Project Purse Dump – Paula Tiberius

It’s a pleasure to welcome Paula Tiberius today to #ProjectPurseDump. And I promise my enthusiasm has nothing to do with mentions of sex seminars or one-night-stand toothbrushes. However, they certainly help.

Welcome, Paula!



I never used to carry a purse. While my high school, then university compadres mooned over their new Coach bags and fished around for keys for half an hour, I always had cash in my front right pocket, one slim key in my left back pocket, and whatever lipstick I had on when I left the house was good enough for the night.

Nov 27 - Paula Tiberius


  1. My wallet – a freakin’ wallet, people. I’m a grown-up.
  2. Sunscreen. I live in Los Angeles and my husband Richard has had five skin cancers removed so far. This is the only kind that doesn’t feel oily. If you’re reading this, Neutrogena, I am looking for sponsors on my blog.
  3. Rice Krispies treat – this is “for Violet” (my 7 year old daughter) when “she” gets cranky in the car.
  4. Two pens stolen from my credit union, an over-sized My-Pal pencil (because sometimes you just don’t want the finality of a pen), a Sharpie (because sometimes things can’t be indelible enough),one pen from The Pleasure Chest (because I cover sex seminars there for, and a pen from an Australian hotel – that’s right, I went to Australia. I’m a grown up with a purse.
  5. TWO travel tissue packs, because one would leave me quite insecure.
  6. A GO train receipt from my visit to Toronto in June. It’s now September.
  7. A red button. Thinking, thinking….it’ll come to me.
  8. A metal mesh turtle pendant without a chain. Don’t you have one in your purse?
  9. Migraine meds. I used to leave them at home thinking that it was bad juju to carry headache medicine when you don’t have a headache. But then I kept getting headaches while out in the world with my giant purse that had no medication in it.
  10. A one-time-use-only toothbrush. I know I’m married with a kid, but I might still have a one-night-stand at some point. You never Actually I stole it from a spa in Palm Springs last weekend.
  11. Two plastic stencil sheets. I picked them out from a counter full of crap to redeem points at an arcade. My daughter Violet was dead set against them, but I remain certain that she will change her mind. Stencils rock.
  12. A green feather from the boa Violet wore at her rock and roll camp performance this summer. She borrowed it from her father who wears it in our band Fame Whore. Yes, we’re setting an excellent example.
  13. Ear buds. You can’t talk on the phone without them in your car, and I’m always in my car.
  14. Red lip gloss that my friend Tara gave me about six months ago when I was feeling really, really shitty and broke, overworked and underpaid. She told me that it was the “lip gloss of abundance,” which seems to have worked, actually. Now I’m afraid to throw it out even though its fuzzy wand is drying up.
  15. An Always mini-pad. I pay extra for the black box kind because I like to have stylish cardboard in my bathroom cabinet.
  16. A tester tube of double-helix water cream, given to me by a medical intuitive who channels angels. He is awesome and so is this cream. I’m putting it on my C-section scar to see if it helps it disappear.
  17. Matches – I don’t smoke, but my husband does. Also, I used to be a pyromaniac.
  18. A packet of salt. Don’t listen to people who say salt is bad for you. It makes everything better.
  19. Pink and red paper clips tied together in a chain. I grabbed them for a parent teacher board meeting and did not use them.
  20. Orange bauble hair tie. I used to hate this kind when I was a kid. I wonder if Violet hates them too? I should ask her.
  21. Big black hair clip. That’s the shit you want.
  22. A coupon for a free cupcake at Barnes & Noble – now expired.


Paula Tiberius is an author, blogger, screenwriter, filmmaker, musician and mom living in North Hollywood, California with her husband, daughter, and their German Shepherd. Paula wrote and directed the award-winning feature film Goldirocks which is available on Netflix, distributed by R Squared Films. She is currently writing and recording a kids’ album called Be Who You Are with music and spoken word pieces to empower kids. Please read more at



Moving past negative criticism.

Most of us deal with negative criticism at some point in our lives. Sometimes, we rally and triumph. At other times, we absorb the aspersions and internalize them for good. They become our inner dialogue and we bash ourselves as readily as our critics do.


As an author, I receive negative criticisms all the time. It’s part of the package. I learned early on not everyone will be a fan of my stories and that’s okay. We can’t all like the same things. I’m fortunate in that I have a large number of readers who enjoy my work and I try not to obsess over the ones who don’t.

However, like most people, I felt the sting of criticism at a young age, before writing was part of my career. In fact, there is one particular moment that defined how I saw myself and that taught me I need to be careful who I choose to believe. This instance is one that made it into one of my books. In my recent paranormal release Night Lover, heroine Renata is a talented soprano, but she must deal with a conductor boss who hasn’t given her any credit.


The man says to her: “In life, Renata, there are those who are born to play starring roles. There are those with walk-on parts. And then there are those who occupy the background. You are one of those background singers. Leave the showy stuff to those who understand it.”

Of course, Renata overcomes adversity and goes on to have a brilliant career. She must make the decision to disregard her conductor’s mean-spirited comments.

These words were basically said to me once, a long time ago. Always involved in the arts, I used to take part in community theater productions. I performed in all sorts of shows and in various roles. For one production, I rehearsed very hard before auditioning for one of the lead roles. I didn’t get the lead. Rather, the producer hired his wife for the role. This man later pulled me aside and said, “Rosanna, in theater and in life, there are those who are born to play starring roles. There are those who play secondary characters. And then there are those who are only good enough for the chorus. Background players, like you.”

I was crushed. This man was older and more experienced than I was. Instead of taking an opportunity to coach me, he tore me down. I was miserable during that whole production and never worked with his ensemble again.

I could have abandoned music and singing. I certainly considered it. When someone tells you you’re worthless, it’s hard not to absorb the insult. However, I decided I wouldn’t allow one petty man’s words to shape my life.

Still in university, I auditioned for the University of Toronto’s acclaimed Faculty of Music. It isn’t easy to get in, but I got into the singing program. After finishing my B.A., I completed a three-year diploma in Vocal Performance. Right out of university, I got a singing job with the Elmer Iseler Singers, one of Toronto’s most renowned classical choral ensembles. I got the chance to sing at famed venues here in Toronto: Roy Thomson Hall, Massey Hall, and performed with groups such as the Canadian Brass.

I fulfilled my dream of becoming a classical soprano. After a time, I decided to move onto new challenges, but I did exactly what I wanted. And now, with writing romance, I’ve realized another dream and have used some of my experiences in my plots.

Every so often, I still hear that community theater producer’s voice in my ear, telling me I’m not good enough. That I don’t have talent. But then I remember how much I’ve accomplished.

I now know the truth: that man probably tried to make me feel insignificant because he recognized something in me that he didn’t possess. He was likely more insecure about his talents than I should have been about mine. Sadly, there are those in life who will always strive to drag us down instead of encouraging us.

We owe it to ourselves to look past the criticisms and aim high. We need to educate ourselves and decide the best tactic for realizing our dreams. When we say no to negativity, it’s amazing how the road clears. Sometimes the worst obstacles are the ones we set for ourselves.


Thankful for You Blog Hop! #Thankful4You

Thanks so much to Anna from Herding Cats & Burning Soup for allowing me to take part in the #Thankful4You Blog Hop! This was a hop I really wanted to be part of because I get to share why I am thankful.

thankful shorter

There’s a giveaway at each stop, so please make sure you visit each one and comment. You’ll find links for all at the main page:

Now, what can you win from me? Well, if you follow me you’ll know I’ve had a few releases lately. In fact, I’ve had 3 since August (Predator’s Trinity, Night Lover and Vice.) However, for this hop, I am offering an ecopy of Night Lover.

Cover teaser

How to win? Simply comment and tell me a story of when you were thankful and why. I will choose the comment that speaks to me and will award the book accordingly at the end of the hop (it runs Nov. 20-27).

In the meantime, I’ve chosen to talk about why I’m thankful for my readers. My readers are not just people who buy my books. I consider many of them to be friends and we’ve gotten to know one another. My readers challenge me. Not only do they let me know when I’ve done something right, they let me know if I can do something better. I like that. Feedback is a gift, after all.

My readers have been so vocal in their appreciation as well. I’ve been blessed to have so many wonderful reviews and shares. I can’t tell you enough how much this means to me. Because my readers continue to pick up my books, I can create new ones. And there’s nothing I like more than giving you hot new heroes to adore.

Thank you for all your support and enthusiasm. It means the world to me.

Night Lover by Rosanna Leo




Canadian soprano Renata Bruno is tired of waiting for her big break. Unfortunately, her boss, the conductor of a chamber ensemble, sees her as little more than background material. When she learns of an opportunity to sing solo with a different troupe in England, she knows she must seize it. Especially when she hears the group is to perform Mozart’s Requiem, her favorite work.

As soon as Renata decides to make her move, a strange, sultry presence invades her life. She begins dreaming of a man, one who makes love to her, bewitching her. It isn’t long before her night lover leaves startling proof of his nocturnal presence, making her doubt her senses.

To compound her discomfort, she learns her new conductor is the college boyfriend who broke her heart years ago. As Renata grapples with old hurts and renewed passion, she must also fend off the increasingly fervent advances of her night-time visitor. She realizes she is under the influence of an incubus, a sexual demon.

It becomes harder to resist the incubus when she learns he has a name and had a tragic history. The more she discovers about his past, the more she realizes they are linked in more ways than one. Renata begins to rediscover love and her sense of faith, but will it be enough to save her night lover from an evil curse? And will it destroy her in the process?


When I saw the face in this painting, I gasped, feeling as if someone had punched me in the gut.


It was the portrait of a man, much in the style of a Gainsborough painting. Full-length, it displayed the man in Regency dress. Tall Hessian boots reached up over his pants, accentuating his height. A waistcoat peaked out from under his soft blue riding coat. I looked up to the face above the coat, clean-shaven and somehow boyish with its round features. His hair was the color of honey and quite curly, with long sideburns travelling down his cheeks. Although he bore a fashionably serious countenance, his blue eyes smiled.

It’s him.

The man from my recurring dream, the man from the theater mezzanine in Toronto. I blinked several times, not believing my eyes.

I couldn’t move. I returned the stare of the man in the portrait. A friendly face, it still managed to unnerve me. The artist must have been a master because its subject seemed to be looking right at me. His pale eyes bore into mine. As I continued to gaze at my dream man, other objects in the background began to blur. The portrait frame and the wallpaper behind him dissolved into nothingness. I could only make out the man, and his gaze seemed to issue me a challenge, daring me to look back at him. My head swam. My tongue grew thick. Pain shot through my stomach and I clutched it so I wouldn’t keel over.

Lizzy came out of nowhere and bounded up behind me. “What’s up? Ooh, he’s cute.” She, too, had noticed the portrait. She also saw how intently I stared. “Hey, are you okay?”

“No.” I couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop myself from raking my gaze over every painted inch. “It’s him. The man from my dream.”

“Yeah, right.” She frowned.

Finn walked up to us and put a hand on my back, oblivious to my shock. “So you’ve found the lord of the manor.”


“Hugh Dawlish, scion of Dawlish Manor. The women in the ensemble love this portrait because they think he’s, ah…easy on the eyes. So, shall we rehearse?”

I let him lead me away, but I couldn’t stop looking back at Hugh Dawlish’s portrait.

He was real. Not a wraith from my imagination.

Real. And dead.

Lizzy elbowed me. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine.”

As we left the room, I looked back once more. The eyes of Hugh Dawlish followed me. I shivered.

A slight smile played on his lips.

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Project Purse Dump. Terri. L. Austin/Sugar de la Tarte.

Sweet sugar.

It’s another installment of #ProjectPurseDump and today we have author Terri L. Austin’s creation, Sugar de la Tarte. As you will shortly see, Sugar needs no introduction. Take it away!


Hey, everybody! I’m Sugar de la Tarte. As a retro pin up girl and burlesque performer, I keep a few essentials in my bag at all times. I never know when someone might recognize me, so I like to look my best.

Here’s my favorite bag.  Doesn’t this just scream Sugar? bag

Since I love my deep red lips, I wouldn’t be caught dead without a tube of Mac Red.


So what else do I keep in my sweet little cosmetic bag? bags

My compact, natch.


Who wants to walk around with a shiny nose? Not me, honey.


And of course I can’t leave home without my pasties. Believe me, carrying these around along with my pastie glue has saved my bacon more than once.


Since I got inked—isn’t she lovely—I need to have a tube of sunscreen on hand. I don’t want this beauty to fade.

Last but not least, I carry my phone, but I had to bling out my case. In my world, presentation is everything!


Nov 20 - Terri L Austin - DKO

You can catch more of Sugar de la Tarte in Diner Knock Out—a Rose Strickland Mystery by Terri L. Austin at Amazon or Barnes.

Nov 20 - Terri L Austin - Headshot

Bella J. Resplendent Ruin.

I’m pleased to welcome debut author Bella J. today. I remember launching my debut romance and it was such an exciting time. I know Bella will be soaking it all up over the next few weeks. She’s written a fun post about what men could learn from romance novels, so please read on and make sure to give her a like!


Thank you so much for having me, Rosanna—and please allow me a quick two seconds to just blow some well-deserved smoke up your…

As I’ve said before, without all your help and guidance I would be running around like a headless chicken doing everything and nothing at onceYou are an angel, and such a talented writer—I wish you all the success in the world.

(Rosanna pops in, blushing *Thank you, Bella! Same to you.*)

Now, I’d like to share with you a conversation my husband and I had some time ago.  It all started one night when hubby walked into the bedroom and saw me drooling all over my tablet while I read one of my favorite novels, Gabriel’s Inferno by Sylvain Reynard.  Now of course I had to give him an explanation as to why exactly I looked like a slobbering dog—and that instigated a discussion on the following topic:

Are all these erotic romance novels giving women unrealistic expectations of men, love and sex? I of course say, ‘hell no.’ Hubby on the other hand says, ‘yes…yes it does.’

Now let’s start with hubby dearest’ reasoning behind his big, fat YES. (And save mine—which of course is the best—for last)

According to him all these romance novels we so eagerly read—whether erotic, sweet or whatever—give women unrealistic expectations and then they all end up wanting a Christian Grey or a Gabriel Emerson. (I see nothing wrong with this, but anyway…let’s continue.)   So once women put down these amazing love stories their realities are anything but what they had just read and this causes women to become unhappy and unsatisfied in their current relationships.  And in turn this can make the lives of men a lot more complicated and difficult.  After reading all these wonderful stories women actually expect more from men in the romance department, imagine that! How dare we?

Still, hubby’s opinion is that all this romance and sex we so love to read about make women feel unsatisfied with what they have and how it all goes down in real life.  But I say… (And this is real important)


How can it be unrealistic of women to want some spicy romance and exciting sex lives? Yes, I do agree that wanting every man to be a Christian Grey or a Gabriel Emerson might be a little wishful thinking (although it would be freakin’ awesome), but wanting the romance and the seduction and the exciting kinky sex is not.  In my opinion men could actually instead of frown upon romance and erotic novels, rather take the opportunity and learn from it.

Yes all you men out there—learn from it.

The majority of romance novels are written by women, so men basically have a gazillion manuals they can read to help them discover the answer to one of the most mind boggling questions ever-

What do women want?

When it comes (pardon the pun) to sex, romance, seduction—everything we want is written down in all the books we read, and also the books some of us write.  You don’t have to be built like Channing Tatum (although it wouldn’t hurt), and you don’t have to be a fifty shades of fucked up sadistic man with a red room of pain like Christian, or be a tortured hero like Gabriel.  But with a little seduction, confidence and some epic dirty talk real men could easily fill the roles of some of our favorite book boyfriends. (Throw in a wicked tattoo and it’s a done deal)

So, men, whip out those reading glasses, snuggle up next to your woman, open those books and start your research. I guarantee that a few novels later you would have a much better insight into the minds of women which could only mean amazingly satisfying things for you in the end.

Plus, all these fantastic reads get us women all hot and bothered and the men in our lives reap all the benefits—can I hear a whoop-whoop!  (This point was proven later in die evening after we concluded our discussion *wink*)


Resplendent Ruin (Resplendence #1)


Juliette Mason had it all—the perfect job, the perfect home, the perfect fiancé. She lived the perfect life. Until everything started to slowly fall apart.

Daniel, her attractive and success-driven fiancé, was the love of her life. For years she wanted nothing more than to finally walk down the aisle, to be Mrs. Daniel Clarke. But as time went by, the cracks in their relationship started to come to the surface, and Juliette found herself in a place she never imagined she would be. It was a place where she started to question everything about her life and her dreams, a place where nothing about her life made sense anymore—a place where she found Knox Taylor.

Knox didn’t count on falling in love. In fact, Knox didn’t count on anything really. He was blissfully happy living a fast life of reckless behavior, impulsive decisions, and beautiful women. He lived the perfect life of a flourishing bachelor—but then she happened.



“Why are you in my room?”

Juliette yelped and jumped at the same time. She dropped the cuff which was still clutched in her hand, and the sound echoed through the room as it clashed against the bedpost.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, holding her hand against her chest. Her heart was beating a hundred miles an hour, and she could feel all the blood drain from her body, rushing to her burning cheeks.

“Why are you in my room?” His voice was right behind her now, and she swallowed hard. Not wanting to turn around and let him see the embarrassment on her face, she kept her back to him.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered and tried to scurry past him. But before she was able to make a getaway, he reached out and grabbed her wrist. A shockwave of extreme undiluted need shot up from his touch, through her spine, straight to her core. Holy crap, she couldn’t breathe.

His stare burned through her skin and her body felt like it was on fire. Startled by what she felt, she looked up at him.

His midnight hair was damp and unruly as ever, and his face slightly flushed.

There was no stopping her gaze from moving down.

“I, um…I…” She couldn’t think of a single thing to say, not one damn thing as she stared at his incredibly well-built, unbelievably toned chest with the faint dusting of black chest hair.

Down, down, down—like Alice in the rabbit hole—her attention went, until they reached the very prominent, very masculine V. Or what Lexi would call it, the “penis-pointer.”—Oh no, she didn’t? Did she just think about his…

Yes. Yes, she did.

“Up here, sweetheart,” he said, still clutching her wrist.

Her gaze shot up, another wave of embarrassment making its way to her already burning face. He had that damn arrogant grin he wore so well on his face. He knew the effect he had on her. He knew every dirty little thought that flashed through her mind during the last five seconds. Smug bastard!

She jerked her arm out of his hold and her skin instantly mourned the loss. “I just came to return your jacket.” It was a miracle that she didn’t stutter since she couldn’t form a single sentence in her head.

His arm dropped to his side and her eyes followed the movement. That’s when she noticed the white towel wrapped around his waist. For a split second the thought of what was behind that flimsy white towel made her thighs clench and her stomach tighten.

Look away!

He cocked a brow. “And you needed to put it in my room?”

“Well,” she searched for words, or an explanation, or something, “I just wanted to make sure you got it back safely.” Well, I certainly aced that explanation.

He looked at her suspiciously, and then his eyes went dark. “Whatever. You can leave now.” He dismissed her.

Oh hell no!

She gave a step forward. “Do you think that women actually find this whole jackass approach of yours attractive?” she spat out.

“I don’t know, do you?”

Struggling—yet again—to think on her feet, she just stared at him, completely blank. Nice.

He gave a step toward her, traces of the darkness in his eyes she saw a second ago gone. What she could only interpret as a sexy-as-hell grin crossed his face, showing off his ridiculously distracting dimples.

I want to trace those dimples with my tongue… Stop!

All of a sudden the entire atmosphere between them changed from awkward, to angry, to—electrifying. Her skin tingled, and she was suddenly painfully aware that except for the flimsy towel wrapped around his waist, he was completely and utterly naked.

With somewhat furrowed brows and the corners of his mouth pulled back just enough for her to wonder if he was about to smile or frown, he slowly started toward her. With each step he took, she instinctively gave one step back. This was probably what trapped prey felt like being stalked by a wild, hungry predator. Adrenalin would pump through the prey’s veins as it prepared to run for its life or brace itself for impact. The only difference was that the adrenalin pumping through her veins was for an entirely different reason than wanting to escape her predator. In fact, she wanted to run to the predator.

Stupid, stupid prey!

She inhaled sharply when her back hit the wall. Her body started to shiver as he leaned into her. Heat burned through her skin while her heart beat wildly inside of her chest.

He placed his hands flush against the wall just above her shoulders and looked down at her, his eyes a frenzy of heat and seduction. Every inch of her body felt electrified, like it was leaning over the edge of unadulterated lust in search of ecstasy.

He cocked his head to the side and he stared at the soft, exposed skin of her neck. She was pretty sure he could have seen the vein pulsating to the rhythm of her heart. She felt completely intoxicated by the way he moved, the way he smelled, and the way it felt having him so close up against her. She closed her eyes and felt him slowly trace the edge of his nose up her neck, all along her jaw until she could feel his lips brush against her ear.

“Tell me, Jules,” he whispered, the words coated with sheer unmistakable allure.

“Tell you what?” she asked dazed. She could not remember what the hell they were talking about.

He focused all his attention on her lips while he kept his mouth mere inches from hers. It was complete agony having his lips so close to hers and not being able to feel it.

“Do you find my jackass approach attractive?”

His warm breath waved over her wet lips and an inferno of flames erupted inside of her, leaving her incapable of thinking about anything else than what his lips would feel like pressed firmly against hers.

Publisher:  Liquid Silver Books

Series: Resplendence
Book # 1
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Heat Level: 2
Words: 92,000
Content Notes: Spicy
Publication Date: 11/16/2015

ISBN:  978-1-62210-271-6

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Author Bio: 

I live in the beautiful sunny city of Cape Town, South Africa with my hubby and two children.

My love for writing started in High School when I received my first writing assignment – which I flunked big time!  But with that failure eventually came a consuming passion for writing.

Why Romance you ask?

The answer is simple – writing romance means I can have sexy, hot heroes occupy my mind most of the time without feeling guilty!

And now that I’ve managed to nab my first publishing contract, my husband encourages it – he even helps me build the characters.  How awesome is that!

I love humor!  I think humor and laughter is the answer to most problems in life.

Live, laugh, love, drink sparkling wine & don’t be afraid to act crazy every once in a while!

My favorite quote:  

– Don’t let tomorrow’s worries steal today’s joy! –







Danielle E. Gauwain. Silken Tide.

Please help me welcome author Danielle E. Gauwain as she recounts the inspiration behind her new romance, Silken Tide!


I’m often pretty transparent in how I came up with the idea for a novel.  For instance, as some of you may know, The Bound Tetralogy was the product of journals from ten years ago, ready to go the attic before my husband rescued them from their exile.  The story of Silken Tide is really quite different.  In some ways….

There were no journals this time.  There was no diamond in the attic waiting to be discovered.  But there was this song….the song set into motion hours of research at the library, a questionable google search history, and a whimsical journey once again into the human condition.  The song?  Well, as usual I was listening to Pandora streaming through my car and I stumbled on a song that I hadn’t heard in a long time.  Mandolin Rain, by Bruce Hornsby.  I remember the exact lyric that struck a chord as I sat there in traffic: I’ll do my time keeping you off my mind, but there’s moments that I find I’m not feeling so strong.

You could hear the pain in his voice as he sang of a love lost at his own hands, yet he still revisits the memory every day.

The boat’s steaming in

Oh, I watch the sidewheel spin

And I think about her when I hear that whistle blow

I can’t change my mind

Oh, I knew all the time that she’d go

            But that’s a choice I made long ago


So, I listened to this song for almost a month straight.  I would close my eyes and when I heard the piano and the banjo it reminded me of the ocean. And those lyrics!   Love and the ocean.  The gentle rocking of a boat, the waves, the waiting for a loved one.  There was just a song, the library, and a ton of imagination.  I’ll do my time keeping you off my mind, but there’s moments that I find I’m not feeling so strong….

Then, the perfect storm settled in and a story was born.


Mark has it all: a great job, a posh apartment in New York’s Upper West Side, and an attractive girlfriend to hang on the arm of his expensive suits. But when Mark’s world of power and pretty things gets turned upside down, he has no choice but to return to his hometown of Silk Cove to live with the father that he has not seen in nearly twenty years.

An aspiring artist with dreams of opening her own gallery, it only took Jessica six months in a big city to realize that Silk Cove was where she belonged. Even though she earns a meager wage as a waitress at a local diner, her simple life in Silk Cove suits her well. She has everything she needs…everything but love.

When Jessica and Mark’s worlds collide, sparks fly. But their romance is challenged by a string of unexplained events and Mark’s creed, born of abandonment and mistrust. Mark’s set of principles is put to the test when he must face who, and what, he is. Jessica must decide if love is worth a second, or even third chance.


Jessica tried to continue on her way, but Mark grabbed her hand, stopping her in her tracks. She turned to look at him. His deep brown eyes seemed to search her face for answers. She felt exposed, almost a little self-conscious for some reason. She felt like she should look away, but it was as if she were frozen.

“What is it?” She smiled.

“Do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Leave in the morning without saying goodbye?”

Jessica’s cheeks burned. “I just didn’t want to wake you, that’s all.”

Mark squinted his eyes and smirked.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise.”

“Did you think about me today?” Mark’s voice was low and enticing.

When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice came out as a whisper. “Yes.”

“What did you think about?”

She smiled and diverted her gaze to the floor.

“Tell me.” Mark lowered his head to meet her eyes once more.

“I thought about last night and…” Jessica’s voice trailed off as images of passion danced across her mind.


She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. “And there were times when I swore you were here with me. I imagined you were so close that I could feel your breath on my neck.”

“Like this?” He closed the space between them, brought his face to the side of her neck and exhaled.

Mark’s lips grazed the side of Jessica’s neck before traveling the length of her jawline. She watched him as he nibbled on her chin; his eyes were closed and his mouth curled into the sexiest smile she had ever seen. It was at that moment that any restraint that she had shown earlier at the door disappeared. Jessica held Mark’s face in her hands and kissed him. She kissed him hard. She kissed him deep. As if they had a mind of their own, she suddenly realized that her hands were running through his hair. What was she doing? She was in the kitchen! At Bonnie’s! Concerned that she had been too brazen, she let go of him and released his lips from hers. But when she looked up at him, she quickly became aware that her worry was pointless. As if she had flipped a switch, the flirtatious glint that had once sparkled in Mark’s eyes was now a burning sensuous flame.

Mark moved in quickly, pressing Jessica’s back against the cool tile of the kitchen wall. He brought his lips to hers again. His kiss was anything but gentle; it was feverish and left her gasping for air. He ran his hands over her top, grasping her breasts through her T-shirt. He yanked on the button of her shorts so hard that her hips left the wall. Jessica tried to reach for his belt, but with one hand Mark was able to pin Jessica’s wrists above her head. He was in charge. And it seemed that he wanted her to know it.

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“Entertaining, highly imaginative, and utterly arousing.”  These are just some of the words used to describe Danielle’s writing.  Inspired my music, magic and matters of the heart, Danielle is a multi-published author of erotic and paranormal romance.  Sometimes, her writing is dark.  Other times, whimsical.  But, she will always deliver a book that you can’t put down.  Danielle was born and raised in Albany, New York.  She now resides in the foothills of North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains. Visit Danielle at



Project Purse Dump – Linda Joyce

I knew the day would come. When #ProjectPurseDump launched, I knew I’d eventually encounter a purse junkie. Today, we have her. The wonderful Linda Joyce is here to explain her addiction.

Welcome, Linda!


Hello. My name is Linda Joyce, and I’m a purse junkie. I have purses in different shapes and sizes. Purses made of different materials. If there’s a support group for purse junkies like me, one that provides inside tips about the best sales, then sign me up. But don’t think for a minute that I have any intention of kicking this habit.

I do want to clarify. While I am a purse junkie, I’m not a purse snob. I offer you a view of my Jam Bag as supporting evidence.

Nov 13 - Purse Photo - Linda Joyce

It’s colorful. Has style. Notice the silver grommets and the black handles. And shows off my signature sign—Fleur de Lis. It’s ecofriendly, made from recycled bottles.

So what do I jam in my jam bag?

1) Japanese key chain with my key fob, reward cards, and red change purse carrying three, dollar coins inside.

2) Hairbrush – this is insurance. I carry it so I’ll never need it.

3) Turquoise wallet housing credit cards, stamps, miniature diploma from the University of Florida, and a few single dollar bills. It’s also big enough to hold my phone inside when I need to Grab-n-Go.

4) Leather case hiding an imported German fountain pen.

5) Pen—one of the first I got for SWAG

6) Lipstick – PÜR Moonlit Pearl

7) Business cards- name, address, rank, and no serial number.

8) Hand wipes from the casino in Biloxi. I came home $60 in the good and put it in the bank.

9) Kleenex

10) Mints – SWAG I carry around. Never know when I might meet a new reader.

11) Notebook—covert operations recorded to be used as secondary characters in a story.

12) Bookmarks for Her Heart’s Desire. On the flip side, the books in the Fleur de Lis series.

Hope you’ll connect with me.

Nov 13 - Headshot - Linda Joyce




Twitter: @LJWriter


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