Book Promo: A Bowl of Rice by Joan Leotta



Army nurse Anna Maria O’Shea must make choices–about the kind of man she dates, about the strength of her commitment to her work as a healing on the front in Vietnam, and on how to honor her commitment to family, friends, and country.

Pittsburgh, May 7, 1970

“Hell no, we won’t go! Hell no, we won’t go!” They kept chanting the phrase, repeating it with more ferocity and fist pumping at each shout. Anna Maria snaked her way through the crowd of angry college students, some of whom were standing on the sidewalk. Most were standing and sitting in the middle of Fifth Avenue, blocking traffic. She ducked into the Pitt bookstore just as two mounted policemen rode down to the edge of the crowd and maneuvered their horses to try to move the students out of the street. Even though she had seen a student swipe at a patrolman who was monitoring the crowd on foot, no one seemed willing to possibly hurt a horse and so the crowd began to roll back onto the sidewalk like an ebbing tide.

Anna Maria watched it all for a few minutes through the plate glass windows of the bookstore. Then she sighed and ran down the stairs to the lower level where the nursing books were kept. She had heard that a paperback copy of her favorite nursing reference was now available and wanted to take that lighter version with her to Vietnam, thereby shaving a few ounces of weight from her already overstuffed and heavy suitcase.

When she had descended the steps she looked around for someone to help her find the book. Signs for various disciplines and studies were absent from their usual places at the end of each stack of shelves. “Probably took them for the demonstration,” Anna Maria mumbled to herself. She sat down on a stepstool by the first set of shelves.

She decided to rest there for a few moments while she collected herself. Reflecting on the previous week, Anna Maria sank deeper into her thoughts. What a strange and busy week it had been, she mused. Michael had decided to avoid Vietnam by defecting to Canada. Meanwhile, she was studying for finals in the program that would take her to Vietnam as a nurse. The program that, that WILL take me to Vietnam as a nurse, she corrected herself.  I can’t let Michael’s decision affect me that way.

A salesgirl walked by. She didn’t speak to Anna Maria although she frowned at her as she glanced her way. So, she noticed me, Anna Maria thought, as the girl walked around the corner of another stack of books, but did not call out to her. She probably thinks I’m crazy or maybe she thinks I’m just resting here to get away from the demonstrations outside. Maybe I am. After all, I could’ve bought that book at any time.

Anna Maria looked at her watch. It was only an hour until she was supposed to meet Michael to discuss his plans. She wondered if he would be on time or not. She imagined that he was in the thick of the demonstration and had either burned his draft card already or was running to meet the mounted policemen. Michael was always in the midst of the trouble. Anna Maria smiled ruefully to herself. No, she corrected herself. Michael is always the one instigating the trouble. She had to admit that it was nearly impossible to correct Michael.  Even his professors had a hard time denying him. His sparkling blue eyes, coal black curly hair, and lop-sided grin were hard to refuse. That grin of straight, even teeth illuminated the room around him and acted as a magnet, pulling everyone deep into his soul and definitely into his orbit.

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Joan LeottaJoan Leotta has been writing and performing since childhood. Her “motto” is “encouraging words through pen and performance.” Her award-winning poetry, short stories, books and articles have been published in many journals, magazines and newspapers. 


She performs folklore shows and one-woman shows on historic figures at venues up and down the east coast. She lives in Calabash, NC with husband Joe. You can learn more about her at

Book Promo: Ash Rising by Melissa Fox



Infiltrating an international drug cartel is the dangerous chance of a lifetime for Asher Beaulieu of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Falling in love while running the op isn’t part of the plan, but he never had much use for plans anyway. Shrouded in deception and surrounded by temptation, his charmed life explodes in betrayal and tragedy.


DEA Special Agent Emmaline Justice is determined to be recognized for her work, not her sex. She doesn’t have time for an intriguing, wounded RCMP inspector. When the contacts she cultivated over long months of an international undercover investigation keep showing up dead, Emma must use her instincts as both an agent and a woman to determine Beaulieu’s role in the case and in her life.


One woman tore him apart. Another is brave enough to put him back together—if his past doesn’t kill him first.

A number of people filled the courtyard, either finishing a workout or getting ready to train. Jim stood a short distance away, stretching against the wall of the building with his head—topped with the dark cap—bent between his arms. Ah, the perfect opportunity to get payback for the takedown he’d laid on her. Emma crept up behind him and moved to the side to get a good angle. He looked bigger in sweats, taller and much more buff. What she’d thought was a little paunch in his loose shorts proved to be broad, hard muscle in the clinging sweatpants and T-shirt. Who knew he had such great shoulders? Or such a spectacular ass? She jerked her eyes away, mortified she’d ogled his behind and even more shocked at the tingle of awareness—sexual awareness—over Jim, for crying out loud.

Embarrassment put more force behind the sneaky kick than she intended. She checked her swing, but the blow never even got close. Somehow, he spun and blocked as she let her foot fly toward his side, knocking her leg away with his wrist. In the next second, he shoved her against the block wall and held her in place with his forearm across her throat. Emma stared, shocked, into Inspector Asher Beaulieu’s angry blue eyes.

Her first thought was thank God I was turned on by him and not Jim. What a great ass. The second was oh, shit.

author photoAUTHOR BIO

Devouring two or ten books per week as a young’un, I was rationed books by my parents like most kids get rationed candy. So, of course I turned to writing to tide me over between fixes.

I’ve lived in the suburbs of the Mid-West, desert of the Southwest, and foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Since moving to an island in the Puget Sound with my husband and dogs, I’ve learned to play a mean game of 5-stand, catch squid, clams, shrimp, and crab. Good thing I like shellfish.

Author of the paranormal romance Wraith series published by The Wild Rose Press .

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Book Promo: Revenge The Cowboy Way by P.A. Estelle

Hello everybody! My name is Penny Estelle and want to thank Alisha for letting me barge in on her post today. I surely do appreciate it!

The other night I went to Happy Hour at Z-Tejas. Never been there before and it was a fun few hours. I’m not here to plug Z-Tejas, but I am going to plug one of their margaritas. I do like a good margarita. This was called a chambord margarita. In essence, a frozen margarita with chambord ribboned through it. Chambord is a black raspberry liqueur.

At home, I will take the “0” calorie marg mixer, add the tequila, and put it in the freezer. Comes out slushy and yummy. I found the raspberry liqueur and now make my own.


Revenge, The Cowboy Way

Joanna busied herself by cleaning a big black kettle in the corner. She hung it by the handle and swung it over the fire. Then began the arduous task of filling it, one rain-filled bucket at a time. It was getting later in the day, and the rain still hadn’t let up at all. She was feeding the fire when Brian finally returned.

She jumped up and ran to help him take off his slicker. His hands were like ice and his lips were blue. His teeth were chattering so hard, he couldn’t talk. “Get over here by the fire. We need to get these clothes off right now before you freeze to death!” Her energy was zapped just undressing him. She wrapped blankets around him and laid him by the fire. He was asleep instantly.

He had brought in two burlap bags. Inside one were two rabbits and inside the other were vegetables and coffee. How did he come by these? Remembering when Brian had shown her how to clean a rabbit, she set to work doing just that. She cut the meat into chunks, dropping them into the water, and then cut up the vegetables. It would take a long time for the rabbit to be eatable, but at least Pappy would have some broth when he woke next. She also found some tin cups and made herself a cup of coffee.

Joanna sat up long into the night, drinking coffee, leaning against the wall by the fireplace. She watched Brian sleep. She finally admitted it. She loved this man. She knew he would never return her love. Should she leave? Should she stay with Pappy for as long as he would have her? At least she would be able to see Brian. Could she live that way, seeing him with other women—maybe marrying someone else? No, she couldn’t.

And what about Pappy? Since her grandfather had died, this was the one man she could trust completely, and she had come to love this gentle old soul. It was like a stab in her heart to see the two men she loved, lying on the floor, so still and vulnerable. How infinitely sad she felt! Everything in the world she wanted was right here, in this broken down shack, yet nothing was in reach.


She never hesitated, just went to Brian, hungry for his embrace, weeping quietly against his shoulder.

* * * *

Buy Links
Rooster and Pig Publishing –

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Book trailer –

Revenge-TheCowboyWay_432x648Hi everybody! Revenge, The Cowboy Way was written forty years ago. I was in my early twenties and a new mother, also. I read a few steamy romances and figured – “I can do this!” I used my electric Brothers Typewriter and started in. Five years later I was done and sure it was the “Great American Novel”. I sent out a few queries, certain publishing companies would be fighting over my book, but to my surprise I received three, Thanks, but no thanks, responses. I boxed it up and it has lived in my closet until about a year ago. It was such pathetic writing. LOL. I took it out and did LOTS of editing and polishing. I was so excited when R&P offered me a contract.

I retired from public school five years ago. I was the principal’s secretary! I also write for the tween age kiddos. How could I not, after gathering material for twenty-one years in the elementary scene?

To find out more about my books and/or me please visit the following links. I love visitors and comments.

Interview with Author Jessie Clever

Today I have the great pleasure of introducing you all to author Jessie Clever. She has agreed to answer some questions for us all, and has generously offered a free giveaway, find out how you can enter below!

Now, onto the questions!

Do you have a pen name? How did you come up with your pen name?

I’m often asked if I have a pen name, but I’m sorry to say it’s really my name! Or it was until I got married. You’d better believe the first thing I did when we got back from the honeymoon was to go to the Social Security office and get it changed. I could not take another “Clever” joke! And then I published my first book and realized I would forever be Jessie Clever when it came to writing stories!

Are you a plotter or a pantser?

I try very hard to be a plotter, but sometimes my characters decide to do something else on me!

If you could sit down with any one in the world who would it be?

Audrey Hepburn. I put a little bit of her in all of my heroines.

You are a published author! What made you succeed where others fail?

Persistence. I remember hearing someone say that the world “still” is so negative in the context of “are you still trying to do this?” I never let that word get in my way.

What advice would you have for someone who is just starting out?

Keep writing! I was given this advice by some many writers, and at the time, I dismissed it. But it turned out to be the best advice, because when the first manuscript becomes a book, you need to have more to come after that!

What was the first novel/short story/poem you wrote? Did you ever publish it?

Son of a Duke, the first book I ever published, was also the first novel that I finished, and I wrote it during my 1L year of law school. I never made it to my second year.

How do you come up with your titles?

I ask my husband. He’s brilliant with titles!

Do you ever write naked?

No, because I have a leather office chair. I don’t want to stick to it.

Who would play you in a movie about your life?

Reese Witherspoon! She looks nothing like me, but I hope I’m as peppy as she appears to be!

How much impact does your childhood have on your writing?

It has a huge impact! I grew up in a bit of a resort in the middle of nowhere New York. My family owned a restaurant, campground and marina, and during the summer, I would sit behind the cash register of the store from the time I was very little until I finally left home. I met many different “characters” during that time.


I would like to giveaway an e-copy of A Countess Most Daring, the latest installment in the Spy Series, to a commenter on today’s post.

JessieCleverIn the second grade, Jessie began a story about a duck and a lost ring. Two harrowing pages of wide ruled notebook paper later, the ring was found. And Jessie has been writing ever since.

Armed with the firm belief that women in the Regency era could be truly awesome heroines, Jessie began telling their stories in her Spy Series, a thrilling ride in historical espionage that showcases human faults and triumphs and most importantly, love.

Jessie makes her home in the great state of New Hampshire where she lives with her husband and two very opinionated Basset Hounds.

Visit Jessie at her own site here: 

Book Promo: A Promise at Dawn by Jane Leopold Quinn


(a 15,500 word story)

by Jane Leopold Quinn

Their affair was scorchingly sensual

Faye Burke, recently widowed, retreated to the coast of Maine to grieve and reassess her future. Her favorite part of the day is watching the sun rise out of the Atlantic Ocean. It’s also when the man she considers her guilty pleasure runs along the beach.

Gil Farrelly, a successful painter, is trying to get his career back on track after the studio fire that destroyed everything. He starts his creative juices flowing every day by running on the beach. The lovely woman who watches him also gets his juices flowing and he’s determined to reinvent his career by painting her.

Faye’s combination of maturity and sensual vulnerability intrigue Gil and he wants to immortalize her on his canvas. She’s flattered, aroused and ultimately frightened of the emotions he incites. He claims not to care he’s younger by twelve years but she believes sooner or later he’ll come to his senses and seek out women his own age. Can Faye conquer her fears? Can Gil prove to her it’s not age separating them but her fear?

“Was your studio here in this area?”

“Uh huh. Like you, I came up here a couple years ago to find myself. Since the fire, I’ve been doing some landscapes. You’re the first portrait I’ve wanted to do in a long time.”

She lay on her back, tilting her face to the sun, savoring the warmth. She’d popped a slice of apple in her mouth, and he watched her chew and swallow it. “Faye,” he began, shifting his body over hers.

She sighed and opened her eyes.

He didn’t waste any time. Through eyes barely open, he watched her lashes close, watched her lips part. He kissed her softly. With light touches and delicate sips, he tasted the sweet stickiness of the apple on her lips.

She didn’t respond. It wasn’t a rejection. It just wasn’t a response.

He braced his hands on either side of her shoulders, holding himself off her breasts so the only place their bodies met was their lips. It took all his control to go slowly.

At first she didn’t touch him. Then at the same time she began to kiss him back, she placed her palms on his chest, their warmth and pressure highly arousing. She slid her arms around him and slowly pulled him down on top of her.

He took that for permission and rolled to his back, taking her, draping her over his body. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand cupping her head lightly, giving her the opportunity to break away if she didn’t like it. She stayed, and he deepened his kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, claiming her, delving into her welcoming and passionate response.

Her moans rose sweetly from her throat, then became deep growling noises. Her hands cupped his face, held him. She massaged his tongue with hers. His cock surged in response.

He rolled again putting her beneath him and slid his thigh between hers.

Her body quivered, her hips undulated, pressing upward against his.

He moved his fingers to the buttons of her sweater and flicked them open one by one, spreading the sides to reveal a pretty white lacy bra with, thank the good Lord, a front clasp. Her eyes opened, met his with an erotic, pleading gaze. The clasp easily opened, and her full, pale breasts spilled free.

“Gil,” she gasped his name. There was no question in it, just pure desire.

Slipping his hands under her shoulders, he pulled her up, brought his mouth down, and latched onto a beautiful strawberry shaded nipple as erect and hard as a little clit.

He uttered a soft grunt at her sharp cry, drawing on her, loving the taste and feel of the tightly furled bud.

She clawed at his shoulders, writhing under him. “Yes, yes, God, yes.”

He delicately clamped her nipple between his teeth.

“Yes. Harder.”

He rocked the tip and lashed it with his tongue.

“Oh. The other one,” she begged with a breaking sob. She fisted her fingers in his T-shirt, yanking, tugging at it.

He released her nipple and pushed himself up.

“No,” she cried.

He gripped the back of his T-shirt and pulled it off over his head, tossing it aside. “I want to feel your skin on mine,” he murmured, and teased her other nipple.

She gave herself so completely over to the torment of his mouth. He could feel her fingernails on his shoulders. The harder she scored, the deeper he drew on her nipple. They fed off each other, off the ecstatic storm of their emotions. She cried his name, rolled her head back and forth on the blanket, stiffened, and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. He felt her orgasm in the vibration of the guttural groan from deep in her belly.

His heart soared, his lips tipped in an elated smile. Just giving her this pleasure satisfied him more than he thought possible. She was an amazing combination of reluctance and responsiveness. She thought her age might make her less attractive? Ha!

A Promise at Dawn is available at Amazon

Amazon Reviews

“Good short story! Faye and Gil have very hot chemistry, and their story is heartwarming. I was surprised at the character development in such a short offering. Faye had suffered such a huge loss, and we were drawn in along on her new path in life.”

“Ms Quinn paints a detailed portrait of a woman re-awakening after the loss of her husband. Her emotional state is handled quite deftly. This story has pathos, passion and humor woven together. Gil and Faye’s story unfolds quickly and it’s a scorcher.”

Author Bio

Sensual fantasies were locked in my mind for years until a friend said, “Why don’t you write them down?” Why not, indeed? One spiral notebook, a pen and the unleashing of my imagination later, and here I am with more than a dozen books published. The craft of writing erotic romance has become my passion and my niche in life. I love every part of the creative process — developing characters, designing the plot, even drawing the layout of physical spaces from my stories. My careers have been varied — third grade school teacher, bookkeeper, secretary — none of which gave me a bit of inspiration. But now I’m lucky enough to write romance full time — the best job in the universe!

Jane Leopold Quinn

My Romance:  Love With a Scorching Sensuality

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