Friday, February 20, 2015
One woman emerging from the depths.
At the age of seventeen, Amelia Baide won silver at the Olympic Games and was the second-fastest woman in the pool. Then one tragic night she crashed into a lake and was dragged out without a pulse. Now twenty-four, she is still haunted by it and hasn’t swum again. Until this year’s anniversary of the accident. It is a day unlike any other and a strange turn of events finds Amelia back at a swimming pool.
Harry Jamieson had eyes for one girl, while women and the media had eyes for him. As a trainer of Olympic athletes, he was an in-demand man. Until one boozy morning after … But from bad luck to pure chance he runs into his old flame, Amelia, at a swimming pool no less. She doesn’t remember a thing from the night of the crash.
And Harry knows every single secret.
The pair joins forces—a comeback for Amelia and Harry’s ultimate coaching opportunity. But dodging waves is hard to do; and even the strongest swimmer may sink.
Where We Belong is a second-chance love story for young and old, for swimming enthusiasts and romantics at heart.
Links to Buy
Wednesday, February 18, 2015
Raindrops on Roses (Favorite Things Trilogy #1)
by Millenia Black
Genre: Contemporary Romance/ Women’s Fiction
Age category: Adult
Release Date: November 18, 2014
What happens when the man you love falls in love with someone else?
Mayfair Island, Florida. Grief-stricken after the sudden loss of her beloved grandmother, an enduring but reclusive Hollywood icon, young Priscilla Bauer finds herself adrift and looking to find solace in the arms of her vast inheritance, when she meets the kind and considerate corporate brand designer, Michael Frost—a drop dead gorgeous beacon of light in her all too dark night.
Falling hard and falling fast, Priscilla has no idea she’s stepped into dangerous territory...Because someone else has already branded Michael Frost her very own—and she has no intention of ever letting him go.
Passions are high, but bitter vengeance gets even higher!
With Raindrops on Roses, the captivating Favorite Things Novella Trilogy—takes flight!
You can find Raindrops on Roses on Goodreads
You can buy Raindrops on Roses here:
- Amazon paperback
- Amazon UK
- Amazon Uk paperback
- Barnes & Noble
You can watch the trailer for Raindrops on Roses on Youtube
About the Author:
No one does family and relationship drama quite like bestselling author Millenia Black! Heralded as a double life and relationship expert, she's been a featured guest on radio shows across the country, discussing the 7 Smoke Signals Your Man is Living a Double Life.
A celebrated alumnus of Keiser University, Millenia lives in the State of Florida where she's currently hard at work on BLUE SATIN SASHES, book two of the highly acclaimed Favorite Things Trilogy!
Currently unmarried, she's never dated anyone living a double life...
You can find and contact Millenia here:
There is a tour wide giveaway for the blog tour of Raindrops on Roses. This is the prize you can win:
- a 100$ amazon gift card
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Tuesday, February 17, 2015
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Monday, February 16, 2015
“How can you say things like that? You don’t even know the woman I’ve become. I’m not that girl who relied on you, the one who would’ve followed you anywhere. I’m not her anymore, Nic. I can’t ever be her again.”
“Maybe I’m not asking for her.” He leaned closer to her face. “Maybe I want to know the woman you are today. I want another shot at this.”
“No,” she whispered.
“If you remember anything about me, I have a hard time with that word.” He tipped her chin, focusing on her lips. “I am going to kiss you. Right here and right now.”
Her knees buckled as a cool tremor swept through her. She wanted to say no. It was the only logical word to mutter, but her heart didn’t want her to say it. Her body wasn’t on board with turning him down either. The warmth that built in her stomach had moved lower, and now all she could think about was his lips on hers.
“It doesn’t sound like you’re asking,” she breathed out.
Before she could say anything else, his mouth was on hers, eager, but slow and soft. His stubble grazed along her chin as he tilted his head and deepened their bond. The sound throughout the crowded lobby seemed to fade into the background, and soon, all she could hear was her heart pumping loud between her ears. Why did he have to be such a freakin’ good kisser?
After the incredibly long connection, he pulled away, but not before stopping to kiss the bottom corner of her mouth like he used to.
“I’ve waited a long time to do that,” he said. “It was worth every lonely minute.”
“I... Nic...” She’d always had the gift of words. It was what she did for a living, but in that moment, all of her thoughts were jumbled and senseless.
“It’s okay.” He grinned as he stroked her cheek. “Let’s get something to eat and maybe figure this out. Whatever this is.”
“No.” She ran her hands along his strong chest, resting them on his shoulders.
“Don’t over analyze this, baby.” He glanced down at her hands on his body. “Let’s just go with it.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” She took a breath and continued before she lost her nerve. “Take me upstairs to your room. I know how we can figure this out.”
“What are you asking?” He placed his hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer to him. “You need to be real clear.”
“I want to go upstairs with you.”
“That’s not why I kissed you.”
“Isn’t it?” She smirked. “We’re adults now, Nicky. Let’s settle this like adults.”
“I’m not looking to settle anything. That usually means it’s over, and we’re nowhere near over.” He motioned for Joe. “I’ll take care of the bar tab and then we’ll get dinner.”
“No.” She draped her arms around his neck, intoxicated by the idea of being so close to him again. He may be older now, and may have lost those boyish looks, but the man he had become suited him and drove her wild with need.
“What did I tell you about that word?”
“I can guarantee I won’t be using it once we’re in your bedroom.” She ran her tongue along her top lip. “I’m going to the ladies room. When I come out, if you’re not by the elevators waiting for me, I’ll know that kiss was nothing more than the heat of the moment and we can go on with our lives.”
“Shh.” She pressed her lips to his. “Now who’s over analyzing?” She reached for her purse and coat hanging on the back of the stool. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” I hope.
"Ella Jade always comes through with sexy little romps that are always entertaining" Manic Readers
"I read it in one sitting. I couldn't put it down. It has everything I LOVE in a sexy steamy hot book." My Daily Romance
"Very fun read." Musings From An Addicted Reader
"This is a story that you won't regret getting into." Adri at Sassy Moms Say Read Romance
Saturday, February 14, 2015
“It’s been six years, Diana,” I whispered into her hair. I struggled, my mind trying to collect the words I needed to say, to say them the right way, to mean them when I said them. “Do you really want me to be the one? Are you sure it should be me? Are you really ready?”
I remember pulling her close again, lightly kissing her eyelids, her cheeks, her lips. If I’d held my hand a half inch above any area on her body, I’m sure a current would’ve passed between us that could power all of Ashville. Her hair was everywhere, as was mine, and she trembled slightly in my arms as I stroked the mass of blond waves. I looked down at the length of our bodies intertwined, appreciating the beauty of her white skin against my darkness. Several strands of our hair lay together on my chest, and I couldn’t help but make a mental snapshot of the moment, the shiny blond and the glossy dark brown hair wrapped and twisted into one strand, our legs and bodies fused into a solid oneness. I twirled the hair together, as though that would keep us locked in each other’s arms permanently.
As erotic as the night had been, there had been no hesitation, no embarrassment, not a single apology, and there had been nothing dirty or vulgar or obscene about it. It was incredible, but it was also more than wild animal sex, and we both knew it. I kissed her shoulder, then drew her arm out and kissed down the inside of its length. That’s when I noticed it for the first time, her arm turned just the right direction in the candlelight. On the inside of her left wrist was a tattoo of a tiny Celtic fan.
We were like two fifteen-year-olds, exploring each other’s bodies, acting as if we alone had discovered the oldest pleasure known to man, were the only ones to realize that penises and vaginas fit together. There was a wonderment, a sparkle to it all, and even after all the women I’d been with, I felt as though Diana had stolen my virginity, as though she was the very first woman with whom I’d ever become one.”
The Writing of The Celtic Fan…
In the summer of 2000, my then-teenage daughter took a trip to Europe with a high school group. She hadn’t been gone twenty-four hours before I had an idea. I’d been writing for years, but I’d never been able to work up the nerve to write a book. So I set out to do just that.
I began writing and, as I did, the words began to pour out of my fingertips. They were so passionate and lovely that I couldn’t stop. I wrote in a frenzy because I knew that once my daughter walked back into the house, I’d go back into “full-time mom mode” and that would be it – it would never be finished.
I wrote. I wrote for three nights and four days. Without sleeping. Barely eating. Only occasionally getting up to go to the bathroom or stretch. Writing was all I did. And I finished it the day before she was set to return. Late that evening, after a nap, I opened the file and read through it. I’d assumed that, considering the way in which it was put down, it would be a four door, brass-plated disaster, and I was shocked to find that it was both clear and beautiful. Then I closed the file, caught up all of the things I was supposed to do while she was gone, picked her up from the airport, and never looked at it again.
In the next five years I devoted an enormous amount of time to writing, but I never went back to the book.
Time passed. I’d stored the files on three and one-half inch floppies. Somewhere along the line, I had one of those hideous Zip drives, and they got moved around to those cartridges too.
Several years and three computers later, to my horror, I found that the files were gone. I looked everywhere, scoured old floppy disks, searched through old hard drives. Nothing. They had vanished, lost in the technological shuffle.
Oddly enough, in mid-October 2013, over thirteen years after I’d first written this book, I was telling my partner about it. I’d never even mentioned it to him before, and after I explained the plot, I lamented, “It was really, really good. I wish I still had it.”
And then, on Halloween night – Samhain to me – he was recounting his trip to our ancient county courthouse that day and telling me about a clock crashing down from the wall, almost hitting a lady passing by. He said one of the security guards commented, “Yeah, we’ve had lots of poltergeist activity today.” We laughed about it.
But as I went to bed, I had a sudden thought: I’d bought a brand-new external hard drive, and it occurred to me that, although I backed up my files every night, I’d never checked to see if they really were backed up. I went back to my computer to check and found that they had not transferred, and my heart froze. I had to back them up. What if lightning struck? I’d lose everything I’d been working on, including several completed manuscripts. So I manually copied files, then opened the external hard drive to check and see if they were really there. I went to the search bar and typed in “writing.”
Up popped dozens of files, things I couldn’t identify. I stared at them in disgust, wondering what junk they could possibly be and where they could’ve possibly come from. I opened one that seemed particularly odd, and gasped.
There they were. The book; four books, in fact. All of the short stories. All of the poetry. Everything I’d wondered about, looked for, lost – all on a brand-new external hard drive.
To this very moment, I still have no clue how they got there. No one was more surprised than I, and I began to cry to the extent that my partner came to see what was wrong. I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t make sense, and yet there they were. I made note of where they were located, closed the files, shut down the computer for the night, and went to bed, barely able to sleep.
It was with shaking hands and a racing heart that I opened the file for The Celtic Fan the next morning and had the distinct, unimaginable joy of seeing these words intact and as beautiful as they were initially, a full thirteen years since their original writing.
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“There was a current, a flow, when we were together that I’d come to appreciate. It rolled and slipped and slid here and there between us, holding us together in our passion. I could feel it when I touched her, a palpable thing, meandering and lyrical, its own entity. When my hands left her body, they felt drawn again as if there were a magnetic pull, and my palms ached until I pressed them against her flesh again. She felt it too, I could tell, and let it breathe in and out of her, pouring itself into every gap, every crack, every crevice where our bodies didn’t meet, following the path of least resistance, binding us together with every stroke, every whispered moan, every touch. I loved that house, that room, that bed, but inside her was my true home.
I wanted to be sure of one thing. I wanted to be confident that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, Diana Nicole Frazier belonged to me. I already belonged to her, body and soul. She owned parts of me no other woman had even seen, things I didn’t know existed. I wanted her to believe and never doubt that we would be together. I wanted to give her something that would hold her to me until fall, until we could make the big decisions. Finding that thing, that way to cement us together, was my goal for the week.
She pulled my face to hers and kissed me, but I couldn’t stand it, couldn’t contain it. I stretched out on top of her, my arms around her, and sobbed out loud, all the love and pain and fear and joy wrapped up together in my embrace. Her tears were silent, but they filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks, falling into her hair and wetting it, wetting my hair too. I was home, and I didn’t want to leave.
Inside her, everything was right again, and for the first time in weeks my heart stopped aching.”