#FiveOnFriday: Interview with Author Genevieve Lynne


Crave author Genevieve Lynne joins us today for a quick 5 questions interview. You can check out her stories in some our Craving anthologies. (Craving: Bad myBook.to/CravingBad, Craving: Soldiers myBook.to/CravingSoldiersAnth, and Craving: Christmas https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077J7QVZS/. All available for .99¢ each.

Do you consider being a writer a blessing or curse?

Both. It’s a blessing because I love to have a story in my head. It’s a curse because I can’t always get that story to translate onto the paper.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received about your writing?

There are two. My agent said she’d never hated a villain as much as she hated my villain in Secondhand Sinners. OMG that made me so happy. Also, One reviewer for Secondhand Sinners said it helped her forget that Hurricane Matthew was wreaking havoc in her state and relax for a little bit. It reminded me why we tell stories and for whom we’re telling them.

Favorite childhood book?

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. I read it the summer before my senior year of high school, and it was the first plot twist that I remember. Totally took me by surprise. I’ve been hooked on plot twists ever since, and LOVE to put them into my stories.

What’s one thing you’d give up to be a better writer?

My day job! Hahaha! I’m a resource teacher at a Title 1 school, and it’s so hard not to bring that home with me. I’m always thinking about my students and their families and ways that I can help them. Christmas time is the hardest because I know they’re not going to eat as well without the free lunches, and so many would rather just come to school where it’s warm and safe. It’s hard to turn that off sometimes. Though, honestly, I think it makes me be a better writer because I see so much humanity in those who struggle through poverty.

Paperback or ebook?

I love ebooks and audiobooks, especially the whisper sync titles; that’s the only way I’m able to read anything these days. I’ll listen to a story on my way to and from work and pick up where I left off at night on my Kindle. For writing craft books, though, I prefer to go with the hardcopy so I can make notes and such.

To learn more about Genevieve, visit her website: http://www.genevievelynne.com/

#TeaserTuesday Excerpt from Craving: Security

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Instead of one excerpt, today we are bringing you three.  #TeaserTuesday #99cents Read the rest of this story and many others in Craving: Security for only 99¢.

 Purchase Craving: Security for .99¢: getBook.at/CravingSecurity

Nowhere to Run by Camille Taylor

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Ivy Mercer raised her hands, palms facing out. Sweat rolled down her back, plastering her shirt to her skin. The acrid scent of smoke from the burning village seared her throat and filled her lungs.

The muzzle of a rifle followed the militant’s head as he bent it toward the ground. She didn’t need to speak the language to understand his direction.

Sinking to her knees, Ivy kept her gaze on the man pointing the gun at her head. Her heart pounded. Her knotted stomach somersaulted as she forced in thick, dry breaths, each harder than the last. The oppressive heat was as suffocating as being trapped inside a house on fire.

Ivy bit her lip to keep from crying out as one of her arms was wrenched behind her back, then the other, and they were secured firmly together at the wrists. Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back, determined not to give her captors any satisfaction.

Ivy had a feeling this was one situation she wouldn’t be able to get herself out of.


Tate waved his gun before her eyes. A bright spark raced along the muzzle as the moonlight caught the steel.

Ivy swallowed at her suddenly dry throat.

“Please, my father would disown me if I couldn’t shoot a tick off an elephant’s ass.” Her palms became slippery. “But I-I don’t think I could kill anyone.”

Tate shrugged off his backpack and dropped it beside her. “It’s either you or them, Poison Ivy.”

Heat suffused her cheeks. “I told you never to call me that.”

He grinned, like the reckless, fun-loving boy he had been. But he was no longer a boy. A fact she was trying hard to ignore.

“Good, you’re angry. Stay that way.”

“You can count on it.”

He nodded. “Stay here. Shoot anything that comes too close. Except me. I’ll be real pissed if you shoot me.”

She caught the sleeve of his shirt, the fabric thick beneath her fingers. “Wait, where are you going?”

“We need to thin the herd if we plan to get out of here. Watch my six.”

Her gaze dropped to his ass, which filled out his dark pants magnificently. She drew in a deep breath, almost choking, having forgotten to breathe.

Ivy tracked Tate as he moved through the dusty cloud kicked up by the hoard of men charging toward them. Gunshots reverberated through the night and rang in her ears.


She blew out her breath, her arms trembling. Tate stepped around the body, towering over her as he drew near.

“When I said watch my six, I meant from a distance. But thank you.”

Ivy opened her mouth to reply, but Tate dragged her closer, his lips swooping down to ravish hers. His tongue rasped against her own, short-circuiting her synapses and liquefying her muscles. A soft fluttering began in her stomach, light and sweet. Ivy clutched at his arms, allowing him to devour her. Her heart thumped and she moaned into his mouth.

Tate’s hold tightened. His hand roamed her back before settling on her nape, holding her head still as he drank from her. Desire swirled around, igniting quickly. With one last plunge, Tate drew back and sucked in a deep breath.

Ivy wet her lips, feeling his possession. Stepping away, she stumbled, snagging Tate’s arm at the last second to steady herself. He caught her and held her close. Ivy sagged into him. His arm, a steel band around her back, held her upright.

Ivy fought to drag air into her lungs. That kiss had damn near robbed her of breath.


#FiveOnFriday: Interview with Author Kristin Jacques


Crave author Kristin Jacques joins us today for a quick 5 questions interview. You can check out her story in Craving: Christmas https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077J7QVZS/. Available for .99¢ each.

Do you consider being a writer a gift or a curse?

Depends on the day.  It is wonderful getting lost in a world of your own creation. Having a mind that can think up whole new imaginary universes is like having a secret superpower. Somedays though, when all you want to do is write and it is just not happening, you get twitchy and wired. Your brain just won’t shut off no matter how badly you need that sleep at 3 am. You sometimes find yourself talking to imaginary people out loud as you work out dialogue, in public. You get lost in plotting while driving and end up three towns over instead of the grocery store. (I swear that only happened once….twice.) Is writing a gift or a curse? Maybe a little bit of both.

What is the best compliment you have received about your writing?

I have had some lovely compliments over the years, but one that really stayed with me was when I was 17. I entered a high school state wide writing competition and actually won the regional. Highlight of my senior year. I did not win at the state level but talking to the judges afterward, one of them blurted out ‘We thought you were a guy!’ My piece was written from a male perspective and I really felt like I nailed it with that comment.

Do you google yourself?

No. I fear what the internet thinks of me.  *Quietly deletes browser history*

What is your favorite childhood book?

There are many I admire and while I read many a modern classic, there was one book I reread several times as a kid and that was Alien Secrets by Annette Curtis Klause. This is the same author who wrote Blood and Chocolate, but never mind werewolves. This was a YA space murder mystery, with aliens. It was freaking awesome. And the main character was named Puck, which sparked my lifelong love of naming characters after Shakespearean plays.

What is one thing you would give up to become a better writer?

Netflix.  No, really, somedays I can’t even open my Netflix for fear of getting sucked into the siren’s song of my queue. ‘Just one episode, Kristin’ it taunts me. Like a fool I answer. Next thing I know, six hours have passed. It’s one in the morning. I have eaten an entire pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Netflix begins to load the next episode. I weep for mercy.

Maybe I’ll just tell my husband to change the password and not tell me.

To learn more about Kristin visit her website: http://www.kristinjacques.com/

#TeaserTuesday Excerpt from Craving: Christmas

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There was a soft knock at his bedroom door. Through a fog of sleepiness, Ryan said, “It’s unlocked.” When the door opened, he sat partially up in bed, leaning on one elbow. Angela stood in the doorway, wearing the same white t-shirt he’d given her the night before. Was she wearing panties underneath? Sweet Jesus…what would Denise do? Move on if she was him—that’s what.

He was moving on.


“Can I come in?” she asked.

His body stirred as the light from the hallway silhouetted her curves, filtering through her thin white shirt.

Okay, maybe not that slowly, but was he ready for this? For her? “Yeah.” His voice cracked.

“I don’t think I can sleep without someone next to me.”

She wanted to share his bed? With him in it? Man, it had been so long since he even remotely thought about doing this. “I got you. Come in.” Do I? He patted the bed next to him.

Angela slipped into his room, moving toward his side of the bed. He scooted over, giving her enough room to lay down, but he stayed close. She settled under the blanket, her body heat warming him. With her back to his front, he took in the scent of his shampoo on her hair. He jerked his hips away, remembering that he was hard.

“Can you put your arm around me?”

Uhhh… “Do you want me to?” His voice cracked again. Smooth.

She snort-giggled. “That is why I asked.”

“I’m, uhhh—”

“You’re uhhh what?”

He draped his arm over her waist. Except with the amount of distance he’d left between them, only his wrist and hand reached. Angela inched backward into him. Her spectacular ass pressed against him. Ryan groaned.

She gasped in a teasing tone. “Now I know what the ‘what’ is. You’re hard.”

“Sorry, probably not what you need righ—”

“Why are you apologizing? It’s flattering.” She rolled over and faced him.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong impression.”

“And what would that be? You’re attracted to me, right?”

“Um,” he swallowed hard, “we only met yesterday.”

“So? What does that have to do with whether you’re attracted to me?” Her hand cupped his face. He closed his eyes, liking her touch—surprised at how good it felt.

“You’re leaving soon.”

“Stop. What do therapists call it when you change the subject to avoid talking about it?”

“I’m not deflecting, I’m being realistic.”

“Well, stop it. And all I asked was if I could sleep next to you. The operative word being ‘sleep.’”

“I’m a cop, hard for me to not be realistic.” She stroked his cheek. His hips rocked forward. “You have to stop doing that,” he whispered.

“Doing what?” She passed her thumb over his lips. He slid his hand up her spine, pulling her flush to his body.

“Trying to seduce me.”

Want to read more? Download Craving: Christmas for only 99¢:  https://www.amazon.com/Craving-Christmas-Book-5-ebook/dp/B077J7QVZS/

Got Romance?

#crave (41)There has never been a time in my life, since age 4, when I wasn’t an avid reader. Of course, a reader’s tastes change with time, and I’ve gone through a lot of phases over the years.

Back in the late 1980s, I began working in the Indianapolis Public Library system, which opened up a new world of constant and endless reading options. It was interesting to see the trends develop and evolve. There was a time we couldn’t keep any vampire books on the shelves, along with gothic horror. At one point, I read every single time travel romance I could find. For a while, it was historical romances involving pirates, cowboys, or Scottish lairds.

In recent years, I’ve gone through times when I read sexy ménage erotica, shifter romances, or post-apocalyptic and dystopian fiction. I’m currently deep in urban fantasy, a longtime favorite.Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000447_00006]

No genre has more sub-genres than romance, though. If a person can fantasize about it, it’s out there. Clean, steamy, erotica, bad-boy, second chance, young adult, new adult, chick-lit, dark, suspenseful…you name it, someone is writing it.

The variations seem endless. Stepbrother, May-December, reverse harem stories in which the heroine is involved in a consensual relationship with three or more men, even male-male alpha romances featuring male pregnancy!

Pageflex Persona [document: PRS0000447_00006]Some of the popular recent trends include mafia/organized crime romantic suspense, rock star romances, sports romances, and motorcycle clubs.

I still love a good paranormal romance, or urban fantasy with romantic elements. How about you? What have been your favorite past trends, and what romance sub-genre are you binge-reading right now?

Lori Whitwam, Managing Editor, Limitless Publishing, LLC

#TeaserTuesday: Expert from Craving: Secrets

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#TeaserTuesday #99cents Read the rest of this story and many others in Craving: Secrets for only 99¢.
Purchase Craving: Secrets for .99¢: myBook.to/CravingSecrets

Excerpt from “Masquerade” by A.L. Vincent

Her thoughts drifted to Quinn Olivier, as they often did on her sporadic visits. She’d never ran into him again after that summer. That glorious summer when they’d been in love, or lust. Sweaty nights, early mornings in the Quarter, sipping café au lait at Café du Monde. He’d been so different than the other boys she’d dated. He was older, not into the frat parties, the games. He’d cooked for her, taken her on real dates. He’d been a cop then, and Alex often wondered what had happened to him. Had he made detective? Had he bothered to try to find her when she left and went back to Dallas?

Had he found out she’d lied? About everything? About her name, where she was from?

Young and foolish, Alex had never told him her real name, about her prominent Dallas family, about anything, actually. When they’d met that night in that quiet little dive bar on Bourbon, she had told him her name was Bella, her family’s nickname for her.

She’d been out celebrating graduating from Tulane. She was one step closer to becoming an attorney like her father, and his father, and so on. She’d gone to the bar to order another drink when he caught her eye. He sat there, nursing a bourbon and Coke. He was twirling the ice around in the glass and watching the sweat from the glass drip off onto the napkin.

“Looks like you’re having a bad night,” Alex had said.

“I guess you could say that.”

Alex went to him then, leaning against the bar.

“Want to talk about it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Not if it’s going to cost me.”

She laughed then. “I’m not that kinda girl.”

He smiled at her and pulled the barstool out, and Alex sat down.

They talked about everything that night: about New Orleans, music, Mardi Gras, their favorite restaurants. He told her why he was there that night. About being in court, doing his job as a cop, and how the criminal had gone free anyway.

He’d walked her home and kissed her that night. And when he did, when he pushed her up against the door, all rational thought escaped her. Caught up in the whirlwind of the affair that resulted, the lie continued. When Quinn had expressed a distaste for New Orleans gentry, the parties, the balls, the sense of entitlement, Alex knew he’d feel the same way about her.

Out of fear, she’d remained silent. The summer grew to a close, and it was time for her to return to Dallas to begin practicing law. One morning, while he was sleeping, she’d kissed him on the forehead and slid out of bed. She’d never even said goodbye.


Seeing the lights of New Orleans in the distance, Alex shook her head.

Thank God New Orleans was a big town. The chances of running into Quinn again after all this time were nonexistent.