Tag Archives: Drinks

Liquid Friday With Author Di Storm

This week we are featuring Erotic Romance author Di Storm.  Lets hear from her directly about her favorite cocktail:

“My favorite cocktail is Long Island Ice Tea, until I  discover something new.”

Ingredients: Long Island Iced Tea - 1

  • ½ fluid ounce vodka
  • ½ fluid ounce rum
  • ½ fluid ounce gin
  • ½ fluid ounce tequila
  • ½ fluid ounce triple sec (orange-flavored liqueur)
  • 1 fluid ounce sweet and sour mix
  • 1 fluid ounce cola, or to taste
  • 1 lemon slice

Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Pour vodka, rum, gin, tequila, triple longislandsec, and sour mix over ice; cover and shake. Pour cocktail into a Collins or hurricane glass; top with splash of cola for color. Garnish with a lemon slice.

 

Now that we heard from the author, lest grab a glass of this delicious sounding Long Island Ice Tea, kick back and relax while learning more about  Di Storm’s new release:  Yes Sir! available from  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or directly from Green Ivy Publishing.

TEASER

A world of intrigue and deception. Underworld clubs with high-profile members. A powerful circle of friends, and strangers, who meet in select places where one must know the hidden path in

yessirEarly in her adult life, Jessika finds herself attracted to men who are more dominant: controlling, forceful, her superior. And somewhere down her path of exploring sensual feelings, it all falls into place—she needs a master, a man she can serve in every way. But the further she delves into the world of domination, the more she realizes a part of her is still empty.

Surprisingly, Jessika finds that missing ingredient in a man who is anything but dominant. He is a cockold—a man who finds eroticism in watching enjoy herself with others but knowing that she isn’t getting pleasure from him.

Yes, Sir is a journey of lost love, lost connections, and the struggle for self-control. Jessika finds herself experiencing drastic changes deep within. The reserved, quiet, and submissive person she once was—fading. She is becoming stronger, more vocal, and dominant, standing up for herself, and others. These changes create a roller coaster of conflict within, a transitioning woman who struggles with an ever-present and seemingly contradictory need to be controlled and mastered.

Yes, Sir is an erotic, sensual, and emotional journey, bringing you to places you did not believe truly existed—but they do!

About the Author

distormBio

Liquid Friday with Author Jenn Nixon

This week we are featuring a Romance, Science Fiction and Fantasy  author Jenn Nixon.  Lets hear from her directly about her favorite cocktail:

My characters drink much more than I do. I’ve never really warmed up to the taste of alcohol. If it doesn’t takes like alcohol, I’m more likely to drink it. One of my favorite drinks is the Jolly Rancher-jolly rancherJenn Style. I make it with Sour Apple Schnapps, Peach Schnapps, Cranberry Juice and a splash of Orange Juice. I make mine on the light side, so they never really do anything but give me a slight buzz. LOL

Most of my characters like wine. Why? No clue. I hate it. It’s possible that someone will crack open a beer, too, and I know that Lucky likes Gin and tonic. I try to remember that other people DO like to drink when I’m creating my characters, it helps make them realistic to me. I think the next character I create will be more like me and not drink at all or very rarely at special occasions like Weddings and parties! J

Thanks for having me on your blog, Eden!

  • 1 oz. Sour Apple Pucker schnapps
  • 1 oz. peach schnapps
  • 4 oz. cranberry juice
  • splash of orange juice

Combine all ingredients in a shaker with ice, and shake until icy cold. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. You can garnish with a slice of apple, or a lemon wheel

Now that we heard from the author, lest grab a glass of this delicious sounding Jenn style- Jolly Rancher and indulge in an excerpt from her “Lucky” book series.  In particular from “Lucky’s Charm.”

Excerpt:

          August 14

           Nevada

Through a small gap in the grimy motel curtains, Lucky watched Conrad Andersen pull a Screenshothooker over his lap and playfully spank her ass. The woman shook her bleached head and kicked her legs in false protest, shaking the entire bed. She slithered against his portly belly and gave him an exaggerated kiss before vanishing from the scope.

Andersen wiped his mouth, and traces of bright red lipstick smeared across his face. Frowning, he got up and moved out of view.

Two hundred yards away, Lucky shifted on the rooftop, using the free time to ease the tension built up after an hour-long stakeout. First, a stretch and twist sideways popped a few vertebrae. Flexing both hands and then rotating both ankles brought the circulation back.

Wonder if military snipers do this shit when stalking a target. Doubt any of them ever had to endure an Olympic, Viagra-induced sexcapade.

Lucky eased back into position just in time to see Andersen appear in the rifle’s scope again. Even with the obstructed view into the room, she saw him dressed in a blue pinstriped suit with a white shirt. A decent-looking older man but knowing everything he’d done made him vile enough to eliminate.

The woman reappeared and gathered her belongings off the ratty nightstand. The lights dimmed; Lucky took deep breaths to maintain a slow, steady heart rate.

Lucky directed the scope three feet to the right and targeted ten inches below the top of the motel room’s door frame: the perfect height to hit the man. Once she had a clear shot, the window of opportunity would last five seconds. She already calculated the wind factor, distance, and bullet drop. The door opened. Lucky let out one last breath and then counted in her head.

One. The hooker emerged laughing.

Andersen appeared and draped his arm around the woman’s shoulders. Two.

She glanced up at him. Three. Lucky eased the crosshairs of the scope on his head.

Four. He leaned down and kissed his escort.

The mark lifted his head to search the parking lot.

In the fifth second, the bullet penetrated his skull. His eyes popped upon exit. Pink bits of his brain spattered on the door behind him. Andersen’s body slumped against the door frame.

The hooker’s scream filled the air. Other rooms instantly sprang to life with commotion. A dog even barked in the distance.

The remnants of his face stared back into the scope, confirming the kill.

Burn in hell, bastard.

The brass catcher on the rifle trapped the bullet casing. Lucky removed the silencer and popped off the shoulder stock. Then she packed the Heckler and Koch MSG90 in the trombone-shaped case in record time.

She rolled up the blanket and surveyed the roof for noticeable evidence before slipping down the side of the house. The quiet development she found behind the motel provided excellent cover. However, the occupants and their neighbors might be home any moment, and she had to move.

Lucky pulled the worn French beatnik beret down her forehead before weaving through the backyard. She hopped over the fence of the adjoining property, emerging on Margo Drive. She walked the length of the street, listening for any sign of the police behind her.

Though her heart pumped as if she just rode a roller coaster, she felt completely at ease. Yet another sign she’d been doing this job too long. Less than a mile from the scene and she didn’t have a stitch of worry about the cops catching her.

She was getting that good at killing.

Rounding the corner, Lucky noticed a young girl crying in front of a makeshift lemonade stand that her father was tearing down. The dollar sign, forgotten on the parched grass, had drops of tears streaking through the lettering. She slowed, feeling her stomach tighten as the sobs grew louder.

“We’ll try again tomorrow, honey,” the father said, ruffling the girl’s blonde head.

“But I dinnit sell anything, Daddy,” she squeaked.

Lucky had thirty seconds, maybe less, before someone called about Andersen. Response time in Vegas, at dusk, was never routine. Even if LVPD arrived within the next two minutes, she’d be long gone. She had to walk past them. Can’t let the poor girl go to bed sad and disappointed. Lucky knew how that felt. Fishing out two dollars from her jeans, she approached the stand.

“I need something to drink,” she said, clutching the trombone case tightly, her attention on the child “Think I can have one before you close?”

“Really?” The girl’s eyes bugged wide like little swimming pools.

“Get a cup, Daisy,” the father suggested and glanced up from his work on the wooden stand. The kid filled the cup all the way to the rim and decorated the lip with two cut lemons.

“I made it myself,” she announced proudly.

Lucky took the cup, guzzled half, and smiled. “Ahh, that’s very good lemonade.” She placed the two dollars in the girl’s hand. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you,” the father and daughter said simultaneously. That fatherly tone warmed her for a moment, but she didn’t make eye contact.

“Welcome. Gotta go,” she said, swinging the trombone case. “Gonna be late. Bye.”

“Bye! Come back tomorrow.” Daisy waved.

A minute after finishing her lemonade, Lucky found her rental car on Pacyna Street. The smell of Vegas, sex, booze, and money lingered in the air. Streetlights sparkled, waiting for the last of the sunlight to vanish from the horizon.

Lucky opened the trunk, secured the case, and slipped into the car. She sighed. Her boss wanted her to get rid of the sniper rifle despite pleas to keep the weapon for sentimental value. She knew he was right; she used the execution method several times. Still, it was a great gun—one she had for years—and she hated to melt it down.

Sirens screamed in the distance, breaking into her head. Not wanting to push her luck any further by sticking around, she took off, traveled south to E. Tropicana Avenue, and picked up her cell phone when she turned onto the main drag.

“It’s done,” she said while checking the rearview mirror. “Our boy had a thing for working girls, apparently.”

“Leave the package where I told you, he’ll take care of it for us. I’ll see you when you land, okay?” the man on the other end replied.

“Sure, Phen. Tell Bet she owes me dinner.”

“She does? Why?” He huffed. “Don’t tell me you two are wagering over your jobs.”

“No, she owes me because I told her you’d make me get rid of Heckle today.”

“Don’t be sore, you still have the other rifle.”

“Yeah, yeah. Talk to ya.” Lucky clicked off the phone. Annoyed and physically high from the adrenaline rush, she went to drop off her weapon at the butcher’s lock box, hoping to find a way to work through the pending madness that followed her jobs.

* * * *

Two days later, Lucky Fascino sat at the back of the plane, flipping through the complimentary magazine. She smiled up at the male flight attendant when he stopped the beverage cart.

“Drinks?” he asked.

“Gin and tonic, thanks,” she said.

“Make it two,” her neighbor added.

Her row mate, a pink-skinned, gray-haired man, had curiosity etched on his face. Next to Lucky, any Caucasian looked pale so she understood their interest. Being naturally bronzed, due in part to an unknown, mixed heredity, gave her an all-year color most women would kill to have. As part of her normally disguised travels, she hid her curly, honey-brown hair and slight almond-shaped, amber eyes—now considered exotic instead of strange—behind a jet-black wig and brown contacts.

Talking to a stranger was the last thing she wanted to do. Getting far away from the job was the only thing on her mind. She’d been in Vegas for nine days, watching the target, learning his habits, hangouts, and daily rituals. During the last five, she’d seen him with three women in two different motels.

Gotta love Vegas.

Afterward, she had worked off the adrenaline high from the job in the hotel gym, while waiting for news of the target’s death. It came in the form of a small article in the local newspaper. The city had well over a hundred murders so far this year. One more, under seedy circumstances, didn’t get much attention.

The man beside her tried to make conversation while she nursed her drink. Mundane chitchat mostly. I really don’t care where you live. It was natural for normal people to want some type of contact to ease the boring flight. Thanks to her second cocktail, she felt more social. Besides, she didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t shut up.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Frank asked after the exchange of names and destinations.

Kill people like you. Well, she didn’t really kill people like him, unless he had some sordid history of crime. Unlike Andersen, who used his corporate success to embezzle, commit fraud, and murder, Frank seemed like just another guy.

“I’m the Comptroller for an international furniture company.” Lucky watched the man’s eyes glaze over when she described what she did for “work.” Accountant types never impressed anyone. During long jobs, she made up a personal history and itinerary to go along with whichever fake ID she used for cases like this. Today she played Lucille Summers from Baltimore, Maryland. It was one part of the job she still enjoyed.

“Sounds lucrative.” He rubbed the side of his gin-reddened face and covertly tried to ogle her legs. “In Vegas for business or pleasure?” The way he enunciated the latter made her skin crawl. She wouldn’t give him the time of day if he were the last man on the planet able to donate sperm to keep the species alive.

“Business meetings, you know how it goes, have to get those fiscal reports in order for the CFO,” she said, smiling, mostly to suppress the gag reflex.

He laughed, continually eyeballing her and gabbing about his trip. The trite, one-sided conversation continued until the plane began its descent.

*****

About Lucky’s Charm:

To protect her family and find a killer, Felicia “Lucky” Fascino assumed her adoptive father’s identity and joined the network of moral assassins to finish the job he began. Eliminating the man responsible for murdering her mother has consumed her for the last five yearsIMG_6680. Completing the job is the only way Lucky and her family can return to a safe and normal life. Lucky’s uncle, Stephen Chambers, hasn’t come close to tracking the killer. He announces he’s stepping down as her handler to concentrate on the investigation and names Elizabeth, his daughter, as successor.

Keeping secrets is a family trait, and Elizabeth’s addition to the business tests Lucky’s ability to maintain the pretense that the job doesn’t affect her despite the fact that all network hits are hardened criminals. While keeping her family at arm’s length, Lucky begins to feel the weight of her career choice and reclusive lifestyle. Then a chance encounter with an enigmatic hit man during one of her jobs turns into a provocative and dangerous affair. Distracted by the secret trysts with Kenji Zinn and mounting tension within her family, Lucky starts to make mistakes that threaten her livelihood and almost claim her life. When her family is targeted, Lucky must make several rash decisions she believes can save them and preserve her own sanity.

Author’s Bio:

21EsXZZnr+L__UX250_Jenn often adds a thriller and suspense element to anything she writes be it Romance, Science Fiction, or Fantasy. When not writing, she spends her time reading, observing pop culture, playing with her two dogs, and working on various charitable projects in her home state of New Jersey.dogs

You can learn more here.  You can also follow Jenn on Facebook and on Twitter @JennNixon

 

 

Lucky’s Charm Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B008RG8V4Q

Author website: http://www.jennnixon.com

Author contact email: jenn@jennnixon.com

Twitter: @JennNixon

http://www.facebook.com/JennNixonAuthor

 

 

 

Liquid friday with author Roz Lee

This week we are featuring  USA Today Best-selling Author of Contemporary Erotic Romance Roz Lee.

Her beverage of choice is wine.  Which one you say? …

Why don’t you find out yourself by joining Roz Lee and thirteen other authors for “A Day of Wine and Romance”, tomorrow Saturday April 30, 2016 at the Brook Hollow Winery, 594 NJ-94, Columbia, NJ 07832.  Admission is Free,  optional wine tasting $5.00

So grab a glass of your favorite wine in anticipation of this event, sit down and relax checking Roz Lee’s newest release:  The Backdoor Billionaire’s Bride

backdoor 2Blurb:

Ford Adams had led a charmed life, but if he doesn’t figure out how to make the equivalent of a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, and sell a boat-load of them, he and his mother might find themselves flipping burgers. Determined not to let that happen, he’ll need all the help he can get—especially from his sexy new business partner. If he can get her to take a chance on his crazy new idea, then maybe he can convince her to take a chance on him.

Becky Jean Parker’s life has been anything but what she’d imagined it would be, but she’d been content until a recent turn of events once again left her no choice. Unless she wants to wallow in bankruptcy for the rest of her life, she’ll have to go along with her new business partner’s insane plan and pray he knows what he’s talking about. The only thing crazier than Ford’s plan to sell sex toys is her attraction to him. Typical of her life, she’d had no choice but to fall for the one man she can’t have.

Click on the book links for more:

Amazon US Amazon UK –  Amazon AU –  Amazon CA –  iBooksKoboB&N

All Romance eBooks Smashwords

Interested in reading more, hold on here comes an excerpt, but before that let us drive home the concept of more wine and more authors below:

winetasting

Excerpt:

“The first-ever, lock-in-place butt plug!”

BACKDOOR_OP4Her insides turned to ice while, inexplicably, heat infused her skin. She didn’t need a mirror to know her face had turned tomato red. Her gaze automatically went to the printer dripping plastic droplets onto an ever-growing pile. Could the item really be…? She had no idea. She’d read about their use in a few steamy romance novels, but she had no firsthand knowledge of the devices.

“You can’t be serious.” Needing to steady her nerves before she went ballistic on her business partner, she reached for her wine, brought the cool glass to her lips, and drained it.

“I’m dead serious, Becks. It won’t take much to retool one of the machines to make them. We’ll keep packaging to a minimum—a plastic bag with a cardboard header. We’ll earmark the first five hundred as free samples, which you’ll send out, worldwide, to wholesale adult toy distributors. I tell you, this will work. People will buy this product.”

“Are you insane? First, this is Butte Plains. If we start making… those things”—she nodded toward the printer—“all our employees will quit. Second, I don’t know anything about the adult toy industry. I wouldn’t know where to start if—and that’s a very big if—I were to agree to your ridiculous plan and we could convince our people to produce the… things.”

“First,” he mimicked her not-quite-business-like shrieking voice, “our employees will make what we tell them to make if they want to keep their jobs. If they quit, then what is the unemployment rate in Butte Plains? Ten? Fifteen percent? We’ll replace them. Second, you’re a smart woman. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Internet. It shouldn’t take you more than a few hours to acquaint yourself with the major adult toy wholesalers.”

She barely heard what he said after he called her smart, but evidently, her subconscious had been listening. She caught up quickly. “Even if we could accomplish a miracle turnover, do people buy those things?”

“The adult toy industry is huge, Becks.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She forced her thoughts away from the cute pink vibrator she kept in her nightstand for those times when she needed release in order to remain sane. Ford might be right about sex selling, but she’d never in a million years let him in on how lonely she’d been since returning to Butte Plains. Some things a girl had to keep to herself.

“Trust me, sex sells.”

“Even if it does, what makes you think your… item will sell?”

“Mine locks in place. It’s a huge improvement over anything on the market today.” He got up and crossed to where the printer put the finishing touches on his creation. “There will be some assembly required before packaging. I’ve already contacted Scott about the locking mechanisms. He designed one a couple of years ago for a project that never went anywhere. He’s willing to let us use it for a few pennies royalty on each unit sold. He’s sending me a case of them by special messenger to try out. They’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Who’s Scott?”

“My best friend and business partner. He’s an incredible designer in his own right. Luckiest day of my life was the day we were assigned as roommates at MIT.”

“Oh.” Did Ronny know about Ford’s relationship with Scott? Maybe they had a three-way going on or something. Not my business.

Becky gathered the dirty dishes and put them in the sink. Leaning back against the counter, she gazed at her insane business partner’s back. He had one thing right—they needed to do something different, but did they have to dive ass first into the adult toy manufacturing business? Turning, she rinsed the dishes and put everything into the dishwasher. When she spun back around, Ford stood in front of the table, his new creation in his hand.

“It doesn’t look any different on the outside. The locking mechanism will be what separates it from the run-of-the-mill variety.” He flipped the item over, examining it from every angle.

“I just don’t see it working, Ford.”

“Have you ever used a butt plug?”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “No. I’ve never even seen one.”

“You through there?” He nodded toward the kitchen prep area.

“Yeah. Why?”

He set the plug on the counter. “Come on. It’s time for us to take a field trip.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, sinking into the soft leather seats of his luxury rental car.

“Don’t ask.”

“I don’t like this, Ford.” She reached for the door handle.

“Okay, okay.” Before she could bolt from the car, he cranked the engine and drove down the driveway. “There’s an adult store out on the Interstate. I saw it when I drove in from the airport.”

She knew the place—by sight only. “You can’t be serious.”

“I wish you’d quit saying that. I’m dead serious, Becks. I appreciate what you and my dad were trying to do, but the fact is we need to change course, and fast. We’re headed straight for the iceberg. If we hit it, we’re all going down. You, me, my mother, all our employees.”

He painted a grim picture, but, in truth, she’d seen the same one hanging on the wall. But there had to be another way.

“If you’ve got a better idea, this is the time to speak up.”

Damn him for being logical. “No. Sadly, I don’t have any idea at all, much less a better one.”

“Then give me the benefit of the doubt here, Becks.” He pulled into the blessedly empty parking lot and cut the engine. “There are thousands of these stores across the country. They’re springing up in malls and respectable neighborhoods, too. Many are women-owned businesses. You should like that.”

“Impressive.” Not.

“Come on. Let’s go inside.”

“No.”

“Come on, Becks. Consider this your first class in Marketing to the Adult Toy Industry 101.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “What if someone sees us? What will they think?”

“I hope you do see someone you know. It will help convince you normal people are buying this stuff. As for what they’ll think… well, I suspect they’d wish they could help you with whatever it is you’re buying tonight.”

“I’m not buying anything.”

“Just wait until you see what they have to offer. You might change your mind.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” She reached for the door handle. “I’m going to go inside, but only so I can gather enough information to point out the errors in your plan.”

Ford placed his hand on the small of her back and guided her through the aisles toward the back of the store where a flashing neon sign said Anal Play.

“It’s okay to look around, Becks.”

“I don’t want to look around.”

“Sure you do. This is the kind of place you can’t not look around. It’s like an old-time carnival—filled with oddities you’re drawn to even though you know you shouldn’t be.”

Damn. Why did he have to be right all the time? She’d already spotted several things she wouldn’t mind taking a closer look at, but Hell would freeze over before she’d admit being curious. “Let’s just do what we came to do and get out of here.”

“Sure you don’t want to look around?”

“Positive.”

Meet the Author:

rozLeeUSA Today Bestselling Author, Roz Lee is a displaced Texan who lives in New Jersey with her husband of almost four decades, and Bud, an overly large rescue dog who demands regular romps in the woods no matter how busy his parents are.

The mom of two daughters, one a police officer and the other an economist married to a pilot, Roz collects Depression glass, and teacups with rose patterns. Her favorite food is Tex-Mex, and she’s never met a piece of chocolate she didn’t like.

When Roz isn’t writing, she’s reading, or traipsing around the country on one adventure or another. Warning—she brakes for antique stores!

 

You can follow Roz Lee via to Blog, Facebook,  Twitter, Pinrest, Google, or learn more on Amazon Author Page or Goodreads.

And just in case you are still wanting for more, we have another excerpt for you:

“Ford?” Becky knocked on his open office door then stepped inside. “Got a minute?”

He put down his pencil and rocked back in his chair. “Sure. What’s up?”

He’d been working on a new design the last few days, and seemed to have lost track of routine things—like shaving and combing his hair. He looks like he just climbed out of bed.

She had no business thinking about a sleep-tumbled Ford. They had a purely professional relationship that, due to the nature of the business, included him seeing her naked ass on one occasion—but it had been a one-time occurrence, and an emergency to boot. Nothing remotely similar would happen again. Becky wouldn’t be seeing his adorable disheveled countenance across the bed, so best to quit imagining it. Besides, as soon as they put Adams Manufacturing back on an even keel, Ford would start looking for a buyer for the share of the company he controlled. He’d been clear from the beginning about his desire to go back to his life in New York, and she couldn’t blame him. Butte Plains didn’t rate a dot on most maps. The nightlife here consisted of high school football games in the fall and catching lightning bugs in the summer. The pace of life was two steps behind slow and getting slower with each passing day.

She closed the door and approached his desk. “I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Might as well start with the bad.” He sighed and held his hand out for the paper she extended to him. “Don’t make me read it, just tell me.”

“We’re running extremely low on raw materials. If we don’t pay some of our suppliers, we’re going to have to scale back our production of the Safeguard Backdoor Locking System.”

“Bottom line?”

She named a figure that made him whistle. He dropped the paper on his desk. “And the good news?”

“We need more raw materials.”

His brows knit as he stared up at her. “Isn’t that the same as the bad news?”

“No. It’s the opposite of the bad news.” She could barely keep the smile off her face, but she loved turning the tables on Ford. “See?” She handed him another sheet of paper. As he read, his face relaxed then his lips curved upward in a tentative smile.

“Tell me this isn’t a joke.”

“No joke. I just got off the phone with the head buyer. They want fifty-thousand units as soon as we can ship them. I promised ten thousand a week for the next five weeks with a promise to fill the order faster if we could manage it.”

A giant smile split his face. “You did it, Becky Jean. You really did it!” He jumped up, rounded the desk, and threw his arms around her, lifting her off the ground with a whoop they probably heard in Dallas. She laughed right along with him.

After printing out the purchase order the buyer had emailed to her, she’d danced around her office until she’d been able to control her expression. Seeing Ford this happy filled her with joy. She laughed and hung on as he spun her around until she became dizzy.

“This calls for a celebration.” He set her down then went back to his desk. Chest puffed out, he produced a bottle and two glasses from a lower drawer. “Tennessee’s finest,” he said, removing the top.

She laughed and accepted the tumbler with a splash of amber liquid.

Ford lifted his glass in the air. “Out with the old, in with the new,” he said. “And, to the latest incarnation of Adams Manufacturing.”

They tipped their glasses together until a crystal-clear clink rang out. Becky sipped at her drink while Ford finished his in one gulp, then refilled it and downed the second helping. They were a long way from being out of the woods, but this first order did warrant a celebration. She tipped the rest of her drink back. Coughing as the liquid burned its way down, she held her glass out for a refill.

“We did it, Becky Jean.” They’d done significant damage to the bottle of Tennessee’s finest. Ford had called Scott to let him know, then drank a toast to his best friend whose locking mechanism was the true success behind the new product. Never mind it had taken Ford’s genius to marry his design with a lock with no other practical application. Several drinks later, he’d waxed poetic about Becky’s marketing skills.

If anything reeked of donkey doo-doo, his statement did. She’d named the product, slapped a bunch of them into boxes, and shipped them off to adult toy suppliers then prayed they’d see what Ford saw—the chance to make a fortune.

She still didn’t believe more orders were imminent, but Ford thought differently, and for the time being, she chose to believe him. For the first time since the reading of Mr. Adams’s will, the doom of bankruptcy seemed less certain.

“To butt-plug wearers everywhere,” she said, lifting her glass.

“Here! Here!”

Liquid Friday with author Damon Suede

Today we will feature a new recipe from Damon Suede, author of homoerotic romance.

Here is a word from Damon:

Hey y’all! Thanks so much for coming to hang out today. The drink I named for today’s post is a dirty whiskey.

Now normally I don’t go for mixed drinks. My family always taught me you should be able to see the bottom of the glass before you drink anything, but dirty whiskeys are something special.

The first dirty whiskey I ever had was made for me by Heidi Cullinan at RT in Chicago several years back. It was Saturday night and it had been a crazy-great week and we were about to cut loose at the big Harlequin party. She mixed up about a half-gallon of dirty whiskeys and the next thing I knew I was dancing an acrobatic samba with a professional ballroom dancer in the middle of about 1500 people. I met so many great friends that night. And there are pictures from that party where I’m dropped back into a bridge with my head aimed at the floor.  

The moral is: if you can’t see the bottom of the glass, make sure your friends mixed it and the dance floor is big enough to hold all the people you want to meet. 🙂

Dirty Whiskey Recipe:

  • 1 Part Bailey’s Irish creamwhiskey
  • 1 Part Irish Whiskey

Mix in a mixing cup by shaking with ice, pour through a strainer… oh yeah,  then enjoy while we look at Damon Suede’s  latest book PENT UP.

 

A word about   PENT UP:

Ruben Oso moves to Manhattan to start his life over as a low-rent bodyguard and stumbles into a gig in a swanky Park Avenue penthouse. What begins as executive protection turns pentuppersonal working for a debonair zillionaire who makes Ruben question everything about himself.

Watching over financial hotshot Andy Bauer puts Ruben in an impossible position. He knows zero about shady trading and his cocky boss lives barricaded in a glass tower with wall-to-wall secrets and hot-and-cold running paranoia. Can the danger be real? Is Andy for real?

What’s a bulletcatcher to do? Ruben knows his emotions are out of control even as he races to untangle a high-priced conspiracy and his crazy feelings before somebody gets dead. If his suspicions are right, Andy will pay a price neither can afford and Ruben may discover there’s no way to guard a heart.

Lets read a little excerpt taken from Chapter 5:

Ruben laced his fingers together in his lap, conscious of Andy’s splayed legs bumping against his as the car curved through the dark trees.

How could it only have been a week? Joking and bickering like this, smiling and snapping at each other, they sounded like… something else.

I like this guy way too much.

Central Park watched them through the tinted glass.

“Suit looks great, Señor Oso.” Andy coughed. “Me parece increíblemente guapo.”

Whatever that meant, it sounded positive. Ruben blinked and turned, drunk on the attention. Greedy for it. “Yeah, okay. I don’t habla español.”

Andy checked out Ruben’s shoulder, the legs, the glossy loosened tie. “Means handsome.” It came out a whisper and Andy looked away out the windows.

Uh. “Thanks.” His heart thumped blindly in his chest. Any second it would stumble and knock something breakable over and smash it to pieces. “You got good taste, Bauer.” Too fast, too fast.

Andy closed his eyes. The rhythm of the car rocked his skull against the leather upholstery. “You ought to learn, one of these days.”

“To dress?”

“Spanish. Might come in handsome.” He snorted in slow motion and looked back. “Handy. That is.”

“Sure. Right after I finish medical school and my MBA, before I start my talk show on the space station.”

Andy smiled and sighed, square jaw clamped. “It’s not that hard. Beautiful language besides. Claro.”

Clearly. He’s teaching me.

The town car veered to the left and Ruben had to grip the door to keep from being shifted against his boss’s strong legs. They passed under some kind of bridge and then slowed to a stop. They inched along in the Park’s crosstown traffic.

He could imagine himself on Andy’s terrace staring down at Central Park. He looked out the window at the passing trees: nature boxed in so a few penthouses had something to look at.

Andy rolled his head to watch Ruben watching him.

Buddies. Yeah, right.

Andy pushed himself back, shifting his weight. His hand scraped Ruben’s and… remained on the seat, separated by a millimeter or two. The light hair on his wrist brush-brushed the wisps on Ruben’s, rocked by the car’s motion.

Ruben swallowed. He wanted to slide the hand away from the delicious feathery scrape, and at the same time wondered how long Andy would leave it there. He wondered what would happen if he closed his dark square paw over Andy’s, laced their fingers and squeezed. He could imagine the way their knuckles would intersect and the exact pressure of Andy’s smooth palm against his. That skin.

Occasionally the car jostled them as it navigated potholes and pedestrians, gently rocking their shoulders, but their two hands stayed nailed to the firm, soft leather, barely touching, but touching nonetheless. That warm strip of Andy’s hand made it hard to breathe.

Why didn’t Andy move his arm back? Then again, why wouldn’t he? As the car glided under the black trees, Ruben’s whole being, all his attention, tightened around the half-inch of faint contact between their skin. Ruben imagined he could feel Andy’s pulse, then realized he was hearing his own as it jarred his skull.

If the brushing contact wasn’t an accident, removing his hand first would send a clear message. Easier to leave it there in case.

In case of what?

In case he was a queer? In case his boss was another? In case they needed to go out together to spend another fifty thousand American dollars to buy nothing in particular in a room full of strangers? The money and the man had gotten all jumbled in his head.

Maybe that was it. Ruben had gotten sucked in by all the sloppy luxury and forgotten whose it was. He wasn’t gay, just broke, sober, and lonely. Even if Andy was some kind of closeted homo, he had no interest in playing house with some middle-aged macho he’d known for a few days and rescued from a couch. Ruben had clocked the predator in him. If Andy wanted a dude, he’d lease some Calvin Klein model with a trust fund and a degree in corporate espionage.

And still, and still…. The butterfly stroke of Andy’s wrist hairs dried his mouth and pricked his eyes, and Andy had no clue. I want him.

All too suddenly, the car sliced out of the trees across Fifth, headed east.

I’ll quit in the morning.

You can find all the purchase links by clicking here.

For more of Damon Suede’s books click here.

About the Author:

Damon Suede grew up out-n-proud deep in the anus of right-wing America, and escaped as soon as it was legal. He has lived all over: DamonSuede-crop200Houston, New York, London, Prague. Along the way, he’s earned his crust as a model, a messenger, a promoter, a programmer, a sculptor, a singer, a stripper, a bookkeeper, a bartender, a techie, a teacher, a director… but writing has ever been his bread and butter. He has been happily partnered for over a decade with the most loving, handsome, shrewd, hilarious, noble man to walk this planet.

Addictions: sweetness that isn’t sentimental, wit that isn’t bitter, strength that isn’t cruel. Allergies: professional victims, half-assery, clichés. Damon is a proud member of the Romance Writers of America and served as the 2013 president for the Rainbow Romance Writers, RWA’s LGBT romance chapter.

Though new to gay romance, Damon has been writing for print, stage, and screen for two decades, which is both more and less glamorous than you might imagine. He’s won some awards, but his blessings are more numerous: his amazing friends, his demented family, his beautiful husband, his loyal fans, and his silly, stern, seductive Muse who keeps whispering in his ear, year after year.

Liquid Friday with D.S.Wrights

Today the favorite from D.S. Wrights are not recipes but wonderful choice of fine wines.

Here is from D.S Wrights:

South Australian Cabernet Sauvignon, or Chilean Shiraz. Heavy, velvety red wines from the southern hemisphere are my favorite drinks.winecabernet

So lets have a seat with a glass these fine wines and check out more about our Featured author.

DSWrightshand3quote1

Circuit Heart:

circuit heart_Billionaire’s daughter Karissa Larke can buy everything her heart desires, but not what she needs. Having lost her brother in a failed kidnapping and her mother by suicide, Karissa turns to her only friend: Adrian, her father’s prototype personal security android.
As they start to explore their feelings for each other, both have forgotten an essential fact: Adrian belongs to the NAME corporation and their executives have decided to cash in on their property.

The Beast and Me:

Meg was abducted. For four days she had nothing to keep herself sane, until she promised DSWritestbamkdpsmallto be obedient. In return she received a diary, not knowing which terrors she would be writing down soon. Because Meg has been taken to this unknown place for one purpose only: to support her abductors in ‘socializing’ one of their subjects. Ten, as they call him, seems to be far more than a primitive beast, fighting battles of his very own. Meg soon realizes that she is the only one able to tame him. And that, apparently, is the sole reason she is more or less treated as a human being. As Ten’s humanity resurfaces Meg has to accept the truth that the real beasts aren’t behind bars. This is Meg’s diary. Will you read it?
This story inspired by Beauty and the Beast and is part one of a series. It is not a romance.

About the Author:

D. S. Wrights was born and raised mostly in Germany. She speaks three languages fluently: English, German and Dutch.  Her name is a pen name and she describes writing as her passion and calling.

Two short stories were published during high school, one as a school project and one in a regional newsletter. Later she worked at a publishing house where she earned insight into the work, process and production of publishing books.

In the last few years she has published several fan fictions to which the feedback was overwhelmingly positive.

The Beast And Me is her first published novel.

D.S. hasn’t always written stories like The Beast And Me and she is still writing stories from all kinds of genres that do not have horror aspects or are targeting adults only. Those stories are published with under a different name. So if you like her writing style but not really the genre, you might want to check out her other books, which soon will be published.

Her name actually is a play on words and language. D.S. is put together from the initials of her internet name and Wrights simply has the same sound as writes.

Before writing she prefers to bring herself in the right mood for the story, listening to specific songs, reading through what she has written before ans especially talk about the story with friends and fans. So feel free to write to her, using the contact link above.

You can follow her on Facebook and twitter . by clicking on the links.

 

Liquid Friday with author Amber Lacie

Today we are featuring a favorite recipe from Amber Lacie, author of The Shadows Series.

Here is from Amber:

My favorite cocktail is a Painkiller.

PainkillerIngredients: 4oz Rum, 3oz pineapple-orange juice, 1oz creme de coconut, ice, nutmeg and toasted coconut for garnish (optional) Directions: In a cocktail shaker, combine the rum, juice and coconut with ice. Shake vigorously to mix, then pour into a cocktail class. Sprinkle with nutmeg and serve.

 

Shadows, Book One

Eve was content getting lost in her books, while living with her best Shadowsfriends.  She’s a beautiful girl surrounded by her friends and family. In her twenty six years of life, nothing exciting has ever happened to her. Everything is going perfectly for her. Little does she know, one summer at the beach could change her life forever. . .  Theron is the son of a cutthroat multi-billionaire business tycoon. He thought he left behind the world his father created, but things change. Now, he’s devoted himself to his eccentric grandma. His only hope at overcoming his past, is finding the one person he lost so very long ago. . .  When Eve bumps into Theron, their worlds collide. Nothing can prepare them for the instant fireworks and roller coaster ride waiting for them.  But. . . One has a secret. Can their love overcome tragedy, lies, and secrets?

Light, Book Two – Shadows Series

Shadows are surrounding Theron burying him in their darkness. Despair Light Shadowsand hatred cling to him. His only thoughts are of Eve and vengeance…  Eve desperately tries to save Theron from the path he is on, but secrets are kept. When evil starts to surround them, intent on destroying them, Eve runs into trouble…  Theron’s world shatters around him, but he’s not giving up without a fight…  Can Theron and Eve find Light among the Shadows? Or will evil win?

Light Shadows2

About the Author

Amber LacieAmber Lacie grew up in Chicagoland and now lives in a quaint little town in Northwest Indiana. She has two beautiful children and a husband who worships the ground she walks on (or at least he should). She is an avid reader and coffee drinker. The love of being able to be transported into another world and experience adventures through someone else’s imagination has always captured her attention. Now, she is expanding that love into writing and is looking forward to producing many books.

Liquid Friday with author F. Leonora Solomon

Today we will feature a new recipe from F. Leonora Solomon. Author of Tie Me Up, A Binding Collection of Erotic Tales and over 9 more other works, Acquisitions Editor, Art Enthusiast & co-curator of http://reddit.com/r/sexysmut and a Native New Yorker, with severe wanderlust… and obviously a reader.

Here is from F. Leonora:

Leonora1

I love cocktails, my drink Du Jour is a gin and tonic with garnish. But for Eden’s post, I am going to focus on a beloved favorite of mine…
Amaretto sours!

Simple Amaretto Sour

  • 1½ oz. amaretto
  • ¾ -1½ oz. sweet and sour mix
  • Ice cubes
  • Orange slice, lemon wedge, or maraschino cherry for garnish

Pour the amaretto liqueur into a cocktail shaker half-filled with ice cubes.

aid522250-900px-Make-an-Amaretto-Sour-Step-11If you’re going for a 2-1 amaretto to sour mix ratio, then you’ll want 1½ of amaretto and ¾ oz. of sweet and sour mix. If you want a 1-1 ratio, then you should pour 1½ oz. of amaretto and 1½ of sweet and sour mix. The sour mix is really a combination of water, sugar, and lemon juice. For an extra kick, you can even make your own. Fresh lemons instead of the pre-made stuff can really take this drink to the next level.

Strain or pour into an old-fashioned glass, garnish with a maraschino cherry and a slice of orange, and serve.

I love amaretto–even as a coffee flavor. I like the liquor on its own, and inside of egg nog for the holidays. This very sweet cocktail is perfect. Sweet and tart, sour. A man I know told me that having an amaretto sour, is like going fast forward with dessert as your drink.

And what is wrong with that?

I love sweet cocktails, I cringe when I have bitter ones. I have a sweet tooth all the time, and this sweet drink hits the spot, especially with several maraschino cherries. Yes, I believe in the cherry on top!!!

I wrote a story about a character who loved amaretto sours. Her date was judgmental, so he did not last long. But she still had a hot night!!!

“You can’t be serious,” he said, his eyes moving below her cameo.

Taking a sip of her amaretto sour, she dipped her finger in the glass to pull out a cocktail-soaked cherry.

“Are you?”

He scoffed.

“You want the same thing I want. You want me to fuck the sweetness out of you…”

Kit wanted to slap him, but she did not want to create a scene in Prohibition. She figured she would have a nice drink with Thom, who she had been chatting with online and who was as into the retro lifestyle as she was. But from the moment he judged her drink, she was done.

He continued to talk about the filthy things she wanted him to do to her. She was not turned on in the least, discreetly ogling the gorgeous bartender who had put two more cherries in her drink. Jackson was on his nametag. She also smiled as Josephine’s nametag came into view, while she plucked at the cherries she had saved for last at the bottom of her drink.

“Would you like another honey?” Josephine asked.

Thom answered before Kit could.

“No, she wants a real drink this time. Give her a–”

“Yes, I would like another amaretto sour,” Kit added. “with extra cherries.”

“Are you serious? I have kind of had it with the sweet and innocent act Kitty–”

The second she heard Kitty, she snapped. Schoolgirl taunts about Hello Kitty were resurrected.

She got up.

“Where are you going Kitty?”

Thom’s voice grew distant as she walked into the bathroom, and sat in one of the plush pink lounge chairs. The door opened behind her, and she was afraid he had followed her in.

“Are you okay Kitty?”

Kit looked at Josephine who had followed her.

“It’s Kit. No one calls me Kitty.”

Josephine nodded and walked out. She returned holding an amaretto sour with a pyramid of cherries inside, presented on a Prohibition branded lace doily.

“He’s still out there, chatting up tonight’s hopeful conquest.”

Kit sipped the very sweet amaretto sour, letting her tongue swirl around the cherry pyramid.

“You are way too pretty for him anyway!”

Kit laughed, caressing her cotton candy pink stockinged leg.

“Thank you, it’s nice when us girls stick together!”

“Yeah, it is!”

Josephine was sexy in suspenders, a buttoned-up shirt, tailored pants and bowtie.

“How late are you working tonight?” she asked Josephine looking in the mirror to see her reflection.

“Why are you gonna wait for me?”

 

You can read the entire story here:

http://fdotleonora.com/2014/08/29/amaretto-sour/

You may also want to check out F. Leonora’s Collections of Erotic Tales:  Tie Me Up

B is for bondage in BDSM, and Tie Me Up is the perfect place to tie me upexplore just that.

The 19 stories in this anthology do not fetishize bondage. Instead, Tie Me Up shows how couples explore it as a sexy romantic option–sexy underscored!

New and seasoned authors fill this anthology with steamy tales that will keep you tied up…unable to put this collection down!

 

Or her Baseball Erotica: Bases Loaded

Bases are loaded and there’s potential for multiple homeruns in this basessexy collection of Baseball erotica!

Bases Loaded compiles twelve seriously sexy short stories that will have you rooting for the happy ending, even if you are not a baseball fan like the editor.

All of the authors in this anthology have a unique take on the game and the hit players, which is guaranteed to make you want to go up to bat!

So go ahead, you’re up and the bases are loaded!

You can always drop by and visit my website  for some cool blogs (F. Leonora Solomon was named Sex Blogger of the month by kinkly.com)  or connect with me on Twitter (@fdotleonora).

I am so happy that Eden invited me over to talk drinks!!! Bottoms up!!!