"I am ready to meet my maker. Whether my maker is prepared to meet me is another matter."
-Winston Churchill
Showing posts with label Erotic Romance. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Erotic Romance. Show all posts

Friday, June 12, 2015

6 Besties With Author Kate Deveaux - Cockpit Book Tour & Giveaway








6 Besties With Author Kate Deveaux



Kate Deveaux

Please share your 6 bests, telling us from the topics below. Write as much, as little, and provide as many images as you'd like.

1. Best writing wardrobe. I write everyday so it’s pretty much whatever I have on which is usually some sort of tennis skirt and a comfy tee or sweater if it’s winter. A real luxury is writing in my bathrobe

2. Best Inspiration for writing. I find going on vacation no matter how close to home unleashes creative thought. That and a day by the pool work wonders.

3. Best writing place. My favorite chair in my living room, with my laptop, a cup of tea, and a little notebook to jot down things that pop into my head about the plot while I’m writing.

4. Best Pick-Me-Up book. There are a few books that really make me feel good. I have to say a Maeve Binchy such as Evening Class works every time. I’m transported to a different world and immersed in the daily lives of her Dublin characters. Also, Elin Hilderbrand and Wendy Wax are good beach reads and feel good reads.

5. Best secret talent. Now it wouldn’t be secret now if I told you, would it? Okay, okay, here’s one: I have a bit of a photographic memory. I know, that’s like being a little pregnant, LOL, but I do have a pretty good photographic memory. Comes in handy let me tell you.

6. Best experience or writing idea. Best writing idea…go to a coffee shop and observe (and listen). Guaranteed ideas for a book if you sit and watch while you sip your latte.

Thank you so much for having me today!

Always fun stopping by to chat.

Best,
Kate

xx




Cockpit Throttle Up
Book One
Kate Deveaux

Genre: Erotic Romance

Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Date of Publication: June 3, 2015

ISBN: 9781419991868
ASIN:

Number of pages: 65
Word Count: 30,000

Book Description:

It seems turbulence isn’t always caused by weather.

Throttle up as past loves collide…

High school sweethearts re unite forty years later at 37,000 feet.

Fifty eight year old commercial airline pilot, Bobbi Cooper, gets a blast from the past when her high school sweetheart, Mack McConnell, appears as one her first class passengers on her 747 transatlantic flight to London.

Used to being in control at all times, Bobbi is reeling from a crummy marriage and she must learn at Mack’s capable hands that losing control can be oh so sexy.




Available at Amazon BN Ellora’s Cave






Excerpt:

There was silence. Then the familiar sensation of her stomach being dragged down, right down to her standard issue black shoes. G force. It was the same every time.
Flicking off the autopilot and taking control of the 747, Bobbi gripped the throttle in her right hand, fearlessly pushing it forward. Slow and even. The plane bounced and shook in the wake turbulence of a passing 767. The muffled sounds of passengers’ outbursts at the sudden drop mingled with the clatter and clang of the galley carts that Bobbi damn well hoped were secured as she’d ordered.
They had to head to higher airspace. Now.
Bobbi knew better than to heed the shrill rapid warnings echoing throughout the cockpit to urgently trim to turbulence penetration airspeed.
Scott, her first officer, nodded as they increased power and held the jet seemingly against its will. Dozens of lights flashed. Air traffic control rattled off a series of confirmations when she pressed the plane higher, the metal creaking as she forced nearly a million pounds of steel and its occupants upward.
Pushing the throttle hard, Bobbi knew smooth air was only a few moments away. Under her guidance, the plane jostled and battled its way through the rough air. A sudden bump, followed by another, then the resulting loud gasp from the passengers.
Holding firm at her command, they broke through the rough air into an eerie smoothness as they glided seemingly effortlessly into calmer airspace.
Bobbi exhaled, only now aware she’d been holding her breath. Turbulence was an everyday occurrence for a seasoned pilot like herself, but this had caught her off guard. A heady mix of bad weather and the wake turbulence of the other aircraft had left her reeling when she tried to steady the 747 inbound for Heathrow.
Scott turned away to double-check some details with the flight engineer seated behind him. Bobbi wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow when he wasn’t looking. As captain of the immense beast, Bobbi couldn’t let her fellow officers—or any crew for that matter—see her sweat under pressure. And that was becoming more of an issue, since hot flashes were now often brought on not by an adrenaline rush from flying but by Mother Nature.
Bobbi Cooper couldn’t believe she would be fifty-eight next year. Where had the time gone?
She knew damn well where it had gone. First a stepping-stone career in the Air Force and then thirty years flying commercial. Enough to establish her as one of the highest-ranking woman pilots in the country as a 747 captain for Atlantica airlines.
Perfect,” Bobbi said, switching back to autopilot and settling the aircraft into the calmer and higher altitude.
Scott did as she ordered and tinkered with the gauges, she watched. Once she was sure all was under control, Bobbi unbuckled her shoulder harness and rose from her seat, reassured all was secure.
Keep her on route—I’m stepping back for a moment. You two got it?” she asked, standing behind her first officer Scott and her flight engineer Neville, the new recruit fresh from a small regional airline.
Sure, Bob, we got it,” Scott said casually, calling her by the familiar cockpit nickname. “Have them send up some coffee while you’re back there.”
Bobbi buzzed for the flight attendant to open the cockpit door. Standard procedure after 9/11. Bobbi peered out through the peephole. It was Sandy, the flight attendant with a penchant for displaying her ample cleavage by wearing her uniform extra tight, so it hugged all her curves. But it wasn’t only her inappropriate dress that annoyed Bobbi. It was the fact she’d also had fucked Bobbi’s husband.
But then again, who hasn’t?
After divorce and company paid-for counseling, Bobbi had come to the realization, and then acceptance, that Sandy was just one on a long list of Greg’s conquests. She did her best not to hold a grudge, but that was a constant challenge, as she ran into Sandy more than she would have liked. Once a century was about what Bobbi could tolerate, although it had been cleared by corporate that they were fine to work together. And they were. Bobbi was a professional. Through and through. She’d fought tooth and nail for her job, and with three and a half years until retirement, with the promise of a cushy pension waiting for her, which she’d only have to marginally share with Greg according to the settlement, there was no way she was going to let Sandy or any of the others put her off her game.
How’d everyone do?” Bobbi asked Sandy with her cool, composed captain’s demeanor. It was the one piece of her dignity she’d salvaged among the women flight attendants, a good majority of whom had been treated to Greg’s lustful attentions.
Sandy motioned with her head back toward the passenger area. “Fine,” she reported. “Chucker in aisle sixteen and a few more farther back, but they should be fine now.”
Chuckers. That was what they called the passengers who couldn’t hang on to lunch during a bumpy flight. Today had been a doozy, and it wasn’t over yet.
Bobbi noticed with subtle irritation that Sandy’s blouse strained against her perky breasts as she efficiently flicked the switch on the coffee machine. Her bosom jiggled while she scooped ice into a plastic cup and pulled a can of tomato juice out of the galley cart. Shit. Greg really hadn’t had a chance. Big brown doe eyes and a body that wouldn’t quit. The sexy flight attendant was everything Bobbi wasn’t. Not that it mattered now. Greg was on to new, greener pastures. Her ex was consistent she scoffed —his conquests all had one, no make that two things in common— big knockers and tiny, round asses. Men were shit, really. Why she had let herself be demeaned and embarrassed by his bad behavior for as long as she had, she’d never know.
C’est le vie, Bobbi coached herself as she smiled her most innocuous smile at Sandy.
Plan for a bumpy ride in to Heathrow—there’ll be some more weather ahead,” Bobbi warned her. “Might need more bags.”
Sure thing, Captain,” Sandy said as she snapped open the lid on the can, poured the tomato juice over ice and handed it to Bobbi.
Bobbi nodded her appreciation and gulped down her customary in-flight refreshment. “I’m going back for a few minutes,” she said, handing the empty cup back to Sandy before pulling back the curtain to first class. “And send some coffee in for Scott and Neville before we head down, please.”
Entering the first-class cabin on her way to the pilot’s rest area located between first class and business, Bobbi scanned the spacious cabin. Most of her passengers were now contentedly dozing, oblivious to the formidable battle she’d been waging in the cockpit to keep them in precariously calm airspace. But that was her job—to deliver five hundred souls safely to London.
Sunlight illuminated the plush first-class cabin through a few half-drawn window shades, but not quite to enough to keep the blinding sun from searing into her eyes. Squinting, she walked down the aisle, passing by the first row.
A collective gasp came from the passengers when the plane hit another deep air pocket. Bobbi reached out to steady herself, placing her hand on the headrest of the second row seat for a brief second, smiling reassuringly at the surrounding passengers. She was their pilot, after all.
The passenger in the nearest seat looked up at her.
Bobbi smiled down, then did a double take.
Bobbi?” the male passenger asked, looking up at her. “Bobbi…Bobbi Cooper?”
Yes,” Bobbi said, instantly recognizing his features. Her mind was spinning. Those dark-blue eyes. And that unmistakable voice. Velvety and thick. The way scotch felt when it slid down her throat. She’d know that voice and that face anywhere. Even if it had been forever.
It was Mack.



About the Author:

Kate Deveaux is a contemporary, erotic romance writer and die-hard romantic. It was after reading Jane Eyre in high school, that she became hooked on the idea of writing about romance, excitement and drama. Kate has been penning stories, from the sensual to the sinfully sexy, ever since.

A former wedding planner, Kate has always been "in love" with love! She was inspired to transition from writing racy short stories to full length manuscripts after meeting other authors in the romance world at industry workshops, conferences and events. Originally from England, now resides in the U.S. with her husband. When she’s not writing or reading, Kate can be found on the tennis court—yes, there’s even "love" in that game too!









Street Team Kate’s Kittens:








Tour giveaway

5 $10.00 Amazon Giveaways

3 Copies of ebook Bride Undone

3 Copies of ebook Platinum Pleasures

2 Copies of ebook Academy of Love

2 Copies of ebook Sail Away With Me



Link to entry form







Monday, November 12, 2012

Virtual Book Tour & #Giveaway with Liz Crowe - Escalation Clause (@GoddessFish)



Please let me introduce you to author, Liz Crowe, on tour now with her book Escalation Clause at Goddess Fish Promotions. Liz is sharing a guest post with us today, and I LOVE it! She will also be awarding three lucky commenters a chance to win a signed copy of Escalation Clause in paperback or ebook, a chance at a $100 Amazon Gift Card and your choice of Stewart Realty Swag. Be sure to leave a comment for a chance to win!

Welcome Liz!


Alex Clare
Too Close

It is the perfect representation for Escalation Clause for many reasons.  The many intertwined characters in the book have reached a breaking point, thanks to a terrible tragedy at the end of Essence of Time.  

They are seeking solace, but each of the couples (and potential couples) keep bouncing off each other "like magnets facing the wrong way" one of them says at one point. They've been through a lot to get where they are--and can't seem to move to the next level of marital fulfillment (or potential marital fulfillment). Drastic steps must be taken in many cases involving going "on my way" away from the one they love in order to emerge stronger.

I love this song's dubstep beat and it's message that staying true to YOURSELF is most important. Not to give too much away but once readers make it to this book (book 6 in the series) we have ALL been through a lot, and while we want happiness for these folks, we mostly want them to do what they have to do to find what they need from each other.

ESCALATION CLAUSE IS NOT MEANT TO BE READ AS A STAND ALONE. It is book 6 in an award winning and best selling series (Stewart Realty).

Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her for life as erotic romance author.
When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.

Her groundbreaking romance subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)

Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.
  
LINKS:


Young love burns hot and bright. Soul mates are found, then lost in the blink of an eye. When young widow Maureen Gordon Taylor meets her daughter's sexy soccer coach, her body and heart slowly unthaw.  But will holding tight to the past cost her a future?  
A devastating blow shatters a family's fragile happiness. Rob Freitag and Lila Warren now confront life without the emotional glue that once bound them, but a shared goal brings them back together. Is it enough to make them whole again and become the family they were meant to be?
Mutual trust is hard won for the Gordons.  When tragedy strikes, Jack and Sara’s lives are sent into a tailspin.  To keep her family from falling apart, she must force Jack to admit his deepest fears. After everything they’ve been through, can they revive the spark and move to the next stage of marital fulfillment?
The sweeping saga of the Stewart Realty series continues as long-time friends learn to rely on each other, and to grab hold of happiness before it's too late. 

EXCERPT: 

The sunlight pierced the light haze of his sleep. Brandis groaned, rolled over seeking shade and found himself hand-and-kneeing it facing the brick pavers of his parents’ patio. “Christ in a sidecar what time is it?” He mumbled, flipping around so he sat, back against the chaise lounge that must have served as his bed for the night. Not that he recalled anything after the second joint. He groaned and ran a hand down his already sweaty face.

Jack walked out the back door, Mountain Dew in hand, dressed for work at his father’s construction site for the day. Brandis blinked at his friend. “How in the hell can be so awake and non-hung over? I feel like three day old shit.”

“You look like it, too.” Jack slammed the remaining soda and threw the can into the returnables' bin. “You taking those back today? We need food at the house while you’re at it.”

Brandis flipped him off. “I look like your personal shopper?”

“No,” Jack sat, laced his work boots up then leveled a deep blue stare at him. “You look like a guy lucky enough not to have to work on the Saturday after a giant pool party.” His friend leaned forward on his knees and gave Brandis an ominous look. “You also look like the guy who could possibly be messing around with my sister. I don’t recommend you be that guy. Not at all.”

“I’m…” Brandis started to say something, but he had nothing, so he stayed quiet. Jack stared him down, turned on his heel then left, letting the gate bang loud behind him. Brandis crawled to the edge of the pool, noted all the shit he needed to clean out of it including at least two condoms, then stuck his feet into the cold water, groaning when his temples started pounding to the beat of his heart. He put his head in his hands. Mo was the first thing he saw when he closed his eyes. Her bright blue eyes snapping with laughter, anger, and…desire … God help him, he had nursed a crush on her for years.

She’d been such a tomboy, running with him and Jack, tagging along then joining in the baseball, basketball, soccer whatever they concocted, up to and including egg throwing at Halloween and more less innocent vices. Their easy camaraderie had always allowed them to wrestle, to tickle, to touch. After she’d shown up at his house last month, determined to escape her jerk-off father, he thought he could just ease back into it. But, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, and in that time, she had become a full-fledged, jaw-dropping woman. Her tall, athletic frame was lush, lovely, full-hipped and inviting. The deep blue of her eyes and inky black fall of her hair made him want to bury his hands in it, to kiss her until she begged for more.

So, it seemed, his crush had bloomed into full-blown lust. A desire she apparently matched.

 No way.

He’d heard Jack’s message loud and clear. And as much of a man-whore as Brandis was, he was a loyal friend. So, Mo was off limits. Fine. He did not need that hassle, not now, with just a month and a half before he left for Colorado.

He leaned back on his hands and willed his cock soft, but the memory of her lips, and the feel of her skin against his if just for that one moment was not something he would soon forget. When he’d fucked that girl in the basement then realized Mo had been down there, watching them, it had taken him a couple of seconds to acknowledge he’d been picturing her beneath him, her body taking his, the sounds of her climax in his ears the entire time.

What a fucking mess.

“Hey,” he nearly jumped a mile into the air at the sound of her voice. “I, um, just want to say, you know, well…” She sat a couple of feet from him and let her feet dangle in the water. “Sorry.” She looked straight ahead.

“For what?” He cleared his throat, nervous beyond belief.

“For spying on you. I mean, I wasn’t, I was getting a drink and just kind of … oh hell. You know what I mean.” She looked down into the water. “This pool is disgusting.” She shoved a greasy looking floating seat away with her foot. “Are those…” She pointed to the used rubbers on the bottom.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand down his face, then jumped up and grabbed the skimmer. He cleared the condoms, a bottle of sunscreen and three beer cans from the pool, trying to ignore her. But his baser self would not cooperate and he had to grab a towel and fasten it around his waist to hide the damn tent in his shorts. She moved all the chairs back into their usual places and cleaned off the two glass-topped tables, finding yet another rubber in the grass near the back fence.

“You guys sure do know how to throw a party.” She smiled at him, lifting his heart and making his damn cock pound in time with his headache.

“Huh,” he grunted, before turning the water on to refill the pool and taking a reading on the chemicals. Sweat dripped off his forehead, blurring his vision. Fuck it was hot out already and it was barely eight o’clock in the morning. She crouched down next to him, her arm grazing his, making him flinch. Crush, Brandis. Remember? She is a no-go zone. Don’t do it.




Goddess Fish Partner

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