I hope you've reached the right place, and I hope that you're over eighteen. This website is for adults only. No, I don't sell adult toys or videos or anything like that, this isn't a porn site. But it is the site of an erotic romance writer.
If you're looking for a steamy read, long, short or in between, where the characters are all over each other, get down and dirty, than I can guarantee that you will find something here. I'm going to level with you, my erotic romances are explicit and graphic in nature, but they all have happily forever or happily for now endings.
Enter at your own risk!
Tuesday, March 20, 2018
Monday, March 19, 2018
This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Eileen will be awarding a $25 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly chosen winner via Rafflecopter. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour and more chances to win.
There’s only one solution—escape. The only way to do that is to kidnap his defense attorney. Lauren Taylor is a high-priced attorney doing a favor for a friend. Suddenly she finds herself on the run with the most dangerous man she’s ever met. Will she survive with her heart intact?
“Ms. Korbel generates an incredible chemistry between her two immensely appealing lovers that will set your heart on fire.” ~ RT Booklovers
Read an Excerpt:
The DA cackled that he had an open and shut case. A slam dunk with clusters. J. P. O’Neill, once a virtuoso of undercover agents had finally stepped over the line and gone rogue, turning on his own people rather than be reeled back in. The DEA had lost track of him some five weeks earlier. It was their suspicion that the mercurial star of undercover had finally succumbed to the life-style he’d imitated for so long and gone spinning off into his own personal orbit. His partner had been sent in to retrieve him.
Something about those eyes, though, contradicted the idea that he’d done anything in cold blood. Something about those eyes made Lauren think twice when a personal request from the senior partner in her firm to represent this man might not have.
“So, what do you think?” O’Neill asked. “Am I a worthless maggot with antisocial behavior who couldn’t withstand the lure of filthy lucre?”
Startled by the tone of his voice, Lauren looked up. Amusement. She’d heard it in the question, and now saw it in the eyes. They glinted with it, a dark, knowing challenge that made her somehow sorry.
Those eyes. Blue, green, changing like the water off the Bahamas on a sunny day, so startling against that grime not for the color but for the intelligence. The sharp, sudden flashes of humor and even more stunning glitter of grief.
Wild eyes. Eyes that promised surprise, that mesmerized with energy, with the wicked wit that lurked behind. Eyes that made her wary, that taunted her like a peek into a forbidden room. Eyes that should have belonged to the devil himself.
“I don’t know what you are, Mr. O’Neill,” she finally admitted, leaning back in her chair.
Lauren was tired. She’d already put in a full day when Tom Paxton had called in his favor from New York where he was taking depositions.
For a friend. Well, if this was the friend, then there was a lot about the senior partner of the firm Lauren wanted to know. For now, though, she ignored the ache in her back and the stale feel of a suit too long worn.
“I’m dead if I don’t make bail,” O’Neill assured her, picking off yet another strip of foam and carefully folding it into the disintegrating cup. “If you don’t believe anything else, believe that.”
About the Author:
2015 sees Eileen enjoying critical acclaim for her foray into historical romance, the Drake’s Rakes series, which Eileen labels as Regency Romantic Adventure that follows a group of Regency aristocrats who are willing to sacrifice everything to keep their country safe. She is also working on her first nonfiction book, TRAVELS WITH DAVE, about a journey she's been taking with a friend's ashes.
A retired trauma nurse, Eileen lives in her native St. Louis with her husband, children, and a large and noisy Irish family, of which she is the reluctant matriarch. She has animals but refuses to subject them to the limelight.
Amazon buy link: https://www.amazon.com/Walk-Wild-Side-Korbel-Classics-ebook/dp/B079Y9PB9D/ref=sr_1_1
BN buy link: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-walk-on-the-wild-side-eileen-dreyer/1127971511
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Friday, March 16, 2018
Thursday, March 15, 2018
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
The man was incredibly made. His arms stretching up and behind his head caused the bottom of his t-shirt to lift a few teasing inches, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of a tanned, rock-hard stomach. They weren’t the sculpted lines that came from the gym, but powerful, solid muscles. A fine trail of hair led the way to the top of his loose navy shorts. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze was transfixed.
His legs were long and thick, every muscle rippling as he moved down the stairs into the hallway. A rush of heat shot through her body, setting every nerve alight. Her stomach rolled as she absorbed the sight while a little lower everything tightened and tingled. She’d hoped that her memory had been flawed, tinted by the rose-colored lenses of what she had long since accepted was her first love. That clearly wasn’t the case. Rather than letting himself go he had become more impressive. The slenderness of youth had filled out, living up to the promise of overwhelming masculinity.
His lean muscles had broadened, and whilst the softness of youth had faded from his features, it had left a strong profile in its wake. Jackson had grown up all man. She gulped, heat flooding her.
The good feeling from her run was replaced by a more base desire to touch every inch of his perfect body. To pull it hard against her own and feel those muscular planes mold against her. She unconsciously licked her lips as she watched him.
As she met his eyes, the feeling of heat evaporated, replaced by a harsh chill of dread that sank through to her toes. His emotions were playing across his face and it was clear that, despite her DCI’s reassurances, Jackson had joined the dots and figured out who she was. The recognition clearly shocked him as his whole body jolted abruptly to a stop.
Unable to move, she stared helplessly as he began to walk toward her, his face a mix of unreadable emotions. As he reached out, her body began to respond to the heat that rolled off of him. The scent of his skin washed over her, but she moved back defensively. It was a tactical mistake, giving away that she knew who he was, that she had known all along.
“Amory?” he whispered, hope shining oddly through that one word.
Almost imperceptibly shaking her head, all her professionalism flew out the window, and with her heart sinking she managed a stuttered whisper, “N-n-no… No, you’re wrong. I’m Olivia.”
No amount of training was going to get her through this. Despite her only half-admitted hope that he’d see who she really was, Amory knew too much was at stake for this to happen, but it had. Now she had to endure the awful consequences of him recognizing her, the hatred that would follow this moment.
Tanya Jean Russell writes romantics suspense and lives in England. She is married to an amazing Elvis & Neil Diamond Tribute artist, thanks to whom she has a house full of jumpsuits & trophies. Something which is, of course, a source of much embarrassment to her two teenage children.
She is a little obsessive about books and has an embarrassingly huge (and ever growing) pile of things that she just 'has' to read next to her bed. Something that isn't helped by being a part of the Romantic Novelist Association, or by being published by the amazing Evernight Publishing. With both organisations filled with talented writers, she keeps adding to her pile!
Tanya Jean squeezes her daydreaming ... ahem ... 'writing' around her family and her day job in HR, and is convinced that chocolate & diet coke should be considered a well-balanced diet.