Why Should I have an Author Page on Facebook?

This is a question that I hear often – mostly from authors who are just starting to build their social media profile.  Many will have already set up an author profile, so they wonder why a page is a necessary addition.  Many don’t know how to use it effectively and so it becomes a daunting thought.  Today I’d like to simplify it for you if I can.

  • You absolutely should have an Author Page on Facebook.facebook-pages-logoAs an author, in this modern age of digital connectivity, it is easier than ever for you to control your interactions with your fans.  We’ve already discussed my position on adding people as friends on Facebook as an author, but this is a great option for those of you who don’t want to add any “strangers” to your personal profiles. Having a page will allow you to maintain contact with readers while maintaining your privacy and in order to build your author brand and possibly generate sales, interacting with readers is important.
  • How do I know what to post?I would recommend that you search for your favourite authors on Facebook and find their author pages. “Like” the page and then spend some time looking at what they post and how they manage their page.  If it’s a fantasy author, do they focus solely on fantasy style posts? A murder mystery author who shares only relevant info? Or perhaps they share various things about writing and reading in general?  Most post a mixed bag of things. From pictures and links to advice and articles of interest. An example of things to post would be to post funny pictures, writing memes, author quotes, links to favourite recipes and even music on YouTube.

    One of my favourites writes with a view of a river, so she posts pics of the boats on the river. She’s also an avid gardener, so she shares pics of crop successes (and failures) as well as meals that she’s cooked and photo’s of her favourite travel destinations… as well as pictures that are relevant to her books. Inspiration for settings, new covers, character inspiration etc.

  • So how do I remind people that I’m also trying to sell books?There are a few different ways to do this that don’t boil down to “here’s my book, please buy it”. It’s time for you to get creative and to think outside the box.  Sure, you should share your book covers and links to buy pages etc, but there are many other ways to remind people that you’re a writer!

    When you’re working on a book, let’s say a romance set in medieval Scotland, you could post a picture of a sexy, topless man in a kilt with a comment that says something like “I’m working on my new release and I needed a hot Scot for inspiration… you’re welcome! #Scot #inspiration #Sexy”. This will make people smile, make them wonder what your hot Scot is up to in the book and make them look forward to hearing more! When you participate in blog tours or if you’re having a giveaway, you also share these links on your author page.

  • This is going to take up a lot of time. Shouldn’t I rather be writing?You’d be surprised. Once you get the hang of it, managing your page will take up remarkably little time.  There is a great feature which will also make your life much simpler… you can schedule your posts!!  This means that you can set aside a few hours and schedule posts for several days to come.
  • Do I really need another social media profile to manage?Another great benefit of the author page is that you are able to link it to many of your existing other social media outlets.  This means that you can schedule posts to your page and also post simultaneously to your Twitter feed, Tumblr page etc.  Many birds with 1 stone!  (Just be careful not to link your Twitter feed to your Page, especially if you Tweet a LOT!).
  • How often should I post?Ideally, the frequency for posting to your page should be around every 5 hours.  This keeps your page active without being “spammy”.

Once you get into it all, you’ll find that it’s rather fun to search for images, links for articles and if your page is about you as an author, the kinds of books you read and write, fun trivia etc, you’ll start to build a following of people who are fans of you and your work.

If you fancy some further reading, this is a great blog post to start with.

Until next time…

BM xx

Get A “Real” Job

i-have-a-real-jobEarlier this week one of my friends – a fellow author – posted a status update on her wall that is all too familiar to anyone who runs in our circles.  The lyrics vary, but the tune remains the same… “You should get a real job”. In this particular case, my friend had made the cardinal sin of posting a status along the lines of “I wish I could get one of these…”. This post was innocent, one of many and of the type that I post often.  On this particular day though, one of her friends read this post and immediately took it as an open invitation to voice an opinion.

Had the opinion been “Me too”, then this would be a vastly different blog post.

No, this friend took it upon themselves message her with the advice that perhaps she should stop hanging out at home with her young daughter and “get a real job” and as for that “writing” thing that she does… well, if she had a “real job”, then she would have the money for things that she wanted. So if she would just “get a real job”, she wouldn’t have to wish for things.

I’m going to give you a moment to decide if you’re as outraged as we were or if you’re ok with that.  If you’re ok with that… I would suggest that you stop reading here and move on.

Still with me?  Well, then you can imagine that my friend had a response that was less than calm.  She has been fortunate enough to have a loving husband who is more than happy for her to remain at home with their toddler.  Her writing career, while hardly bringing in enough to retire on, is growing and while they’re not wealthy, they are happy, healthy and doing ok. If she wants to say “I wish” about a luxury item, that’s her right and none of your business!  Would she have suffered the same treatment if she had been working full-time and said the same thing??

Of course, motherhood is one of the hardest jobs on the planet as was proved by this great video, so I won’t go into that.

real jobWhat I’d like to address today is the fact that so many people look at authors and say that what we do is not a real job. Don’t even get me started on my job! A lot of what I do takes place in the digital world, via email or on social media and this immediately makes a lot of people around me assume that I’m not really working.

After all, who gets paid to be on Facebook and Twitter, Pinterest and YouTube?  ME!  Me and hundreds of other people who know how to use social media for more than just catching up with friends and family and cyber stalking supporting our favourite celebrities.

Only someone who has never written more than an email could possibly think that writing a novel is not work. Considering that many people would agree that mental work is often more exhausting than physical labour, why would those same people say that writing isn’t taxing?  Is it because we enjoy writing?  Well, if you enjoy being an accountant, does that mean that you don’t have a “real job” either??

Writing is not a hobby or something we do to kill time.  It is something we are passionate about, something we invest hours, days and weeks in and something that we hope one day to be able to earn a living at.  We spend incalculable numbers of hours in research, writing, revising, and then promotion and marketing. Most of us do this while holding down a day job which pays our bills, but every now and then, one of us will be afforded the opportunity to pursue our chosen career full time and believe me… we do NOT waste that time.

My advice in this situation comes from my dear Mom… “If you don’t have anything nice to say, rather say nothing at all.”

And to the person who had the nerve to offer this advice to her… If my friend had wanted an opinion on her wish, she would’ve asked for one. And believe me… between raising a toddler and working on her latest novel, she is working plenty hard enough to satisfy even your high standards.

What do you think?

Until next time…

BM xx

New Newsletter News: Kirsten Blacketer

I have to say that I love getting newsletters from my favourite authors and just this week I discovered that one of my best Historical Fiction authors is launching her newsletter and I cannot wait!! Her books are always a great read and I am a huge fan of her Facebook page too, but the idea of getting behind the scenes info and advance access to news via her newsletter is exactly the kind of excitement that an author newsletter should create in the reader!

Author Kirsten Blacketer

More about Kirsten Blacketer… Stick her in the middle of a chaotic home with two children, a hyperactive dog, and a camouflage wearing husband, and she can cook and clean with the best of them.  But when the sun goes down and the children are nestled in bed fast asleep, she tucks away her pots and broom and like Cinderella she transforms.

Her characters creep forth from the dark recesses of her mind taking their places in the castles and forests built from her words. No simpering heroines linger there with forlorn gazes turned to the horizon, waiting for their Prince Charming. They straighten their spine, arming themselves with blade and bow, prepared to do their part in defense of their honor and destiny. She breathes life into the women she believes our ancestors to be, showing how they lived and loved with passion and grace.

Never bored by the tales still left to tell, she battles the ever sarcastic muse in her quest for romance.


After you check out her great website, please do yourself a favour and sign up to her brand new newsletter… I promise you won’t be sorry!!

Kirsten Blacketer Newsletter Subscription

Are there any authors you would like to recommend to me?  I would love to hear from you.

Until next time…

BM xx

Win with our Tour Today

It’s time to take a trip with us into Katrina Hart’s fantasy world in Finding Destiny as we visit with her over on Romance Reviews Today and catch up on a spotlight post at Room with Books. Then we join Brantwijn Serrah over on Erzabet’s Enchantments. Don’t forget to enter her Rafflecopter giveaway!




The Need to Read!

book-759873_1920There is a curious thing that happens to me… ridiculously often actually. Something that is almost shocking to admit… I run out of time to read!!

I know, horrifying!

How is this possible you wonder? Well, there is the usual stuff, you know, cooking, cleaning, work, sleep. Then there is the fact that a large portion of my job is dedicated to being online at not-necessarily sociable hours of the evening / night. None of that is enough to deter the truly determined though and that is where my shocking confession comes in. I just don’t always feel like it.

There, I said it! I’ll give you a moment to recover. You see, I love to read and I read really quickly, but I also really love to ENJOY the books that I read and that isn’t necessarily something that happens when you’re “fitting a book into your schedule”. So I set aside special time to go through my TBR pile. I get as far ahead of my work as I can, carve out a few days and then make sure I have a steady supply of tea or coffee, snacks and a comfy spot to just chill out. And then I just tune the world out. My phone is on silent, there’s nothing but the book and I.

Of course, there are times when I’ve committed to reading for review or as a beta reader and then I make the time.  I enjoy those books just as much because it’s something that will help that author.

There’s another situation that arises when I least expect it.  I will be busy working, having gone weeks without reading more than a snippet here or there (because seriously, I always have at least 1 book on the go at any given time!!) and then suddenly I will feel a burning desire to drop everything and escape into another world.  I’ve never been a substance addict, but from everything I’ve seen in movies, that’s what it’s like… if I don’t get my “fix”, I feel like I’ll go nuts.  And then reading becomes a guilty pleasure… like an extra slice of cake *grin*.

So… what are your reading habits like? Do you ever have this problem?

Until next time…

BM xx

How do I know you? An author’s Facebook dilemma

MinionAdmit it… we’ve ALL been there! We log into Facebook, ready to waste – I mean, spend – some time trawling through our newsfeed and there it is… The “Friend Request”. Mostly, this is something which doesn’t even cause us to pause… we see, evaluate and either accept or ignore, but every now and again, something happens which makes us develop a twitch.

Every now and again we will get that weird friend request… and I don’t mean a request from a weird friend (been there though)… The friend request to which I’m referring is of course the total stranger.

The person who has selected us – apparently at random – from amongst the millions of potential profiles on Facebook. There is not only not a single friend in common, but they invariably live in another country and may even have a totally unpronounceable name. It’s like the Facebook equivelant of winning one of those great email lotteries… millions of Dollars from some dead dictator… you know the ones I mean.

What is it about your profile picture that made them decide that YOU were the lucky person they would pick? The truth is that you’ll never know… unless you decide to accept the request and ask them *grin*.  At this point, most of us hit the decline button and possibly even the block button (depending on how creepy this person seems).  But what do you do if you’re an author?

This is where things get slightly trickier. Naturally, even authors would like to hit “decline”, but is that the best course of action? These days, social media has enabled us to connect with our readers in a way that wasn’t possible before. Yes, this also leads to a degree of loss of privacy, but is the trade-off worth it?  Many authors circumvent this problem by setting up a professional profile (not page) and adding friends to that profile.  This allows them to keep friends and family on their private profile and still connect with readers, but it isn’t always practical for an author to manage more than one profile.

So what to do? Naturally, every author must decide for themselves, but the advice I would offer is this…

See if you can see more about the person. Do they appear interested in your genre? Accept the friend request If you aren’t sure and take a few minutes to “check them out”. You can always unfriend or block them if they turn into internet trolls or become a bit creepy.

The truth of the matter is that if you are building your author brand and you have set up a Facebook in the name that you use for publishing, then it is reasonable to assume that new fans who are discovering your work or who have perhaps heard about you would add you as a friend. They aren’t necessarily going to be friends with any of your other friends and that is ok. After all, you want to be reaching new readers all the time and if you only reach friends of friends, then you’re paddling in a very small pond really.

What do you think?

Until next time…

BM xx

Blog Tour – Finding Destiny by Katrina Hart

I have a soft spot for elements of fantasy and magic and I have a feeling that Finding Destiny will deliver on its promise.  I know that I’ve certainly loved working with Katrina on this tour. She’s fun, charming and talented and I know that you’ll love her as much as I do.


Finding-Destiny.When eighteen year old Alex’s little sister’s pony goes missing, he sets out to look for her and finds himself in a strange gypsy camp in the middle of a forest. The pony is being cared for by a young girl called Faith. When Alex accepts a drink from Faith’s grandmother, he wakes up later to find himself transported into 2038 to a technologically-advanced, very colourful world inhabited by humans and robots.

Alex soon discovers that he is now twenty, married and has a magical little baby girl. A magic he only seems to notice. He soon finds out that he will have to defend his little girl from the half-breeds with everything he has. He travels back through the magic pages of books to try and save her before it is too late and she is lost from him forever.

Grab your copy here…





Finding Destiny Blog Tour24 Aug – Romance Reviews Today
25 Aug – Room with Books
26 Aug – Paranormal Book Fairy
27 Aug – Book Girl Knitting
27 Aug – Lynn Stevens
27 Aug – Savvy Authors
28 Aug – Undercover Book Reviews
28 Aug – CA Milson
28 Aug – Up All Night, Read All Day
29 Aug – Books & More
31 Aug – Coffee Time Romance
31 Aug – Nat’s Book Nook
31 Aug – Night Owl Reviews
31 Aug – Pamaceeve
02 Sept – Romancing the Book


katie-pic-lr (2)My name is Katrina Hart but I was always called Katie. I live in the East of England with my family and Holly, Smokey my two cats as well as Jessie our dog, they are a nutty bunch but I love them all the same. I have always had a passion for reading. I could easily spend a whole lifetime engrossed in a good book.

In my twenties I joined an online writing class, where I fell in love with writing my own stories. Since I started writing I have discovered a new love for quotes, a quote that really inspired was from Toni Morrison. Toni said  “If there’s a book you really want to read but it hasn’t been written yet, then you must write it.” I came across this quote whilst I was studying, this is one of the many things that inspired me to begin my first novel.


Twitter; @KatrinaHart2015




Finding Destiny

Alex“Destiny! Destiny!” I yelled, walking the dark forest alone.

Broken branches crunched beneath my feet. Black, shadowing trees loomed over me, following my every move. Owls hooted and flapped in every direction. I proceeded, calling the girlie-named pony.

I walked till my feet burned. It had been hours with no sign of Destiny, when the forest seemed to come alive before my eyes! Classical music hummed around a circle of purple gypsy tents, which surrounded a huge pink camp fire. I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief. I opened them again and saw Destiny being cuddled lovingly by a pale girl with black hair flowing like a never-ending river. I walked over to the girl and Destiny.

“Hey miss, you found my sister’s pony.” I looked down at them both.

“Mister, she is my pony!” She held Destiny closer in a protective grip.

I was about to argue my point, but a cold hand pushed on my shoulder, stopping me.

“Grandma! He wants my pony.” The girl pointed in my direction.

“Faith, don’t point it’s rude!” The old woman scolded her like she was a child.

“Where the hell did you come from!” I shouted and jumped to look her in the face.

“My tent, just this way,” the grandma said as she walked inside her purple tent.

I followed, outraged. I just wanted my sister’s pony back.

“Enter,” the old woman croaked, coughing.

“Are you okay!” I whispered.

“Yes! Yes! Don’t worry yourself, now what can I do for you, sir?” She coughed again.

“I need my sister’s pony back. It’s her everything,” I pleaded.

“My Faith loves her too,” the old lady coughed again.

“I will do anything, I need that pony!” I tried again, staring into the old lady’s purple eyes.

OC Madam MoonFighterHer wrinkled, transparent face and white long hair, tied in a bun tight above her head, made her look frail. She sat down behind a crystal ball. “Anything?”

I nodded.

“Let me see your future,” she coughed, rubbing her crystal ball and looking inside its clear dome.

The silence dragged on like an unspoken question in a crowded room. Sadness crossed her face.

“It’s done!” she shouted; her eyes seemed to turn black.

“Thank you.” I smiled, a little confused.

“My pleasure.” She coughed, handing me a blue drink in a clear glass. “Please drink, it will bring you good luck on your way home. It’s a tradition, you know,” she said.

I didn’t want to seem rude, so I drained the glass. My head spun and everything became unfocused.


I fought to see through the darkness. Crying, and the smell of hay surrounded me.

“Hello! Who’s there? Where am I?” I whispered, following the cries of what sounded like a girl being murdered.

“Hello!” I yelled over her cries. I feared for us both. A light danced on of its own accord. Straw was everywhere. Pink, blue and red horses wandered about, leaving their stalls empty. The barn looked steel, unlike anything I had seen before. A computer was flat-attached to the wall, but there was no keyboard to type on. Had I been drinking? Or dreaming? I wasn’t sure, but this barn looked far too advanced for my time.

The girl’s cries turned to screams. The sound was deafening; my heart thumped. I stood beside the screaming stable door, sliding it open with a loud squeak. Peering inside, her gaze met mine; her black flowing hair lay upon the straw, sticking to her sweat-covered forehead.

OC Faith (2)“Faith? Is that you? What are we doing here?” I rushed to her side.

“I’m screaming and you are late!” she said blowing out a breath.

“I don’t even know where we are, do you?” I retorted.

Faith screamed, grabbing my hand like a vice then relaxing once more. She placed an old folded piece of paper into my hand.

“Read it!” Her breath came out raggedly.

The note read …

Dear Alex, and Faith.

Destiny had many lovely years with your little sister, as promised Alex.

I saved your lives. You are in 2038 on the morning that bound your futures together. I saw it!

Don’t hate an old Gypsy for sending you on your way.

Good luck both of you!

The note fell from my hands, “We are in 2038, hell!”

“Isn’t it?” Faith screamed.

I tried to get Faith to let go of my hand. Then her body went stiff and I began to panic; she needed a doctor or midwife right now. But a cry split the air and a robot computer handed her a screaming baby.

On the computer screen, fireworks announced Faith had a baby girl

“We,” she whispered, as the robot computer walked away. I kissed Faith softly on the lips, and a weird deja vu came over me. Love flooded my heart, sending warm shivers coursing through my body.

“Shall we call her Destiny?” Faith asked, gazing into my eyes.

“That’s perfect,” I smiled.

This was the first moment of my new life.


Blog Tour – Lotus Petals by Brantwijn Serrah

I’ve had the pleasure of working with Brantwijn before and I have to say, her books are incredible. When she approached me about the relaunch of Lotus Petals, I was super excited and I am so pleased to be a part of this journey. I can only hope that you will all love her work as much as I do!


CoverRhiannon Donovan, daughter to the vampire Queen, would rather die than be made a bride to a demon Lord. Aijyn, courtesan to the undead Daimyo of Kansai, can think of nothing more horrifying than his promise of eternal life.

In the halls of the Blood Lotus Temple, the two women struggle against the chains of their fate, and find a solace in each other that could mean freedom for them both… or might cost each of them their lives.

Buy your copy here


When she isn’t visiting the worlds of immortals, demons, dragons and goblins, Brantwijn fills her time with artistic endeavors: sketching, painting, customizing My Little Ponies and sewing plushies for friends. She can’t handle coffee unless there’s enough cream and sugar to make it a milkshake, but try and sweeten her tea and she will never forgive you. She moonlights as a futon for four lazy cats, loves tabletop role-play 100_1651games, and can spend hours watching Futurama, Claymore or Buffy the Vampire Slayer while she writes or draws.

Brantwijn has published three full-length erotic novels: Lotus Petals, Goblin Fires, and His Cemetery Doll. In addition to these, Brantwijn has had several other stories published by Breathless Press, including contributions to the 2013 Crimson Anthology and 2014 Ravaged Anthology. She’s also had a short story published in the Cleiss Press Big Book of Orgasm and the anthology Coming Together Through The Storm. She has author pages on GoodReads and Amazon, and loves to see reader comments on her work. Her short stories and audio readings occasionally pop up at Foreplay and Fangs, her blog at http://brantwijn.blogspot.com.


Lotus Petals Blog Tour

19 Aug – Romance Reviews Today
20 Aug – Paranormal Book Fairy
22 Aug – Books & More
23 Aug – Savvy Authors
24 Aug – Coffee Time Romance
24 Aug – Lynn Stevens
24 Aug – Nat’s Book Nook
24 Aug – Night Owl Reviews
24 Aug – Pamaceeve
25 Aug – Erzabet’s Enchantments
26 Aug – Undercover Book Reviews
27 Aug – Romance Junkies
27 Aug – Up All Night, Read All Day
14 Sept – Romancing the Book



“Rhiannon-sama,” she began again, well aware she might be broaching a subject Rhiannon would easily wish to avoid, even to the point of sending her attendant violently away.

“Hm?” the vampire murmured.

“Your bodyguard…she likes to see you in pain.”

Rhiannon waited a long time before she answered.

“Perhaps I like pain, mortal.”

Aijyn did not argue…but she had seen the expression on Rhiannon’s face when Sölva had tormented her.

“You must hide the scars from the daimyo,” she chided gently. “And you cannot allow her to leave any more marks on you, if you do not wish to anger him.”

“And if I do wish to anger him?”

“Do not be petulant,” Aijyn scolded.

“Does he believe his bride will be untouched? That his kin-born bastard bride will not have experienced acts of the flesh? I am over half a century a living birth-child. Does he realize how most kin-born are meant to earn their keep in demon houses?”

“He expects you will be untouched for him,” Aijyn said. “Whatever has gone before, now you are his. And Gohachiro is not a man to share his treasures.”

“Doesn’t he like to use pain?” Rhiannon asked. She rolled over under Aijyn’s hands, lying on her side and reaching out to touch the scar she herself had left on the courtesan’s wrist. At the light caress of her finger, a delicious tingle of pleasure ignited under the skin, making Aijyn shiver as the vampire had a moment ago.

Rhiannon pulled Aijyn closer, and lowered herself over the wound to kiss it a second time. The warm arousal intensified, and Aijyn caught her breath as her body awoke to the sensation, nipples stiffening under the soft silk of her kimono.

“Here,” Rhiannon whispered, reaching up to brush the dark strands of hair from Aijyn’s shoulder, revealing the tiny, neat scars of bites past. Scars that would never heal the way the vampire’s did, white little lines and half-moons, memories of Gohachiro’s affections.

“Doesn’t he give you pain…” Rhiannon said, following their contours with light but deliberate pressure.

“…so he may turn it into pleasure?”

“Rhiannon-sama…” Aijyn murmured vaguely. One hand had dropped into her lap; the other rested on the vampire’s warm, lean arm. Strange awareness filled her: the touch stirred up the first bloom of eagerness in her loins and the pit of her belly.

“Pain is what we are, courtesan. Pain, hunger, pleasure, death. We are the undead. I am just over half a century old, more than twice your age, and I have been Sölva’s for longer than you have been alive. There are scars you will never see, all over my body: the marks of her fangs, of her whip, the cut of her blade, the pierce of steel needles. And every one of them sings when she touches me, screams when she hurts me…and it is ecstasy.”


Aijyn realized with some dread she had made a mistake. The vampire’s touch brushed against her, terribly light, terribly fleeting, but her voice…soft, beautiful, rich, like strong liquor.

Rhiannon’s hand came to rest on the back of Aijyn’s neck. She gently pulled the courtesan closer, resting forehead-to-forehead and searching deep into Aijyn’s wide, dark eyes.

“You do this for him, too?” she whispered. “You…perform anma for him? You touch his body with such delicate affection?”

“Yes,” Aijyn whispered.

“And does it make him want to fuck?

Before she could think better of it, Aijyn lifted up a hand and slapped her.

The strike was not a hard one. At least, to Rhiannon it would not have been hard. Aijyn’s palm stung as though she had struck it against solid rock, and she quickly pressed it in her other hand, hissing with pain.

Rhiannon did not strike back. She remained perfectly still, her expression unchanging. After a moment, once Aijyn had collected herself, the vampire leaned closer and pressed her mouth against Aijyn’s own.

“It makes me want to fuck,” she said. Then she stood, one smooth, languid motion, and retreated to her coffin to at last submit to her daytime sleep.

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“But that does demon.” Haven turned to run for the second time and despite the throbbing radiating from his balls, Desiderus reached out for her, latching fingers around an ankle that had come up from the ground and Haven fell front first into the dirt with Desiderus falling on top of her.

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Blog Tour – Impure Bargains by Decadent Kane

Decadent Kane has long been a favourite of mine. She’s a wonderful writer and a really kick-ass woman and so I was really thrilled when she asked me to take her latest book on tour.  I know that you guys will love this book as much as I do! So… without further delay… I invite you to fall in love with Decadent Kane.


Impure bargains ebook coverDesiderus has served Ba’al faithfully for nearly one hundred years. When Haven Rowe put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger, her fierce nature stirred emotions he hadn’t felt since before Ba’al claimed him. With his sight set on consuming her body and soul, he’ll use every deceptive idea at his disposal to make sure she belongs to him.

When Haven walked in on a demon stealing her brother, Jeremy, her entire world unraveled. Born to a family of magic users, yet unable to use magic of her own, Haven will do anything to get her brother back from the depths of hell, even if it means she has to bargain her soul.

With the help of a witch, Haven seeks out loopholes to the soul bargains that have been made. She either finds a way out for her and Jeremy, or they both might be lost forever. What she doesn’t count on is the betrayal of her own body and the insurmountable attraction she has for the demon she’s trying to escape.

BUY HERE: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1514889870


Impure Bargains Blog Tour

13 Aug – Coffee Time Romance
14 Aug – Romance Reviews Today
14 Aug – Paranormal Book Fairy
15 Aug – Books & More
17 Aug – Nat’s Book Nook
17 Aug – Night Owl Reviews
18 Aug – Erzabet’s Enchantments
18 Aug – Pamaceeve
18 Aug – Up All Night, Read All Day
19 Aug – Lynn Stevens
19 Aug – Savvy Authors
12 Aug – Undercover Book Reviews
13 Aug – Romance Junkies
11 Sept – Romancing the Book


Decadent KaneDecadent Kane, author of the Trouble with Elves series, writes paranormal romance with heat. She lives in Wyoming with a full house: 3 dogs, 1 cat, 1 guinea pig, 1 rat, 2 kids, and 1 fiance.

An elfess in human form, Decadent enjoys dipping her fingers into the human realm where she took pen to paper and began the tales of the trouble with elves. Her obsessions include reading, Dean Winchester, and honey.

She will devour your soul with glimpses of the feral ridden drow elves, with their dark skin and soul consuming. She’ll sneak morsels of naughty thoughts to you via goblins, and seduce you into stepping inside the elven realm where females disappear when lust takes over among other elfish troubles.

Beware the sprites.

Follow the wisps.

But never look a drow elf king in the eyes…

Find my books here



Surprised by the female’s actions, Desiderus watched her run for a moment before his mind registered her actions. Her obsidian hair flew behind her with a strange bag slung over her small shoulders. In a way, he should have known Haven would bolt. Experience all but told him that. Many had run and failed. Desiderus shook his head and a grin spread across his lips. She wouldn’t get far and not just because she was naked. He had a pretty good idea that Haven didn’t worry about her loss of clothes as much as she worried about what he might do to her. He would have loved nothing more than to chase after her…but she needed to be taught a lesson, to understand what it meant for him to have her name, for him to be in control.

After quickly making Ba’al’s sign in the air in front of him, a toad with a circle, magic flickered into the sigil like sparking a match. The sign brightened to an orange color. Desiderus had been a demon so long it took seconds to create. Under his breath, he let her name roll off his tongue in one easy motion, “Haven Rowe.”

The color of the sigil sprinkled away on a breeze and black smoke swirled. Haven’s image slowly began to appear, little by little, tantalizing, as if she somehow knew he wanted her body, far more than he had any other mortal female. Her legs came first, the lazy curve of her hips, he groaned with the swell of her heaving breasts, and finally her face construed in a perfect scowl piercing him with those damn blue eyes.

“Running will do you no good, Haven.” Inside lust coiled around his core, urging him to do anything but stand there looking staring. Her skin shimmering with sweat, making his tongue slip out to lick his lips. He swallowed a groan at the thought of tasting her tanned flesh. Lost in his erotic notions he didn’t see her foot until it was too late and a sharp jolt of lightning like pain raced up from between his legs, shooting over his spine and slamming into the base of his brain. Colors formed in his eyes and he blinked it away as his stomach churned. His knees weakened, but he kept himself standing somehow, adrenalin replacing the pain as anger mounted inside him like a lion.

“But that does demon.” Haven turned to run for the second time and despite the throbbing radiating from his balls, Desiderus reached out for her, latching fingers around an ankle that had come up from the ground and Haven fell front first into the dirt with Desiderus falling on top of her.

Blog Tour – Carnal Theory by Henry Corrigan

We are really thrilled to be touring with the talented Henry Corrigan this month.  I’ve already added this book to my TBR pile and I cannot wait until I get to it… in fact, it may well jump the queue *grin*.  I’m so intrigued, that I’ve included an excerpt to whet your appetite.


CarnalTheory_600x900Dr. Elizabeth Spencer has a theory about sex.

As Northeastern State University’s leading behavioral researcher, the beautiful yet guarded doctor believes that lifelong satisfaction is no longer a couple’s only game.

After being left to her own devices thanks to years of disappointment, Spencer sets out to put her theory to the test. But when she meets her subject, the handsome, stubborn and unpredictable Dr. Michael Aaronson, more than just the science begins to go awry.

As their sessions together heat up, and the two find themselves more and more on common ground, a sudden betrayal puts the entire project and their careers in jeopardy. Thrust into the national spotlight with questions flying on all sides, Spencer and Aaronson must face not only an uncertain future, but their own pasts as well.

Will Spencer lose everything she set out to prove? Or will she finally find the satisfaction she’s been looking for all her life?

Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YZ0M09U

Smashwords: http://t.co/YSsuB3EUuM


Carnal Theory Blog Tour FINAL

06 Aug – Coffee Time Romance
08 Aug – Books & More
09 Aug – Up All Night, Read All Day
10 Aug – Night Owl Reviews
10 Aug – Paranormal Book Fairy
11 Aug – Erzabet’s Enchantments
11 Aug – Romance Reviews Today
12 Aug – Undercover Book Reviews
12 Aug – Pamaceeve
13 Aug – Romance Junkies
13 Aug – Nat’s Book Nook
13 Aug – Lynn Stevens
14 Aug – Savvy Authors
09 Sept – Romancing the Book


Henry Corrigan Author AvatarHenry started writing erotica for the same reason that gets most people into trouble; Because of a girl. He writes contemporary erotic fiction, romance and speculative erotica as well. His stories focus on the bonds of love, friendship and marriage and he believes it is the heart, the love that grows between characters, which brings readers back for more. Henry was born and raised in Long Island, New York. His story Absence on Film, was published by Coming Together in 2015.

For more from Henry, you can check out his blog, or find him on Facebook and Twitter.

Twitter: @HenryCorrigan
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/henry.corrigan.35

“People come to erotica for the heat, but they stay for the heart.”



In the Language Arts building of Northeastern State University, Professor George Conklin sat behind his desk and stared at what he’d come to think of as the greatest enigma of his career.

The enigma stared back at him quietly, eyes steady and calculating. Her face was perfectly neutral, body formed into the chair with a relaxed poise. She made no move to avoid his scrutiny, but the longer he looked the more he felt stonewalled by a sharp, coiled intelligence. He had known the enigma for six months but was still no closer to understanding her.

He’d also been sleeping with her for equally as long, which did nothing to help his case.

Dr. Elizabeth Spencer, was five foot six, one hundred and thirty pounds, with cropped blonde hair and hazel eyes. She moved with sharp, viciously economical movements, like the wheels of a rushing train. Even when still, a quick glance at her eyes confirmed the mind behind them all was always clicking away.

Spencer was the university’s foremost researcher into human biorhythms and behavioral psychology. Hired shortly after receiving her doctorate, her articles had appeared in numerous journals and she was widely respected in her field. Which in itself was an accomplishment because she wasn’t yet thirty-five years old.

But for as often as her brilliant intellect occupied Conklin’s thoughts, her mind wasn’t what currently slicked his palms.

One night six months ago Conklin, a professor of English Literature who often stayed late to grade papers, opened his office door to find Spencer standing calmly in the hallway. In all his years at the university, the two of them had spoken less than half a dozen times. Every conversation had been awkward and strained. At least for Conklin.

The standard convention for polite conversation called for taking an interest in the well-being of the other person. Usually characterized by questions such as, “How are you?” “How have you been?” or the more colloquial “Sup’?”

Spencer never so much as acknowledged such a convention existed. She always struck right to the point whenever she spoke and eschewed any and all forms of polite chitchat. As they sat together that night, Conklin had all but convinced himself she was there to discuss something academic, or philosophical. Though what the topic might’ve been, he couldn’t have begun to fathom.

Which was the reason for his near attack of apoplexy when Spencer told him exactly what she came to talk about.

“I propose the two of us should become sexual partners.”

Before Conklin could even react, Spencer launched into her justification.

“I’ve been studying your finer points for some time now, Professor Conklin. We are both hard working, highly intelligent, dedicated individuals, which already suggests we would be compatible. Our lifestyles are too equally hectic to support any sort of emotional attachment. So in my assessment, a purely sexual relationship, kept to a strict schedule, would be beneficial to both our well beings.”

Conklin was flabbergasted. His mouth opened and shut a dozen times as thoughts about her proposal rattled through his head. In the back of his mind he knew he should have balked at the idea. He had no illusions the awkwardness of speaking to her would ever fade, and he was man enough to admit she intimidated the Hell out of him.

But on the other hand, Jesus, it had been months since anyone made him an offer like… Well frankly, no one had ever made him an offer like this.

Everything about Spencer was a little left of normal. Her hazel eyes were more gold than brown. Her lips were pale pink, the color of roses in early spring. The clean, striking planes of her face weren’t traditionally beautiful, but they caught the eye anyway. Gave her a sensual quality, which was hard to pin down. Then there was her scent. Even from across the room he caught the edges of it. Something both sweet but spicy, like cinnamon or cardamom.

He spared himself a few more seconds to consider her offer, then threw aside his reservations and simply nodded. He was keenly aware of the pounding of his heart.

Seconds after giving his assent, Spencer stood up and, without preamble, stripped down to reveal lingerie so red it gave her pale skin a kind of glow. For a woman who talked robotically and had the most meticulously clinical mind of any on campus, she possessed the widest and most intense sexual imagination of any lover Conklin ever had.

Every weekday night since, at exactly five forty five, Spencer would enter his office, strip off her lab coat and begin a ninety minute session of explosive carnality almost unheard of in polite society. Afterwards, Conklin would stumble from his office exhausted and deliriously unhinged.

Now however, it was five fifty one and she sat in complete silence. Her attention on an imaginary point beyond Conklin’s left shoulder. Unable to ignore his own biology any longer, he uncrossed his legs to relieve the painful pressure in his groin. Mentally he shook his head.

By rights, his office couch should have been creaking like a stagecoach over rough terrain. He needed to see what she had on under her lab coat. Spencer never wore the same outfit twice. In the past, he’d born witness to everything from functional bras and panties to full corsets with garters.

When she at long last, stood up and approached his desk, Conklin broke into a broad grin and began to strip off his tie. But instead of quickly disrobing, Spencer stopped an arm’s length away, produced a slim file from a coat pocket and plunked it down onto his desk. In the second it took him to register it, she turned and sat down without ever once changing expressions.

Conklin was dumbfounded. His eyes yearned for her to come back. But if Spencer understood the look, she ignored it. She sat with a determined calm and pointed one callused finger at the file.

Conklin snatched it up in a fury, unable to believe anything could be more important than the incessant twitching between his legs. As the pages passed, his foggy, hyper—aroused brain tried to make sense of what he was looking at. He read line after line until his brow crinkled.

What on Earth?

He read further, took in a whole page. Then the next. And the next. By page sixteen Conklin’s eyes were wide and he was laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Are you serious about this?”

Spencer looked shocked at the question. “Of course I’m serious. I would have thought that was obvious.”

Conklin, still laughing, flipped back to the cover page.

Sexual Mechanics and the Unilateral Ownership of Orgasm.

Underneath it read, “Is a sexual partner necessary to achieve frequent and lasting sexual satisfaction?”

Conklin slapped his palm against the cover and tried to catch his breath. “What on Earth made you come up with this?”

Spencer sat forward, instantly ready to discuss the genesis of what was, in essence, a proposal for a research experiment. “I want to settle the debate about the necessity of sexual partners.”

Conklin smirked. “My dear. I think that debate was settled ages ago.”

The gold in Spencer’s eyes flickered, like the edge of a blade pressed to a whetstone. “I think not. In fact, I strongly believe the debate was never settled and needs to have a definitive, conclusive answer.”

“Why for Heaven’s sake?”

“Because the concept of coupling as the key component for sexual satisfaction may be based on a fallacy.”

Conklin opened his mouth to rebuff such a ridiculous statement, but then stopped. Something he’d read stuck in his brain. He flipped back over charts, graphs and footnotes until he found it. Filed under Project Specifications.

He read it again and the grin, which broke across his face was so joyful, it bordered on hysteria. He looked at Spencer and let the file slip from his fingers. He growled as he spoke.

“Your project. It will require multiple…what did you call them? Sessions for sexual experimentation?”

“That’s correct. Each session is designed to be more involved and complicated than the last, so as to test the subject’s sexual abilities at multiple levels.”

“You intend to use yourself as part of this experiment?”

“Yes. I believe I am the ideal candidate, considering my own past sexual history.”

“And your partner?”

“Also ideal, in my opinion.”

“I should say,” said Conklin, his eyes feverishly amorous.

“And the University has approved this?”

“Absolutely,” said Spencer. “Sexual mechanics is a burgeoning field of study. And my experiment has the potential to reveal new insights into the nature of human orgasm.”

Conklin snickered. “That is indeed exciting. I especially like Stage 4. The idea of including…”

“Toys,” finished Spencer.

Yessss. If I may ask, what made you want to make this a part of your experiment?”

“This was honestly a personal decision. If all the previous Sessions failed, then I wanted to test my partner’s abilities with certain key sexual devices. For instance, the seven inch purple vibrator detailed in diagram 4.2, has brought me to orgasm every single time you failed to satisfy me. Why are you unbuttoning your shirt?”

Conklin’s fingers froze. “What?”

“Your shirt. I don’t understand why you’re undressing.”

Like film stock being rewound, Conklin’s brain rolled back till it remembered what she’d said. Then all the blood drained from his face.

“Wait. Um, I. Every time I failed to…What?!”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “The purple and red vibrator. It has satisfied me every time…”

I heard you the first time! What the Hell does that mean?”

Spencer quieted. She tapped a finger against the arm of her chair, then slowly nodded.

“I suspected as much. You never noticed. Well, Professor Conklin, this may come as quite a shock to you. But in the six months of our relationship, you failed to satisfy me more than ninety percent of the time.”


“Did you need me to repeat something?”

“No! I don’t need you to repeat anything!”

Conklin was red faced and gripped the edges of his desk for dear life. “But…but you can’t be serious?”

“I don’t see how my seriousness plays a factor in this. I’m merely stating a fact. You are not at all proficient in bed.”

“You…you…I’m not…You.”

“I spent considerable time puzzling over this by the way. It was difficult for me to determine the source of your sexual ineptitude.”

Conklin growled but Spencer continued unabated. “After all, you are physically fit, possess a higher than average intelligence and your penis is of sufficient length and girth. After eliminating all of these possible impediments, there was only one answer. Your technique is sub par.”

Conklin came around his desk and stood in the middle of the room. Feet firmly planted, arms out as if he were a defensive lineman trying to stop the onrushing truth of Spencer’s words.

“Dr. Spencer. This is—an unfortunate circumstance. One I am prepared…More than prepared to rectify. When do you want to start your experiment? I am ready to go right now!”

“Begin?” Spencer’s eyebrows came together in puzzlement.

“Professor Conklin, I’m afraid you misunderstand my intentions. I didn’t come here to recruit you for the project. I came to tell you that since you will not be participating, I see no reason for our sexual arrangement to continue.”

Conklin’s breathing was erratic. “Who. Is. The. Subject?”

“Well, there are three potential candidates,” she said.

“It’s Robertson, isn’t it? That bastard has had it in for me for years!”

“Professor Robertson is seventy two years old. He had his hip replaced last fall. I hardly think he would be capable of participating in even Stage One. In fact, I’m positive Stage Three would kill him.”

“Enough! Fuck Robertson! No! I mean. I mean no one else is participating in this experiment except me. Strip off the lab coat and break out the tape recorder Dr. Spencer. We are starting this right now!”

With gusto, Conklin tried to both rip his shirt off and unbuckle his pants at the same time. But his movements were wild and spastic and he ended up stuck, shirt half off, both eyes covered. Spencer stood up to try and help but before she could reach him, Conklin lurched hard to the right and tripped over the leg of his desk. He tumbled ass over teakettle to the floor and landed in one big, half-dressed heap.

Contorting himself like a circus performer, he stared at her through his sleeve while one hand flailed desperately at the fly of his pants.

“I’m fine! Ready to go. No problem.”

“Professor Conklin, I feel this situation has gotten out of hand.”

“I won’t be a minute! Get ready for the balling of your life!

Spencer made a hasty dash for the door. “I think I should leave. Give you time to, um, collect your thoughts.”

Don’t fuck Robertson!”

She slipped out into the hall. Through the door came, “Don’t. Fuck. Robertson!”