I’m so sorry for the delay in announcing the winners. I’ve been sick. Hacking up lungs sick. Anyway, let’s not waste anymore time.
CONGRATS GO TO!!
Look for an email from me. And thanks to everyone who left comments. They were great!
*Apologies. For some reason this didn’t go live when it should have.
It’s the month of love! Actually, I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day for one glaring reason. Why should we celebrate love on one day? Love should be celebrated EVERY DAY!!
You can find the start of this blog hop here - http://www.underthecoversbookblog.com/2014/02/love-is-in-the-air-giveaway-hop-2.html
There are some great authors and great prize so be sure to check them all out.
Now for my contest. For your chance to win a digital copy of any of my backlist tell me, in the comments here, what is something you do to celebrate love? I don’t want no big splashy Valentine’s Day type thing. I want to hear about the little things, the making sure the brand of coffee your sweetie prefers is always on hand or the pull their feet into your lap and rub moments. Oh, and you can share what little things your sweetie does for you too. Oh, and I should mention I’m giving the prize to FIVE lucky people.
Oh, and if you wanna hop over and like my FB page
for an extra entry go right ahead. Just leave a note here in the comments mentioning the name you liked me with.
**The contest is open to intl entries and runs from now until Feb 14.
Here’s a snippet of my book Valentine’s Dates -
Brent Coleman’s gut clenched when the doorbell echoed through the house, heralding the arrival of another of Valentine’s Dates. Watching from the window, he committed the licence plate to memory as the expensive car eased down the driveway and out of sight. His fingers tightened on the frame, his knuckles turning white with the effort to rein in his jealousy. The sequence of beeps behind him indicated the front gate had been passed and the following three longer and one short beep marked the activation of the perimeter alarm.
He let go of the window frame with exaggerated care and turned to check the control panel. The property was broken up into zones, each linked in an overall system that protected the premises of the sprawling three thousand-square-metre estate. It was overkill, but it was a valuable testing ground. Being able to work out the bugs in his latest programs on the harbour-side mansion meant real-life experience and he wasn’t stuck in the office twenty-four-seven. Luckily, Wade, his business partner and best friend, more than welcomed Brent’s need to regularly tweak the security systems their company built.
Satisfied the alarm was armed, he made his way back to his office. Working and living with Wade had never been a problem, even once his best friend married and had a baby. Vee moving back in, however, made him uncomfortable. The woman had been a thorn in his side since the day she turned eighteen and made it clear any attention he gave her would be willingly received. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit he’d fallen for his best friend’s little sister. Talk about a walking cliché.
Until that one slip up, where he’d fucked everything up royally. Brent dragged a hand down his face. Taking her virginity had been bad enough, but doing it the night they’d buried her parents? Christ. He was such a fucking arsehole. If Wade ever found out, he’d kill him. Not that Brent would blame him. Some days he felt his only option was to walk away, except he had no clue where he’d go or what he’d do. Besides, the sick, twisted side of him thought he deserved the torture of watching Vee find happiness with another man. Even if none of the guys she dated — and she dated plenty — were worthy of her.
There wasn’t a man on the planet that would treat her better or love her more than him. It was a shame she’d made it clear he was the last man she’d trust with her heart now. Trying to shake off his thoughts, he headed for the kitchen and the bottle of Jameson scotch he kept in the cupboard above the stove. The bottle wasn’t cracked and he had no intention of opening it anytime in the future, but he wasn’t above using it as a reminder of why he needed to stay in control. A reminder of what he’d lost.
Taking the bottle down, he placed it on the breakfast counter and pulled out a stool. For full minutes he stared at the deceptively innocuous fluid. He couldn’t blame his lack of control completely on the scotch he’d consumed during the day and night of the Johnsons’ funeral. Honesty compelled him to acknowledge he’d been close to breaking point before that gut-wrenching day. Add in alcohol, Wade’s emotional withdrawal, and Vee’s heartbreak, and Brent couldn’t stop himself from comforting Vee the only way he knew how.
With his love.
A love he’d taken back in the cold light of morning, under the heavy weight of guilt. He’d snuck away like a thief, not realising until Vee returned to university the mistake he’d made. By then it was too late to mend the rift his actions had caused.
The agony of watching her date all these years was a just payment for all the pain he’d caused her, and, until recently, he’d taken it as his due. But at some stage, probably when she’d moved back into her family home, his tolerance level had been reached. Brent knew he had to gain control of his turbulent emotions. With control came clear thinking and clear thinking would be the key to getting the one thing in his life he’d let slip through his fingers. The one thing he was determined to have.
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*originally posted on the Escape Publishing blog*
Five Escape Artists Walk Into a Restaurant
In November 2012 five writers: Rhian Cahill, Lee Christine, Keziah Hill, Rebekah Turner and Ainslie Paton met for the first time on the day Escape Publishing opened their electronic doors for business.
This is what happened when they met again twelve months later over lunch:
Ainslie: Our Managing Editor El Supremo, Kate Cuthbert would like us to do a post for the Escapades blog.
Rebekah: We would so ace a blog post.
Keziah: Did she say what she’d like the blog post to do?
Ainslie: Solve world hunger, spread peace and good will, attract new readers, and anything with Idris Elba.
Lee: Is Idris Elba a new Escape Artist?
Rhian: She did not say that. Except for the Idris Elba part. She would so say that.
Ainslie: She said she’d like a piece reflecting on our first year as Escape published authors.
Rebekah: Yawn. (The word, not the action).
Keziah: Surely, we can do something more interesting than that. We’re writers. Allegedly.
Lee: Idris Elba is a good name for a new character in my Poole & Grace Lawyers series.
Rhian: I don’t think I have any reflections. I’m all reflectioned out. 2013 was a tough year.
Keziah: Ain’t that the truth.
Ainslie: For publishing?
Rhian: For Idris Elba.
Lee: Who is Idris Elba?
Rebekah: I wrote the second Chronicles of Applecross book, Chaos Bound and it’s out now. My horde of writing elves is now hard at work on book three. Plus hmm, flying monkeys.
Keziah: Where do you get writing elves from? I could do with a good dozen of those. Do they work cheap? Three releases a year here I come.
Rhian: Swear word (An actual four letter word starting in f and ending in ing, not the euphemism) writing elves.
Lee: Idris Elba is a great name for an elf. Not sure I can work an elf into my next novel, though if Kate wants one I could try. I could call it In Safe Elves’ Arms.
Ainslie: That has a certain ring to it.
Keziah: More wine.
Rhian: What are we going to write about? Life is not an occasion themed novella.
Rebekah: Can we get a dessert menu? Helloooo … somebody?
Ainslie: We could write about what we learned in the last year as writers, how we’ve grown as professionals, and where we’re taking our careers next.
Keziah: We could. Or you could and I’ll take notes.
Rhian: If we wanted to bore everyone to swear word (four colourful letters with a suffix, you get the picture) death. Where is that waiter with the nice eyes and the tight… yeah, you know?
Lee: (Looking at her phone screen) Idris Elba has very nice eyes. There is nothing elfish about him. I can entirely see Kate’s point.
Keziah: Is elfish a word? Is reflectioned? They could be the new selfie. Should tweet Macquarie.
Rebekah: I’m really sorry I made up the thing about elves. I never learn.
Ainslie: So what if we wrote about second book syndrome or the perils of blog tours, or getting your first one star review.
Rebekah: I saw that one star you got. It was a doozey.
Ainslie: Hey—at least it had a star.
Keziah: What happens in one star club stays in one star club.
Lee: Don’t they say any review is a good review?
Rhian: Only if Idris Elba wrote it.
Ainslie: We could write about what surprised us about being published in 2013.
Keziah: That dinosaur erotica would really hurt.
Rhian: That no one really knows what defines NA.
Lee: Bet Idris does.
Ainslie: That hybrid author isn’t a disease.
Rebekah: That it’s perfectly possible to write 1000 words in McDonald’s and live to tell the tale.
Lee: That no one knows if blog tours and virtual launches work.
Rhian: That no one reads and assesses manuscripts like Kate Cuthbert. Not that I’m sucking up or anything.
Ainslie: This is like talking to my mother times four. What if we wrote about our plans for 2014?
Lee: All Idris Elba, all channels, and I’m going to work on another Grace & Poole story plus I have another single title in the works.
Rebekah: I will also be flogging any elf who refuses to work a standard ninety hour writing week and Lora Blackgoat will return.
Rhian: I’ll write my twentieth title.
There is long moment of silence as jaws drag on the tabletop. There is saliva. It’s not sexy.
Keziah: I’m not saying another word.
Ainslie: Me neither.
Lee: Idris Elba.
Note 1: None of these actual words got said at lunch with the exception of several swear words and the phrases: “More wine”, and, “Can we get a dessert menu?” Some of the sentiments expressed may bear a resemblance to truth.
Note 2: The five Escape Artists categorically deny any accusation of waiter with nice eyes harassment.
Note 3: No Idris Elbas were hurt in the making of this lunch.
Ellora’s Cave - http://www.ellorascave.com/coyote-home.html
Barnes & Noble - http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coyote-home-rhian-cahill/1022762853
Well what are you waiting for?
It’s Christmas Eve and ALL the presents are wrapped. Our contribution to tomorrows big family get together is ready which leaves Mr.C and I with nothing much to do. Okay, so we have to get the house in some sort of order because for the next three days it’s one Christmas celebration after another for us. I’m already feeling tired and I’m sure that’s my stomach cramping at the thought of all the food I’m going to be eating.
Because we’ll be so busy I’m taking this opportunity to wish you all a happy and safe Christmas. May Santa bring you all that you wish for.
It’s finally here! The first book in my new Are You Game? series, 7 Minutes In Heaven, is going live all over the net as I type this.
Luc relaxed the muscles in his arms and did the one thing he really didn’t want to. He set Cassie on her feet. Whoever had been hammering on the door had stopped, but the damage was done. Regret was written all over her pretty face. Scrubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, he drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Luc,” he said
Cassie’s gaze met his, one delicate eyebrow arched.
“My name. It’s Lucas Wilhelm. I’m head of McDermott Security, a position I’ve held for ten years.” Luc added the last part in the hope of reassuring her.
“Oh. Um, well…” She lowered her eyes, hiding the uncertainty swirling in their honey-coloured depths.
Placing two fingers under her chin, he tipped her head back until her gaze met his once more. “Don’t back down now, Cass. Where’s the woman who’s fought me for control for the last couple of hours gone?”
She shook her head, dislodging his fingers. “She just had common sense kissed right out of her.”
The small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth pulled at his gut and eased his mind. He hadn’t been sure at first, but now he didn’t doubt she’d bounce back from their mind-numbing lip-lock. Luc had expected they’d be explosive, he just hadn’t realised how unstable their chemistry was. He’d have to keep his hands off her until they were in more suitable surroundings or they’d find themselves sans clothes. There was one sure-fire way to keep her at a distance though. Strip her of control.
“As of now, this party is over.”
“What?” Her eyes narrowed to slits.
If looks could kill, the one she aimed his way would slice him to ribbons, and Luc figured she’d used it to de-ball many a man before him. Good thing he’d spent years developing a tough exterior. Although she’d found a way under his skin already, he wasn’t about to cower beneath her hostile stare. Luc embraced the hum in his veins. The zap delivered courtesy of her returning ballsy attitude. He’d never gone looking for a fight. Sure he’d been in plenty, but he’d never started one. Except now. With Cassie. And there was no denying the thrill thrumming in his blood. He was more than looking forward to their combat. He was eager for it to begin.
“As you can hear, there’s no longer music blasting through the house and that’s thanks to Lachlan McDermott ripping out power cables. If I were you, I wouldn’t be surprised when your DJ files a damage report and insurance claim.” Luc smiled as a growl rumbled in her throat. He’d never heard that particular sound from a woman, and he’d certainly never found it a turn on coming from any man, but there was no mistaking the tightening of his sac or the hardening of his erection.
“Damn men.” Cassie shoved passed him and flung open the door, using it to push him out of the way.
Before he got his head in gear and made it out from behind the door, she’d disappeared into the kitchen. With long strides, Luc followed only to witness her sexy arse vanish through the far doorway. Covering the distance in seconds, he found his men doing as he’d ordered. Between them and Cassie’s staff, the guests were quickly being ushered from the house in a tidal wave of drunkenness. His search for Cassie was hindered by the surge of bodies moving towards the front door, with his chances to spot her zero he let himself be swept up in the tide. When he reached the front yard, hire cars and drivers lined the street. Inebriated partiers tumbled into backseats, car doors slammed and departing vehicles were quickly swallowed up by the night.
With the party down to the last few stragglers, he turned back to the house determined to find Cassie while his men dealt with the remaining guests. He found her back in the kitchen. Leaning his shoulder against the doorframe, he folded his arms, crossed one ankle over the other and watched as she gave orders while packing box after box with glasses. The image of efficiency, her movements were economical and fluid, her speed and accuracy proving she’d done this a thousand times before. Luc relaxed and enjoyed the view. His pants grew snug and he had to shift his stance to alleviate the pressure.
Available from -
The two Passport To Passion Collection short stories, One Night In Bangkok and Singapore Fling, are finally available again! I’m excited to see these back out there. You can find all the details of where they’re available by clicking the covers.
A night of fantasy was all she wanted.
Spending the night with Tom was a daring step in Beth’s new resolve to please herself instead of others.
One night in the arms of this sexy stranger delivers pleasure like none she’s ever known and unleashes a passion she never imagined she possessed.
As the sun rises over Bangkok city Beth discovers walking away takes more courage than falling into bed with a man she’s never met—or will ever see again.
Carly has lusted after her boss for months and while on a business trip to Singapore she throws caution to the wind and suggests a fling. But Saxon Grant isn’t the conservative businessman she expected. Their passion is overwhelming and beyond anything she’s ever experienced.
A weekend of red-hot sex is too much temptation to refuse, but once Saxon gets his hands on Carly he knows a couple days will never be enough. Months of wanting her explode into a weekend of tangled sheets and twisted emotions.
After one wild weekend, these two hearts will never be the same.