Next week the fun begins!
Join me for a full schedule of St. Helena Vineyards Kindle World fun!
Next week the fun begins!
Join me for a full schedule of St. Helena Vineyards Kindle World fun!
Count Down to Christmas
Bang a Drummer
Cross dressing Lettie has the hots for a Celtic drummer who is hiding an even bigger, hairier secret than the one she is.
His posture changed, his knees softened, and his chest lifted. He lifted his elbows and then his hands to shoulder level. One sandaled foot slid out, and he spun. He executed a perfect pirouette. His arms extended, and he leaped, doing the splits mid-air. He took small running steps and then he leaped again, this time gaining air, and spinning at least twice. He landed in what looked like a lunge, leg extended behind him, knee bent, arms and focus reaching out.
Glori made an undignified “ungph” sound as he landed. She knew he could dance, but not like that. She had never seen anything so amazing. She was taken in by his display of grace, poise, and strength. And that extended toe point. And he did it all in hiking sandals and shorts.
Blaze, eyes bright with exertion, hair wild from the spinning, caught sight of her by the door and smiled. He looked like a sun god, with flames escaping from his hair and eyes.
She licked her dry lips. “You’re a dancer. Like a serious dancer.”
Blaze’s smile widened. She leaned more heavily, letting the building hold her up since her knees were no longer able to support her weight.
“I couldn’t resist the call of a wide open floor.”
“You’re like a ballerina,” Glori said, still in awe at the way the man could move.
“Danseur,” he corrected, emphasizing the second syllable of the word. “And yes, classically trained, the whole bit.”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Blaze and Glori from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available Now
I have a release date for Protective!
It feels like forever waiting to have a date to share with everyone!
Morgan Palatine wants to wrap Honey in his embrace and keep her from harm. But it’s too soon. He can’t just sweep in and claim her. As a foundations specialist, he knows the importance of establishing trust before the rest of the relationship can be built.
Honey knows the dangers of judging a book by its cover. Her abusive ex is a shining example that looks are deceiving. She’s trying to get past the superficial barriers of Morgan’s job and his proclivity for wearing plaid shirts, now if he would just kiss her already.
Morgan will do whatever it takes to support Honey but when he leaves to face impending dangers, she’s left on her own to deal with her own personal demons and inadequacies.
A recent truce between the long-time family rivals the Palatines and the Aventines, is well timed as the new allies share information that presents the science behind their mythology.
However, an attempt on Morgan’s life alludes to impending danger on a grander scale.
Is there a connection between the attempt on Morgan’s life and the scientific discovery? Are the Aventines really playing nice and new allies? Morgan needs to find out who is on his side all while he gets his head on straight so he doesn’t blow his chances with Honey.
but you can pre-order it now!
Amy started to apologize again before Jason cut her off. “I like that.” He paused. “I like you.”
She blushed. She was drawn to Jason, more than she had ever been drawn to anyone she had known for such a short time. But did she care? Yes, she cared what he thought of her, but did that mean she cared about him? Too many emotions swirled in and around her skull. Whatever she felt, she hoped he did make good on his offer to seduce her. She wanted it more than anything she could imagine.
Jason led Amy out of the restaurant. He dropped her hand and then spun on the ball of his foot, completing several full turns. He stopped with a jump, planting his feet. “Whoo!”
“I guess you enjoyed your supper?” Amy ran after him as he danced down the street.
Ignoring the crowded sidewalk, Jason leaped onto a planter before landing with another spin.
“If you were singing, I would think I’d been transported into a musical,” she said, looking up at Jason as he spun around a lamp pole.
He smiled down at her.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re dancing up the street like a mad man.” She laughed.
Jason twirled and executed an undulating body wave before coming to a stop in front of her.
The breath caught in her throat as he merged their personal spaces. “You are music that makes me feel like dancing,” he confessed in a low whisper.
Amy expected her face to burst into flames with the heat of her flush, but instead it was suddenly cold and wet. She lifted her face to the sky to watch the downpour overtake them.
She smiled into the rain. “It is like a musical, and now it’s raining.”
“You know what that means, don’t you?” Jason asked. She shook her head and looked into his eyes.
“It means the hero gets to kiss the girl.”
“Are you my hero, Jason?” Amy asked, focusing on his lips.
“If you let me.”
Amy closed her eyes as Jason’s mouth covered hers. His lips felt hot in the chill of the rain. She leaned into him, tasting his lips and his tongue. His kiss pulled at her core, her entire body flaring up like liquid fire. She wanted to feel all of him. His lips and arms were not nearly enough. Her entire being shook with need, with want. His arms tightened around her.
Her brain disengaged, and her perception of the world went fuzzy.
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Five Glowing Rings from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available Now
I will be at the Griffyn Ink booth at this year’s Southern Festival of Books signing copies of the Twelve Strippers of Christmas, along with the other Griffyn Ink authors! I won’t be signing the other authors, but they will be there as well.
Date and times:
Friday, October 13: 12:00 – 5:00 p.m.
Saturday, October 14: 10:00 a.m. – 6:00 p.m.
Sunday, October 15: 12:00 – 5:00 p.m.
Location: War Memorial Plaza and Main Public Library, Nashville, Tennessee
Come by and see us.
“You’re in a club, twenty-one and over, and you’re drinking a kiddie drink. Designated driver?“ A gravely male voice, low and somewhat sexy, asked me.
I turned, tilted my gaze up, and froze. Any semblance of a witty retort evaporated from my tongue. Long black hair, dark eyes, heavy eyeliner, full lips, square chin. My idea of the quintessential rock star stood smirking at my drink.
I dropped my eyes and stared at his hands. Tattooed knuckles bedecked in heavy silver rings gripped a steaming mug. I couldn’t look directly at him. I already felt the wobbles of turning into once-human goo deep in my gut. I followed his hand to a wrist wrapped in leather and chain bracelets and a few dripping scarves.
“Coffee?” I managed to say.
“Yeah.” He held the mug up in salute before taking a sip. That ‘yeah’ was really quite a sexy sound.
“You’re picking on me for drinking a Roy Rogers, and you’re drinking coffee? Trying to get sober?” I’m not sure how I was able to form words. My throat was dry, and my tongue felt swollen. I always lost the ability to speak coherently around good looking men. It was a good thing I was sitting down, because I know my knees had forgotten how to work.
He huffed. “Trying to stay sober. You?”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Calling Bird from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017
Tyler stalked thru every last tent, and he literally crawled between them as well. Still no bird. And no one had seen any more roosters running around.
He checked out the main entrance and wished he hadn’t left his jacket in the pickup. A fine drizzle and diminishing light were going to make the next half of his search miserable. For Kolby, he would do this in his bare feet in the snow. She had kissed his face, and her lips had felt like clouds. He stepped out into the weather.
After a fruitless search that took longer than he wanted, and probably not half the time that was needed, Tyler returned empty-handed to the rooster tent.
Kolby sat on the table. Her torso and arms draped over the crate holding the smaller of the two roosters. Her dark hair, in a thick braid, hung limply over her shoulder. She wiped at her nose, still sniffling.
His heart broke to see her so sad. He had watched, from too far away, as she established herself as a Marans breeder. Her birds consistently produced the desired dark brown eggs. Her hens were full and fluffy with dark feathers, and the roosters were picture-book quality. To lose her spokesmodel and top show bird had to feel like a kick in the teeth.
And here he was again, watching her from too far away.
He would give anything to be her hero but he’d failed miserably.
“Kolby?” He didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want to cause her any more grief.
Her puffy red eyes lifted to meet his steady gaze. When she saw he had no bird in his arms, she didn’t smile the way she usually did when she saw him.
He shook his head and opened his empty arms. He was so sorry, so unbelievable sorry. He would give anything to see her smile again, but he was only able to deliver bad news.
Kolby rushed into his arms, holding onto him as fiercely as if he was the only person who could save her.
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Three French Cockerels from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017
“How’re you doing?” The man she’d inadvertently ogled had a square jaw lined with a thin beard, nice lips, and a voice like liquid chocolate. He gave Alexa a little upward nod of his head. It was a shapely head with close-cropped, tightly curled hair. He had everything nice, and that was why Alexa figured he had mesmerized her as he carried cases of beer and water from a delivery pallet on the sidewalk into a building.
“No, no, I’m good,” she stammered. Oh my God, wrong answer stupid. And he’s wearing a Santa hat.
Red stocking cap with white pom-pom, tight jeans, and a T-shirt with the long sleeves pushed up. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold. Alexa sighed as she watched him pick up another box and disappear into the dark of the building. His jeans displayed his ass to perfection. He even whistled. Could he be any cuter?
“You sure you don’t need anything?” he asked again. This time she registered hints of a British accent.
“Just enjoying the show,” Alexa gushed.
“By all means, enjoy away.” He rolled his shoulders, did an extra flex of bicep, and carried another box into the building.
Alexa’s brain, not firing on all cylinders, took a moment to realize that she had just come across as the vilest, most sexist pig ever. Had she been a man doing that to a woman, she should have been slapped. Instead, he flexed for her.
“I just objectified you in a very demeaning manner, and you don’t mind?” she asked him after he jogged down the few steps to the sidewalk.
The man paused. Damn, he was tall. Then he shrugged. “It’s all part of the job. Look, if you want to objectify me without guilt and enjoy a real show, come by tonight. Doors open at eight.” He pointed to the marquee on the building behind him. Manfred’s Manly Male Review.
“Oh. Right.” Alexa felt a little awkward, but she smiled. Alliteration always made her happy. Manfred should have used manifestation instead of review…more Ms that way. She had been ogling a stripper in his day wear, and he had just invited her to ogle him some more. “I think I just will.”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Perfect Cup from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017
Bethy stared mournfully at the remnants of Christmas tree selections. The live trees were all dead and brown, and of the pre-lit trees, the only choices were too big and expensive or unnatural colors. She was not convinced this was going to be a good idea.
Seth tossed another box of frozen appetizer snacks in the cart. “I don’t know about you, but on Thursday I think snacks and movies all day sounds perfect.” His smile faded when he looked at her.
“Whats wrong, Bethy girl?”
Bethy sighed, the sweet and the bitter all mixed up into one. Seth already had a nickname for her, that made her heart soar. But the lack of tree options felt like a holiday kick in the backside. “No trees.”
“What do you mean no trees? There’s this one over here.” He gestured broadly at the huge example.
“Okay, then we go avant-garde and get the white one and do all black and silver ornaments.”
Bethy giggled. “That sounds too chic for me.”
“Then we do white with candy colored ornaments. It will be festive.”
“A white tree? Will it work? Maybe no tree is best.” She shook her head skeptically.
“Of course it will work. It will be Whoville meets Willy Wonka. Ridiculous and sweet. C’mon.” Seth spun a pirouette in front of the tree then slid across the floor on his knees to be right in front of Bethy. “I’m begging, can we can we can we? Huh?”
Bethy’s face felt like it was going to crack in half with her smile. An older lady paused and said, “When a boy that good looking is on his knees in front of you, you had better say yes.”
Bethy started laughing. “Okay, okay, we can get the white tree.”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Partridge in Her Pear Tree from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017