Convincing You (Sensing Series #2) by J.M. Adele

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Note:  The Author has put Convincing You ON SALE for $.99 through the end of next week with all proceeds going to the Australian Bushfire Appeal.

This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. J.M. Adele will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

We were connected in more ways than one—I knew it when we met.
What I didn’t know was how close he would bring me to death.
And that death would be a blessing.

Andrea has always been able to tap into messages from somewhere beyond. When she meets Ben, an unrelenting force draws them together. But it’s going to take some convincing to help Ben realise their potential. Ben never thought his friend’s little sister would be anything more than a nuisance. He was wrong. She’d always been so much more. And now, their bond could be severed and her pulse silenced forever.

*Recommended for readers 18+ due to mature content.*

Read an Excerpt

“You’ve gone quiet. What’s wrong?”

I flicked a glance at his nose, knowing that if I looked him in the eye he might see something I wasn’t ready for him to see. Something I was trying to understand for myself before I admitted it to anyone else. I wouldn’t be admitting it to him, that was for sure.

“Hm? What? No, nothing. I’m just hungry.” I hid my hands under the table. Way to play it cool.

One of Ben’s brows inched up.

Tapping a finger on the edge of my seat, I ignored the weight of his stare. The silence was like a wedgie that I couldn’t get rid of.

I cleared my throat and aimed for casual conversation. “So, are you a league convert yet?”

He scoffed. “Never. I was only helping out a friend.”

“If you hate it so much, why’d you do it?”

“I don’t hate it. I’m just loyal to my code.”

“Plenty of players switch.” I picked my brain trying to remember the names Dad had said at the game. “Like, you know, that guy, The King. What’s his name?”

“Wally Lewis?”

“Yeah, him.” I think. He was the only player I could think of.

“Just ’cause The King switched doesn’t mean I have to.”

“Fair enough.”

Ben stood by his convictions. I liked that. My eyes drifted sideways in a bid for some reprieve from his gaze. Two tables away, the boys were slapping each other’s hands, doing some customised shake thing, and laughing like loons.

“They’re good mates.” Ben’s comment brought me right back to those crystal blues.

“They are.” I tilted my head. “Why are you friends with my brother? Seriously?”

His lips quirked. “Stewart’s all right.”

“He’s different with his friends, I guess.”

He hooked an arm behind his seat, twisting his chest towards me. “I know he can be a dick sometimes. He has a weird way of getting attention. He means well.”

The fact that he was defending my brother endeared him to me even more.

“Do you play any sport?” Ben scratched behind his ear like he was uncomfortable talking about Stewart.

I was happy to change the subject. “I dance.”

“You dance?” His brows rose as he leaned back a little. “Like ballet?”

“God, no. I’m not graceful enough for that. Hip-hop is my thang.”

“Your thang?”

“Yeah. Like this.” I jumped out of my seat and gave him a demo—legs popping, arms locking, all while Nelly Furtado and Timbaland sang about promiscuity in my head.

His mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out.

Am I that bad? I slid back onto my seat, heat infusing my cheeks.

“You’re good.”

Pulling my shoulders back, I puffed out my chest. “Thank you.”

“No, I really mean that.” He blinked, swallowing.

I relaxed against the back of my chair. Sincerity. Another tick on the list of his good characteristics. I was sure there had to be some negatives.

I already liked so many things about him. His commitment. His discipline. His arse. But if I told him, I’d scare him away. He wouldn’t get it. Not for another few years at least. I wasn’t sure how I knew that either. I just did. The thing was, I didn’t understand how or why it was going to take a few years. And that worried me. What was about to go down that I’d have to wait so damn long to have him by my side?

The air grew so thick, my lungs had trouble dragging it in. I shuffled my butt, fighting against the unbearable tug urging my eyes to connect with his. “It was nice of you to help out the opposition, even though they couldn’t find a uniform that fit you.”

He placed his arms on the table, his elbow bumping mine. It was the final yank in the tug-of-war. My gaze snapped to his crystal blue stare.

A hint of a smirk played on his lips. “It’s no biggie.” Deliberately bumping my elbow again, he set his grin free.

He’s laughing at me! My mouth popped open before clamping shut.

The rest of our group approached through the glass, trays in hand. Their arrival would mean the end of our conversation. Last chance to make an impression. “Yeah, you’re right. Their team lost. You were no help at all. I don’t know why Dad whinged that you’re not a league player. Seriously, you sucked. Stick to what you know, Benji.”

Ben’s grin dropped off his face, and his eyebrows jumped high as he barked a laugh.

Like idiots, we grinned at each other, and something more passed between us. That thing that I couldn’t yet define, but saw behind the gaze reflecting back my smiling face. It was so familiar. I’d seen it before. I knew it.

Unbelievably, his face aged ten years in ten seconds. Suddenly he was a man with the beginnings of wrinkles fanning from his eyes. And I was … huge. I checked myself out. A wedding ring dug into my swollen finger. My stomach was round and full. And moving. We were both naked. Naked!

My gaze snapped back to his, finding his face in transition again. Light reflected off his bright blue irises, splitting into a prism of colour before swirling and blending into a muddy dark brown. A colour that could swallow you whole if you let it.

“Emmeline.” I saw his mouth move, but it wasn’t Ben. I was staring at a young man with scruffy brown hair, sweat and dirt smeared on his neck. “Emmeline,” he pleaded.

Who was Emmeline? Who was he?

******

The Author has put Convincing You ON SALE for $.99 through the end of next week with all proceeds to go to the Australian Bushfire Appeal.

About the Author:

Author of smart, sexy characters, J.M. Adele loves to flit between the dark and light sides of romance. Somewhere along the way an almost constant procession of imaginary characters settled into her thoughts and she picked up a pen to share their stories.

She lives in Queensland with her three greatest loves, her children. When she’s not writing or being a mum, you might find her hiking up a mountain, singing in the car when nobody is looking, or curled up with a good book.

Author Links:

Website – https://www.jmadele.org/
Newsletter – https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/g1p2t7
Reader Group – https://www.facebook.com/groups/JMsGemsters/
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/authorjmadele
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/j.m.adele/
Twitter – https://twitter.com/JMAdeleBooks
Pinterest – https://www.pinterest.com.au/jmadele/pins/
YouTube – https://www.youtube.com/c/JMAdele
BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/profile/j-m-adele
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14553832.J_M_Adele
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/J-M-Adele/e/B0174OOYJC

Buy Links:

Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/49457085-convincing-you
Universal Link – https://books2read.com/u/b6k6K0
Amazon – (Preorder) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082WFS6KJ/

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My WIP – Another Morgan Book

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Mr. Piano Man is a story told in a frame, beginning in 1987, flashing back to 1941 during the Blitz in England, then coming to the present for the ending of the story.  I started it thinking it would be a novella, but it has grown into a book! It’s a story that has been brewing in my mind since about the time Sinners’ Opera was written. Here’s an excerpt.

Chapter 1

Charleston, South Carolina, 1987

Pity the beautiful old women all the more for they have lost the most.

She came into the bar, looking very ill-at-ease and out-of-place. As lost as she might seem, she was a classic beauty, her bone structure sculpted and fine. Her eyes were large, ringed with thick black lashes, and her slender nose straight. The hair in an elegant coil at her nape had once been coal black. Now, pure white streaks wove through the ebony, shining in the lament light. Excusing her way to the only vacant seat at the piano bar, she spoke to no one. She gave me a fleeting look,  sat, and strung her handbag over the back of the tall stool.  The other patrons of the establishment gave her scant notice. After all, she was old.

But as I watched her, something dim and distant flickered in memory.

I wanted to speak to her but couldn’t stop playing in the midst of a song.  Besides, she appeared distant. What had made her cross the threshold of a piano bar on a cobbled side street in Charleston?  She glanced at the man to her left, drowning his sorrows in scotch, then at the  women to her right, singing the lyrics to “Mr. Piano Man”.

A spotlight pointed to my hands, but no one really paid a  blind bit of notice. Tonight, I was Mr. Piano Man. What did the patrons see? A young man with long hair and a pianist’s hands? A man down on his luck, playing a piano to keep body and soul together? I was the former but not the latter. I didn’t need the tips in the fishbowl atop the scarred baby grand. Over the centuries to come, I trusted my estates would serve me as well as they’d done in the past.

Soon, the time would come for me to stage my own death and resurrection again. These things came to try vampires as the years passed but didn’t take their toll. My hair was still thick and blonde; my blue eyes young and bright—too bright if I dropped the Glamour of a normal man. By the calendar’s reckoning, I should be seventy-one years old, but no one in this wayside bar had a clue this ‘lifetime’ began in 1916. In truth, I’m closing in on three-hundred fifty-five years young.

The scent of blood bedeviled me. For nights, I hadn’t fed, and I was starved. Each different fragrance tempted me sorely. My mouth watered, hunger stretching my nerves as tight as the piano strings.

Tonight, my life wasn’t as I’d planned. Since 1897, I’d treasured a dream that had yet to come true. At least the piano was in tune, even if I wasn’t.

 

#1 Preditors & Editors Poll – Sinners’ Opera

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The results are in. Sinners Opera is Best Novel in All Other Novels!  #1 thanks to all who voted — THANK YOU!!!

 

Preditors’ & Editors Poll

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Sinners’ Opera (my latest book and the book of my heart) is nominated in the Preditors & Editors Poll in All Other Novels.  Right now, it is #1.  After the holidays, the voting will get serious.  Would you please vote before Jan. 14 at:   https://critters.org/predpoll/novel.shtml

 

I’d really, really appreciate it!

Linda

Santa Baby! by Lisabet Sarai

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New Release!

Santa, Baby!

A naughty holiday fantasy

This Christmas, Santa discovers it’s nice to be naughty.

Blurb

Recent university grad Matt Glaser may not have the Santa Claus beard or belly, but when it comes to earning extra holiday cash, it’s a case of ‘ho ho ho, let’s start the show’—he loves his red suit like a reindeer loves carrots. This potential client, though—classy, curvy Eleanor Danforth—seems more interested in checking out his butt than his references. And two grand for a private party? Oy vey, Prancer, something’s not kosher about this particular Vixen. She’s not one to be denied, though. When the interview takes a carnal turn, he finds he’s unexpectedly eager to satisfy the demanding older woman.

Wearing the provocative costume supplied by his employer, Matt arrives at the Danforths’ swanky apartment to discover he’s been cast as the emcee for Eleanor’s intimate gathering. His duties include managing a pair of scantily-clad blond elves, distributing decadent treats to guests who’ve been good, and meting out punishments to the naughty. Meanwhile, the mistress of the house has a Christmas gift especially for him—one made of silicon and leather straps, which requires plenty of lube. Ho ho ho, Matt! It’s going to be a very merry Christmas indeed.

Buy Links

Kinky Literature –

https://www.kinkyliterature.com/book/6465-santa-baby-a-naughty-holiday-fantasy/

 

Amazon  US – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B082ZTHVKJ

 

Amazon UK –  https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B082ZTHVKJ

 

Smashwords –  https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/996887

Excerpt

Muffled in the overcoat I’d borrowed from my roommate Brian, I faced the hardwood and brass double doors to the Danforth’s fortieth floor apartment. The doorbell was easy to locate; I just wasn’t sure I had the guts to ring it.

The Santa costume that my employer had provided was more appropriate for a go-go boy than Father Christmas. The droopy conical hat was traditional, with its fuzzy white trim and pom-pom, and the knee-high black patent leather boots, too, but St. Nicolas wouldn’t have been caught dead in these shiny red spandex hot pants. They clung to my bum like a second skin. It was a good thing the weather was warm for December, or I would have frozen my balls off. The scarlet shirt, fashioned of some sort of stretchy velvet, had long sleeves with white fur cuffs. However, the front made a plunging vee that bared most of my chest.

I was grateful for the soft, snowy-white fake beard. It hid my blushes. I felt ridiculous and incredibly exposed. Like most authors, I tended to live in my head, my vivid imagination compensating for my mundane real-world existence. In contrast, this costume emphasized the physical. My face was hidden; my mind wasn’t important. I had no illusions about the fact that Mrs. Danforth had hired me primarily for my body.

I could still back out. Turn around, step back into the chrome and steel elevator and whoosh down to the ground floor. Spend Christmas Eve eating take-out and working on my novel.

Seriously, though, could I afford to throw away two thousand bucks? Meanwhile, the experience, however weird, might in the future serve as grist to the writer’s mill.

Before I could talk myself out it, I gave the button a firm press.

Almost immediately, Mrs. Danforth opened the door. “Good evening, Matt. You’re right on time. I do appreciate punctuality.”

My eyes grew wide and my cock started to harden as I took her in. She’d been attractive in her form-fitting suit and silky blouse, but now she was stunning.  Her sleeveless, evergreen-colored cocktail dress was fashioned from some light, shimmery fabric that clung to her voluptuous breasts and hips. The short skirt showed off her smooth thighs and muscled calves, their shapeliness enhanced by her sparkling red stilettos. Her pale hair gleamed in the recessed lights of the entry way. Artfully-applied make up accentuated her patrician features. Her plump, crimson lips were moist and inviting.

“Toss your coat onto the chair,” she ordered. “Let’s see the costume.”

Like an automaton, I shrugged off the heavy wool garment.

She clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, you look spectacular! Sexy and naughty, just the way I imagined.”

Online Excerpt

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2019/12/santa-discovers-that-naughty-is-nice.html

Hello USA!

Hello Y’all!

I’m back from my extended visit with my son Ian in England and his lovely family.  I enjoyed my beautiful grandchildren:  Jehanne, Jarl,
Aleston, and Emberlee.

I was able to attend his wedding to Sam, his second wife, but a wonderful woman.  She drove me around her native Yorkshire while he was working for Comcast (Sky – In England).  It was late and the castle closing but I was able to tread the very same path that the Duke of Newcastle walked at his castle, Bolsover.  The Duke of Newcastle was credited as being the father of modern dressage.  He was also a teacher of the young Princes, Charles (later Charles II) and James (James I) Stuart.  https://www.google.com/maps/uv?hl=en&pb=!1s0x487999eb9d5aa607%3A0x93eb0188c556b34f!3m1!7e115!4shttps%3A%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipMu16OrGr2t8_8l1HUGWahaaSWAFjdM0v5wYMHT%3Dw390-h220-k-no!5sbolsover%20castle%20-%20Google%20Search!15sCAQ&imagekey=!1e10!2sAF1QipMu16OrGr2t8_8l1HUGWahaaSWAFjdM0v5wYMHT&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwj1td3WicrmAhWRT98KHSLkAKUQoiowHXoECBAQBg#

So, I’m back after a very nice and fun wedding at Bolton Castle.  Everyone was in Medieval dress. There was a period sit-down meal accompanied by Minstrels.  Then there was music and dancing–and the DJ even sang “Coming to America” for me!

I also saw him graduate with his Masters to be a researcher in fertility.

Pictures to follow as soon as I download them from phone and iPad.

 

Ropin’ the Moon by Deborah Camp

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This post is part of a virtual book tour organized by Goddess Fish Promotions. Deborah Camp will be awarding a $50 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Click on the tour banner to see the other stops on the tour.

He had tumbleweed in his blood, moving from one town to the next. Traveling to where there was trouble, Dalton Moon was hired to tame wild places with a fast draw and an iron will. Lacy Tyrell knew that Dalton wouldn’t be around long and she shouldn’t be tempted by him. But like the moon, his pull on her was a natural, powerful force that she was helpless to resist.

Read an Excerpt:

“Let’s not play games with each other, Lacy.”

“I’m not.” She glared at his hand holding her prisoner and he loosened his hold, but didn’t release her.

“You are. You’re used to winding men around your little finger, slaying them with your smile, and having them trot after you like Thumper trots after me.”

“That’s an interesting image you’ve dreamed up, Marshal, but you know absolutely nothing about me.”

“That’s true.” His tone was hushed, soft as a feather. “But I’d like to know you. Very much.” He let her go; his fingertips trailing down her dress sleeve.

Mesmerized by his lips forming the words, she didn’t move. The flash of his teeth against his lower lip when he’d said “very” and the attractive pucker of them when he’d said “much” held her prisoner. She wanted to know the feel of his mouth on hers. Very. Much. Without allowing herself another second to reconsider, she rested a hand on his solid chest to steady herself and rose on tiptoes. She laid her mouth against his in a quick, hard kiss. She heard the quick intake of his breath, felt his lips part in surprise, and his heart kick against her palm.

About the Author:

Whatever type of romance you love to read, Deborah Camp writes it. From sweet to sexy, contemporary to historical

Author of more than 50 romances, both contemporary and historical, Deborah received the very first Janet Dailey Award (given to a romance novel that best addressed a social problem). My Wild Rose deals with battered women and children in 1800s with Carrie Nation as a character in the novel. Solitary Horseman also won the In d’tale Magazine’s Rone Award. Deborah loves writing stories that are centered on brave women and honorable men.

Deborah’s books have been praised by reviewers, bloggers, and readers who love complex characters and clever plotting. She always mixes in a bit of humor and a lot of heart.

She’s been a full-time writer since graduating from the University of Tulsa. Her first novel was published in the late 1970s and her books have been published by Jove, New American Library, Harlequin, Silhouette, Avon, and Amazon. She was inducted into the Oklahoma Authors Hall of Fame and she’s a charter member of the Romance Writers of America. She’s also a member of the Author’s Guild.

Communicating with readers and other writers is something she enjoys, so don’t be shy about visiting her online.

Be sure to join her Happy Campers Super Cool Reader Group on her website to receive a copy of one of her romances novels free and participate in it on Goodreads, too.

WEBSITE: http://www.deborah-camp.com
EMAIL: deborahcampauthor@yahoo.com
FACEBOOK: http://www.facebook.com/officialdeborahcamp
PINTEREST: http://www.pinterest.com/debbycamp44/
BLOG: http://www.deborahcampwritersdesk.blogspot.com
TWITTER: http://www.twitter.com/authordebcamp
GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/198990

Buy link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07XQPJMV8?ref_=pe_3052080_276849420

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Charleston, South Carolina- Setting of Sinners’ Opera

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Sinners’ Opera is set in Charleston, South Carolina, one of my favorite cities in the world (that I’ve visited).  It’s beautiful and on the ocean—two requirements of being a favorite. I’d simply love to live in one of the Antebellum mansions along the Battery. If you ever visit Charleston, take a buggy ride around the historic sights.

Charles Towne was founded in 1670, during the reign of Charles II of England.  This is important in the book because Morgan (the hero) became a vampire in 1659, and in 1670, the King sent him to the new colony to inspect its progress. Later, he returns to watch over a baby girl (the heroine) as she grows to womanhood.

Charleston boasts cobblestone streets, horse-drawn carriages, and pastel Antebellum houses, particularly in the elegant French Quarter and Battery districts. The Battery promenade and Waterfront Park both overlook Charleston Harbor. Fort Sumter, a federal stronghold where the first shots of the Civil War were fired, is across from the Battery.

Two beaches, Folly Beach and Isle of Palms, are near Charleston. Another requirement for a favorite of mine.

In nearby Mt. Pleasant, you can visit Boone Hall plantation. Some of the tours they offer are, “Exploring The Gullah Culture”, House Tours, Plantation Coach Tour, Black History In America Exhibit, Slave Street and History Presentation, Garden Tour, and a Butterfly Pavilion.

My personal favorite is the Dock Street Theater, America’s first theater. On February 12, 1736, the Dock Street opened with The Recruiting Officer. Flora, the first opera performed in America took place at the Dock Street. Now, the Dock Street is owned and managed by the City of Charleston. I was enthralled by it when I went for a concert. The Dock Street looks like a 17th century playhouse with rows of wooden benches in the orchestra seating. The boxes overlooking the floor are draped in dark green, almost black velvet. The stage backdrop is an antique tapestry of Charleston Harbor. Photo Credit:  By Frances Benjamin Johnston

The Battery is a street along the seawall on the Atlantic Ocean. The pastel and colorful Antebellum mansions cost in the millions. When I was writing Sinners’ Opera, I drove up and down the Battery until the residents must have thought I lived there…or was a stalker. I finally chose a house for my hero. It’s Roper House, a brick structure with green shutters and a Greek portico to the left. A beautiful house, but because the main attraction, the portico, is on the side, it looks like the house has its shoulder to the sea.  A house with secrets.

I’ve driven those cobblestone streets in my little red Miata, eaten at some good downtown restaurants (never made Magnolias for shrimp and grits), and have gone to the Dock Street for a piano concert.  Morgan is a concert pianist, an English lord, and a vampire.

If I haven’t yet inspired you to visit Charleston on your next vacation, what can I say?  Real movie stars are moving to Charleston, and it is one of the most concentrated centers of wealth in this country. It’s also famous for art (Spoleto), culture, and history—and entertainment galore.

Release Day!!! Break out the Champagne for Sinners’ Opera!

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Today Sinners’ Opera is officially released!  Below are the buy links.  The book is available in print and eBook.  Please drop by one of the links and take a look.  Here’s a quick excerpt:

Excerpt:

“Are you a bum?”  She cocked her head, one eyebrow arched.

“Do I look like a bum?”  I’d dreamed of changing the world.  How the Mighty fall.

“Well, yeah.”  She stressed the last word.

A bitter laugh burned my throat.  “Hold on to your dreams.  Dreams do come true.”  My hand shook, and I almost dropped the wallet engraved with my initials and the St. Averil crest—worthless reminders of a life left behind.

“Come closer.  I won’t harm you.  I promise.”  I folded the sodden currency and shoved it into her hand.

She gasped.  “Is this real money?”  Her eyes narrowed.  “Oh, my, it is.  A lot of money.”  An accusing gaze captured mine.  “Did you rob a bank?”

“The money is mine.  Now it’s yours.”  Thinking of a special little girl I’d taught to dream, I smiled wistfully.  “I must warn you.  Princes are in short supply.”

“You are an angel,” she whispered reverently.  “Grandma said angels didn’t always look like angels when they appeared to you.”

A sharp pain lanced my heart, sadness welling deep inside.  “I’m not an angel, child.  Run along home before you catch a chill.”

Sinners’ Opera Buy Links:

https://books.apple.com/us/book/sinners-opera/id1478753329

https://www.amazon.ca/Sinners-Opera-Obsession-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B07X3RSRXQ

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sinners-Opera-Obsession-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B07X3RSRXQ

https://www.amazon.com/Sinners-Opera-Obsession-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B07X3RSRXQ

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sinners-opera-linda-nightingale/1115919206?ean=2940160871097

https://www.kobo.com/us/en/search?query=Sinners+Opera

~~~~~~

TODAY I’m at N.N. Light’s Book Haven celebrating. Drop by. Prizes are involved.  https://www.nnlightsbookheaven.com/single-post/Sinners-Opera

 

Sinners’ Opera Available Monday!

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Halloween month, October 7th is Release Day for my paranormal romance and the 5-star reviews are already coming in.  Sandra Dailey said she told her husband every move the characters made.

Here’s what Uncaged Reviews had to say about Sinners’ Opera,

Sophisticated, arrogant, beautiful, darkness, love. Many things can describe Morgan D;Arcy….the passionate lover everyone wishes for…

…will haunt you long after you finish reading it.

This all-consuming love story of Morgan and Isabeau will enthrall the reader as they overcome the obstacles in their path to happiness.

Excerpt:

“Isabeau!”  Gabriel’s voice would forever strike a chord deep inside.

Morgan leaned over the mahogany railing, his eyes alight, his smile breathtaking.

“Morgan,” she breathed, her heart thudding.

Tonight, she’d caught him in his robe.  Riding mid-thigh, the green brocade smoking jacket showed fine, long legs.  Hair mussed, eyes sleep-misted, Morgan looked like a boy who’d just woken up.  The slender, muscled physique was all man.  Was he naked beneath the robe?  Her nipples tingled, imagining him nude and erect.

The handsome devil must have had one hell of a late night and slept all day.  The brunette’s face popped into Isabeau’s head.  Jealousy even tasted green.  God, what if the woman was still here!

Avery caught her hand, claiming her attention.  “Madam, do you like Beef Wellington?”

A languorous stretch elongated Morgan’s perfect body.  “Yes, she does.”

Isabeau frowned, opened her mouth to ask how he knew.  A flash in the corner of her eye, and Morgan stood at her elbow, his smile and his eyes sheer mischief.

“Sorry.  I shouldn’t have spoken for you.”  He took her hands, his touch sizzling over her.  “I can’t believe you’re actually here.  I’m delighted to see you.”

“Even unannounced?”  She squeezed his hands.  “I’m sorry about the other night.”

He shook his head, his gaze hot and intense.  “Think no more of it,” and her embarrassment evaporated.  “Please join me for dinner.  Avery has been eager to flaunt his culinary skills.  If you refuse, he’ll never forgive you, will you, Avery?”

“No, madam, I shan’t ever forgive you.”  The old gent gave her a mock stern look.

“How can I tempt you?”  Morgan bit the lower lip of a smile.

She laughed.  “Oh, I don’t know.  Do you have a piano by chance?”

He snapped his fingers.  “Avery, isn’t there a piano in the music room?”

The old man frowned, shaking his head.  “Sir, I believe there’s a piano in the music room but then we’d require someone to play it.”

“I can play chopsticks.”  Morgan touched her shoulder, zapping her knees weak.

“I can prepare a delectable Beef Wellington.”  Avery nodded emphatically.

Morgan’s Gabriel eyes caressed her.  “Sorry you caught me looking like this.”

You look good enough to eat.  She hadn’t spoken aloud, but Morgan arched a brow, his smile as enticing as it was wicked.  The man beamed sexual energy.

She flung a gesture of surrender and laughed.  “How could I refuse?”

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