SPOTLIGHT: Damned If You Do by Lisabet Sarai #BDSM #paranormalromance @LisabetSarai

Damned If You Do: A BDSM Dance with the Devil

By Lisabet Sarai

Paranormal BDSM erotic romance (Five flames)

Approximately 29,000 words

HEA ending

ISBN: 9781005020088



Wendy Dennison is tired of being a starving author. The royalties from her critically acclaimed romance novels barely pay her bills. Her devoted agent Daniel Rochester may be smart and sexy, but he can’t get her the sales she needs. Then a charismatic stranger appears at her coffee shop table, promising her fame and commercial success, as well as the chance to live out her dreams of erotic submission. But at what cost?

Nothing you can’t afford to lose, my dear.

Seduced by the enigmatic Mister B, she signs his infernal contract. He becomes both her Master and her coach, managing her suddenly flourishing career as well as encouraging her lusts. Under her mentor’s nefarious influence, she surrenders to temptation and has sex with Daniel. The casual encounter turns serious when she discovers her mild mannered agent has a dominant side. As the clock ticks down to her blockbuster release and Mister B prepares to claim her soul, Wendy must choose either celebrity and wealth, or obscurity and true love. 


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Narrated by Audrey Lusk




The limo deposited her in front of her little house and floated away. A bit weary from the lengthy ordeal at the salon, Wendy almost tripped over the figure sitting on her front steps.

“Dan! What are you doing here?”

Her agent looked rumpled and haggard. He didn’t even bother to stand, though his eyes were hungry as he surveyed her.

“You don’t answer my calls. You ignore my emails. I figured the only way I could get through to you was to show up at your door.”

“Emails? I haven’t heard from you in months! I figured you were mad at me…”

 “Every day, Wendy. I’ve sent you a message every single day. I’ve called again and again. That damned personal assistant of yours answers every time.” He rose to his feet finally, looking around with a scowl. “Where is the bastard, anyway?”

“I—um—I’m not sure. I think he’s doing some errands.” She rummaged in her bag for her key. “Come inside. We’ll talk.”

“No. You come with me.” He grabbed her sleeve, pulling her down the walkway toward a gray Taurus with a Steelers Rent-a-Car decal parked across the street. “You’ve got to get away from that guy. He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? What are you talking about? He’s been great for my career.”

Dan grabbed her shoulders and shook her, hard. “Wake up, Wendy! He’s got you under some kind of spell. You’ve become a totally different person.”

She tore herself free. “Yeah, I have. Instead of being a loser, I’m finally a successful author.”

“You’ve cut yourself off from everyone. I got an email from Jenna the other day. You do remember Jenna, right?  Your old friend Jenna Martin? She was worried. Said she hadn’t been able to get in touch for weeks.”

Jenna. How odd. Wendy hadn’t even thought about her, not since that afternoon in the coffee shop when her crit partner sent the link about Sapphire Sands. The afternoon Mister B had come into her life. In the old days, they communicated nearly every day.

“I’ve been busy. Busy writing.”

“Is that all you’ve been doing? That slimy character Bent loves to suggest you two have been involved in other activities…” 

She tried to take his arm. He shook her off. “Please, Dan, calm down. I’m fine. I’ve finally found my writing groove. Everything is going great.” She flashed him what she hoped was a charming smile. “I’m going to be on the Breakfast in America show later this week.”

“I wondered why you were all gussied up.” His bitter tone made her wince.

 “You should be happy for me. After all, I’m making plenty of money for you, too!”

“Forget about money for once. What about feelings?” He grabbed her with both hands, pulled her close and held her tight against his body.


LISABET SARAI occasionally tackles other genres, but BDSM will always be her first love. Every one of her nine novels includes some element of power exchange, while her D/s short stories range from mildly kinky to intensely perverse.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Bookbub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list and get a free ebook, plus exclusive contents and other benefits:

SPOTLIGHT: My Dragon, My Dom by Dulce Dennison #LGBTQ #holidayromance

Officer Corbin Richters has gone through more partners than he can count. They all claim he’s difficult to work with, but he knows better. They’re scared being gay might be something they can catch. Idiots. When he’s assigned yet another partner, his inner dragon perks up and takes notice. Josh is different from anyone he’s ever met. Unfortunately, he’s also human.

When the two are tasked with getting Christmas trees for families in need, they never count on growing close. The more time Corbin spends with Josh, the more certain he becomes the man is his mate.

Get it at Changeling Press


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Dulce Dennison

Corbin Richters watched the sexy-as-hell man walking through the door of the precinct, his blue uniform fitted snugly to his shoulders and chest, silver badge gleaming under the fluorescent lights, his stride powerful and purposeful as he approached Captain Meeker. The dark hair on his head stood out in disarray but it was artfully done, the waves beckoning to be touched in an intimate caress. His eyes looked green from this distance, and they took everything in with a swift assessment that said he was ready for whatever danger that might be lurking within the precinct walls. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a rookie. No one got that hard-edged look, the look of a predator, the first day on the job.

Corbin’s heart kicked in his chest and his hands clenched on top of the desk. What he wouldn’t give to peel away that uniform and see what lay beneath the crisp, blue material. He unconsciously licked his lips as he thought about trailing kisses along those broad shoulders. Corbin’s skin heated and his cock twitched in his pants. He felt his scales ripple under his skin and fought for control. Hell, here he was fantasizing over the man, and he wasn’t even sure if the cop was into men or women. Or both. It had been a long time since he’d had such a reaction to someone on first sight, and he wanted to explore the feelings a bit more.

“Damn.” He sneaked a quick glance around. Had he said that out loud?

Corbin watched as the officer shook hands with the captain and then as Captain Meeker pointed at Corbin. Why on earth was the captain sending Mr. Sexy his way? Not that he was going to complain! Still, he had to admit to being curious. What did the man’s voice sound like? Would he offer to shake hands? Would that small contact arouse Corbin’s dragon even more? The beast was already more than a little intrigued.

The object of his desire strode across the room with panther-like grace, his movements fluid and beautiful, and stopped at the edge of Corbin’s desk. The officer flashed him a smile, one that had his dragon — lusty beast — perking up considerably, and held out his hand.

Corbin stood and shook it, an electrical current shooting up his arm, swirling down through his chest, and settling in his balls, making them draw up tight. His cock gave another jerk, but if the officer noticed — and something told Corbin that he had — he wasn’t commenting on it. Corbin had thought the man would pack a punch, but it still took him by surprise, this visceral reaction. He couldn’t remember the last time his dragon and he had been in total agreement on their choice of bed partners.

The man’s voice was crisp and clipped as he introduced himself. “Josh Myers.”

“Corbin Richters.” Corbin released Josh’s hand reluctantly before he did something stupid, like jerk him closer for a different sort of embrace. As it was, he wanted to bury his nose against the man’s neck and inhale that incredible scent that was teasing him.

“It seems I’m your new partner,” Josh said.

Partner? Corbin shot the captain a look. No one had said anything about a new partner. Corbin had only been part of the Blueberry Hill Police Department for a little over a month, having been lucky enough to land the job within a week of hitting town. And yet he’d already gone through two partners. The men had claimed Corbin was too rough and rude, but he knew the truth. They didn’t care that he was black. They hadn’t wanted to work with a gay officer. Probably afraid it would rub off on them or some stupid shit like that.

“I take it this is news to you,” Josh said, that gorgeous smile flirting around his lips again. Lips that looked full and soft, the kind of lips a man could kiss forever.

Corbin cleared his throat, hoping to get better control of himself. “Yeah, I hadn’t heard that I was getting a new partner today.” He met Josh’s gaze. “But I’m glad you’re here.” Too direct?

Josh’s smile broadened and there was something in his eyes, a warmth that told Corbin his advances might be welcome. He supposed time would tell. It was possible the guy was just being friendly and he was reading into things.

Corbin pointed to the desk butting up to his. “That will be your space. There should be some supplies in the drawer, but if not, we can ask the receptionist on our way out.”

“Hitting the streets early?”

“I thought we’d swing by Espress Yourself and grab some coffee. There’s no charge to officers for a regular brewed cup, and they usually have a few different flavors going. You have to pay for those fancy drinks though.”

Josh smiled again. “Sounds good. I can check out the desk when we get back.”

“The black SUV near the back is ours.”

Josh scanned him from head to toe. “I’m guessing your size has something to do with us getting the biggest vehicle. What are you? Six foot four?”

Corbin grinned. “Six-six.” Not that Josh was short. He had to be at least six-two.
They strolled out of the rear precinct door and headed to the SUV. Corbin popped the locks with the key fob and slid in.

“So…” Josh glanced his way as he snapped his seatbelt into place. “Your place or mine?”


Dulce Dennison is a pen name for gay and LGBTQA+ themed love stories from best selling MC romance author Harley Wylde, AKA award-winning science fiction/paranormal romance author Jessica Coulter Smith. From cowboys to shapeshifters, Dulce/Harley/Jess believes in love in all shapes and sizes, and that everyone deserves a happily-ever-after.

SPOTLIGHT: Silent Knight/Sleepless Knight by Gale Stanley #LGBTQ #holidayromance @GaleStanley

Silent Knight: Paul Stanton thought he had it all — until his lover dumped him for another man, forcing Paul to rethink his life. But when a trip home for the holidays goes predictably wrong, Paul ends up stranded in the woods. There’s more to Andy Reynolds than meets the eye. But is a chance encounter enough to bind two men who have nothing in common except their sex?

Sleepless Knight: When the two-year itch infects their relationship, Andy arranges a much needed vacation. Andy will do anything to make Paul happy, even if it means bringing another man into their bed. But is a threesome really the answer? Or will it drive them further apart?

Publisher’s Note: Silent Knight, Sleepless Knight (Duet) contains the previously published novellas Silent Knight and Sleepless Knight.

Get it at Changeling Press


Copyright ©2017 Gale Stanley
Excerpt from Silent Knight

Andy moved through the woods in a slow stalk. Nothing beat hunting in the snow. Most Keystone State hunters called it quits by late December, but Andy was a hardheaded optimist. Besides, he enjoyed the solitude, and dealing with winter’s stark elements provided an extra challenge. There were other pluses as well. Even a novice hunter could follow the deer tracks, and the light wind dispersed Andy’s scent and covered any sounds he made.

But the wind picked up, blowing the snow sideways. Deer tended to lay low during high winds. It looked like this hunt would end with no game. Good thing these hunting trips weren’t all about the kill. Andy hunted for food, but mostly to get out, and be a part of nature. The experience took him back to a happy time when his parents were still alive. He and his dad spent a lot of time in the woods. No TV, no cars, no other people, just the two of them hanging out and having a good time. Half the time they came home empty handed, but it didn’t matter. Andy’s mom would welcome them home with a good, hot meal.

God, he missed them. At least they’d died together. A car accident. Never knew what hit them, according to the coroner. Andy had come home to bury them a year ago and never left.

Snow on an overhanging branch dropped white bombs on Andy’s head. He brushed it off, and looked around. No animal life disturbed the spectacular view. No sound, except for the howling wind. He felt insignificant in these surroundings, yet more alive than he did in the city.

Andy packed up his gear and started backtracking toward his ATV. The wind blasted him and drove him off his path a few times, but finally the gusts eased and the ATV appeared in his sights. It occurred to him he might have to leave it, but old reliable started right up. Andy nosed it around and got back on the road, recognizable because it was the only stretch clear of trees. Mishaps were more common in the winter, but the white stuff didn’t intimidate Andy. He knew these backwoods like the —

Andy swerved to the left to avoid the man in his path. The ATV slammed into a car, and Andy catapulted feet over head. One second he was behind the wheel, the next he was flying through the air. Andy landed face down in a snow covered hill of pinecones that cushioned his touchdown. Everything happened so fast. For a few scary seconds he couldn’t breathe, then someone grabbed him and rolled him over.

Before Andy could react, a hand gripped his chin and tilted his head backward. An ear covered his mouth.

“What the fuck!” Andy cried out. He opened his eyes just as the other man jerked his head back. When Andy’s blurry vision cleared, he saw a pair of worried eyes staring down at him. Snowflakes drifted around the stranger’s head, and stuck to his long dark lashes. The sound of the wind faded into the background, and the silent snowy woods provided a surreal backdrop behind the green-eyed stranger. Andy sucked in a frosty breath. In the midst of the chilling temperatures, heat sparked in his groin.

“Are you okay?”

The voice brought Andy back to reality. “No thanks to you.”

Andy attempted to get up, but Green-eyes gripped his arms and held him down. “Don’t move, you might have broken something.”

“Don’t even try playing white knight. This is your fault, asshole.”

Green-eyes backed off and held his hands up in surrender.

Andy struggled to a sitting position and glared at the other man. “I’m fucking freezing, and you want me to lay here.”


Andy stared at the man’s stuttering lips. They were blue. The color didn’t go well with his eyes. Oh hell! His white knight was in worse shape than he was. “Gimme a hand,” Andy barked. “We need to get outta this storm before we both freeze.”

* * *

The snow-covered man winced as Paul hauled him up. Only an inch or two taller than Paul, he appeared a lot bigger in his thickly padded hunting jacket. A thick beard hid most of the man’s face. Paul hoped like hell the hunter wasn’t another former classmate.

“Fuck!” The hunter pulled his hand from Paul’s grip and rubbed his right hip.

A twinge of guilt pierced Paul’s gut, but he kept his mouth shut. This man had made it plain he didn’t want Paul’s help.

“Just bruised,” the hunter said. “Could have been worse. I could have been killed. Or killed you.”

“Look, I sss-aid I was sss-sorry –“

“Forget it. What are you doing out here?”

It was too cold for a conversation. Paul gave him the short version. “Paul Stanton, home for the holidays. I just had a close encounter with a tree. That was my rental car you hit.” He clenched his mouth shut to stop his teeth from chattering.

“Andy Reynolds.” Andy waved at the vehicles. “Looks like we’re walking. My cabin’s not far.”

Paul’s chest tightened as he watched Andy walk off. Do I really want to go home with this big redneck? Andy Reynolds already hated him. The name didn’t ring any bells, but so what? Reynolds looked like every other homophobic asshole in this town. Paul shivered and tucked his frozen hands under his armpits.

Andy looked back. “You coming?”

If I stay out here, I’ll freeze to death. Paul started walking.


Gale Stanley grew up in Philadelphia PA. She was the kid who always had her nose in a book, her head in the clouds, and her hands on a pad and pencil.

Some things never change.

Preorder: Sidetracked (Q for Quarantine) by Lauren Alsten #RomCom #ContemporaryRomance #BDSM @laurenalsten @changelingpress

Sidetracked (Q for Quarantine) by Lauren Alsten
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Angela Knight
Genres: Romantic Comedy, Suspense, BDSM,
Contemporary Romance, Second Chance Romance

Librarian Allison Callahan, aka “Encyclopedia Allie,” has always loved her steadfast and dependable best friend, Dane. She’s just never admitted it to anyone, including herself. But Dane keeps trying to kiss her, and it’s changing their relationship status from friend-zone to danger-zone. Sure, Allie wants more, but what if Dane finds out she likes her hanky panky with a side of spanky?

He’ll freak, that’s what. So she rebuffs his advances, tries to shake things up… and unbeknownst to him, discovers one of his best-kept secrets.

Meanwhile, Dane is so frustrated he fantasizes about taking Allie over his lap. A good spanking would serve her right for refusing to acknowledge what they both already know: they’re perfect for each other. But he’s so busy trying to make partner at his law firm, he doesn’t notice something’s a bit off about his bestie.

Between the shock of the secret she never knew and her lukewarm launching of the library’s virtual book club, Allie’s ready to let loose. At her and Dane’s high school reunion, it’s clear they’re ready to take the next step, but after a red-hot night of lust and love, will the next morning’s Walk of Shame ruin everything?


Preorder for December 31, 2021

Available December 24, 2021 at Changeling Press



All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021Lauren Alsten


Back when I was a kid, the library held a solemn mystique, a haven away from the mayhem of everyday life, the shrillness of school and a noisy neighborhood. The zigzaggy avocado-green carpet would always make me dizzy on the way to the card catalog, but I loved all the neat, half-handwritten, half-typed index cards. These days, no cards remain, except for a few relics memorialized in framed prints on the walls in stacks. The old pine cabinets have been retrofitted into mock-vintage PC terminals, where you can still search non-fiction’s trusty Dewey decimal system. Fiction titles are arranged much like a bookstore, and while the comfy green reader chairs now sit ten feet apart per regulations, the kids still move them. It’s no use scolding; nobody listens.

Following two rounds of quarantine, everyone is all too happy to get out and mingle, only now they mingle louder to compensate for their masks. Enforcing the face covering rule is hard enough, but keeping the noise level to a dull roar is an exercise in futility. I head back to my desk, irritated and defeated, recalling simpler times, when this institution was used for research instead of a social hangout.

Yes, I, Allison Callahan, the normally quiet, studious, and ultra-organized librarian… am cranky.

The past year’s been tough. Instead of slacking off and burying my nose in a book all day, I’m back at work patrolling the main floor. I’d much rather be devouring the latest release in my current genre obsession — erotic romance, which I nicknamed the Filthies. My e-reader contains over 200 of them, and my large roster of book boyfriends has taught me a few very important things. Mainly, that I’m a secret horndog with a preference for heavy-handed men.

I secretly lust after all the Filthies’ ass-slapping alphas. And… my real-life alpha best friend, Dane. He’s the man I’ve known for twenty years, the same man who, ever since he was involved in a minor accident a few months ago, has tried to kiss me every chance he gets. I don’t let him. It’s not because I don’t want to, or even because I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship (which I don’t), but because I’m…

… the biggest chickenshit on the planet. My Mom and my sister Tara would scold me for swearing, but really, chickenpoop just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Now, between being unable to read and frustrated at having to learn video conferencing technology, my workday seems like it’s lasted forever. Dane texts the minute my shift ends, promising me dinner and a movie if I help him pack for his upcoming move. I drive over, kicking my pinchy shoes off as soon as I enter his bedroom. If he’s surprised, he hides it well. I hardly ever cross the threshold from the enormous living room into his private suite. He turns his imposing six-foot-two self toward me and smiles a little too big.

“Hey there, AllieKat. Take a seat. Just a few more boxes, and then we can watch Girl on the Train, okay? Pepperoni pizza is on the way, I got you a huge bag of kettlecorn, and there’s pumpkin pie for dessert.”

“What girl on which train? And triple yes on the ‘za, corn and pie.”

He opens his mouth to explain his movie choice, but I just laugh and flop backwards on the bed. It’s convenient when your bestie understands your serious sweet tooth. His bedroom isn’t so risky tonight since my sister and his brother are home. Tara and Jared have been playing house for over a month, trying to integrate her two cats and their new puppy, Bentley, who’s a holy terror. Bentley finally learned not to mess with the felines, but now he’s taken to stealing things and leading everyone on a mad chase around the house. Within five minutes of my arrival, he’s already stolen a potholder, the roll of packing tape, and a pair of Tara’s leather boots.

My usual propriety takes a backseat as I recline on Dane’s bed, his cool comforter sliding beneath my hands. I stare up at the ceiling, cross my bird-like legs and ponder how to mention the reunion without ticking him off. He already knows something’s up, though. Usually, I say no to Dane during the week; we’re both too busy. But he needs help packing, and I need to convince him our ten-year hybrid-virtual reunion this Saturday will be fun. After a year and a half of social miss-tancing and another four-month delay because two other venues cancelled, I need to hang out with old friends, in person. Safely, just not alone.

I’m still wary of running into Thomas Hyde. He was a no-show at our five-year and hasn’t RSVPed to this one yet. Thomas was our movie-star quarterback, the only boy who asked me to my senior prom. When he picked me up for the dance, he told me I was beautiful. Later, swaying to an angsty ballad, he whispered, “No man is ever going to want to date you, Allie Callie,” right before he abandoned me on the dance floor.

Was he a jerk? Absolutely. But his words wormed their way into my psyche: a man can tell you that you’re beautiful in one breath and dump you the next. Since then, I’ve had scant few dating offers (four, if I count one disastrous blind date) and even fewer boyfriends (two who couldn’t deal with my having a boy BFF).

My track record with men in general is sketchy, and with Dane specifically, it’s abysmal. One visit to his frat house at Harvard proved we weren’t meant to be. My teenage crush on Criss Angel came in handy, because nobody suspected I faked throwing back four shots. Only the fifth one was real, and I gagged. Malört is evil. I started acting tipsy, figuring it was now or never. I sat next to Dane, tried to French kiss him, and when that didn’t work, went for broke, pitching face-first into his crotch. Told him I wanted to lick his Danesicle. Disgusted, he picked me up and put me to bed — alone. I left him a note in the wee hours (claiming Malört Memory of the prior night’s events) and slunk back home to die a private death of mortification.

I used to think I was a prude, but after that, I knew Dane is the most sexually conservative person I’ve ever met. Even the word sex makes him cough and sputter. Tara’s extremely open, I’m more the “keep it under wraps,” type, and Dane — well, even his current bedroom furniture is prudish and perfunctory. Square, plain. Mission-style. As in “missionary.”

For now, I drag my mind out of the gutter and prop myself up with a pillow. Watching him sort and pack soothes me, his biceps flexing under the weight of heavy law books he’s dumping into random boxes. The sight of his corded forearms, the biceps hiding inside his tight Henley, the curve of his muscular thighs filling out his jeans. All these things turn me on, but tonight my heart races because I really need to sell Dane on the reunion thing. I don’t want to play the loner librarian, especially if Thomas shows. Overthinking is my specialty, so I swallow the lump of reticence to cue up my rehearsed Reunion Ruse. By the looks of it, I’m not the only one about to take a chance.

Dane is going to try to kiss me again. He always angles for a peck, usually on the cheek, and he’s predictable as ever: his face gets this dopey, hopeful expression, followed by the twitch of his left eyelid. It’s kind of cute, considering.

Mr. Twitchy would freak if he knew how sexually conservative I’m not. To him, I’m still Encyclopedia Allie, strait-laced, straight-A and headed straight for 2.25 kids in a white picket fence suburbia. Dane would never look at me the same again knowing I have less-than-vanilla preferences, and while I don’t think spanking is that strange, he would. People who color outside the lines, like my sister, make him uncomfortable. If he knew my preferences, he’d run. And if he did? I’d die.

So Dane trying to kiss me? Not going to happen. I love him too much as a friend. To him, I’m a nice, vanilla girl, and I want to stay that way, even if it means one day seeing him with someone else.

I still fantasize about him taking me over his lap and whipping my ass to a cherry red, though. I just keep that freaky little fantasy to myself.



When she’s not obsessing over her latest characters and dreaming up meet-cutes for future books, Lauren Alsten loves photographing wildlife while hiking under a warm sun and bright blue skies. Her writing journey began with A-list movie star fan fiction, but these days she prefers penning humorous tales of emotional upheaval served with a side of snark. She currently lives with two ungrateful cats who never lift a paw to help around the house.
Find Laura Online: Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter 



PREORDER: Atlas’ World by Darlene Tallman #mcromance #suspense @darzee_t

Atlas’ World: A Poseidon’s Warriors MC Novel – Book 5
By: Darlene Tallman
Photographer: JW Photography
Cover Model: Theodore Brown
Cover by: Tracie Douglas of Dark Water Covers
Release Date: 12/31/21

Beck ‘Atlas’ Crandall is a combat veteran, just like the majority of his club brothers that started Poseidon’s Warriors MC. A trained medic, it was his responsibility to head into missions in an effort to hopefully rescue those involved. Sadly, most ended up being recovery situations instead, which started causing him extreme mental duress. However, the last mission they were on, the one that had them all leaving once their time was up, pretty much sent him down a dark, twisted path. He’s awakened more times than he cares to admit sitting inside his closet, back against the wall, with his gun in hand. Only, he refuses to allow his brothers to find him like that, so when Poseidon mentions the possibility of him getting a service dog to help him on the rougher days, he practically leaps at the chance. He’ll try anything to appear normal once again, instead of a broken-down, former Navy SEAL who now helps run the club’s auto and bike shop.

He doesn’t expect her to worm her way into his life, but after several years of watching her during events and parties at the club, he notices that she’s spiralling and realizes that he might be able to help. That’s all he intended to do, but Fate had other plans.

Patsy Maddox, lifelong best friend to CeeCee Morgan O’Rourke, has grown used to being around the bikers. She’s never kept any secrets from CeeCee. Until now. How can she reveal her deep, dark secret about that terrible night without further losing her slight grasp on her sanity. Instead, an old issue that she thought she was long past dealing with, rears its ugly head once again. Now, she has her BFF as well as a broody, quiet biker on her to spill her guts. The only thing is, if she does, will everyone look at her differently? That’s her biggest fear—being thought of as less than. Too bad she’s got herself convinced that she’s already there.

*Suitable for ages 18+ due to adult subject matter and language*



I wake suddenly, my heart pounding as the remnants of my constant nightmare linger like onions do after they’ve been cooked. “Fuck,” I mutter to myself. After all these years, I had hoped that they would dissipate but instead, they’ve only gotten worse. I’m lucky to get two to three hours of sleep these days and unfortunately, it shows. Poseidon talked to me recently about possibly getting a service dog but I don’t know how much one would help at this point. Not only that, but I can barely keep myself alive some days, how the hell would I be able to take care of another living being? Stumbling out of my bed, I see that it’s a little after two in the morning. I already know from past nights that I won’t be able to go back to sleep, so I head into my ensuite. I grimace when I see myself in the mirror. This time, I managed to blacken my own eye for fuck’s sake. Sighing, I start the shower then strip out of my boxers before stepping inside.

As the water sluices over my exhausted body, I groan out loud. There are some days when I wonder why I keep waking up, why I don’t end it all. My brothers’ faces swim in my head reminding me that there’s no fucking way I’d want them to find me like that. No sense in fucking any of them up as badly as I am, that’s for sure. I have to do something, though, because I can’t keep going like this, half-ass dead all day long, pushing myself to work as hard as possible so that memories don’t paralyze me. It’s only in the dark, when my exhausted body falls into a restless slumber that those ghosts come out to play.

Once I’m done with my shower, I wrap a towel around my waist then peer into the mirror as I shave. It’s far too early to head to the shop, so after slipping on some clean clothes, I sit down at my computer desk then boot up my laptop. 

Time to do some research on service dogs. May as well since I don’t think Poseidon is going to let up until I agree with him. It’s not often I disagree; he was our commanding officer after all and I readily followed him into missions without a second’s hesitation. I’m just not sure why I don’t feel the same way now. I know I’ve got PTSD, at least that’s what I was diagnosed with at the military hospital. Tried the stupid medications they gave me but gave them up because I couldn’t handle feeling like I was walking through life in a foggy haze. Granted, I probably should’ve talked to the shrink they sent me to and asked if there were other medications available, but my childhood memories of my parents laying around, drunk or high, kept me from doing so. 

They’ve made advancements, I’m sure, I just haven’t had the guts to go back. Which is mind-blowing in so many ways because I’ve faced death more times than I care to think about, yet the thought of taking my ass into a doctor’s office and saying I need help practically drops me to my knees.

It couldn’t hurt, Beck, my mind whispers as I scroll various websites to see which one I want to read first.

Several hours later, when the sun is peeking through my blinds, I lean back and stretch to loosen the kinks in my neck and shoulders. I’ve watched multiple videos of trained dogs with their owners, seen how they respond to various stimuli, and how the owners are able to better function in their daily activities. Some even reported that they now slept, their dogs keeping the ghosts at bay. Armed with several printouts, I grab my cut then slide it on, prepared to talk to my president the next time I see him.

Looks like I’m going to get a dog.

Frosty the Snow Dom by Angela Knight #holidayromance #BDSM #darkfantasy @AngelaKnight

Steaming up the ice…

When ice artist Judith Dane is hired to create a kinky version of Michelangelo’s David, she thinks the ice sculpture is just another Christmas party centerpiece. But when she delivers the work she’s nicknamed “Frosty the Snow Dom” to the BDSM club Valhalla, the party turns out to be a lot stranger than she expects.

When Frosty comes to life just like a certain snowman, she discovers just how hot ice can be. But what happens when the spell breaks?

Get it Today at Changeling Press


All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2021 Angela Knight

Judith Dane stepped forward to sink the electric chainsaw carefully into the block of ice, sending a fine spray of snow crystals flying. The Stihl E180 vibrated in her grip as she sliced downward in a long, smooth curve, following the outline of muscled male ribs cut into the ice.

The sculpture would serve as the centerpiece of the client’s party the next night. Judith wanted to finish roughing the figure in before she returned it to the walk-in freezer overnight.

She was alone in the dim, cavernous studio, with its racks of power tools, chisels, and drill bits. This close to midnight, the other carvers had gone home. Judith knew she should follow suit, but the compulsion to work on Frosty was too strong to ignore.

She had no idea why she felt so enthralled by the piece she called Frosty the Snow Dom. For one thing, she didn’t have time for an attack of artistic obsession. With Christmas just four days away, IceCellence Ice Sculptures had more work than they knew what to do with. Corporations, hotels, and the wealthy had commissioned another forty-two sculptures for holiday parties between now and New Year’s.

Though she had to admit, this was the first time she’d ever been called upon to re-create Michelangelo’s David as a leather Dom. Valhalla, New York’s newest BDSM club, was hosting a Christmas party.

The mind boggled.

Just think of all the things you could do with a candy cane. Judith grinned. She had to admit, the thought was intriguing. Which is probably a sign I’ve read too many kinky romances.

Chainsaw rumbling, Judith stepped back to study the six-foot rectangle of ice — a pair of three-hundred-pound blocks stacked on top of one another and frozen together. She’d used an electric drill to carve a shallow outline of the figure on the surface of the blocks.

Frosty was going to be her best work yet.

Hefting the chainsaw, Judith stepped in again to deepen the cut she’d just made. A hunk of ice fell, narrowly missing her foot, and she danced as it shattered on the concrete floor. As she released the Stihl’s trigger, the blade automatically stopped whining.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the sudden silence. Judith jumped, damn near dropping the chainsaw.

“No!” A woman cried in the quavering voice of the elderly. “Leave me alone!”

“I don’t think so, you old bitch,” a man snarled over a chorus of drunken male laughter. “We’re tired of you stinking up the streets.”

Something thudded. There was another pitiful cry. “Stop! Let me go! Help!”

More ugly laughter.

Oh fuck. Fuckety fuck fuck. Judith ran to her wheeled carving station, put down the Stihl, and snatched up her cell phone. Her thumb danced over the screen.

“911,” a cool male voice said. “What’s your emergency?”

“I hear a woman screaming in the alley outside IceCellence Ice Sculptures. Sounds like several men are attacking her.” She rattled off her name and the Brooklyn address.

“We’ll send an officer. Stay inside and don’t unlock your door.”

Outside, the woman screamed again.

“Hurry! It sounds like they’re killing her.” Judith hung up, shaking, as she stared at the fire door that led to the alley behind IceCellence. She hoped the cops hauled ass. Every minute they delayed gave those bastards more time to do God knows what. Would the old woman even be alive by the time they arrived?

Thud. “No! Help!” The last word quavered, a pitifully weak cry.

Judith’s eyes fell on the Stihl lying on her carving station. Nothing’s quite as intimidating as a chainsaw.

“Heeeelppp!” A gasp.

Fuck this. She dropped the cell in a pocket of her hoodie and ran to the pegboard, where a huge roll of extension cord hung. Heaving the coil off the wall, she lugged it back to her station. You couldn’t use a gas-powered chainsaw indoors, so all their equipment was electric. Unfortunately, that meant the machine had to be plugged in.

This is crazy, the voice of sanity protested in the back of her mind. Judith didn’t care. That old lady sounded too damn much like her grandmother. Damned if I’ll stand here and listen to her get the shit beaten out of her.


New York Times best-selling author Angela Knight has written and published more than sixty novels, novellas, and ebooks, including the Mageverse and Merlin’s Legacy series. With a career spanning more than two decades, Romantic Times Bookclub Magazine has awarded her their Career Achievement award in Paranormal Romance, as well as two Reviewers’ Choice awards for Best Erotic Romance and Best Werewolf Romance.

Angela is currently a writer, editor, and cover artist for Changeling Press LLC. She also teaches online writing courses. Besides her fiction work, Angela’s writing career includes a decade as an award-winning South Carolina newspaper reporter. She lives in South Carolina with her husband, Michael, a thirty-year police veteran and detective with a local police department.

New Release: The Journeyman’s Trial by Lisabet Sarai #Steampunk  #Menage #Lesbian #Bisexual #Dominance #Submission @lisabetsarai

New Release!

The Journeyman’s Trial

The Toymakers Guild Book 2

By Lisabet Sarai

Steampunk Erotica, MF, MM, FF, MFM, FMF, etcetera…

92,000 words, 321 pages

Smashwords and Amazon KDP

ISBN (Smashwords): 9780463505649

ASIN: ‎ B09MQV4Y86

If she builds it, will they come?

Technically brilliant and thoroughly wanton, Gillian Smith has found her  vocation: designing innovative erotic devices for the Toymakers Guild. Lust is a lubricant to creativity at Randerley Hall. But what happens when two Toymakers fall in love?

The Guild’s tribe of talented, uninhibited engineers has embraced Gillian as one of their own. Edward Thorne, the perverse genius who founded the Guild, undertakes to train her in the skills she’ll need as a journeyman, from practical mind-reading to transcendental orgasms.

As Gillian labours to impress the charismatic Master, her enigmatic fellow journeyman Rafe both entices and frustrates her. Their passion seems to go beyond mere appetite, but in Randerley’s promiscuous and permissive environment, does love make any sense?

When the Toymakers receive a commission to equip London’s most exclusive brothel with the latest sexual technology, Gillian has the chance to demonstrate her formidable abilities as well as to help Rafe exorcise the demons of his past. She doesn’t realize she’ll be forced to choose between Rafe and her future in the Guild.

If you like intelligent, lusty women and kinky steam punk sex toys, pick up a copy of The Journeyman’s Trial.

Buy Links

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Amazon  US –

Amazon UK –

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Add on Goodreads –

PG Excerpt

At the foot of the stairs, she almost collided with a lean, dark figure. If he hadn’t grabbed her by both shoulders, they both might have tumbled to the floor.

“Why, hello, Jill!” A cocky smile lit the young man’s aquiline features. “I haven’t seen much of you lately.” He held on to her for considerably longer than was necessary to stabilise them. When he let go, she continued to feel his hands, heating her skin through the fabric of her garment.

“Good afternoon, Rafe.” She brushed some imaginary dust off her somewhat wrinkled lab coat. It was true that she’d barely spoken two words to her fellow journeyman since he’d rescued her on the moors two weeks before. Half the time he hadn’t even been at the dinner table. She’d wondered if he was travelling again. “I’ve been occupied with learning my new duties. The Master has been training me.”

His eyebrows arched. “Training, hmm? I’d like to know more about just what that entails!” He ran his fingers through his unkempt black locks. “I never got any sort of training from the Master. Of course, he hasn’t been around much. If I recall, he left Randerley only a few weeks after I joined the Guild.”

“When was that?” She wasn’t sure how she felt about the brash, forward young man who’d stolen a kiss within half an hour of her meeting him. Well, perhaps stolen wasn’t exactly the right term, but still, he seemed to have quite familiar manners.

“Two years ago last Christmas. Seems like a lifetime.”

“And before the Guild?”

His expression darkened. “I don’t really want to talk about that. Anyway, I’ve got an appointment with the Master in two minutes.”

Gillian stepped back to give him free access to the stairs. “You mustn’t keep him waiting, then.”

“But I’m really delighted to run into you.” He chuckled at his own jest. “Care to go riding with me tomorrow afternoon?”

“I’ve got quite a lot of work—”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday. Even that slave driver Featherstone takes Saturday afternoon off! Come on, Jill. Say yes!” His hand was back on her shoulder, casual, warm, maddening.

“Well… I grew up in the city, so I’m not much of a horsewoman.” She had to admit to being curious about Rafe. With his loose-limbed grace and easy smile, he was definitely attractive. Shouldn’t she be focused on her training, though?

“We’ll put you on Dorothea. She’s a sweet, biddable mare who won’t give you any trouble. And Samson likes her.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’ve got to go!” He squeezed her shoulder briefly and ran his fingers through her curls, then bounded up the stairs. “Meet you at the stables tomorrow at three,” he called out as he climbed out of sight.

“But…” There was no one to listen to Gillian’s excuses. In any case, why should she object? Rafe was a fellow member of the Guild. It was only fitting they should get to know one another – perhaps intimately.

Special deal! Get The Pornographer’s Apprentice, The Toymakers Guild Book 1, for only 99 cents during the tour!  Buy links here:

Rave Reviews for The Toymakers Guild Book 1

There are many more plot points, but I don’t want to spoil your enjoyment of this book. It has varied and steamy sex scenes that will take your breath away, a plucky heroine who doesn’t always come out on top (ahem), but who always prevails in her quest to be accepted as a Toymaker.  ~ Fiona McGier, Goodreads

With thoughtfully written characters, hot sex scenes, and a well-paced and interesting plot, the Toymaker’s Apprentice leaves you asking only one question….when is the next book in the series coming out? ~ The Phantom Tollbooth, Amazon

[A] fast paced, hilarious, and thoroughly entertaining story as Gillian gets intimate with the staff and technology, only to find that there is a plot against the Guild that she takes on to save the day. I can’t wait to read what happens in the next book! ~ Arthur Royo, Amazon

About Lisabet

Lisabet Sarai became addicted to words at an early age. She began reading when she was four. She wrote her first story at five years old and her first poem at seven. Since then, she has written plays, tutorials, scholarly articles, marketing brochures, software specifications, self-help books, press releases, a five-hundred page dissertation, and lots of erotica and erotic romance – over one hundred titles, and counting, in nearly every sub-genre—paranormal, scifi, ménage, BDSM, GLBT, and more. Regardless of the genre, every one of her stories illustrates her motto: Imagination is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

You’ll find information and excerpts from all Lisabet’s books on her website (, along with more than fifty free stories and lots more. At her blog Beyond Romance (, she shares her philosophy and her news and hosts lots of other great authors. She’s also on Goodreads, Pinterest, BookBub and Twitter. Join her VIP email list here:

SPOTLIGHT: Holly Jolly Monstrous Holiday by Eva DeMoan #monsters #horrorerotica #darkfantasy @EvaDeMoan

Trapped on an icy planet, Aurora is about to have the steamiest holiday ever. Krampus wants her, and he always gets what he wants. He’ll own her body and soul, but first, she has to make it through the initiation of becoming his mate.

Gnomes, satyrs, an abominable snowman, and an ice dragon will make Aurora scream in pleasure. She might balk and resist, but in the end, she’ll give in… and soon, she’ll belong to Krampus!

*WARNING: Holly, Jolly Monstrous Holiday is not a romance! It’s pure erotica, meaning there isn’t a plot to speak of, lots of steamy sex that will melt your e-reader (with naughty creatures), and no character development. If you’re looking for a romance or plot driven story, this isn’t it.

Holly, Jolly Monstrous Holiday is a short erotica collection (approximately 30 pages)

Get it from Amazon

SNEAK PEEK (Adult Content)

I stomped my feet as I stepped out onto the porch, my breath fogging in front of me. Rubbing my hands together, I surveyed the frozen land around my small home. Until a grunting noise drew my attention. I peered over the edge and narrowed my eyes at the disgusting little gnomes in the yard.

“I told you not to do that!” I glared at the offending little men.

The one in the red hat winked at me and tugged on his cock faster. When he came, it looked like snow shot out of him and his body jerked. I wrinkled my nose at the scent of snow blossoms. The gnome in the blue hat edged closer to me, reaching out to touch the toe of my shoe. Between the hungry look in his eyes and his hard cock, I knew exactly what he wanted and it wasn’t happening.

“Forget it,” I said, yanking my foot back.

They’d do anything for you, a voice whispered across my mind. One touch, and you’d own them.

I shook my head. That wasn’t what I wanted. Not even a little. I took another step back until I hit the front door. Reaching behind me, I tried to turn the knob but my fingers were getting numb from the frigid air.

Own them. Let them adore you. Pleasure you.

“No! I don’t want that.”

Then I will own you. You’ll be mine, sweet Aurora.


Eva DeMoan loves erotica, both writing and reading it. The filthier, and the kinkier, the better. While Eva has always loved monster books and movies when she saw the World of Warcraft movie she fell head over heels for Durotan, the orc Chieftan. That’s when Eva decided to start writing some monster stories of her own.

If you’d like to be notified of future Eva DeMoan releases, follow her on Amazon! Be sure to also check out her serials on Kindle Vella.

You can also find Eva on Facebook and on Twitter

SPOTLIGHTL Blood Trail (The Undercover Series) by Ruchi Singh #romanticthriller @BookReviewTours @RuchiWriter

Trisha is mortified as a stranger flirts with her at a society party. The very fact that he singles her out, and she gives in to her pent-up desires and attraction towards the handsome stranger, lands her in a soup so deadly that it brings danger and death to her doorstep.
Coming out of a brutal undercover assignment, busting the spine of a major illegal drug cartel, Armaan is looking for some peace and quiet. Instead his path coincides with Trisha Mehra. Sparks fly. As do bullets too.
By sheer coincidence, when they meet again, they have an accident. Again!
And IB agent Major Armaan Joshi does not believe in coincidences.

Another standalone novel under Undercover series, yet connected in spirit, from the author of bestsellers ‘The Bodyguard’ and ‘Guardian Angel’…

Book  Links:
Goodreads * *

Read an Excerpt from Blood Trail

His eyes habitually scanned the view outside the hall and did a double-take. A figure in a black dress stood at the edge of the pool. Slim calves encased in multiple, thin, silver straps of her heels invited him like no other. She stood pensively staring at the water shimmering in the pool. Curiosity had him peeling himself from his post at the corner of the hall and start toward the exit leading to the pool.
Maybe he would get lucky in all the areas today.
Without taking his eyes off her, he exited the big room. She appeared to be deep in her thoughts staring at the blue water that rippled with the slight garden breeze.
“Hope you are not thinking of diving in?”
She gasped and turned around. “Beg your pardon!” Her eyes big on her lean face.
He couldn’t help but smile at her ‘convent-educated’ reaction. The garden lights cast a shadow making her look enigmatic and royal. Tall and slim with a shoulder-length bob-cut framing her delicate face, she was almost his height in the sexy, foot-breaking heels. He was not used to women matching his height.
“I was just curious. You have been staring at the pool for quite some time. I wondered if you were having some self-destructive thoughts.” He smiled. The water in the pool was just two feet deep.
A shapely eyebrow arched sophisticatedly. “And you decided to come to my rescue?”
“No… no… please carry on.” He waved his glass in the air. “I have no intention of becoming a knight.”
“Wouldn’t that be anticlimactic since you sought me out to save me from my untimely demise?” Her eyes changed from being pensive to playful.
He suppressed a smile at the encouraging transformation. “So you do believe in heroes, in this era and age!” His own eyes glinted with an answering whimsy.
Ready with an answering retort, she opened her mouth, but her phone rang. She exhaled, threw an exasperated glance at him as if annoyed at the disruption and answered. “Yes… yes, of course, I’m coming.” She looked at him and stepped around, “If you’ll excuse me.”
He inclined his head, and she left.

Author of the bestselling romantic thrillers, Ruchi Singh is an IT professional and novelist writing under Romance and Suspense genre. She is a bilingual author and writes in both Hindi and English.

Winner of the Times Of India WriteIndia Season 1, she began her writing career writing short stories and articles, which have been published on various forums. She has been a contributing author to a number of anthologies and has published many short stories under various genres. She has also won the Indireads Story Competition, in ‘crime’ genre.

A voracious reader, she loves everything—from classics to memoirs to editorials to chick-lit, but her favourite genre is ‘romantic thriller’.

Ruchi on the Web:

SPOTLIGHT: More than Fine by Jenni Bara #holidayromance #contemporaryromance @Jenniferbbar3

She’s running from her past, he’s hiding from the world when suddenly their lives collide.

Trish Biltman has spent the last two years evading a past she fears. Tucked away in a small seaside Jersey town, with her two young children, her life is simple. Until the day a photo from her best friend’s highly publicized wedding shows up on Page 6, and she finds herself once again on the run trying to keep her family safe.

Since his divorce, Grant Evans has focused his time and attention on his secluded Pennsylvania farm. His solitary life is fine, until the quiet, brown-eyed Trish and her adorable—but loud—kids need somewhere to go. Since his farm is their only option Grant reluctantly opens his doors to them.

Both Trish and her kids begin to thaw the ice that held Grant’s heart captive for years as he teaches her to trust again.  But the darkness from her past comes back, threatening their relationship, just as Grant starts to believe life can be

More than Fine.

Purchase from your favorite bookseller!


 “I thought you’d be up at five. I was trying to have everything ready for you,” Trish said, turning back to hurry through whatever she was stirring.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said. Trish glanced back at him before turning away again quickly, almost like she felt guilty. “Do you think you need to make me breakfast?”

Her head shot around, but she didn’t say anything.

“I mean, I told you last night I’d eat any time you made food, but I didn’t mean it to be an obligation,” he explained.

She shook her head, and Grant waited while she thought. Trish was slower to answer questions, but if he didn’t rush her, she’d eventually reply. Her brow ruffled, and then her head cocked to the side before she finally looked back at him.

“I wanted to do something nice for you.” There was an open honesty in her statement. She wasn’t buttering him up, and she wasn’t looking for something in return. She was selflessly doing something for someone else. Grant’s chest panged at the difference between this and what he was used to experiencing. She paused again and looked down. “And I wanted to say I’m sorry for running from you last night. It’s just…” She paused again, and her teeth sank into her lush bottom lip. Finally, she looked up and said, “My side hurts,” as if she was apologizing.

“Well, you got cut open and parts of you were taken out, so it should,” Grant said, his eyes drifting to her side, to the exact spot his hand had touched. Then something occurred to him. The way she’d have to twist to change the bandage herself would probably cause her more pain. “Have you been able to clean or change your bandage?”

She swallowed and shook her head.

“Trish,” he sighed. It had been two days, and he knew it should be changed daily. “Can you pause breakfast? And by that, I mean if you take ten minutes off from cooking, will it still taste like heaven?” He sent her a smile to reassure her he wasn’t mad, but wanted to help.

“It’s basically done; if I turn it down, it can simmer.”

He nodded and took a step toward her. “Then can I please change the bandage for you?”

“You don’t have to,” she said. “I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“I know.” He took two steps closer to her. They were now only an arm’s length apart. “And you’re not.”

She finally nodded, and he took the final step to her. He could touch her now, he could smell the sweet scent of her skin, but he didn’t move closer. He waited until she looked at him again, making sure she was comfortable.

When she met his eyes, he asked, “Can I lift you up onto the counter?”

He watched her brain start to tick, trying to figure out how she could jump or lift herself. Her lips tightened to a straight line as the realization passed through her: She couldn’t. Finally, she met his eyes again with a small nod.

Gradually, he reached out toward her waist, giving her plenty of time to stop him, but she didn’t. His palms hit the soft fuzz of the flannel first, then his hands came to rest on ample female hips. He slowly lifted her weight and sat her on the counter before stepping between her legs.

His hands rose deliberately, undoing the buttons of her shirt. One. Two. As each button came open, more of the curve of breast and the pinch of her waist in the fitted white tank top came into view. Three. This was killing him. Four. The flannel opened, revealing the body she always hid.

He met her eyes, and the air buzzed around them. He lifted his hand and, painfully slowly, he pushed the red and black material off her shoulder. Goosebumps broke out across all of the soft peachy skin he revealed. He swallowed and glanced back up to her eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize how cold it is in here,” he allowed.

She shook her head and took her arm out of the sleeve. He quickly got what he needed so he could move back to her. Careful not to cause her any pain, he raised the white tank top just enough to reveal the bandage he needed to remove. He peeled the tape cautiously, watching her skin pebble with additional goosebumps, until it finally gave way. He looked at the black stitches, all ten of them, that cut into her soft skin. He watched his hands work, but he could feel her eyes on his face. Grant frowned at the harsh red skin still swelling around every black piece of thread. No wonder his soft touch made her eyes water.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his eyes up to meet hers. Those giant brown orbs rimmed by thick dark lashes watched him with such open trust it caused a weird, painful crack in the armor surrounding his heart.


Even as a young child Jenni Bara would conjure up all kinds of tales with her endless imagination. She’s improved her skills since the days of scaring her younger cousins with ghost stories, but her love for books and stories has never changed. 

In her everyday life, she is a paralegal for family law writing unhappily ever afters for people every day. So in turn she spends her free time with anything that keeps her laughing including life with her four kids, or five if you count her husband!

All joking aside she is blessed to have not only a very supportive husband but super supportive parents as well as a loving extended family always happy to share their opinions! 

Her favorites spots all have the best views of the sunsets and she loves to share the views through photos. 

She just began her career as a romance author writing books full of life, love, and laughter. 

Find out more about Jenni and her books HERE.