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Linda Nightingale...Author

On May 15th, the rights on Sinners’ Opera reverted to me from a 5-year contract with Double Dragon Publishing.  I began polishing the manuscript for submission to The Wild Rose Press, and yesterday, I completed my review.  I immediately hit send on an email to my editor, Callie Lynn Wolfe at TWRP.  Now, the wait.  Tick, tock.  Are we there yet?  This is the time that weighs on my non-existent patience!

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Well, it’s been not to work while getting settled from the move. I’m anxious to get back to Legacy of the Stars, but time runs away when you’re decorating, having driveways poured, etc. and 1 book signing thrown for good measure. I had fun at Art on the Town in my hometown. sold some books, and met a lot of interesting and fun people.

Here is a little bit more of Legacy:

Prospector’s Rest, Six Months Earlier

The Meadow Valley High School was a stately structure resembling a classic English University, ivy crawling along the brick front and cement bay windows overlooking a parklike entryway. I often wondered how such a building had found its way to a small town in West Texas. The area wasn’t exactly known for its beauty and culture, but when Dad died, we’d left Idaho, returning to my mother’s hometown. I don’t think she even glanced over her shoulder as we passed over the Idaho state line. She did toot the car horn, but that was our way of marking progress wherever we went.

I awoke from the sudden flood of memories when another student bumped into me, spilling her books to the grass.

“Sorry!” Jane Perkins grimaced. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

I’d seen Jane around school. She was a pretty girl with long brown hair as straight as my own and eyes the color of a gray winter morning. She held my gaze for a long moment, then smiled before bending quickly to retrieve her books.

“Let me help.” I grabbed a volume from the grass and handed it to her.

“Thanks. Sorry again.” She turned to go, turned back. “Say, Asher, are you going to the Prom?”

“No plans yet,” I said.

Peter Fellows, a Senior this year, had asked Lily, and she’d accepted though he was a  year older and a grade ahead of her.

“If you don’t have a date—I don’t have one—I mean would you like to go together.” The invitation came out on a rush, and Jane’s high cheekbones pinkened. A lot of people in the area had Native American blood. Jane’s features, including her cheeks, wwereclassic.

“Sure.” I smiled, letting my hand come to rest on her elbow in an unassuming caress.

Her blush deepened, as appealing as her smile. “Great. I’m late for class.” She shoved a folded piece of paper into my hand. “Call me. I’ll call you back. We’ll plan for the Prom. There’s your sister.”

Jane pointed to a cluster of students milling around, waiting for the school bus.

“Talk later then.” I smiled, and Jane hesitated a minute, staring at me.

“Later.” She waved.

As I drew nearer where my sister stood, the conversation within her little group came clear.

“Have you seen the new Star Wars movie yet?” The boy fiddled with car keys on a long chain, regarding my sister with big brown cow eyes.

She shook her head. Her hair captured the afternoon sun in a copper halo. In fact, in her long white dress—why were pretty dresses called Sunday clothes?—she looked like a fiery-haired angel. This morning as we dressed for school, she’d cursed that she hadn’t had time to do the laundry and was going to be overdressed.

She’d been concerned about the other girl’s opinions. I’d laughed and said, ‘if you’ve got it, flaunt it.’ Now, that wisdom and witticism had come back to bite my butt.

The boy pointed at the thick novel she held, but his gaze never ventured from Lily. “Do you like fantasy books?”

“Yes.” She turned the book, enabling him to see the cover. “I particularly like this writer.  You might not. She puts a touch of romance in her fantasy novels.”

“Toni V. Sweeney,” he mused. “I read her Shadow Lord series. Totally awesome. Hey, Lily, no need to ride the school bus. I’ll be glad to drive you home. Mom let me use her car today.” He was a proud little peacock, spreading his tail feathers.

“I’d better catch the bus.” She shrugged. “Mother’s orders, you know.”

He chuckled. “I hear you. I’m always grounded because of my grades. I guess you study a lot. You can always answer the teacher’s questions.”

“I just like history. A lot of fantasy novels are based on true happenings.” She turned as her best friend joined them.

Julie was pretty, too, I supposed. She looked as if she might have a touch of Native American in her family pedigree. The boy seemed to consider her attractive. He stopped ogling Lily to glance at the new arrival.

Is over and I am almost unpacked. That’s not to say everything is in place yet.  I need to have pictures hung and  I think I’ll have more than i have space.  I bought furniture at Rooms to Go:  2 bedroom suites, a bar-top table and 4 chairs of different color leather, and a beautiful full-length stand up mirror.

So, that’s the trek from Texas to South Carolina in a nutshell.

I haven’t worked on Legacy of the Stars but one day soon it will be ready to go to judgment day (the publisher).

Until then, check out my erotic stories at http://www.lotscave.com/ebooks/author/bianca-swan.php

Have a splendid weekend!

Bianca

Soon, after my move from South Texas to South Carolina, I hope to get back to Legacy. It is at 30,000 words and still in process.  It’s a taboo subject.  It is a poignant look at a love that transcends the boundaries of social acceptance.  In a way, it is like Her Brother’s Wife (Lot’s Cave Publishing).  If it weren’t for the subject, I’d enter it in a contest looking for entries in Erotic Romance.  But, alas, I’m sure they’d rip it to shreds!

Hope you are waiting for Legacy of the Stars, a sci-fi erotic and taboo romance.

Legacy of the Stars

A love scene:

“Excuse me, fellows.” A female voice belonging to my English teacher rescued me from having to answer. “Asher, may I speak with you a moment?”

I turned and nodded. “Certainly, Mrs. Walker.” I tossed Tom a grin and said, “Excuse me.”

Mrs. Walker was my favorite teacher, and I was her favorite student. She allowed me to write stories when the other students were required to produce book reports. She’d marked one of my efforts with ‘I like your otherworldly approach,” which I took as a great compliment. I wrote with an otherworldly touch because I felt stuck in a rut, lost in a West Texas lifestyle.

“Would you mind coming back to the classroom?” Her hazel gaze shifted to Tom. “Sorry, Tom, I need your companion.”

“No prob, Mrs. Walker. We’re done chatting.” Tom ogled pretty Mrs. Walker as he had Lily a few minutes ago.

I thought she was pretty, too, but I wasn’t going to insult her by studying her like a nude painting. Even though, sometimes when she was lecturing, I imagined her naked. Not a bad daydream. She was petite and curvy. That she was probably in her forties intrigued me. The image faltered with her dark hair in a bun, but she had piercing yet sexy hazel eyes. She gestured, and I followed her up the brick stairs, down the hallowed gray hallway to the classroom. Here the resemblance to an Ivy League university ended. Rows of plain old wooden desks faced a large, clunky oaken teacher’s refuge.

Sexy Mrs. Walters ushered me in, closed the door…and locked it with a small click. “This is important, and I don’t want anyone interrupting us,” she explained.

She undulated—the only word for the slow, sensual walk—back to her desk. She halted at my side, slid a stapled paper toward us, and smiled at me.

“You did a wonderful job on this story.” She said, her voice sensually soft. “I’ve given you the grade you deserve. You’re top of the class again. You don’t have to worry about skipping straight to college.” She turned to face me, her lips parted on the sexiest smile.

“Thank you,” I said, scarcely able to breathe for the spell she and her perfume wove.

She reached up and slid the band off my ponytail. “You’re the most beautiful young man I’ve ever seen. Your hair is such an unusual blond and your eyes…Asher, I’ve no idea how to seduce a student. I’ve never done it before, but I’ve wanted you since you walked through that door.” She pointed at the locked door.

“I don’t know how to be seduced by a teacher. I’ve never…I’ve never—”

“It’s okay.” Her eyes lingered on the bulge to the left of my zipper, traveled down my legs, returned to the erection trapped in my tight jeans.

She leaned into me, her breasts grazing my chest. Hands at her small waist, I lifted her and set her on the desk. She spread her legs, and I inserted my hips between her tanned thighs.

“Kiss me,” she breathed—a dying request.

My mouth closed over hers, staking my claim, my rigid, strong tongue thrusting into her mouth.  Deep, dark pleasure blanked my mind and all resistance as pure, unadulterated lust consumed my body.  Breathing hard, she unzipped my pants and eased my erection free, sliding her hands up and down the shaft and kissing the crown with her long red nails. My cock jerked and spat a drop of precum. She worked my slick cock in expert strokes. Waves of desire washed me further from any sense of danger. Indeed, the thought of getting caught fired the imagination and the libido.  I pulled her panties out of the way, and she guided me into her wet pussy. Her muscles clenched and released sucking at my dick, making me so hot I thought I’d spill before the first thrust.  I drew  back, the swollen head at the gates of heaven, then shoved into her. She gasped and scooted her hips to the edge of the desk to drive me deeper.

I delved faster, deeper, and she moaned in tempo.  Lifting her hips, I positioned her clit on the hilt of my dick, caressing her sensitized nub.  She fell back in the support of my arms.  I tensed in her arms as my cock tensed inside her, and I trembled.

“Slow and deep,” she groaned, locking her hands in my hair and her legs around my hips.

I slowed my strokes, delving to her depths. She rode me, battling for satisfaction. When she gasped, “Faster now, baby,” I pumped her hard, shoving into her, grinding her clit on my hilt.

“I’m coming,” she cried against my neck.

This book from The Wild Rose Press is featured today on DBL First Chapter.  Drop by and keep Linda company and read the first chapter of her Romantic Suspense about people who love horses.  Becca and Austen rush to catch a killer before death catches them.

http://new.drb1stchp.com/2017/gamblers-choice-linda-nightingale/

GENRE: Erotic Romance

BLURB:

Ivy Phillips is on a mission. She’s an investigative reporter for the Pasadena Tribune, and is hoping to write the story of the century by infiltrating Pleasure Island claiming to be a submissive. Except, when she gets there, she inadvertently finds herself auctioned off for charity and now has two hunky cowboys who want to own her body and soul.

Dax Johnson and Nate Banks have been a rodeo team – and lovers – for years. But they’ve yearned to add a sweet submissive to their union. When they meet Ivy, Dax knows she is the one for them, and the duo set out on a seductive campaign to win Ivy’s affection.

But when the truth is revealed, will their newfound relationship survive? Or will the two cowboys ride off into the sunset without her?

Publisher’s Note: This is the ninth – and final – instalment of Anya Summers’ bestselling Pleasure Island series. While we recommend all the books, it can be enjoyed on its own.

Excerpt:

“The bull pen meeting is about to start. You planning to attend?” Kevin Donnelly asked, looking every inch like he’d just stepped off the pages of Vogue magazine. He had movie star good looks, and fashionably cut, beach blond hair. He was wearing the latest skinny jeans and a hipster dress shirt in a silver gray. It was too bad the five foot seven, moderately buff and toned man was gay. Otherwise they’d be perfect for each other.

“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Ivy replied, refolding the paper in her hands. She shoved the letter and envelope into her massive tan leather shoulder bag that was essentially her life. There was room enough for her iPad, her makeup, tampons, condoms—although she hadn’t needed any of those in a while—wallet, keys, even a small yappy dog if she were so inclined. She carried everything in it. You name it, she carried it with her. Which worked out well for Ivy since she always seemed to be on the move.

“So, how did the other night go? You never mentioned your date, and I live to hear about my co-workers’ love lives,” Kevin simpered, giving her his full attention. This was one of the reasons Ivy loved him. The man was a consummate flirt, and knew just how to get a girl to spill all her secrets. How many times over the years had they done yoga and brunch on Sundays, where he would magically get her to tell him all her troubles? They were the best therapy sessions in the world.

“You and Chad are still not talking to one another, I take it,” she replied.

Kevin put his hands on his hips and did the gay male equivalent of tossing his hair back. “Please, honey, the man wishes he still had me. Nope, I’m moving on and into the market. Which means I don’t currently have a sex life and must live vicariously through you. So, no deflecting. I want all the juicy tidbits.”

She removed her iPad from her bag and said, “Yeah, well, good luck with that.”

“So the date the other night was a no go?” Kevin asked, his light ice blue eyes twinkling with interest.

“It’s fair to say I left as early as I could. When the crying started, there was really no point to saving the night,” she said. And wasn’t that just the kicker. Every single date she’d been on over the last eight months had been an absolute dud. She was in a relationship—just with her vibrator and her favorite Chardonnay.

“You cried?” Kevin asked aghast, a hand against his chest and his eyes wide with horror at her perceived faux pas.

“Nope. My date did. Going on and on about his ex. Clearly the guy wasn’t ready to get back out into the meat market. After listening for two hours about how much he loved Kelli with an ‘i,’ I was done,” she replied.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Born in St. Louis, Missouri, Anya grew up listening to Cardinals baseball and reading anything she could get her hands on. She remembers her mother saying if only she would read the right type of books instead binging her way through the romance aisles at the bookstore, she’d have been a doctor. While Anya never did get that doctorate, she graduated cum laude from the University of Missouri-St. Louis with an M.A. in History.

Anya is a bestselling and award-winning author published in multiple fiction genres. She also writes urban fantasy and paranormal romance under the name Maggie Mae Gallagher. A total geek at her core, when she is not writing, she adores attending the latest comic con or spending time with her family. She currently lives in the Midwest with her two furry felines.

Visit her website here: www.anyasummers.com
Visit her on social media here:
http://www.facebook.com/AnyaSummersAuthor
Twitter: @AnyaBSummers
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15183606.Anya_Summers
Sign-up for Anya Summers Newsletter
Amazon Author Page https://www.amazon.com/Anya-Summers/e/B01EGTVRKC/
Bookbub https://www.bookbub.com/authors/anya-summers

Pleasure Island Series

Her Master & Commander, Book 1
Her Music Masters, Book 2
Their Shy Submissive, Book 3
Her Undercover Doms, Book 4
Her Lawful Master, Book 5
Her Rockstar Dom, Book 6
Duets & Dominance, Book 7
Ménage In Paradise, Book 8
Her Rodeo Masters, Book 9

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

Anya will be awarding a $15 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.  a Rafflecopter giveaway

For more steamy excerpts & chances to win, follow Anya on tour: https://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2017/12/book-blast-her-rodeo-masters-by-anya.html