What am I up to?
I'm no longer writing books under the Sofia Hunt pen name. At this time I'm concentrating on my other pen name.
Under the other pen name:
I recently signed a 2-book contract for the sequel to my football romance. I'm knee-deep in edits for Book 1 of a new series which features a small town and two wounded souls. I'm part of an Public Sex anthology with two Ellora's Cave authors.
So I'm still around, still writing feverishly, just taking a different direction with my writing. If you're interested in my books under the other pen name, drop me a line, and I'll send you the information OR check Sofia's Facebook for more information.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
What's New with Sofia
Monday, March 19, 2012
Lucy Monroe's Fitness Challenge
http://www.lucymonroe.com/ReaderFitnessChallenge.htm
Here's what Lucy has to say about the Challenge:
Dear Readers,
2011 was my wake-up call to get healthy and I've been working hard to improve my lifestyle with better eating and exercise habits to help me become healthier, stronger and happier. I kicked off the year by joining my local Hillsboro Fitness Challenge in January. Not only have I lost weight and inches, but I have lots more energy and enthusiasm than I've had in years! Because you are all such a big part of my life, though for the most part we'll never meet, I wanted to share this experience with you all - and thus the Lucy Monroe Reader Fitness Challenge was born.
I really can't wait to share my "after" picture with all of you in June. Know that I'll be pulling for you and working right along with you as we all do our best to get stronger and healthier in time for summer!
Hugs and blessings on all our endeavors,
Lucy
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Available Now: The Bride Bargain
The Bride Bargain
Brides of Bachelor Bay 4
Buy Here
Read Excerpt HereWhen town gossip Lucy Riley demands to be released from her contract if the Gallaghers cannot find her a suitable husband, she never expects the temporary agreement to include two reluctant loggers with an agenda of their own. She sets her sights on softening their rough ways and educating their minds but soon comes to realize it’s not their minds she desires.
Tate and Jason strike a bargain for their dream house. All they have to do is live with Lucy Riley for one month. Lucy can’t sing, cook, or shut her mouth. Her bossy demeanor and adventurous streak drive the men crazy, and they vow to tame her in and out of the bedroom.
Falling in love was never part of the bargain, but sometimes love has a mind of its own.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Guest Blogger: Josee Renard: It's Not Unsual
It's Not Unusual is the eighth story in a ten-part serial called Part Time Lovers. PTL is a website that's completely different from eHarmony or Match.com - it's all about the right person for right now. It's all about sex and great hook-ups. These stories follow two different threads - the continuing personal and extremely hot sexual relationships of Jules and Mercy, the owners of Part Time Lovers, and the connections made between a couple (or three) of Part Time Lover's clients. It was a lot of fun to write. I loved the idea of a serial (kind of like Charles Dickens) and I enjoyed writing about ten completely different sexual encounters. I hope you enjoy this one - and if you like it, check out the others.
Josee
Blurb: Mike’s a celebrity, an extra large ex-football player. Women are attracted to him because of his money but are frightened of his size. Mike’s pretty sure the only way he can get what he wants is to find two sexually adventurous women. Maybe Part Time Lovers will find him what he needs. Dee and Samantha are more than up for the challenge, in fact, in the end they take over the sexual relationship and Mike gets—and gives—way more than he’d expected. This threesome is hotter than any of them could have anticipated.Excerpt
It’s my fortieth birthday this month, and I’m still single. What I want more than anything is to fulfill the secret fantasy I’ve had since I was a teenager.
I went to school with two girls—twins. They weren’t identical. In fact, they were quite different in looks, but it was obvious they were close and there was just something about them, something that fascinated me. Of course, that might have been because I was a teenage boy!
Ever since then I’ve been thinking about them. Not them exactly, but about two women. And honestly? It’s not all about me and that secret male fantasy, though there’s that too. It’s about being surrounded with warm and willing female flesh.
I grew up in foster care and though I was fortunate and didn’t have to live through any of the horror stories we hear about, I didn’t get much of a woman’s love and caring.
Do you have a friend who’d be interested? I promise I will satisfy you. Both of you. I love women. I love kissing and sucking and hugging. I love sex.
Will the two of you be my secret fantasy?
Mike
Dee hit the send button on the response to Mike’s post and sat back in her living room, the computer screen glowing on her desk and the sound turned up so they’d hear the ping signalling the arrival of an email.
Dee and Samantha discovered the joy of Part Time Lovers a year ago when Dee had wanted to do something completely different for her birthday. They had a tradition of spending their birthdays on weekend trips away, somewhere not too far but where they were unknowns.
Vancouver was still, in many ways, a very small town, and both of them had jobs that kept them in the public eye enough that breaking loose wasn’t a good idea. Being gossiped about wasn’t good for a woman running a public relations firm, or for a woman who worked on camera for a community broadcaster.
So they picked a place—Seattle, San Francisco, L.A., Las Vegas—and planned a three day, three night trip where they were free to get their freak on. Two rooms, no holds barred. Dee had the best sex of her life on those trips.
They’d had the best sex of their lives on those trips. Never together, but part of the joy of it was sharing the details with a bottle or two of wine once the trip was over. And then they’d discovered Part Time Lovers.
It was perfect for the long dry spells in between those trips. Not exactly secret, more discreet, and they’d taken full advantage of its services over the past year. And continued sharing their escapades over wine. It made the months between vacations bearable, sometimes even more than bearable.
And both of them had decided that a night with Mike—Samantha laughed out loud when she said that, adding, “It sounds like a movie, a bad movie”—would be just the thing for gloomy November.
They’d never been in a threesome, at least with each other, though Dee had once spent a weekend with two old friends, male friends. It had been entertaining but it felt a bit too contrived, as if the men had decided they needed to try it so they could check it off their To-Do list, rather than because they were desperately interested in it.
This, though, this thing with Mike, might be right up their alley.
* * * * *
Samantha had been surfing the Web site when she’d spotted Mike’s post and emailed Dee with the link. A quick yes had come back and they’d met at Dee’s place to draft and send their response.
Once that was done, and it hadn’t taken more than a single glass of wine to do it, they’d sat back to talk about it.
“How are we going to handle this?” Dee asked, her bright red hair gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. That was one of the things Samantha loved about her friend, how she had absolutely no inhibitions. She’d change her hairstyle at the drop of a hat and often did, changing colors and styles with wild abandon.
Samantha’s hair had been the same since she was a teenager. The only way to tame the unruly curls was to keep them long enough for the weight to pull them at least quasi-straight.
The two of them didn’t look anything alike—Samantha with her olive skin, dark eyes and hair; Dee reminding her of a pixie, all white skin and twinkling blue eyes and whatever hair she’d chosen that month. Or week.
But they’d met at a painting class and something had immediately clicked between them. Maybe it had been the laughter they’d shared over the fact that their paintings were so embarrassingly bad the teacher wouldn’t even comment on them. Or the fact that they’d spent the whole eight weeks of class time critiquing the rest of the students. Not their art, but their attitudes, their hair, their clothes, their whatever the two of them were fixated on in a particular class.
Whatever it had been, they had become the sisters neither of them had ever had. Dee had grown up as an only child; Samantha with a troupe of brothers, six of them. She didn’t see any of them anymore, tired to death of being criticized because she wasn’t yet married, had no children, had a job they didn’t understand, and lived in Vancouver rather than in the small prairie town the rest of them seemed bound and determined to populate without help from anyone else.
Samantha settled back to the question at hand.
“I think we drive him crazy. We treat him as if he were some sultan from a desert kingdom, the man who could choose any women—as many women—as he wanted to pleasure him.”
A smile lit up Dee’s face.
Dee loved Samantha’s idea. It was sweet and yet incredibly sexy at the same time. At least it was to her.
She’d spent some time with a guy a few years back who was totally into treating her like a princess, spoiling her with clothes and jewelry and sex. He’d done whatever she wanted, for as long as she wanted. He’d lick her body from head to toe, he’d suck her clit until she trembled, he’d fuck her with his tongue.
He used toys on her, not whips or handcuffs or anything like that, but dildos, vibrators, butt plugs—and she loved all of that. In fact, she stayed with him for far longer than she should because of the orgasms, the many, many, many orgasms he gave her.
But she felt as if she’d contributed nothing. He wanted to please her. That was how he got off. Sometimes he didn’t even climax, instead lying in bed next to her and watching her while she slept.
Dee wanted to hurt him, to push him until he finally broke and rammed his cock into her cunt and fucked her until he exploded. She couldn’t do it. But because she wanted to, she finally had to give up the orgasms before she did something she’d always regret.
Mike, though… Mike was going to be her opportunity to see what it felt like to be the giver rather than the receiver of that kind of tenderness, that kind of gentleness, that kind of unselfish caring for another person’s sexual journey.
“I’m with you,” Dee finally said to Samantha. “He’ll be our sultan, and we’ll be his sexual slaves.” She jumped up from the couch. “What time is it? We have to go shopping.”
“Shopping? Now?” Samantha’s eyes were open with shock as she looked at her watch. “It’s seven-thirty.” She looked at her wrist again. “And before you ask—it’s Thursday night and the stores are open until nine. So we’d better hurry.”
Dee thought about that for a minute. They wouldn’t have time to do what she wanted to do in only ninety minutes. She flipped through her PDA and dialed the Love Shop, asking for Tracy, the owner.
“I need a favor,” she said. “I’ve got a date tomorrow night and I need some clothes. And a whole pile of toys, none of which I have. It’ll take us half an hour to get there, so would you mind waiting for us and maybe hanging back a little if we go over?”
Tracy laughed. Dee had known she’d like this woman the minute she met her at the organizing meeting for the Taboo Show last year. She was outrageous and funny and smart, and she made a pile of money at her shop on the edge of the city.
“Come on by, but bring a bottle of wine with you, okay? If I’m going to stay late, I need a bribe. I prefer red.”
Links:
You can find Josee at:
Saturday, November 5, 2011
The First Annual Natalie Acres Boot Scootin’ Boogie Blog Tour
Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts
Book Three in the Cowboy Boots SeriesBlurb:
Excerpt:
Rated R for content and language
Ace snarled. “I will spank her when this is over.”
“Sure you will,” Casey said. “About like Porter plans to put a dildo in her pussy and paddle her twat.”
“I never said that,” Porter said, keeping a keen eye on Abby.
“Talk about that kiss and I’ll deck you,” Ace said.
“Damn, those lips were sweet,” Porter teased.
Ace faced him. “I wasn’t kidding.”
Porter took a deep breath. Sometimes Ace’s attitude was a real obstacle. He was a smart-ass SOB when he wanted to be. Standing about six foot four, Ace was nothing more than layers of muscle. The only soft spot the man possessed was the one Porter held in high regard, too—Abby Rose.
“I say we take him out right here,” Casey said, always ready to jump the gun.
Casey looked like a kid, and very often Porter reminded himself Casey wasn’t a child, hard to do since the guy looked like a surfer boy of about eighteen. Only a year separated them. Porter was twenty-nine. Casey followed only a year behind.
Still, Casey was a trained killer just like the lot of them. Under normal daily circumstances, he was such a klutz and a clown, but when he aimed his gun and pulled the trigger, no one had a more accurate shot.
Fowler folded his hands atop the table. “I’m ready for this to be over.”
“What’s wrong, Fowler,” Ace taunted him. “Afraid Juraz is gonna tap that?”
“He won’t be a-tappin’ that. I’ll promise ya.”
Porter and Ace exchanged a knowing stare. Porter shook his head in warning. It wasn’t worth the argument. They all recognized the possible scenarios. The best they could hope for was the most favorable. If Abby went to bed with Juraz, they wanted her to kill him before she was forced to fuck him.
Unfortunately, they needed information from Juraz before she pulled the trigger. And he probably wouldn’t open his mouth unless she first opened those long, shapely legs.
Copyright © 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
The Edit Process--Not a Pain but an Opportunity
On an author loop I'm on, Tymber Dalton posted this reply to a new author who was discouraged over her first round of edits. I loved her reply so much that I asked if I could use it on my blog. Well, great minds think alike, and she'd already posted it to her blog.
If edits are getting you down, read Tymber's The Edit Process: of Tires and Pastry Chefs:
http://writeyourassoff.blogspot.com/2011/09/edit-process-of-tires-and-pastry-chefs.html
You'll find Tymber's take on editing encouraging and entertaining.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
New Destiny Blaine Book: Mary had a Little Problem: Now available
BLURB:
Mary Worthington is a widow, or at least, she should’ve been. A former Navy Seals wife, her husband is killed in combat and Mary has a difficult time accepting the fact her husband isn’t coming home. Without a body to bury or witnesses to tell her what happened, there’s no way Mary can put the past to sleep until someone provides her with the truth about her husband’s final hours.
Trying to step out and socialize once again while pursuing facts about her husband’s death, Mary is introduced to Brock Taylor, a hard-core ladies man dedicated to the Marines and sharing himself with any woman who wants a piece of one. That is, until he meets Mary, a woman he’s known about through a past acquaintance.
Mary and Brock fall in love, plan a wedding in the Great Smoky Mountains, and well, things could’ve been headed toward a happy ending. However, six months after Brock finally wins Mary’s hand, Mary’s deceased husband reappears. And Mary wonders if she’ll be forced to give up one man in exchange for the other.
EXCERPT:
Mourning the death of her husband began at the sound of the first shots fired. For some reason, up until then, Mary kept thinking she’d awaken and discover she’d been having another nightmare. Instead, reality set in and delivered its final blow. The ceremony in progress jolted her back to the present with a new understanding.
She was attending her husband’s memorial. Luke was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.
Mary had somehow remained stoic throughout the service, fearing if she looked up, turned to her left, or glanced right, she might meet a stranger’s gaze. She refused to lock eyes with those in attendance, realizing their hearts were full of pity.
Many of them knew Luke. Some of them had fought beside him. Others were there to pay their respects to a fallen soldier, but they didn’t know the man behind the uniform, the husband behind the Navy’s finest SEAL.
There was another powerful blast, and the jarring sensation came with a deafening and most eerie sound of a three-round volley. The air was thick with tension. Those in attendance jerked with every shot resounding through the hills.
Mary’s tears finally came, flooding her cheeks until the rapid falls ran dry. It was then when Mary understood a truer meaning of taps.
This was the end, the most monumental signal of all. It was time to turn out the lights and go home. The final seconds in the last hour approached. Now, she was expected to accept the fact that her happily-ever-after ending wasn’t meant to be. Mary needed to find a way to come to terms with the facts.
Her husband was dead. She couldn’t bring him back.
Lieutenant Lucas Worthington once spoke of a soldier’s death, an honorable death, the kind of burial all soldiers hoped they’d find. If Mary had been given one last chance to talk with Luke, she would’ve told him that this death wasn’t a clean death, as he’d once discussed. This casualty, no one understood.
Luke should’ve been careful what he wished for, and Mary should’ve selected a husband more wisely, refused to fall in love with a man destined to die. Mary gave her heart to a Navy SEAL. He, in turn, fell in love with the notion that freedom was won, honor easily earned, and death only came to those who were fighting for the wrong side.
Mary wished for one last opportunity to tell Luke her point of view on the subject now, perhaps show him the error of his ways, and explain devastation in simple woman’s terms.
At that moment, she wanted her husband to know how she felt. She longed to explain her agony. But it was too late for that, and she wasn’t sure she could put her sorrow into words.
Still, Mary longed to see Luke one last time. She would’ve given her final breath if she could’ve held something substantial in her arms, perhaps something to show her, help her grasp the idea that the love she’d cherished was lost. The man she’d worshipped was gone, and his funeral was anything but a bad dream.
Her life had turned into a nightmare. Without a body to bury, Mary had a feeling she’d never awaken from the hellish world that had somehow become her horrific reality.
The following excerpt is rated PG17
“The next time you try and set me up with some hardcore, sexy-as-all-fucking-hell military prick, I swear to God, I’m gonna—”
“Anna told me how to get here,” Brock interrupted her rant as soon as the door was pushed all the way back.
“Fuck my life,” Mary muttered, thinking she’d never seen a hotter man than the one in front of her. Even Luke would have a difficult time measuring up to Brock, and that was saying a lot.
Stop it right now, she thought. She didn’t have the right to gawk at this stranger like he was a packaged adult delivery for an overnight stay. “This is not happening to me.”
Brock winked, a devilish grin marking a permanent place on his face. “Prick? Really? Is that the best you can do?”
She released a troubled sigh. Apparently, he missed the compliment laced through that warm greeting.
“Why are you here?”
She saw the attitude coming from a mile away. “I was afraid someone might try to set you up with some hardcore, sexy-as-all-fucking-hell military prick. I’m here to save you.”
“From myself?” she asked, meaning she needed all the help she could get since she had the open-mouth-insert-foot concept down to a perfected science.
“Should I take that to mean you’re interested?”
“What do you want?” she asked, ignoring his underlying insinuations.
“An invitation inside would be a nice start.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because it’s the polite thing to do, especially after you spoke so passionately about me.”
“The last time a soldier stood in my doorway, he brought bad news with him. Would you invite that into your home, Mr. Taylor?”
“Depends on what you consider bad news, Mary. And please, call me Brock. We’ll do better in the end if we start out with first names.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You think you could stand my answer?”
Mary propped her hands on her hips. “Depends. Think you can handle rejection?”
Destiny Blaine’s Mary Had a Little Problem can be ordered here on release day:
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