children, the next few minutes would allude to sighs and chaste kisses. Or there would be a scene break with the words “romantic interlude” accompanied by a little light music.
But it’s not.
Lacey rolled over in the water, placed a hand on Armand’s head and ducked him under. He came up spitting and laughing. “That’s no way to treat a prince.”
“That’s the way I treat my princes. Where have you been, anyway?”
Armand didn’t answer. He ducked under the water again. In the dark Lacey felt something gently touch her thigh, then pull it to the right. Bubbles rose up under her, tickling the lips of her vagina. She twisted, trying to cross her legs to get away from the sensation. A hand grabbed her other thigh and dragged it to the left. Lips replaced the bubbles, then a tongue speared her unprotected channel, darting in and out, prodding the nub of her clitoris. She took hold of Armand’s shoulders and pulled his head closer. The orgasm kindled. Just as she slid over the edge, Armand’s head came up. He gasped and sucked in a mouthful of air. “Armand, I was almost there! Why did you stop?”
He panted, “If you want more, you’ll have to allow me to breathe now and then.”
 “All right—go ahead and rest a bit. Catch your breath.” She dropped below the surface, circling around to Armand’s rear. Reaching between his legs, she hefted his balls and rolled them in her hand. His fingers gently pried her hand away and pulled her between his thighs. His cock, hard as a shillelagh, bobbed before her. She caught it with her mouth and ran her tongue around it. Armand kicked his feet and rose to the surface, bringing Lacey with him. He held on to the coping with one hand to stabilize them and let Lacey finish her work. “Oh God, Lacey, that’s it!” Warm, creamy semen spurted out, dissipating in the water.
Armand swung her around so her back was to the pool wall and straddled her.
“Have you caught your breath yet?”
“Oh, yes.” He held her waist and let the still rigid penis slide into her waiting pussy. The soft water cradled them as they moved in rhythm, making their own waves. In the dark Lacey could make out little except the saffron flashes in Armand’s eyes. She kept her gaze locked on them while his thrusts lifted her almost out of the water. Like dolphins mating, they breached and plunged until the moment when man touched the innermost part of woman and fused. The wire connecting them across the miles, a wire that had been stretched almost to its limit, recoiled into its natural shape—a spring tightly coiled around them as they clung together.
Armand wrapped Lacey in his arms. “It’s been so long,” he whispered. He kissed the top of her head, her forehead, her nose. “I've imagined this moment—”
“Every day, every hour—”
“Every second.”
His lips fastened on hers.
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Monday, July 28, 2014


Hello Readers,
Welcome to this week's Tuesday Tales. The prompt for the week is "Right" .....

I decided on a change of pace this week and left Ginger and the Gray Mortuary behind to move to the paranormal historical I'm working on and hope to have released later this year. It's titled, Darkest Angel, and is Book 2 in my Angels of Deadwood Gulch Series. Emily and Slade are secondary characters in the novel, but I hope you'll enjoy this snippet from when they first meet.

Darkest Angel/Shay

He come riding from the west, a tall man in the saddle silhouetted against the setting sun. Riding slowly, he didn't give the impression he was in a hurry, but from the way he looked around, he was careful. When he rode into the yard, his eyes took in everything.
Emily didn't know why she wasn't afraid, but somehow she knew he wasn't a threat, at least, not to her. 
He was cautious.
She didn't fault him for being so.
Dressed all in black, she couldn't very well deny he looked menacing, especially with the worn leather holsters strapped to his hips, two Colt .45s in place.
When he got off the horse, she held her breath.
What did he want?
She remained behind the waist high well where she was drawing water to carry to the chickens. The board enclosure around the four sides blocked most of his view of her.
“Ma’am,” he said politely and tipped his dark hat.
He remained beside his horse, maybe to assure her he meant her no harm. A gunfighter. The second in three days she’d met—first Rio, now this stranger. Gunfighters weren't new to the Dakota Territory, but she’d always managed to avoid them.
Who was he?
Why was he here?
She nodded a hello and finished pulling up the bucket of water. She hefted the full bucket on to the top of the well. Water splashed over the sides wetting the front of her gown, her shoes, and the boards.
“That water sure looks good,” he said in a soft drawl sliding his gaze up and down the front of her gown. “Mind giving a stranger a drink?”
Heat crawled up her face. Were his words sincere or did they have a double meaning? Emily shaded her eyes against the evening sun and studied him for a long moment. The way his gaze kept returning to her breasts, she was pretty sure his words were filled with meaning.
And yes, she did mind, but she wasn't rude enough to say such words. He didn't appear uncomfortable with her suspicious look directed at him. She didn't detect hostility, but Lord above, she had the feeling he could get dangerous real fast, even if he was the stillest man she'd ever seen.
He must have sensed her hesitation. “I emptied my canteen some ways back,” he said, “but if you prefer not to share your water, I can get back on my horse and mosey on.” He seemed intent on reassuring her he meant no harm, but trust didn't come easy for Emily.
He tossed his reins over his saddle and took a single step toward the well.
Emily let go of the pail of water and closed her fingers around the rifle standing at her side. From where he stood, he couldn't see the gun, but he must have instinctively known she had a weapon because he froze. “Ma’am, my name’s Slade. Slade McKenna. I’m a U.S. Marshall. I’m not here to cause you grief, so if you wouldn't mind, I’d sure like it if you’d take your hand off that rifle.”
“I mind,” she said, keeping her fingers wrapped around the barrel. “I don’t see a badge. Not on your vest. Not on your shirt.”
“No, ma’am. It’s in my pocket. I don’t like making myself a target. There are men who like nothing better than putting a bullet through a badge while a man’s still wearing it.”
“I suppose that’s true enough,” she replied. “You can have a drink of water.” She lifted the gourd dipper off the nail where it dangled on the well post. With her free hand, she dipped it into the bucket of water. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He took the gourd from her, careful to keep the well between them. “You sure are a distrusting little gal.”
She didn't reply. Emily had little use for small talk.
He handed the dipper back to her and backed away. Reaching his horse, he grabbed the reins. “Mind if I water my horse at that trough over there?” He’d already turned the sorrel colored mare before he asked.
Startled, Emily snatched up the rifle and leveled it on his chest. “Don’t move.”
He dropped the reins and raised his hands in surrender. “Yes ma’am. I reckon I’ll just stand right here until you tell me otherwise.”


Monday, July 21, 2014


Hi Everyone,
Every Tuesday, a small group of authors get together and post a few snippets from a WIP. It's fun, plus it lets the author know how well her work is progressing. This week's word is BLOOM...Feel free to leave a comment. Yes, authors love comments too...Hope you enjoy this weeks excerpt from a WIP, a paranormal titled A Cut Above the Rest.

Continuing the tale of the Gray sisters...

 Ginger Gray knew the moment she completed the infamous Y-cut down the center of the masculine chest stretched before her on the autopsy table, and the corpse opened its eyes—it was going to be a bad night at Gray Mortuary. “Oh my Aunt Fannie’s garters,” she declared in a slow Georgia drawl.
Unable to take her eyes off the splendid male body before her, she drew a quivering breath, then took a cautious step back from the fresh cadaver, a fresh cadaver, who was staring at her as if she was a fresh bloom waiting to be plucked. 
Gray Mortuary—where all things go bump in the night.
But this? This was impossible.
She swallowed back the urge to scream. Heck, it wasn't fair. She shouldn't even be here, let alone standing here gaping at a naked, blinking corpse. It wasn't happening. Her imagination must be working overtime, just like she was—or else that last glass of wine she indulged in at dinner before dear ole’ dad placed his call to her, contained more alcohol than she thought.
Nope, it was her imagination—else the freaking body had nerves twitching all over the place.
She blamed the twins. If they hadn't been determined to go to that blasted Halloween party, she’d be home curled up with a good Jaydyn Chelcee novel. She didn't know which twin placed the call to their father begging him for the rest of the night off and suggesting Ginger fill their shoes since she never had a date on Friday night, he caved, as usual.
“It’s my night off, damn it,” she shouted, purely in self-defense to no avail. She didn't know if she was screaming at the breathing corpse or the room in general.
It didn't matter if what her sister said was true and Ginger never had a date on Friday night, she still wanted and deserved her time off. But like her father, she always gave in when it came to the younger twins and their demands. They weren't bad girls. They weren't always selfish or expected things their way. Ginger snorted. No, what they expected was every weekend off!
They loved pulling practical jokes on her. This waking corpse was right down their alley, especially since it was Halloween. It was a joke. Yeah-yeah. Maybe one of her sisters, one of the other set of twins, either Scotlyn or Irelyn suggested this horrible prank to the younger twins and knowing them, they went along with the idea and decided to pull a fast one on her.
Scotlyn and Irelyn were two years younger than her. They were as big a pranksters as Kadence and Kennadee. They were probably inside this big old building in a room somewhere with a monitor and watching her reaction. 
She took a quick second to scan the room for a video camera but didn't spot one. They loved to catch her unaware and pull some crazy stunt, like the time they glued a brain to a tray. It didn't matter than the brain was fake. She thought it was real at the time.
Oh, but this was unacceptable.
She was a professional, and being one required a certain, a–a certain flair—a–a certain— “Oh! Oh, crap, don’t get up, Mister Corpse,” she cried, startled to see him rise and perch on the side of the autopsy table.
Ahh, but, Mister Corpse wasn't listening.
“I see dead people,” Ginger breathed. “I don’t see live people on my exam table. I never see live people on my exam table. They don’t blink their eyes. They don’t breathe. They don’t sit up.”
 Except for this one time—

Monday, July 14, 2014



Hello Readers,
This week's prompt is this glorious full moon. Continuing excerpts from last week's TT and one of my WIPs, let's find out what's happening to Ginger Gray in the infamous Gray Mortuary. Muhahahahah!

Kennadee poked her tongue out at her. “Spoilsport. Don’t you ever like to just have fun?”
“Now don’t look at me like that, Ginger Snap,” Kadence said, her pale green eyes sparkling with silent laughter.
Her sisters always called her Ginger Snap when they went into defensive mode.
“We couldn’t help seeing his bundle when we cut off his clothes,” Kadence continued. “I mean, there it was in plain view, big as a sausage roll.”
Ginger rolled her eyes. “Good grief. Just give me report and get out of here, both of you.”

Kennadee snickered. “We couldn’t miss it, sis. Honest.”
“He’s dead,” Ginger said, quickly losing patience. “Why would you want to look at a dead dick? It certainly won’t do either one of you a bit of good.”
“Don’t be gross,” Kennadee replied. “We were discreet and respectful, but the towel slipped off and there it was, big as life.”
Ginger snatched the clipboard from Kadence. “I doubt it was big as life since he has no blood flow to it, or, if you want to get technical, no life at all.”
“I’d sure love to see it when he did have blood flow,” Kennadee stated, slipping off her lab coat.
“Me, too,” Kadence added copying her twin and removing her lab jacket as well. They hung their white coats on a rack in the corner, grabbed their purses, and headed to the double doors. “Have a good night,” Kadence called.
Yes, have a good night,” Kennadee echoed. “And thank you for coming in and working the rest of our shift. We’ll say hello to everyone for you at the Halloween party.”
“Yeah, right,” Ginger mumbled with a touch of sarcasm. "Halloween and a full moon. Great combinations."

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