Book Binge

Judith's review of Devilish Delights by Tara Nina.

An older woman with a secret sexual addition meets a younger man with the desire to play. Can he be taught? Shelley takes a chance on a one-night stand, but gets more than she bargains for in her young stud.

Jack is enticed by a woman whose vibrating silver balls land at his feet. Finally, a woman with a desire to experience more than vanilla-flavored sex. Shelley fits the criteria of perfect dating material.

Now if he can just convince her that their age difference doesn't matter. Great sex rules, and he intends to teach Shelley the true meaning of orgasmic fun and sexual play time. But when a complication arises in connection with a trial they are both a part of, Shelley is abducted. Jack must choose justice for a bootlegger or the perfect woman's survival.

Rowena's review of Wicked Delights of a Bridal Bed (Byrons of Braebourne Series, Book 5) by Tracy Anne Warren.

To her surprise, Lady Mallory Byron finds herself walking down the aisle with the last man she ever expected to ask for her hand . . . .

Everyone knows the Byron brothers are "mad, bad and dangerous." Now their sister shockingly discovers she's the newest talk of the Ton when she marries the scandalous Earl of Gresham. Faced with a tragic loss, she'd sought comfort from him as a family friend. But soon consolation turned to passion, scandal—and a wedding! In the bridal bed, she finds pleasure beyond her wildest dreams. But can nights of wicked delight change friendship into true love?

Charming rakehell Adam, Earl of Gresham, has secretly loved Mallory for years. He lost her once to another man, but now he has a second chance to win her love—and plans to do so by any means necessary. Will Mallory's heart give him what he so dearly desires? Or is the past too much to overcome?

Judith's review of Gentlemen Prefer Succubi by Jill Myles.

Jackie Brighton woke up in a dumpster this morning and her day has only gotten weirder. Her familiar B-cups have somehow become double D's, her sex drive is insatiable, and apparently she had her first one night stand ever . . . with a fallen angel. All she remembers is gorgeous Noah's oddly hypnotic blue eyes, and then a dark stranger whose bite transformed her into an immortal siren with a sexy itch. With help from Noah, Jackie begins to adapt to her new lifestyle--until she accidentally sends Noah into the deadly clutches of the vampire queen and lands herself in a fierce battle for an ancient halo with the queen's wickedly hot right-hand man, who just happens to be the vampire who originally bit her. How's a girl supposed to save the world when the enemy is so hard to resist?

I'm not a huge fan of zombie books. I love zombie movies, but zombie books don't necessarily appeal to me. Even so, Dust by Joan Frances Turner (http://www.dustthenovel.com/) has me intrigued. Especially after I watched these hilarious book trailers. How many of you remember those awesome "Just Say No" commercials from the late 80's and early 90's?



That one is my favorite, but this one is funny too:



and this one:



Aren't those hilarious? Brought to you by the The Equal Rights for Zombies Association? Ha!

Nine years ago, Jessie had a family.
Now, she has a gang.
Nine years ago, Jessie was a vegetarian.
Now, she eats very fresh meat.
Nine years ago,
Jessie was in a car crash and died.
Nine years ago, Jessie was human.
Now, she’s not.

After she was buried, Jessie awoke and tore through the earth to arise, reborn, as a zombie. Jessie’s gang is the Fly-by-Nights. She loves the ancient, skeletal Florian and his memories of time gone by. She’s in love with Joe, a maggot-infested corpse. They fight, hunt, dance together as one—something humans can never understand. There are dark places humans have learned to avoid, lest they run into the zombie gangs.

But now, Jessie and the Fly-by-Nights have seen new creatures in the woods—things not human and not zombie. A strange new illness has flamed up out of nowhere, causing the undeads to become more alive and the living to exist on the brink of death. As bits and pieces of the truth fall around Jessie, like the flesh off her bones, she’ll have to choose between looking away or staring down the madness—and hanging onto everything she has come to know as life…

Casee's review of Maybe This Time by Jennifer Cruise.

Andie Miller is ready to move on in life. She wants to marry her fiance and leave behind everything in her past, especially her ex-husband, North Archer. But when Andie tries to gain closure with him, he asks one final favor of her before they go their separate ways forever. A very distant cousin of his has died and left North as the guardian of two orphans who have driven out three nannies already, and things are getting worse. He needs a very special person to take care of the situation and he knows Andie can handle anything…

When Andie meets the two children she quickly realizes things are much worse than she feared. The place is a mess, the children, Carter and Alice, aren’t your average delinquents, and the creepy old house where they live is being run by the worst housekeeper since Mrs. Danvers. What’s worse, Andie’s fiance thinks this is all a plan by North to get Andie back, and he may be right. Andie’s dreams have been haunted by North since she arrived at the old house. And that’s not the only haunting…

Kris' review of Tiger by the Tail (Middlemarch Mates, Book Nine) by Shelley Munro.

One plus one equals three.

Tiger shifter Hari Daya takes one look at Ambar Patel's photo and is smitten. Further research heightens his fascination. An arranged marriage would work, except the lady isn't buying and tells him to take a hike.

Ambar is already involved with human Jake Quinn. Casual pleasure and lovin' works best for her since she dreams of traveling the world and delving into new experiences. The frisson of heat and desire she feels for Hari is unacceptable. There will be no tiger mate for her.

Jake Quinn has no idea either his lover or his new friend are shifters, but there sure as hell is something weird going on in his head. As much as he enjoys sex with Ambar, he's thinking about Hari too. Suddenly there's kissing and togetherness way past his comfort zone. The slide into sinful pleasure with both Hari and Ambar is easy—it's the relationship dynamics that give them headaches and make them wonder if they're making a huge mistake.

Judith's review of Madison Avenue Vampire by Jenna Reynolds

It's the swinging 1960's and Richard owns one of Manhattan's major advertising agencies. He is also a vampire. He hungers to make love to Lana Sorenson's lush, voluptuous body, but he also thirsts to sink his fangs into her lovely neck. Richard's desire for blood is nearly out of control, and surrendering to both his lusts may deprive Lana of her life.

Lana is the proverbial farmer's daughter. A small town girl from Wisconsin, Lana regularly sees things she never would have imagined in her wildest dreams. But when she finds out the handsome, sexy man she is dating is a vampire, Lana is faced with the terrifying possibility that the first time she and Richard make love could quite literally be their last.

Kris' review of Blue Lady by Shelley Munro.

Middlemarch Mates, Book Ten Saber and Emily are longtime mates. Happiness has been theirs, until the tragic loss of their unborn baby. Saber is desperate. Emily has shut him out, wallowing in depression. They inhabit the same house, but his loving mate has withdrawn, and he wants his happy, matchmaking woman back. It's time to up the ante. Armed with a bag of sex toys from his wild twin brothers and a tropical island setting, Saber is determined to seduce his mate to his way of thinking, to drive the blues away, and he won't take no for an answer.

Chapter One
Montana Territory, August 1883

An eerie keening echoed through the trees. Luke McCutcheon straightened in the saddle, and his filly’s ears flicked forward, then back. “Easy, girl. Don’t dump me now.” Not with ten miles to go, he thought as he felt the green-broke filly hesitate. Lightly reining her to the solid side of the slippery embankment, he pressed her forward. Still, she balked at a mud-covered tree stump, snorting and humping her back. Rain came down in sheets now, drenching them both. Squinting through the darkness, Luke scanned the clearing for any sign of the others he’d split from some three hours before.

A bolt of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by an explosive boom. Chiquita whirled a complete circle and crow-hopped several strides, sending an icy rivulet gushing from the brim of Luke’s hat.

“Hell.” Luke squeezed with his legs, pushing her onto the bit. “Flighty filly,” he said under his breath. “You’d be a great one if you’d ever settle down.”

Cresting the rise, Luke searched the horizon through the downpour. Nothing. Nobody in sight. “Long gone.” Frustrated, he slapped his gloved hand against his thigh and spun Chiquita in the opposite direction. He’d head back to camp and try again at daybreak.

Suddenly the uncanny cry came again, peculiar in its tone and just as troubling as the first time he’d heard it. “What . . . ?”

He’d never heard anything like it in his twenty-six years. He reined up for a moment, listening. A minute slipped by, then two. Still nothing but the unrelenting storm. A wounded animal? No. That queer sound was totally unfamiliar. He headed in its direction to investigate.

His efforts proved useless, and after several minutes he stopped. As if called, a streak of lightning lit up the landscape, revealing a dilapidated wagon half-hidden in the brush. It listed to one side, the wheels buried up to the axles. As quick as the light came, it vanished, leaving him in darkness.

He dismounted, cursing the jingle of his spurs. His gloved hand dropped to his sidearm and slid the gun from its holster.

Another ghostly cry emanated from the wagon, raising the hair on his neck. Silently, he made his way over the uneven ground. With his back to the wagon’s side he reached around with his free hand and cautiously pulled back the canvas cover.

“Hello?”

Only the wind answered, whipping a smattering of rain against his face. Not daring to take his eyes from the dark opening, he steeled himself against the chilly water dripping down his neck. He flexed his shoulders, willed himself to relax. Then a sound, like the rustling of a mouse, caught his attention. He held his breath.

“Coming in,” Luke warned. He trusted his instincts, and it didn’t feel like someone had a gun pointed at him. Cautious, however, his boot on the wheel axle, he lifted himself slowly through the opening. He paused, letting his eyes adjust to the dark interior.

The aroma of musty canvas engulfed him. And the smell of something else. Fear? Bending low he inched slowly through the cramped interior. He winced: a sharp edge. Fire and ice coursed up his leg. He stopped. Something was in the corner.

With his teeth, he pulled his glove from his hand and reached into his inside pocket for a match. He struck it and held it high. It winked brightly for only a moment and was extinguished by a gust of wind. But not before he saw a woman crouched down, her eyes the size of twin harvest moons.

“You’re hurt?”

A soft panting was her reply.

“Your lantern. Where is it?” He felt around the rafters.

Finding a lamp, he lit it and turned down the wick until a soft light glowed around the cramped area. He knelt beside the woman. Beads of sweat trickled off her brow and her breath came fast. Eyes wide with fright were riveted on the gun he held. Then he noticed a stick clenched between her teeth. His gaze flew downward. Her knees were drawn up and a blanket covered the lower half of her body.

But there was no mistaking what was underneath.

Luke leaned toward her, intending to take the stick from her mouth when excruciating pain exploded in his head and shot down his neck. “What the . . . ?” He turned. Stars danced before his eyes and he fell to the wagon floor. His gun slid from his grasp.

A groan was all Faith could manage before she was overcome by an all-consuming urge to bite down on the stick with all her might. She wanted, needed, to keep her eyes open and on the stranger, the large man who’d climbed into her wagon, sending her heart skittering up her throat. But it was no use.

Another contraction began, and it was next to impossible to keep her eyes open; the icy fire gripped her stomach with a grasp as strong as the devil’s. Mentally counting, she wrestled against her impulse to tighten up as burning beads of sweat dripped into her eyes. Eight . . . nine . . . ten. Ten seconds of sheer torture. Then the hurt eased, and Faith lay on her pallet, spent. The stick dropped from her teeth.

Summoning what strength she had she pushed up on her elbow. “Why’d you hit him, Colton?” she asked the wide-eyed boy, a frying pan dangling in his hands. “I hate to think how mad he’ll be when he wakes up.” Dread rippled within her as she studied the cowboy lying within an arm’s reach.

“Thought he was gonna hurt ya, Ma.”

Faith drew in a shaky breath. “Quick, give me the gun.”

Colton carefully picked up the revolver. Faith took it, feeling its steely cold weight in her hands. The man moved slightly and his lashes quivered on his darkly whiskered cheek. His face, hard with angles and chapped from the cold, lay flat against the wagon bed. He moaned as his face screwed up in a grimace, which sent Faith’s heart careening. The rest of him looked mighty big under his rain slicker and leather chaps.

Overwhelming despair descended. Just today she’d dared to dream that she and Colton had escaped her brother-in-law Ward, and that he’d given up his hunt for them. Horses couldn’t drag her back to Nebraska to marry him and subject her children to the cruelty of that family. Their despicable plot framing her for Samuel’s accidental fall was evil. Truth didn’t matter, though, when they had the law, or lack of it, on their side. She felt like crying every time she thought about it. The Browns wanted her farm in Kearney and would stop at nothing, it seemed, to get it. So far this journey had been extremely difficult—long days and nights full of danger and
fear—and one she wasn’t ready to see end futilely.

And now this! In her mind she weighed their chances against the man before her. When her gaze moved back up to his face, her heart stopped.

Chapter Two

The stranger watched her through narrowed eyes. He struggled to a sitting position and stared at the gun she had pointed at his chest. “Give it . . . to me.”

His tone was colder than the weapon she held. Faith shook her head.

He turned and frowned at Colton, whose hair was rumpled, eyes hot and angry. “You’re dangerous with that thing,” he accused, and reached for the offending object. The small boy reared back, the heavy iron skillet raised high in the air. “Just settle down, kid. I’m one of the good guys.”

“Colton, go back to your bed,” Faith ordered. The firm grip of a contraction began and would soon move painfully to her back. The boy did as he was told, crawling behind some crates in the opposite corner. “Don’t”—Faith panted a few times, the gun wobbling in her hands—“come out till I call.”

“Yes, Ma. I just didn’t want that sidewinder to hurt ya none.”

Even in the darkened interior Faith couldn’t miss the stranger’s amused expression.

“Sidewinder? The name’s Luke. Luke McCutcheon.”

“Well, mister, as soon as my ma is finished birthin’ my brother, we’ll be on our way. Won’t we, Ma?”

Faith didn’t answer. It was all she could do to hold the gun. Mr. McCutcheon’s face softened, and his gaze touched hers. He reached out and gently took the heavy weapon from her hands. Her fear ebbed slightly. Deep inside she felt this wasn’t the kind of man a woman had to fear. Not like Samuel.

He holstered the firearm and stood, a little unsteady. “I’ll get help. Someone who’s done this before. Our camp cook is always boasting on all his accomplishments. I’m sure delivering a baby is one of ’em. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

But, he hesitated. Looked to the wagon opening and back at her, clearly uncertain. Fingered the rim of his hat. “It’s best. If you have trouble, Lucky is the man to help.”

“Don’t go.” Even though she didn’t know him, his presence was comforting. Something inside her chest—something she hadn’t felt in a very long time—ached. She wanted to trust him. Without warning, hot liquid gushed between her legs.

Faith gasped in surprise, cradling her belly for support. Mortified, she pressed some folded towels under the blanket to her body. An unmerciful urge to cry surfaced. She turned her face into the darkness and let the tears fall.

“No, no, don’t cry. It’s natural. No need to worry.” He slowly backed away. “I’m going now. But I’ll be back. I promise.”

Luke pulled off his hat and let the rain buffet his face. It felt good, cold and clean. He knew weather. He knew rain. He didn’t know the mystery of a woman’s body in childbirth. Before he could change his mind, he strode over to where Chiquita stood. The filly stuck out her muzzle and nudged him.

“All right. We’re going.” He looked back at the wagon.

Everything was quiet within. Sliding his foot into the stirrup, he swung into the saddle.

He’d faced danger and even death many times. Hell, he’d once killed a cougar with only a knife. He considered himself a brave man. But right now, he was scared to death. Scared by a small woman and a baby.

“Damnation!” He couldn’t just ride off and leave her alone.

What if it were his little sister out here? He’d sure want someone to help her.

Riding back to the wagon, he dismounted and tied Chiquita to the rear wagon wheel; then he climbed back inside. “We’ll get through this together,” he announced. “I’ve delivered my share of calves. It can’t be much different.”

Without much trouble he found a cloth and held it out in the rain. He stroked the young woman’s forehead and cheeks with the cool cotton rag, wiping away drops of beaded moisture and tears. Her face contorted and her shaky hand snaked from under the cover and rubbed her large belly.

“Please,” the woman asked. “Can you help me sit up?”

Her plea was a velvety whisper but she watched him closely with distrustful eyes. What was she thinking? Her gaze followed his hand as he reached out to help her. So wary. So alone. Gently, he eased her up, bracing her back against a trunk.

“Better?”

She nodded.

Luke went for the canteen on his saddle. Hunching his shoulders against the wind, he inhaled the sweetness of wet earth. It grounded him. He desperately needed that now with the woman in the wagon doing crazy things to his insides. He wanted to help her. To take the pain away. He wanted to be what she needed, though that made no logical sense whatsoever.

Inside, he held the canteen to her dry lips. A blast of wind rocked the wagon, swaying it precariously to one side. She grasped his arm, clinging to him with strength at odds with her size. “Whoa, easy now. Just the wind. This wagon’s not going anywhere.” Her expression, tight and apologetic, tore at his gut.

Moments ticked by. She rested. What should he do in preparation—boil some water? Not in this storm. He fidgeted with the horsehair clip he kept in his pocket, turning it over and over.

She was watching him again with those big coffee-colored eyes. Her hair, mussed and tangled, lay heavily across her small shoulders, a combination of rich chocolate and flaxen highlights. Mahogany. The exact color of the rocker his ma had in the kitchen at home.

“What’s your name?”

“Faith.”

“Is someone out there looking for you, Faith? A husband?”

She shook her head and began to pant.

Anxiety burned hot in his belly as he watched her struggle. Taking her hand he fitted it tightly in his. “Go on. Squeeze. It might help.”

She did. Luke was astonished again by her strength. Her forehead crinkled and her mouth pursed. Sweat trickled down both temples. Nostrils flared. A series of expressions slid across her face as fast as clouds move in a storm. Then she quieted and her grip eased up, but she didn’t let go. Her eyes drifted closed. Minutes crawled by. His thumb stroked softly across her fingers, which were delicate in size, but roughened from hard work. . . .

One hour of torture crept by, then another. Would Roady come looking for him when he didn’t make it back to camp?

Even if he did, Luke had ridden farther north than he normally would have. He had a slim-to-nothin’ chance of getting any help here.

It was dawn, and Luke wondered how she kept on. Her grasp had long since lost its strength. When he’d laid her back onto her pallet she was no stronger than a kitten; he was more or less holding on to her.

She gave a gentle tug. “I think it’s coming.

Today Western author Caroline Fyffe is here being tortured interviewed by us. We're delighted to have her here to talk about her most recent release, Montana Dawn. Please join us in welcoming Caroline Fyffe to Book Binge.

Book Binge: Can you tell us how you came about writing romance novels?

Caroline Fyffe: Absolutely. But, first let me say that I’m thrilled to be here today at Book Binge. Thank you for having me…

In regards to how I set out to write a romance, well….I was a huge reader when my two sons were born. I’d read at every given chance. It was my escape. One day the desire to write a story of my own just descended upon me and I never looked back. I was lucky enough to find a really great critique group with patient members—LOL! They taught me the tools and rules of the trade.

Book Binge: What was it like getting the notification that you won the Golden Heart award?

Caroline Fyffe: That was a magical night for sure. It was in Chicago and one of my critique partners was also up for a Golden Heart at the same time, so we kept each other’s feet on the ground, so to speak. One of the things I remember vividly is that I could not see a thing once I was up on stage to give my little acceptance speech. The lights were so bright I couldn’t see past the first few rows of people—very exciting.

Book Binge: What is one piece of advice, you’d share with aspiring authors?

Caroline Fyffe: I’d advise aspiring authors to trust their instincts and write with courage. When I first began my journey as a writer, I wasted a lot of time second-guessing myself. I don’t do that anymore. I forge ahead and pound out a scene and then look at it more closely when revising and polishing.

Book Binge: What are you reading right now?

Caroline Fyffe: Actually nothing. I’ve been in California for a month for the launch of MONTANA DAWN and haven’t had a chance to start something new. I’m looking forward to getting home and back into a routine. I try to read at least a little every night before turning out the light.

Book Binge: Who are your favorite authors?

Caroline Fyffe: I have a lot of favorites. Debbie Macomber, LaVyrle Spencer, Pamela Morsi, Lucia St. Clair Robson, and the list goes on….

Book Binge: What is your all time favorite book?

Caroline Fyffe: That is such a hard question because it kind of depends on the mood I’m in at the time of the question. But, what I most always fall back on is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte.

Book Binge: On your website, it says that you’re an equine photographer? What’s a typical day on a photo shoot?

Caroline Fyffe: Rising early—very early—and driving to my destination, which is usually a ranch. (Often I’m setting out several hours before the sun is up because morning light is the very best.) Working into the very late evening, just before the sun sets—again, because the light is pretty then. Photographing several horses, which takes about an hour and a half each...shooting profile pictures, three-quarter fronts, headshots and sometimes the subject at liberty, which is running free in a pasture. Also shooting working shots, which is the horse and rider doing whatever it is they do together--cutting, jumping, reining, etc.


Book Binge: Are any of the horses in your books modeled after a specific horse that you’ve come across while working?

Caroline Fyffe: The filly Luke was so fond of in the beginning of MONTANA DAWN was modeled after the last horse I owned. She was a American Quarter Horse, and a cutter.

Book Binge: Can you tell us about them?

Caroline Fyffe: Her name was Chiquita too, just as in the book. My Chiquita was older, though, but other than that, I modeled Luke’s fictional mount after my beloved little mare. She was as sweet as a little lamb until you put a steer in front of her—LOL. The only thing she didn’t like was having her face washed (splashed with water) after a hot, sweaty ride.

Book Binge: What’s your all time favorite dessert?

Caroline Fyffe: Gelato ice cream---any flavor!

Book Binge: Can you tell our readers about Montana Dawn?

Caroline Fyffe: I’d love to….. MONTANA DAWN takes place in the little town of Y Knot, Montana in the late 1800s. The McCutcheons, a cattle ranching family, have carved a dynasty from the wilderness by the sweat of their brow and honorable values. Luke McCutcheon, the third brother and the hero of this story, is the only one who was sired by an American Indian, when his mother was taken captive. He’s the trail boss for the once-a-year cattle drive the McCutcheons make. When he comes upon Faith Brown giving birth in her wagon, he’s shocked to learn her little son is Faith’s only help. He agrees to stay and deliver her child.

Faith Brown, shrouded in suspicion about her husband’s death, is on the run from her husband’s family. If she’s caught she’ll be blackmailed into marriage to her brother-in-law to get possession of her farm. Instead, she’s hoping for a new life, one free of malice and abuse.

I love stories about big families. I wanted to give Luke as much unconditional love as he needed to battle his own ghosts about his heritage. John McCutcheon, the youngest brother, is introduced in MONTANA DAWN, but you don’t actually meet him until my next book, ONCE UPON A TEXAS TWILIGHT, planned for next year.

Luke McCutcheon found Faith Brown unprotected and about to give birth, crouched in the corner of her dilapidated wagon. Though his family’s cattle drive was no place for a widow and a newborn, neither was the open trail. Honor demanded he bring them along.

Delivering her child was only Luke’s first kind act. Honest and wholesome, handsome and strong, the cowboy seemed a knight from some long-ago tale. Faith could tell they longed for the same things. But, fleeing the past, trust was a luxury she could little afford. It lay at the end of the road like a warm hearth and home, like a loving family, like a bright Montana Dawn.