Sunday, November 20, 2022

Thelma's Song - Oyster Harbor book 5 is finally here!

#BWWMROMANCE, #HistoricalRomance, #SeriesRomance, #OysterHarborSeries 

Though her bluesy voice can bring grown men to tears, Thelma Waters moves to Oyster Harbor for a peaceful life—avoiding singing and men. Anything to forget her wild youth as a performer, so addicted to fame she’d do anything to get it. When Tom Lewes—Oyster Harbor’s remaining bigot—hires her as a lounge singer to save his failing restaurant, he stirs up more than her old talent.


His obsession with profits reminds her of every man who used her, especially the one who shattered her heart. Meanwhile, his grief over his daughter’s death intensifies when restaurant renovations uncover a shocking secret. Reminding her of the child she lost so long ago.


And as soon as Oyster Harbor restores what Thelma has craved for so long, her dreams of family are ripped away, turning her song of joy to the bluest of blues. Will Tom be the answer to her prayers, or her biggest heartache yet?


Silence hung between her and Tom, thick and greasy as a lump of lard left out in the summer heat. Frozen, she watched the flush rise up his neck and fill his face. No wonder he served a drink called Red Tide.

What would he do? Break all business ties with her? Or worse? At the moment, she didn’t care what he did. She simply needed to get away from him.

“Miss Waters, don’t ever strike me again,” he said quietly, “or there will be consequences.”

Ignoring the fine trembling working her legs, she took a step closer to him. “What does that mean? Tying me to a tree like poor Jimmy Clark?”

“I never touched a hair on his head,” he shot back.

“You were there. Cali told me everything.” Luckily, Jonathan had reformed.

“Do you want to be punished?” Tom asked. “Because it seems you’re itching for a fight.”

He was right about that. Her fingers ached to throw his sorry ass into the washing machine then iron his face. No need to add starch because he already had plenty.

Instead, she burst into tears. Couldn’t stop. When it came to Letty, she had no strength.

“Easy. Easy,” he muttered, patting her arm. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, for Christ’s sake.”

“Watch your language,” she said between sniffles. “You’re nothing but a heartless heathen. You know that?”

“You’re probably right.” He looped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Letty may mean nothing to you, but today….” Her voice broke. “Today is her eighteenth birthday. Or would have been, if she’s not drawing breath anymore.”

“I didn’t know.”

She turned her head to look at him. The arrogant smirk was gone. His eyes, contrite. The skin below them, puffy.

He stiffened and dropped his hands when she traced a soft fingertip under his lower eyelids. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“You’ve been crying too,” she whispered.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, turning his face aside.

“I’ve done it enough to know what it looks like. Did my singing do that to you?”

“I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “The one song really— Well, it shook me up, kind of.”

Her legs stopped trembling. She even smiled. “That’s what the blues are supposed to do.”

“I’ve probably been working too hard lately,” he said, giving his shoulders a good shake.

Their gazes met and held. She struggled to look away but failed. Truth was, it felt good to get angry for a change. The sadness wore at her every day. Like sandpaper.

This man knew her sadness. Breathed its same stench. Endured the same tentacles squeezing his heart. Even if he wouldn’t admit it.

Now, her legs simply felt weak. Her entire body did. The performance, topped off by their fiery argument, had taken every bit of her strength. She rested her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his chest.

His tall, solid frame felt so good. His heart thrumming against her ear, music. It had been so long since she’d been with a man.

A strong finger pressed her jaw and tilted her face up. It was the last thing she recalled before drowning in a tidal wave of hot, deep kissing. Beard stubble—black as his hair—brushed across her cheek. Ground against her neck, along with his open mouth.

Tasting. Sucking. Claiming. Until every nerve ending in her body shrieked with ecstasy.

She drew back, giving her pounding heart a rest before it exploded. “I-I thought we weren’t going to kiss anymore.”

“I guess we changed our minds,” he murmured against her ear.

Wednesday, November 16, 2022

Sinfully Hot ~ Tina Donahue's latest hot release


Erotic Paranormal Romance




   A hotter-than-sin reaper. A badass demon. Hell doesn’t get steamier than this.

   Zekiel owns the newest nightclub in the French Quarter. The decadent atmosphere draws the corrupt, their blackened souls just what he likes to reap.

   Jewel is not amused. Not only has Zekiel cut in on her territory, Satan’s gotten hardcore, upping her quota. All hell’s going to break loose if mortals don’t start selling their souls to her.

   The race is on. Zekiel claims victory and wants Jewel as his prize for one evening. Nothing forbidden. Nothing denied. In other words, the whole enchilada, including voyeurism and BDSM.

   After the first promising look and lingering touch, they’re goners…even though they’re supposed to be competitors.

This book was previously published in a box set.



She stilled then stroked his arm. “I’m not leaving. You can’t make me.”

“How right you are. You’re staying all night. That’s what I won, an evening with you. My games. My rules. You forbid me nothing and don’t hold anything back.”

Zekiel’s demand flooded Jewel with outrageous warmth. She got lightheaded and weak.

He trailed kisses from her ear to her temple, his lips velvety, his breath gliding across her skin.

Her lids slipped down. Bad move. She had to stop this before he went too far. Screwing around with him when he’d been a possible conquest was one thing. Losing herself to lust that wouldn’t go anywhere was another matter entirely.

He turned her until they faced each other.

She sagged into him, her boobs crushed against his massive chest, her slit snug to his rod and balls. Heaven. And a waste of precious time when she should corrupt mortal souls. She parted her lips to protest.

He slanted his mouth over hers and did far more than claim. He possessed, spearing his tongue inside, entering her deeply.

Coherent thought vanished, the moment too delectable to resist. She wreathed his shoulders and buried her hands in his glorious hair.

They staggered to the right and left, trying to get closer, touching as much of each other as they could. He squeezed her breast and thumbed her nipple. Delight thrummed through her. Giddy, she enjoyed the delightful package between his legs.

Someone bumped into them.

Zekiel growled.

She suckled his tongue.

He groaned like an oversexed teen then dove in for more passion. All man, he took what was his, cupping her ass, pulling her closer, her belly tight to his. Not even a breath could get between his sex and hers. The way it should be with lovers.

Internal alarms rang. Dismissing them, she pushed his tongue from her mouth and filled him instead, sweeping his inner cheeks and teeth.

An uncivilized noise poured from him, deeper than any sound the music could make.

Reckless and wanting, she ground her hips into his, needing to crawl inside his body and become a part of his core, making him her new home, a shelter against every crappy thing in her life.

Right. He was a reaper, her main competition.

Good luck getting over that hurdle. Once they fucked, she’d be an afterthought to him, and a nuisance he wouldn’t let inside his damn club.

Outrage and sorrow coursed through her. She tore her mouth free and gasped. Perfume, perspiration, and booze scents filled the heavy air. Beneath those fragrances were odors from too many vile souls.

Zekiel stood in the way of her getting even one.

His breathing was rough, hair wonderfully mussed. She’d pulled his tee from his jeans and unzipped his fly. No way did she regret that.

He smiled lustily. “More.”

An eternity wouldn’t have satisfied her. Better not to dream. She locked her knees and forced herself to stay put. “No.”

Surprise then confusion raced across his face. “Why not? What happened between a few seconds ago and now?” He pointed at her. “Don’t you dare say you didn’t enjoy our kiss. You’ll never convince me of that.”

The crowd hooted and whistled at the newest song. A skinny young man spun in place, lost his balance, and rammed into Zekiel.

He waved his hand again. An invisible force pushed the kid away. Not once did Zekiel’s attention stray from her.

Damn, he knew how to make a woman feel important. She should lie about that and everything else but couldn’t. “Okay, so I did enjoy it—you—what we did. Satisfied? If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.”

“Not here.” He cuffed her wrist and reeled her in.

“Aw, come on. I’m desperate. If I don’t make my quota tonight, you have no idea the bad shit that can happen.”

He pressed her hand to his chest, nothing but hard slabs of muscle. “Tell me what you’re afraid of.”

“Why? You want to gloat worse than you already are?”

“I thought I was being nice.” He eased her hair behind her ear.

She slumped against him, hating herself for being weak and wanting him so badly. Oddly enough, he did seem to be a good guy with a wicked streak she honestly liked. “Let me do my thing and then we can talk.”

“That’s not the way competitions work. You haven’t given me my prize yet.”

“You don’t remember my tongue halfway down your throat?”

He laughed. “I’ll never forget it. But it was far too little.” With his arm around her waist, he led her to the left.

She held back. “We’re not staying here?”

“Too tame for what I have in mind.”

A pulse beat deep within her channel, already slick from arousal, primed for his rigid cock. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. Too noisy, too.” He settled his hand on her tummy and skimmed her waistband. “First, we go to a place where you tell me what Satan has in store for you. Then we play.”

Pain and pleasure. Sounded like a plan. And a recipe for disaster. “I shouldn’t. I can’t.”

“You will. Come on.” 

About Tina:


Tina’s an Amazon and international bestselling novelist who writes passionate romance for every taste – ‘heat with heart’ – for traditional publishers and indie. Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. She’s won Readers’ Choice Awards, was named a finalist in the EPIC competition, received a Book of the Year award, The Golden Nib Award, awards of merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competitions, and second place in the NEC RWA contests. She’s featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production company in Story Direction.


On a less serious note: she’s an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, brakes for Mexican restaurants, and has been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally while wolfing down tostadas. She’s flown a single-engine airplane (freaking scary), rewired an old house using an ‘electricity for dummies’ book, and is horribly shy despite the hot romances she writes.











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