Count Down to Christmas
Meet your stripper!
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.
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.
By Tessa McFionn
Rise of the Stria Book 1
Fiery Seas Publishing
March 20, 2018
When Kahlym cal Jhuen, freedom-fighting leader of the Chandar Stria, breaks into a prison ship controlled by the Rimmarian Thrall, he only expected to rescue two of his crew. But when he discovers a terrified female during his escape, he is immediately captivated by her unique beauty and makes a snap decision to take her with him. However, his good deed backfires when he learns he has stolen the Thrall Emperor’s prize.
Down to her last dollar, Evainne Wagner expected nothing out of the ordinary when she stepped out of her Boston apartment. Instead, she found herself in the middle of an intergalactic firefight, complete with strange soldiers with deadly weapons pointed directly at her. Salvation arrives in the nick of time in the form of a mysterious leather-clad warrior, skidding in and whisking her away. Trusting her heart, she follows, hoping to find answers as well as a way home.
Safely on board his ship, he learns more about her and her rare skills, triggering the memory of a half-forgotten prophecy spoken at the time of his cursed birth. Outcast because of a cruel twist of fate, he finds unexpected acceptance, even affection, from his new passenger.
Could she be the one who holds the future of his people, as well as his own heart, in her tender hands?
About the Author:
Tessa McFionn is a very native Californian and has called Southern California home for most of her life, growing up in San Diego and attending college in Northern California and Orange County, only to return to San Diego to work as a teacher. Insatiably curious and imaginative, she loves to learn and discover, making her wicked knowledge of trivial facts an unwelcomed guest at many Trivial Pursuit boards.
When not writing, she can be found at the movies or at Disneyland with her husband, as well as family, friends or anyone who wants to play at the Happiest Place on Earth. She also finds her artistic soul fed through her passions for theatre, dance and music.
A proud parent of far too many high school seniors and two still living house plants, she also enjoys hockey, reading and playing Words With Friends to keep her vocabulary sharp. She is currently the treasurer of the San Diego chapter of Romance Writers of America and loves spending time working with such amazingly intelligent and creative writers.
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!
Craig had an urge to call out “hey honey I’m home“ as he walked into the kitchen and tossed his keys into the bowl where he always threw his keys.
Sounds from the living room indicated that Lysia was watching TV. Returning to noise was nice. It made this house not so empty and lonely.
He paused when he entered the living room. Lysia had been busy, she still was.
Colorful paper chains, garlands of popcorn and cranberries covered the tree. Small origami ornaments hung from the branches.
“It’s beautiful. How did you do all of this?” Craig stepped up to his tree, admiring all the work that Lysia had put into decorating it. He turned to look at her. Her hair was a mess, half in and half out of a ponytail. She had flecks of small cut paper on her cheek. She bit paper clips that she had twisted out of shape, and flags of tape hung off the edge of her hand. Magazine clippings surrounded her. A stapler lay on its side. The tape dispenser was almost empty. Paper clips were scattered everywhere. Popcorn spilled out of a microwave bag and onto the floor. A hotel-room emergency sewing kit lay open on top of an empty plastic bag that used to contain fresh cranberries.
She focused on the construction in front of her. Craig could make out aluminum foil, coffee filters, and cardboard. The rest was sheer magic. Lysia constructed an angel from recycling and found objects.
“There.” She said triumphantly as she placed the last piece of tape along the back between wings she had formed from, where those leaves?
The smile she gave Craig made him stupid. How had he managed to pass over the offered third date reward? Oh right, he wasn’t going to pressure her, and last night he had fallen asleep like a dork.
She bounced up and presented him with the angel. “You’re home just in time to place her on top of the tree.”
Home. It sounded warm and inviting coming from her lips. This was just a big house. She was making it a home by being here. By decorating his tree, by bringing her presence into his life.
He took the angel from her and pulled her to him for an embrace. She tipped her face to him, and he took her lips. “This is beautiful, thank you.” He said after ending the kiss.
He held her to him as he reached up and crowned the tree with her art. “It’s perfect.”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. A Perfect Proposal.
Round 1 Day2:
Noell Mosco with a scene from Loud
Me! with a scene from More Than Want from the Twelve Strippers of Christmas
VOTE HERE!--voting for this round is open for another 30 hours. (voting closes on Oct 3 11:59pm)
Tell your friends.
“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
Whoo hoo, Christmas in July! Well, not really. But I am listening to a lot of Christmas music as I finalize this collection of short stories.
Here’s an excerpt from Les Poules Françaises
“Dancing Queen.” Nick purred as Katie approach the front of the club. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
She placed a hand over his kiss and blushed slightly. It was cute.
He glanced behind her checking to confirm she had not been followed by the grabby Gwinney.
“Just you?” He asked.
“I told you it would just be me. Disappointed?” Her smile lit up her face. Her eyes looked bigger and brighter with sparkling gold make-up. He wanted to poke his fingers through the loops in her hair style.
“Thrilled it’s just you. That Gwinney is like some excitable puppy who doesn’t understand the commands sit, stay, leave me the f*k alone.” Nick paid for their entrance into the club.
“She thinks you’re hot.” Katie explained as she followed Nick further inside.
“Of course she does. I am hot, and I work damn hard to make sure people know it.” Nick stroked his hand in the air down the front of his body, displaying the artistry that went into tonight’s outfit.
His hair had been shaved on the sides and piled high in the middle. Braids with beads and peacock feathers lined the side of his mohawk and draped down his back with the longer lengths of blue and black hair. His make-up was all in shades of black and silver. He wore a cropped leather biker jacket with a tight peacock print t-shirt. Everything else was black leather and silver studs.
“Modest much?” Katie laughed. She shoved her gloves into her coat pocket and passed it to the coat check girl.
“Oh, you should talk, Miss Victory Curls and swishy skirt. I don’t see you here in scrubs and nursing shoes. Why should women have all the fun in dressing up and looking good?”
“Point taken.” Katie agreed. “But it lures in hapless victims like Gwinney. And it confuses her. She sees the pretty, she wants the pretty, she doesn’t understand why the pretty doesn’t want her back.”
“Are you calling me pretty?” Nick looked down his nose at her.
Katie shook her head and bit her lower lip. He needed to get her on the dance floor before he pushed her against the back wall and messed up the makeup they both wore.