Monday, June 29, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Stiff

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have another chapter for Wind in White Birch and our word prompt is "Stiff".

This week's episode has explicit content of a sexual nature. If that offends now would be the time to move to one of the other TT blogs.

Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!

            Somehow, we managed not to break our necks running up the wide curved stairwell. I wanted to stop and drink in the ambiance of Jonah`s other woman, but his insistent gentle tugs on my hand persuaded me to put lodge admiration on the back burner. His room was located at the very top of the steps. I slowed considerably when we entered his sleeping quarters.  There were small oils hanging on the rich buttery log walls and a fireplace banked low for the night, this one with a screen that had a meandering bear artfully made into the grillwork. It was his bed though that grabbed my attention, aside from the obvious reason.
            The frame for the queen-sized mattress was cedar logs about as thick as my leg that formed a canopy around the bed. The coverlet was bluish-green and thickly ticked. There were no drapes or swags dangling from the logs over the bedding. A short table rested at the end of the bed where some people would have a hope chest. This table held volumes of books on its shelves. Two nightstands flanked the bed and held lamps that appeared to be made from flat tribal drums. A pair of snowshoes hung above the logs that made up the headboard. To the left of the masculine sleeping spot was a tall coat rack from which dangled some of Jonah`s outerwear.
Two oak dressers sat under artwork with a woodland scheme. The windows had long drapes that puddled on the floor, done in a dark green and cobalt pattern to match the duvet. I stood on a huge round area rug that was hunter green with flecks of gold and rust. The room was masculine, rustic, and vastly appealing because of its manly vibe.
            “Will it do?” he asked, still clasping my hand. I nodded dreamily. “You can still say no,” Jonah said, tipping his head to the left. I shook my head. “You didn`t lose the power of speech did you?” the man inquired. Again, I shook my head.
“No, I was just stunned at how beautiful this room – this lodge is,” I told him. He squeezed my hand.
“You`ve only seen this room and the living room,” he pointed out, reaching around me to push the door closed. The latch clicking caused my skin to prickle in anticipation.
“You want to give me the grand tour?”  
“Later,” he said, pulling me into his chest. He lifted my hair from my neck and placed his lips under my ear. “You don`t want to sight-see now, do you?”
I wiggled in his firm embrace, rubbing myself against him. “Not really,” I groaned when his teeth nibbled a path to my collarbone.
            “Good.” His words vibrated into my ear. I arched against him. He left my ear to claim my mouth. The kiss was hot and wet: a vibrant and erotic display of how he planned to love me. Slowly at first, with gentle caresses, then faster and rougher, hands gripping and fingers clawing. Our clothes were shed quickly, without care for buttons or snaps. Jonah slid his hands down my bare ribs as he suckled my neck like a vampire fresh from the coffin. His leg slid between mine. I asked him to hurry. The man spun us around smoothly, his hands now lifting me upward. I wrapped myself around him like a wanton vine embraces a lamppost. The goose-down mattress enveloped us when we fell into it. The air left my lungs in a rush when he landed on me.
            “Sorry,” he muttered into my mouth, kissing his way across my jaw then downward, stopping to taste the hollow of my neck.
            “Don`t be.” I held him close, intoxicated by the weight of him pressing me downward. His hair streamed over my face and shoulders as he made his way to my breasts. His tongue found a nipple. My back bowed as my fingers dug into his wide shoulders. He toyed and teased, flicking and nuzzling until I was begging. His mouth was warm and wet. I writhed wildly under him, arching my back to give him more, rubbing my foot up the back of his thick thigh, running my palms over his back, arms, sides, and tight ass. The feel of hard muscle flexing and contracting under his skin as he moved made me mad with want.
            Jonah released one peak then rose up to taste my mouth before moving onto the other breast. He slid to the side. I groaned at the loss of his body flattened against mine. Then his hand danced down my ribs and over my pelvic bone. I stopped bemoaning the heat of his chest when his fingers slid through sodden gold curls. My knees fell apart. Jonah made a sound like a Kodiak bear. His name bounced around the bedroom in a woman`s heated exhalation that I realized only after a second had passed was mine. His fingers were already slick as they slid into me; one, two, then three. His thumb stroked my clitoris one single time. That was all it took. I blew apart like a dandelion blow in a hot summer wind.
             I could feel his eyes on me as he brought me into a convulsing frenzy with just his fingers. The orgasm ran on and on, each rotation of his fingers deep inside me combined with the sweep of his calloused thumb began another tsunami of breathless pleas for more while I threw sheets and pillows around like a crazed woman.
            “You looked just as beautiful as I knew you would,” he purred like the puma whose claws dangled from his corded neck. I made some sort of sound that slid off into nothingness when he left me for a moment.
            “Jonah . . . God . . .”
            “Yeah, I know,” he told me, quickly tearing open then rolling the condom over himself. I welcomed him back enthusiastically, locking my arms and legs around him. He slid into me slowly, his brow resting on mine as my body stretched to accommodate his stiff length. Our soft sighs intertwined. I wanted to say something profound as I`m known to at times.
            “Jonah?” I gasped as he began moving within me.
“Hmm?” His dark eyes found mine.
“I got nothing,” I moaned. He chuckled then pulled out until I feared he would leave me then he thrust deeply, all the while staring at me with burning eyes. I threw my head back and gave up on talking.
“Look at me,” he ground out a few moments later. I couldn`t think or speak. He was moving so quickly and so forcefully now my hands were over my head to protect my skull from the log headboard. My eyes flickered open. “I want to see you leave your body.”
He didn`t have to wait long to see me fly away. The next orgasm blew me to tiny bits like a mirror hit with a mallet. I heard myself panting his name. Jonah buried himself in me, letting my internal convulsions pull him over the top. I watched him in fascination. Teeth bared, neck corded, shoulder muscles and biceps twitching and flowing as he tried to get as deep as he could. He was breathtakingly beautiful and ruggedly masculine in his release. When the worst of the tempest was past, I reached up to push damp hair from his cheeks. He smiled awkwardly, balanced above me as he was.
“I love you,” I whispered, cupping his sweaty cheek with my palm. He lowered his mouth to mine, kissing me with such passion I feared I might weep.
“That is music to my ears,” he whispered breathlessly over my lips. “Gano: da.” He kissed me once more, rolled to the side and pulled me with him, the blankets barely covering our flushed skin. “Night song,” he huskily explained the Seneca term before I even asked. “I want you to sing about your love for me every time we share a bed.”
I was fully prepared to sing those lines to him every night from here on out. For now though, I was content to lay here in his arms and listen to the strong wind wuthering through the white birch.

Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey


Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.

Tuesday Tales

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Monday Author/Book Spotlight-MO Kenyan`s Once Upon a Playboy

Please welcome another Secret Cravings author to our little corner of the interweb! Today MO Kenyon is here to fill us in on her book, Once Upon a Playboy.

Karma’s a bitch. Life is too, and DJ found that out the hard way, but his alter-ego provides the perfect place to hide. In his playboy persona, he can escape the betrayal, the wounds, and the guilt of his past—after all, life in the fast lane leaves little time for anything other than women, drink and the high life of self-gratification. For the first time in his life, DJ is living free and loving every minute of his emotionless existence.

Then he meets Eve—sweet, perfect Eve, the most unlikely stalker imaginable. Innocence is a powerful weapon in the right hands, and love is a broadside guaranteed to bring down even the most hardened playboy. It has all the makings of a happy ending, right?

But Karma’s a bitch, with a vindictive knack of twisting to past to destroy the future. With DJ and Eve torn apart, victims of revenge and their own weaknesses, Karma wins again. Or so it seems…

DJ had never run away from anything in his life, until this moment. He couldn’t explain it, but his heart had kicked into gear when he looked into those deep, emerald eyes. She was trouble, and DJ couldn’t afford that kind of trouble at the moment. He was here trying to find himself, not his heart. He took out his phone and called Ava. “Change of plans. Meet me at my cabin instead.”

DJ gave one backward glance and instantly regretted it. Now he knew why they said once you decide to move on never look back. Eve, that was her name, it had to be creational. She was standing at the window, watching him with a look in her eyes that he hoped didn’t mean more than a normal crush. DJ knew how to handle girls with crushes. He gave them a kiss, a night of sex, a piece of jewelry and it was ci vediamo mai, as they said in his mother’s language. And for those who didn’t understand, see you never. However, emerald didn’t look like the type a man had fun in the sack with and waved goodbye to. Not without taking a serious blow to the heart. That was damage he couldn’t take at the moment. Falling in love was definitely not an option.

Then walk away. Stop staring at her. Don’t notice how perfectly the sun illuminates her glowing face. Look away from her thick hair that you would love to bury your fingers in as you kiss her. And, for the love of God, do not look into her enchanting emerald eyes.

“Mio Dio, don’t do this to me now.” DJ wasn’t a religious man, but when he came across a woman like Eve, it was hard not to believe in divine intervention. He put on his sunglasses and half-ran, half-walked away.

A night with Ava, followed by a binge of sex with a few willing names he had in his phone directory, and in a few days he wouldn’t remember Eve. Deciding never to go back to the coffee shop was also an added advantage. If he didn’t see the object of his…desire…no, torture, he wouldn’t think about her. Out of sight, out of mind.

DJ walked down the path that led to his beach cabin. It didn’t help that it was only a hundred yards from the cafĂ©. He would have to look into moving. DJ stopped in his tracks and laughed at himself. He couldn’t believe that he was willing to go through so much to avoid an attraction… that’s what it was. Love at first sight was saved for little children and their fairy tales. This was real life. Kono knew that, so did Reno and now Rayne. He needed to focus his attention on helping his big brother with their sisters. Thinking about the love he had for two of the most important girls in his life was bound to overturn the…fascination, for want of a better word, he had with Eve.

For the moment, burying himself deep into a vivacious redhead with the talent of making a man buck in bed like a fish out of water would have to do. DJ stepped into his cottage and stripped off his shirt and jeans. He poured himself a glass of whisky and sat by the window, waiting. The moment he looked at his watch there was a knock on the door. Even though Ava regularly dropped by for sex, he never gave her a key. A key symbolized more than he was willing to give. It meant walk into…no, invade…my life when the need arises. Come snoop in my things. Put my drawers in disarray as you arrange yours. And in DJ’s bathroom there was definitely no room for two toothbrushes.

DJ opened the door and Ava greeted him with a smile and a bikini top that showed more than it should. Her bare legs peeked from under the sarong she was wearing. With one sweep of his gaze he took her all in. That was the moment he knew he was fucked, screwed, done for. Instead of pulling Ava into his arms and devouring her sexy body, he got the urge to shut the door in her face. His survival instincts kept him from doing it. Instead, he stepped back and let her walk in.

“Hallo, darling.” The sway of her hips seemed more exaggerated with each step she took. “I had to change my outfit since you changed our rendezvous place. I thought you liked the coffee there. It is morning.”

Ava swirled around and, by the frown on her face, DJ knew they were about to get into it.

“Whisky, this early in the morning? I know it is happy hour somewhere, but that somewhere is not here.” She looked down at her watch. “It’s barely ten o’clock, for Christ’s sake. I will not have an alcoholic for a beau.”

“Then it’s a good thing I am not your beau.” DJ threw back the contents of his glass and sat back in an arm chair. “Take your clothes off.”

“I see you got a head start.”

“Stop talking and start stripping.”

Sunday, June 28, 2015

Sunday Ramblings - Oops! She Did It Again!

My silly Mama Duck just had to go and do it. I suppose she felt that the four ducklings she hatched about 2 months ago were big enough to fend for themselves. In truth they are but they don`t want to hear it! Just look at this picture. You can barely tell the ducklings from the adult ducks!

Must be Mama Khaki saw those big ducklings and said "Hmm, I think it`s time to make a new nest and have more baby puddle ducks to tend to!" So she did!

Since I'm a sucker for birds that like to set, I'll let her keep her lovely new nest. One can never have too many ducks, can they??

Speaking of babies that are growing up quickly, check out these darling little bunnies! They are up and bouncing all over their pen. Makes opening it and trying to feed them interesting. Taking a picture of all six is downright impossible!

And another baby that is growing by leaps and bounds is our new pup, Maisy. Here she is keeping a close eye on a rather odd-sounding monster known as a "weed eater". (I have a post ready about Maisy and how she came to be a member of our household. Look for it in two weeks.)

Heck, even the Jersey steers seem to be getting bigger all the time! Must be something in the well water here on the hillside farm.

Or maybe it's just the fresh mountain air? I know that mountain air sure does have a wondrous effect on me!

Friday, June 26, 2015

Long Change Release Day!

I am so excited to be able to share Long Change with my fans. Yes, Boone is a hockey player, and while this novella is termed an erotic hockey romance, I think that it has something meaningful for all romance readers. 

Hockey plays an important part in Boone`s life. Struggling as he is with the heavy burden of hiding his homosexuality from everyone, Boone is knocked off his skates when he meets Preston. Imagine an ex-figure skating twink with brilliant orange hair who not only is out but also is incredibly proud of who he is! Meeting Preston sends Boone down a path that he could have never envisioned but in the end, so desperately needed to walk.

While Long Change has some dark, sad moments, at its core it is a story about love and light and embracing who we are meant to be. I hope you enjoy Boone and Preston`s romance. Please take a moment after reading it to leave a review and let me know what you liked, or perhaps didn`t like, about the book. We authors love to hear from our readers.


Collegiate superstar goalie Boone Crockett seems to have the world at his feet. He’s rich, handsome, attends an elite college and is a hot prospect for the pros. Pity all that is a front for a deeply closeted and troubled young man.

All Boone’s life plans are shattered when flamboyant ex-figure skater Preston Gordon, an orange-haired twink, shows up to audition for the team’s mascot position wearing sequins, scarves and toe picks. His moves on the ice send Boone into his own pirouette of frustrated and reluctant desire.
As senior year progresses Boone slides deeper and deeper into a dangerous depression, Preston’s sensual strength the only thing he has to hold on to. If Boone can’t keep from plunging through the thin ice he’s skating on, it could take a twink to make the big save.

Reader Advisory: This story has graphic sexual language and scenes—no closed bedroom doors (or other rooms) here!

A Romantica® gay erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Buy Links:

Please stop by the following blogs who have graciously signed up to host Long Change on its release day book blitz tour!

Parker Williams
Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words
Bike Book Reviews
Full Moon Dreaming
Hearts on Fire
Bayou Book Junkie
Havan Fellows
Bayou Book Junkie
SiK Reviews
Because Two Men Are Better Than One
Mikky's World of Books
Happily Ever Chapter
Up All Night, Read All Day
Wicked Faerie's Tales and Reviews
Fangirl Moments and My Two Cents
MM Good Book Reviews
Rainbow Gold Reviews
Velvet Panic

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Throwback Thursday Tune

One of the most influential bands to ever play and one of the first "super groups", they set the tone for many other groups that followed. To this day I still love their sound. How can you beat Eric Clapton on guitar and Ginger Baker on drums?

Monday, June 22, 2015

Tuesday Tales - Old

Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.

Today we have another chapter for Wind in White Birch and our word prompt is "Old". Don`t forget to visit the other talented Tuesday Tales authors. Thanks for stopping by!

I turned to look at Jonah. He was just as strikingly handsome as always, even with the firm set of his jaw and those plump lips in a tense line. Light green flannel coat, old jeans, free flowing hair, and sunlight dappling the sharp angles of his face.  He took my breath away.
 “I think you probably have things to do at home. Thanks for the help," he said to his sister.
            Julia mumbled something that sounded unpleasant in her native tongue. Jonah stalked around us both and entered his dream. I honestly didn`t know what to do. Julia did. She put a finger to my chest and pushed sharply.
            “I`m not sure what kind of game you`re playing, but if my brother comes back to me in the shape he did two weeks ago --”
            “I think you have things to do,” I said. A long moment ticked off second by second. She stormed over to her Jeep and left, never once looking at the lodge or me. That was just as well. I would have hated for her to have seen me hyperventilating. After my erratic breathing was under control, I climbed the steps slowly. At the open doorway, I hesitated. Jonah was kneeling by the massive stone hearth adding pungent green pine logs to the fire.
            “Come in, you`re letting all the heat out,” he said without looking at me. I stepped inside and turned to close the wide door softly. Various smells tickled my nose. Varnish, wood smoke, pine, and Jonah`s cologne. “What are you doing up here?”
            “I wanted to-” I cleared my throat. I hated the stiffness between us. “I wanted to talk to you. I missed you,” I said, staring at his wide shoulders covered with silky ebony hair. All I could think of was touching it – touching him. He peeked over his shoulder then laid another fat round log into the flames, his sight going back to the fireplace.
            “You drove all this way just to say that? Why not call?”
            “I didn`t know if you would answer,” I said candidly. “I`m not sure what happened but . . . I`m sorry. I didn`t mean to make you feel as if you weren`t a very important person to Rhett and me,” I hurried to clarify. I could see his shoulders tensing then relaxing as he fiddled with the fire. “This wasn`t all my fault, you know? This fight, you carry some blame too. You never gave me time to explain you just stalked off. How is it fair to walk away like that?”
            “It`s not,” he said. I closed my eyes in thanks. “I shouldn`t have left, that was wrong, but I was pissed.”
            “Yeah, it was wrong but I understand. I was hurt and angry too.” I stepped around a fat blue couch done in a western pattern. He stood up and closed the fire screen. It was a lovely thing with two huge bucks facing each other worked into the metal screening. Sparks and sap sizzled and danced behind the deer pawing the ground aggressively. Jonah turned from the fire to look across the room at me. I could not have guessed what he was thinking. The man was quite adept at hiding his emotions. "You can`t just walk away, Jonah. If we're going to make this work you have to stay and hash things out."
            "Even if I say something stupid? Because my mouth was filled with stupid things."
            I nodded. "Yes, even if you say something stupid. At least we'll be talking."
            “Okay. I see what you`re saying. I'm sorry, I just wasn`t sure how to handle it. This is all new to me. So now what?” he asked. We stared at each other.
            “We both say we`re sorry and you go get my bags?”
            “You`re here for the weekend?”
             I nodded.
            I nodded once more.
He seemed fastened to that spot. Funny, but my feet were rather reluctant to move too.
“You go first,” he said, the corner of his mouth ticked upward briefly. “Don`t argue, because I got you on the ladies before gentlemen thing.”
God, he was such a wise ass. “Jonah,” I said looking right into his coal black eyes, “I am sorry.”
“I didn`t want you to apologize." He opened his arms. “I wanted you to come over here and let me try to make up for being such a smacked ass."
 My sticky feet suddenly found freedom. I ran across the spacious lounging area and launched myself at him. He caught me neatly and covered my mouth with his. Ah, the taste of him! The feel of his mouth moving over mine! That kiss felt like a nourishing drink after a crawl through a desert. I was parched and I drank greedily, digging my fingernails into his neck and scalp. His tongue moved in sinful sensual ways, slipping into my mouth to explore and then sliding out to tease. My toes began to cramp from standing on them. Jonah`s teeth moved down my neck, his hands cupped my ass.
“My bedroom is right upstairs,” he huffed beside my ear. That was all he said. He didn`t push me physically or mentally, he just let me know and then returned to tasting my jugular and massaging my backside.
“Is there a fire lit?” I panted, rubbing myself wantonly against his erection. Raucous spring winds blew outside the stout lodge.
“Don`t worry, I`ll keep you warm.”
Of that, I had no doubts.

Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey


Click on the link below to return to the Tuesday Tales main blog for more great reads from the Tuesday Tales authors.

Tuesday Tales

See you next week!

Monday Author/Book Spotlight-Muffy Wilson`s The Para-Portage of Emily

Please welcome a lovely new friend and fellow Secret Cravings author to our corner of the interweb! Today Muffy Wilson drops by to share some info about her novel, The Para-Portage of Emily.

Emily Macque, a young, beautiful junior partner in her father’s law firm, is but a heartbeat away from love or destiny. Duty brings Emily to a frozen Island estate two hundred and fifty miles north of Chicago. Devotion requires she delve into the property history to settle an estate probate. Death lures her into the arms of the shadows seduction created by the flickering light and dark shadows.

What flames the timeless passions spanning the decades? Love, desire or obsession?

Colin Jorgenson, once a Great Lakes mariner, is a strong man haunted by love and loss. How long will he return each night, gripped by desire, hoping to find the woman he has loved for a century?

Beneath the pristine Island beauty, passions hungered, lingered in the ardent darkness. His passions, fueled by decades of loneliness and longing, could no longer be denied. Will they face eternity together or love in secret as dark things are to be loved between the shadows and the soul?

I just finished The Para-Portage of Emily. Quite the page-turner!! 
I was gifted a free copy by the author and found it to be a cleverly woven plot with descriptive characters you won’t soon forget. I’m not one to give out spoilers, 
but if you like paranormal intrigue, hot romance, and mystery, you will love it. Looking forward to more works by Muffy Wilson as I’m sure they will be just as brilliant. 

“Tell me what you know about Mariner’s Maiden please, Kirby.”
Kirby took a long draw on his beer before he began his narrative.
“It was years ago, around 1800 Miss Emily, when the original land owner arrived on the Island with settlers from Norway. He’d claimed five hundred acres on this southern point of the Island for himself. He became wealthy in cattle, wheat, timber and cheese. As his family grew and were educated on the Mainland, they moved, one by one, off Island. They were a wealthy, hard-working lot, but needed less and less of the acreage they owned. Much of the original plot was donated to the Town throughout the years. Some sections were sold.
“It got down to the last hundred acres when Colin Jorgenson bought the property, around 1890 or 1900. I am not exactly sure. The main house was much smaller and less grand than it is now, for sure.
“Now, Colin was a Maritime Captain and often he’d be gone for months at a time. He sailed the Great Lakes several times a year with supplies, spices, fancy goods and ‘fortunes of bounty’. That’s what they called it then. It was for sale to rich settlers throughout the Great Lakes. He’d earned all his wealth in trading by the turn of the century. He came and went for several years until, in his mid-thirties, he met and married a much younger woman, Amalya, and came back to the Island with her.”
Kirby sat back, drained his beer and continued. “The property was called Mariner’s Cove then. He spent two years with Island tradesmen rebuilding this house for his wife. To honor her, and before his return to the water, he commissioned a maritime woodcarver to create the figurehead of Amalya you saw yesterday on the tree marking the entrance.
He had the figure of Amalya mounted on the bow of his ship and apparently felt she was always with him in his travels. She died one summer, pregnant with their first child, shortly after his returning from his last trip of the season. He shut himself away in this house—a broken man, left forlorn and alone, to die years later of a broken heart as a recluse. It’s said he returns night after night trying to find his Amalya, his beloved.”
“But that’s just old folklore, Miss Emily, there’s nothing to it but made up stories from the past by gossips and romantics. This place has never been haunted—no one has ever said it was, anyway. Even though he was long dead, this property was held in Old Colin’s estate until your uncle bought it around 1955, I think. I suppose there is more you can find out at the Archives office in the Island library at the town offices, if you want. That’s about all I know and it ain’t much.”
Refusing a second beer, Kirby was off to finish his chores. “Thank you, Miss Emily,” Kirby said as he stood to leave.
Emily walked him to the door with Barkley in tow.
“Oh, there is one more thing” he added. “There is supposed to be a crypt on the property somewhere. I heard tell that Old Colin buried his Amalya in there and when he was dying, he crawled into it to die on her casket. Creepy, but no one’s ever found it to my knowledge—and between me and my dad, we’ve covered this property as caretakers for over fifty years.”
Emily extended her hand in gratitude for the information and company. “Thank you, Kirby. All of that is so very interesting. He must have been deeply in love with Amalya.”
Kirby, a middle-aged man, stood and shook Emily’s hand. He turned to leave, stopped and dropped his head as he hesitated at the bottom of the steps. A simple country man, this time was no different.
“Miss Emily…” He looked up at her rather sheepishly, and stuttered slightly, “Forgive me, Miss Emily, if I offend you. I have been a bachelor all my life and never had a way with women or much of a need for them. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I like ‘em well enough, but I never was able to pick the right words in their presence. If…if you don’t mind my saying…you look an awful lot like those paintings in the house of Miss Amalya.”
“Oh my word, Kirby, how you flatter me! It is purely a coincidence, I assure you.” Emily smiled, as she dismissed the compliment and waved good-bye at Kirby. As he left, she thought about the love shared between these two remarkable people, Colin and Amalya. Amalya and Colin.
She had forgotten to ask what became of the baby…

This is a story to savor. Ms. Wilson's descriptions are poetic and enthralling, 
placing the reader in the midst of the story, and the relaxed pace of the story does not lessen the power of suspense. Shrouded in mystery, romance, and eroticism, "The Para-Portage of Emily" is a treat for the senses, 
a haunting indulgence. Despite hints throughout, the ending still surprised me, and though satisfied, 
I regretted the literary journey's end. Highly recommended. I look forward to more from this promising series. ~ By Jordan Stringfellow

Author Bio and Links:
Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family "princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers, following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets. Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in France.
Returning from France with her family, Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold. They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh, Love with Passion.
                                             I really enjoyed the Para-Portage of Emily
I really enjoyed the Para-Portage of Emily... a skillfully and imaginatively told tale of love, lost and found. Mysterious twists kept me turning the pages until the end. 
Love conquers all, AND it was hot! 

Previously Published:
Secret Cravings, Oysters & Chocolate, Decadent Publishing, Ravenous Romance, Yellow Silk Dreams

Coming Soon:
Moonbeams of Unintended Consequences ~ TBA Spring 2015
Cheerleaders in Heat ~ TBA Summer 2015

Other Novels and Contributions:

                                    Buy Link                Buy Link               ***FREE***

Should John Grisham and EL James have a secret love child, she would no doubt pen legal thrillers with a luscious layer of the erotic. They would name their child Muffy Wilson and send her to Stephen King for some pointers in the paranormal.
Wilson, in the obliquely titled "The Para-Portage of Emily", interweaves these three diverse genres into a compelling, magic carpet of a novel that takes Emily Macque from Chicago to a bitter island estate two hundred miles north in the frozen sea. Emily is the striking junior partner in her father’s law firm, her mission, to settle the probate on an estate, her destiny to fall into the arms of Colin Jorgenson, a seaman haunted by a past love that torments his life.
Intelligent, well-written, with fully fleshed out characters and a story with more twists than a spiral staircase, "The Para-Portage of Emily" had me gripped until the very last page. 
~ By Chloe

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