Susan Behon. All Or Nothing.

I had the pleasure of reading from Susan Behon’s Madison Falls series recently and was delighted with this author’s fresh and funny voice. Her books have a real spark. I’m thrilled to share her latest, All Or Nothing. I know you’ll love it.



All or Nothing, Book 5

Madison Falls Series

Susan Behon

Release Date: June 20, 2016

Liquid Silver Books


Christopher King had everything. He had his family, his security company, and most importantly, he had Fiona O’Malley. Almost. Until he has to let Fiona go for reasons he can’t reveal.

He thought he’d shut her out, but every stolen look and lingering glance gives him away. Fiona knows things aren’t as they seem, so she comes up with a plan to get Chris to tell her the truth. It works a little too well when the very reason he stayed away comes to light and threatens everything he’s fought to keep safe.

Unable to live the lie any longer, Chris needs Fiona by his side to put a stop to the danger that’s following her and tormenting him. Fiona becomes the key to unlocking his every secret, including the love he can no longer deny.

Mini Blurb:

Security expert Christopher King had his dream woman until he was forced to let her go. Fiona O’Malley is determined to find out the truth and Chris will do anything to keep her safe. She is the key to unlocking his secrets, including the love he can no longer hide

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Author Bio:

Susan Behon, author of the Madison Falls series, enjoys creating a world that brings readers romance, laughter, and a healthy dose of sexiness. Susan graduated summa cum laude with a B. A. in English from Norfolk State University. She currently lives in Ohio with her very own romance hero of a husband and their two wonderful daughters.


Chris took Fiona by the waist and pulled her against him in an echo of their earlier embrace. “You want to know what it was? Why I dragged you back there?” She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. Chris’s heart thudded because he knew what he was about to confess. “It was me wanting you so much that every day without you has been my own special kind of Hell. And it was all of my own making. I couldn’t touch you or taste you because I forced you out of my reach. All that time, it was me seeing you, but not being able to stare, taking in your scent without being able to really inhale, and hearing your voice and not being able to say what was on my mind or in my…”

No, he’d said enough.

“To say what was in your what?” Fiona clutched at his shoulders. Chris didn’t know if her heart was pounding too or if it was the reverberations from his own slamming against her.

“Never mind.” Chris skittered back from the edge.

“Damn it. Tell me!” It was the closest he’d ever heard Fiona come to a shout. Her dormant Irish temper was wide awake now. “Come on, Christopher King, I’m right here.” She grabbed his hand and set it over her heart. Christ. Her upper chest was so soft and warm, it wasn’t much of a struggle to keep his hand right where it was. “Here I am. Feel me…see me…tell me what you want to say. Tell me what’s on your mind and in your…?”

“Goddamn it, Fee!” He felt goaded into raising his voice as well. “My heart, okay? I wanted to tell you what was in my heart. I love you so fucking much I ache with it.”

There. All his cards were on the table now. The absence of sound was deafening. Had they both stopped breathing? Fee hadn’t said anything yet and the suspense was killing him. He’d never told a woman he loved her before and waiting for her to either laugh at him or love him too, sucked. Screw it. He dropped his hands and stepped around her. “I’ll show you to your room. It’s been a long day. You’re probably tired…”

“I’m not tired.” She kept pace behind him.

He kept going. “The bathroom is to the left down the hall. You might want to take a shower…”

“I don’t want to take a shower…not alone, anyway.”









Bullying. A mother’s perspective.

Over the past couple of weeks, my husband and I learned some distressing news. Our youngest son has been bullied at school by some of the other boys in his grade. They are all in grade 7, only 13 years old. When I heard it broke my heart. And then I got angry, angrier than I’ve probably ever been.

I grew up in the 1970’s. Like anyone who did, I understand bullying. I was bullied and so were some of my friends. I’m sure the vast majority of us were at one time or other because there was no general consciousness about the ramifications surrounding this sort of abuse. We were told to “deal with it” or to “fight back.” It was black or white and many of us cowered in fear every day, hoping our bully would get tired of us and move onto someone else.

Things are different now. Bullying takes many forms. We are all familiar with the stories of cyber bullying, to say nothing of physical and verbal attacks. A child can feel isolated very easily, which is just what the bully wants. Kids carry weapons now. They hurt themselves out of desperation. The whole issue makes me sick and sad. We all understand the consequences now.

I won’t get into all the details here. Suffice to say, my son endured vicious name-calling and a couple of the bullies got physical with him. It all began as a prank in which many kids were involved and they suddenly turned on my child and made him the focus of their attentions. He was devastated. These were boys with whom he’d always been friends. We’ve had them at our house. We’ve had them over for sleepovers.

They won’t be back.

What do I say to the bullies? You have lost the privilege of being friends with my son. He’s a good kid, a kid who stood up to you in defense of some of the other kids. I think you picked on him because you sensed his inner strength. That strength led him to tell us what you’ve been doing. I’ll tell you this, you picked on the wrong kid.

Thankfully, he told us what was going on. Thankfully, our school has a wonderful vice-principal who spotted some of the activity and acted on it immediately. The support from our teachers and administrative staff has been incredible and I appreciate how quickly they notified the parents of the bullies.

Sadly, not all those parents seem to care. We have yet to receive apologies from at least one of the kids involved in the worst incident. If those bullies were my children, I would march them over to apologize and I would teach them the errors of their ways. This preventable situation has hurt our entire family.

As a mom, I am furious and sick to my stomach over what’s happened. As a human being, I understand things sometimes escalate and kids of this age don’t always operate with a rational brain. As a writer, I want to tell the world so some other parent out there might recognize the signs and talk to their child.

Our son talks to us, that’s never been a problem. Over the last couple of weeks, he’s been a bit quieter when it comes to the topic of school but it’s end of year. Not a lot is going on. We honestly didn’t think anything was wrong. But once we did, you can believe we had some serious conversations. Once we knew the truth, we roped in every school authority we could: his teacher, his principal and of course our great vice-principal was already gathering information and hauling those other boys into the office. The school will be assigning a teacher as our son’s “point-person” so he always has someone to talk to and they have assured the staff will be watching him in the hallways and outside. We are thankful for those measures and our son tells us he feels better about going to school. He believes a couple of the boys expressed genuine remorse. His demeanour has changed for the better. He’s joking again. He’s singing in the shower again. I think he’s happier because he knows he isn’t alone.

That’s what any bully wants: to make you feel alone. So tell someone, please. Your parents can help. Your teachers can help. Let us.

What happens next for my son? He knows who his real friends are and so do we. Next year is his last year in elementary school and we’ve taken steps to ensure he has a good circle of friends in his class. We will remain in touch with the school officials to monitor what’s going on. He’s told me he might like to take self-defense classes. Done. Anything to make him feel better about himself.

He said to me the other day, “I think I’m ready to forgive one of the boys. I might want to be friends with him again.” Although we applauded his maturity and compassion, we have cautioned him against making any rash decisions. After all, we don’t take this lightly. Bullies can be reformed but we’ve told him he might want to wait a while and spend time with his good friends, his loyal friends.

He agreed. He’s smart that way.

Like I said before, you picked on the wrong kid.

Elodie Parkes. Leave Me Breathless.

I’m happy to host Elodie Parkes today as she celebrates the release of Leave Me Breathless. And this has nothing to do with the fact her newest heroine is named “Rosanna.” Nothing at all. 😉

Welcome Elodie!


Leave me Breathless
Erotic romance/Romantic erotica
Elodie Parkes
Evernight Publishing


Dishy Seth Callahan relocates one of his business offices to a pretty Louisiana town. He’s lonely and discovers an emptiness inside him he just can’t fill … that is until he starts his house parties, where he fills the hollow with sultry encounters.
Four years later, his house parties attract lonely people looking for sensual comfort from far and wide. 
Rosanna Pyne arrives in town seeking solace after a bad relationship, and her neighbors take her to one of Seth’s parties.
Seth notices her right away. He approaches her, but Rosanna backs away from Seth’s steamy advances. Seth falls into fantasizing in a most erotic way about the lovely Rosanna until one night she makes a move on him.
Rosanna is looking for someone to love her. Is there any chance it might be Seth?
An erotic romance with HEA to make your summer sizzle.


Visiting today we have Seth Callahan
from the new Evernight Publishing erotic romance release, Leave me Breathless.
Hi Seth,
thanks for coming along to the blog today
Hi, thank you for inviting me. I have
to say it’s a little embarrassing seeing my story published, although it’s
great too.
What’s embarrassing about it?
Well, without giving too much away,
the way I fantasize about Rosanna before we really get together is unusual, I
Seth, tell us something about Rosanna, and why you fantasize about her.
She’s pretty, intelligent, she has
her own business, designing wedding dresses, bridesmaids dresses and stuff. She’s
sexy and strong. It took me ages to get her to live with me and agree to marry
me… (smiles) that’s maybe a spoiler, I should be quiet. Why do I fantasize
about her, well, I guess I fall for her right from the start, but mostly she
turns me on … more than I’ve ever felt before.
What are the house parties, mysteriously referred to in the book blurb?
Well now, they’re parties where
people can meet and have sex. I mean … not necessarily sex per se, but flirt,
make out … there’s only one way to understand and that’s to read the story.
A sex club, then? (He stares at me intently for a moment with his gorgeous blue eyes.)
Yeah I guess so. (Now he’s smiling again)
Okay let’s have some quick questions.
What’s your favorite, jeans or a suit?
I wear suits and jeans. I don’t have
a favorite because I have some cool suits for work and some great faded denims
that I throw on when I’m not working. It took me a while to get those jeans
just the way I like them, ripped and faded. Rosanna especially likes the tear
in the upper thigh part.
Do you ever go commando?
(He grins and his eyes twinkle)
Er, yes, sometimes in my favorite
jeans, the ones I just described.
Do you like making love with the lights off or on?
Both, either, it depends … Rosanna
likes candlelight
(He smiles)
Coffee or Cola?
Has to be coffee. Are you offering me
a cup … I didn’t get breakfast …
In bed, toys or no toys? (Okay, he’s laughing now.)
The answer’s the same as lights on or
off, both depending on the situation. I seriously need coffee now.
What can we expect to read when you fantasize about Rosanna?
Hell, that’s kinda personal, but sex
and what I want to do to Rosanna, or with her, mostly. Let’s just say it’s hot
as hell male fantasy stuff because by the time we do get together I’m desperate
for her. The story has a happy ever after, I mean—I love her.
Thank you
for being here today. We’ll get some coffee now …
Thank you for inviting me. I hope you
enjoy Rosanna and my love story.

©Elodie Parkes 2016,
Evernight Publishing
About Elodie:
I’m a writer who is in love with happy endings, currently based in southern UK.
I love:
music, art, flowers, trees, the ocean. I work with antiques by day and words by
night. Like a vampire, darkness is my friend, that’s when the silence is only
broken by an occasional hoot of owls in the woodlands opposite my home, and I
Find Elodie
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Blog 2 
ManicReaders  Amazon


Embracing my inner crybaby.

I’m not much of a crier, never have been. I’ve had my moments, of course, most of them in my impetuous youth. Back then, it only took a few words to set me off, but I’ve mellowed and I tend to handle most things with calm. It can be a good thing, that is until the old emotions reach a breaking point.

Case in point, me the other night.

One of my relatives was away for a road trip when we learned from his neighbor that his dear old cat was in distress. For the sake of this post, I’ll call the cat Pixie. We’d been expecting it for a while. Pixie was deaf and blind and had been in a state of decline for some time but she remained a great little companion and was otherwise happy.

When we discovered her the other night, the poor dear was limp and her leg appeared struck by paralysis. I’m not a medical professional but even I could tell her body was shutting down. She was barely breathing. My husband and I rushed her to the emergency vet and, after consulting with our relative, made the painful decision to have Pixie put down. It was just her time.

She wasn’t even my cat but as I held her in that exam room, watching the vet give her the shot that would end her life, something in me broke. I began to sob uncontrollably and didn’t stop, even as my husband drove us home some time later.

You have to understand this is the third death in our family over the past year or so. We lost my mother-in-law a year ago, a blow that was followed by my husband’s grandfather’s passing a few short weeks ago. I realize Pixie was a cat but it was the third loss on the same side of the family and it set off a chain reaction in me that I couldn’t stop.

At the funerals of my MIL and husband’s grandfather, I managed to hold myself together even though no one would have faulted me for crying. There were some tears on my part, but for the most part, I remained stoic. I don’t know why because I certainly felt like bawling. And yet I didn’t, not until I held that little cat in my arms.

It was a good cry, a cathartic cry. Probably a really ugly cry, too. As I sobbed in the car, my husband trying to rub my shoulders as he drove, I think I finally released all the tears I couldn’t shed before.  Boy, did they flow. Tears for my mother-in-law, tears for our grandfather, tears for all my deceased relatives and tears for sweet Pixie as well. I think I might have cried tears for random strangers and the state of world politics while I was at it.

You know what? I should have done it sooner. I shouldn’t have bottled up my despair. I don’t think I was trying to do so but perhaps some part of me was trying to be the brave one, the one on which others could rely. Perhaps I was trying to be strong for my kids.  I don’t know. Maybe I should have allowed my family to see me dissolve. Maybe it wouldn’t have killed them. It might even have helped me in the long run.

I have to thank Pixie for reminding me to embrace my inner crybaby. I had no idea a tabby cat could teach me so much.


Torrents, scourge to authors.

I awoke to a Google alert this morning. It provided a list of about ten new torrent sites to which my books had been added overnight.  It appears someone has been busy, and not just me, trying to create new books.

Torrents are special. I feel at a loss when dealing with them. With other pirate sites, in many cases, there is a DMCA button. One can email the site administrator directly and issue a take down notice. Often it actually works. However, with torrents we don’t have that option. There is no “Contact Us” button. No address. Just a hazy world of online maliciousness and anonymous villains.

What is a torrent exactly? Well, I am not in any way a technical person so I won’t offer to explain it in my own words. I’ll rely on Wikipedia in this case.

“In the BitTorrent file distribution system, a torrent file is a computer file that contains metadata about files and folders to be distributed, and usually also a list of the network locations of trackers, which are computers that help participants in the system find each other and form efficient distribution groups called swarms.[1] A torrent file does not contain the content to be distributed; it only contains information about those files, such as their names, sizes, folder structure, and cryptographic hash values for verifying file integrity. Depending on context, a torrent may be the torrent file or the referenced content.”

As I understand it, the torrent file directs you to another location. This is where I get nervous about clicking links. In fact, when I Googled “torrents,” one of the first docs that came up was one on how to download safely from torrent files without getting viruses.

I ask you, folks, is all this worth it to scam a free book? Most of the authors I know offer freebies and do regular giveaways. We offer advance reading copies for reviewers. It isn’t hard to get a free  book through legitimate means.

I understand the arguments. People are low on funds. Times are hard. We all get it. However, there is this thing called the public library. I work at one. I know how it operates. You go in and show your I.D. and a nice person like me will literally hand you a library card within five minutes. The only time you have to pay is when you’re late. I know for a fact many of my books are available at many public library systems throughout North America, in print and ebook.

There are options.

For the record, I did click a couple of those torrent sites where my books were listed. They led to screens with pictures of nubile women in bikinis, among other things. Did they look like “safe” sites? No. Would I want to download material from them? No.

If you’d like to try clicking on them, be my guest. I’ll just be sitting over here, devoting the next eight hours to crafting another book. By my calculations, it should be pirated in the next few months.


Diane Saxon. Barbara’s Redemption.

I’m pleased to welcome Diane Saxon to the blog today. She has a new romance called Barbara’s Redemption, book 2 of her Disarmed and Dangerous series and I can’t wait to hear more about it.

Welcome, Diane!



Black Hawk pilot Captain Barbara Lynn Perry is running scared. Witness to an event too horrible to think about and too dangerous to talk of, she finds herself alienated from a world she has always had faith in.

With her Special Forces brother missing, she has only one other person to turn to. When her friend Flynn Swann isn’t available, Barbara is left with no choice but to trust the man Flynn sends to save her.

Psychiatrist Dominic Salter’s information from her superior officer’s file is that Barbara has gone rogue. Despite the damning evidence, every instinct tells him he’s dealing with an honorable woman, one who single-handedly saved Flynn from torture and a sure death. Dominic’s challenge is to delve his way beneath her tough, defensive attitude and coax the truth from a woman who’s too frightened to reveal her dark secret.

In his brand new facility containing a state of the art Dreampsych Transcender he’s experimenting with, a machine far beyond a simulator, Dominic has to gain the trust and confidence of Barbara while he resists the hard pull of attraction to this kick-ass woman.

Betrayed by a member of his staff, events take a sinister turn, and the pressure is on in a fight against time for Dominic to persuade Barbara to put her trust in him and reveal the truth before matters are taken out of his hands. 

Pre-Order Links & Order Links

Amazon UK | Amazon.Com   | iTunes


When he skimmed his identification card across the glossy surface of his desk, she leaned forward and shot her hand out to stop it from flying off the edge.

She studied the card. If it was to be believed, and she had no reason to doubt it.

“Retired Army Major?” She cast him a quick glance and then looked back down. Now working for some government department of psychology. Interesting load of initials after his name, but she hadn’t a clue what most of them meant. She understood the one for medical doctorate, and it appeared he was a professor.

Another fleeting look at the cardigan and glasses coaxed a smile from her. Of course he was. It would explain a lot. She studied the initials again. It seemed he’d qualified as a psychiatrist too. Not surprising he had a few silver hairs. Why was it silver hair gave men such attractive sophistication?

He must have spent most of his life studying to gain all the qualifications listed after his name. A nice name, a good strong name. Dominic Salter.

She flipped his ID back across the desk to him. “Great picture.”

His hair had been shorn close to his head, typical army, unlike the man in front of her whose hair flopped in attractive abundance around his angular face. He was a good-looking man, his smoky eyes surrounded with thick sooty lashes the main feature of his face, but the swath of hair gave him a bad-boy look in direct opposition to the impression he presented with his half-moon glasses, smart shirt and tie, and professor cardigan. A veritable contradiction and the yummiest professor she’d ever seen.

It must be the stress and lack of sleep. She needed far more than one night to catch up.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt the slide of lust, but the man behind the desk had little vibrations of interest sparking her nerve ends. Totally inappropriate under the circumstances.

He raised one eyebrow and made her aware her study of him was a little too intense. “So, we’ll do this officially, as it’ll all be on record. Could you please tell me your name?”

She pulled her legs in and jerked upright. She wasn’t yet ready to get down to the official. The uncomfortable curl in her stomach made her want to avoid anything official. Instead she gave him a broad smile. “Betty Boop.”

One black eyebrow raised as he pursed his mouth. It was a nice mouth, a good mouth. An extraordinarily kissable mouth. She almost shook her head in disbelief. There was no way she should allow herself thoughts along those lines about a man who’d volunteered himself, because of Flynn, to help her. It must be an overload of adrenaline still in her system allowing her brain to fantasize inappropriately.

“Perhaps the name you were born with, not your stage name.”



Where to Find Diane Saxon

Author Website | Author Blog | Facebook  | Author Twitter | Goodreads Author |

Author Amazon Profile Page


About the Author

Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven’s Cakes.

After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances, Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.

Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild. 

Previous Books:

Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 1

Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 2

Finding Zoe – Atlantic Divide Book 3

Flight of Her Life

Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1

Short Circuit Time

For Heaven’s Cakes

Banshee Seduction – Montgomery’s Sin, Book 1



Letting our inner child sing.

Last night at my library job, I got to witness the best thing ever. It was a quiet evening and our only customers in the Children’s department were two little girls and their mom. While Mom was working at one of the computers, the girls were listening to music on her cell phone. It didn’t take me long to figure out the tune. It was “Let It Go” from the Disney movie Frozen.

The girls, who had to be about 4 and 5 years old, began singing along at the tops of their lungs. They didn’t care who heard them. They sang for pure joy.

My first reaction as a sensible adult was to, of course, giggle and shake my head. “Kids.”

My second reaction was, “I’m so jealous.” Needless to say, I did not shush them.

If I broke out singing “Let It Go” in the middle of the library (or the street, or the subway, or my home- you get the picture), people would think I was nuts. At some point, society tells us to silence our inner child.

Now, of course, this sort of conditioning is appropriate in many ways. Children are not only prone to musical outbursts. They are also prone to tantrums, lying and picking their noses. I’m not suggesting we revert.

But wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could recapture some of that joy? We learn to stifle it so early. My sons are 15 and 13 now but they’ve been telling each other what to do since they escaped the womb. My youngest is still very young at heart. It’s not unusual for him to start dancing when we walk through the mall, much to the mortification of his elder brother.

“Stop it. You’re embarrassing me.”

We always have the same response. “Let him be. If he wants to dance, he can dance.” He’ll probably make someone smile when he spontaneously dabs (or whatever they’re calling the dance moves these days.)

At what point in a person’s life do we silence our inner children? Sometime during the teen years? While grafting at that stressful first job? Or does it happen sooner? I think, sometimes, it happens far too soon.

Hearing those girls singing at the library made me miss my singing days. It made me want to pipe up and join them in their toddler-style choreography.  I think that’s why it’s so important for adults to have creative outlets. When we’re parenting or while we’re “adulting,” we often have to tone it down. We’re not always allowed to follow our impulses.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a safe place in which to express ourselves? It wouldn’t matter if our voices broke or we looked silly. I think that’s why I appreciate being able to write what I do. My books are often about fantasy. For me, that is my outlet. I get to dream and play like the child I used to be.

I need to let her out more often.