Jill Hughey http://www.jillhughey.com Mon, 18 Jul 2016 14:16:35 +0000 en hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=4.2.32 Make Me Surrender – a special first meeting excerpt http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/08/make-me-surrender-first-meeting.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/08/make-me-surrender-first-meeting.html#comments Tue, 19 Aug 2014 11:00:46 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/?p=622 Today I welcome Tina Donahue for a special installment of First Sight Saturday – on a Tuesday! Tina was kind enough to help me out with my cover reveal last week, so I’m returning the favor today with her story, Make Me Surrender, part of the “Brought To His Knees” boxed set. Based on the cover, I don’t think any of these men are kneeling in prayer. Tina’s fun fact is that she is a true chocoholic, and she is never giving it up!

Brought to his knees_3dSETUP OF THE SCENE:

She has a proposition…to win their attention, passion, hearts.

For over a year, Mercy’s had her eye on Travis and Dutch, two of the hottest guys on the Oregon coast. Dark and dangerously virile, Travis owns a saloon that caters to bikers. Dutch looks like one, right down to his impressive tats, and operates a motorcycle repair shop on the premises.

When a position opens in the saloon’s kitchen, Mercy sees a way to be near these sinfully sexy men, wanting the job and lodging, her cabin snuggled between theirs. This is the scene when she arrives to move in to the property.

 

EXCERPT:

She forced herself to take a deep breath and held it as the greenery opened up, showing the southern end of the old motel’s property.

“Ready?” Jill breathed, sounding excited.

Mercy wanted to throw up. The only time she’d seen this place was at night when she’d had the courage to drive by quickly and unnoticed. Afraid if Travis or Dutch saw her, they might think she was stalking them.

“Mercy?”

She nodded. “Let’s do it.”

The pickup rounded a bend. Nestled within the monstrous trees were a series of rustic cabins, their construction simple, square footage modest. They stood on either side of the largest structure, surely four times their size. It had a bold sign over the door, marking it as Smooth Rider Saloon. To its right was the motorcycle repair shop, its sign less impressive.

The guys’ pickups were parked in front of cabins Mercy guessed belonged to them. She didn’t see either man on the grounds.

Jill pulled onto the expansive front lot. Gravel crunched beneath the pickup’s tires and pinged against its undercarriage. She elbowed Mercy. “Look.”

Her heart leapt. “What?” She pushed up in her seat, expecting to see Dutch and Travis striding toward them.

The only thing that moved was the thick foliage stirred by the gentle breeze.

“That cabin. Way over there.” Jill pointed.

It was snuggled in trees and shadows, no signs of life around. “What about it?”

“Do you think they have their orgies there?”

Mercy barked a nervous laugh. “Only if they don’t invite more than one other person besides themselves. Look at how small it is.” She recalled how big Travis and Dutch were. Sweat prickled the back of her neck.

“Maybe they do it outside,” Jill said.

Or in the saloon after hours. Before Mercy lost her nerve, she left the cab and headed for the building, her cowgirl boots stirring up small whorls of dust. Shading her eyes against the lowered sun, she regarded the saloon’s windows, half-expecting to see Dutch and Travis watching her.

They weren’t.

Disappointment and uncertainty knotted her stomach. She motioned Jill over and whispered, “Are we early?”

“Nope,” she hushed. “Right on time.”

“Do you think they forgot?” Already? Barely six hours had passed since she’d propositioned them.

“They wouldn’t do that to you,” Jill assured, rubbing Mercy’s back. “Why are we whispering?”

Mercy felt like an unwelcomed intruder. As though she’d stumbled onto the guys while they crawled all over another woman.

Make Me Surrender cover art for July Newsletter - 3

Aw crud, they couldn’t be with someone now, could they? That would be too awful. She’d never recover from that humilia—

Her thoughts halted at the sound of footfalls. Not on gravel. On wood.

Like a well-rehearsed dance team, Mercy and Jill turned to the left. Beyond the saloon was a cabin Mercy hadn’t noticed. Travis and Dutch crossed its brief porch, filled trash bags in each hand, their chests tantalizingly bare.

“God,” Jill whispered.

Mercy leaned into her friend for support, dizzy at the sight of all those male muscles.

END OF EXCERPT

There’s plenty more lustiness, but I try to keep this blog rated PG, so go grab a copy of the “Brought To His Knees” boxed set for as much steam as you can handle! You can find it at almost any retailer you can think of, linked below.

Amazon       Barnes and Noble     iTunes

Smashwords    Kobo         Goodreads

If you’d like to learn more about Tina Donahue, visit her at these sites.

Website     Facebook Fan Page     Amazon Author Page

Tina and I both welcome your questions and comments. Come back this Saturday for another first meeting excerpt!
]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/08/make-me-surrender-first-meeting.html/feed 3 My Life as a Concubine on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-concubine-on-first-sight.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-concubine-on-first-sight.html#comments Sat, 22 Feb 2014 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-a-concubine-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week on First Sight Saturday, a guest author shares an excerpt of a first meeting. Today I am joined by Robin Glasser with her erotic romantic comedy called My Life as a Concubine, based on her three years in Paris. I especially like Robin’s author tagline: Guaranteed to put a twinkle in your eyes and sparkles in your pants. Oooo la la!

EXCERPT

It was a delightful fall day and the sky was blue instead of gray. I cruised along the Canal St-Martin, stopping to watch a pleasure boat make escargot-like progress through the locks. Alain Delon’s double joined me. I flashed him a smile. He offered me a cigarette. I accepted. He lit it, staring sinfully into my eyes. We watched the water rush in to fill the lock in front of the boat. When it was level, the ancient iron gates began to open. A worker tossed a line to a sailor on board and the boat passed through the lock, only to repeat the process a few kilometers up the canal. My companion asked me if I’d like to have a drink with him. I didn’t have time to dawdle. I was on my way to join a gym, to fill up some hours in my day. Besides, I was deeply involved with a Frenchman who refused to marry me.
I accepted. 
We went to a petite café near the canal and sat at a tiny table outside. He drank a small cup of the bitter coffee that the rrribbbitts are so fond of and chain-smoked Gitanes. I daintily sipped a glass of wine, occasionally plucking at stray pieces of tobacco which stuck to my lip every time I puffed on the harsh, unfiltered cigarette.
Even though the French act like they despise the US, they can’t get enough stories about America, especially tales of New York. As most of you know, the galling Gauls idolize Jerry Lewis, and Woody Allen is also highly esteemed. SDH (short, dark, and handsome) was no exception. So I regaled him with Big Apple yarns while he plied me with nicotine and booze. The beginning of our chat was strained due to the language abyss; however, a couple of vin blancs later, I was conversing like a native, albeit one with a lobotomy. SDH seemed enthralled, but I don’t think it was due to my sparkling repartee. In fact, he was becoming quite handy. I’d remove his hand from my upper arm before it could caress the nape of my neck. His hand on my knee eventually wound up on my thigh. When he excused himself to go to the toilet, I was surprised. Why didn’t he just whip it out and relieve himself on the street like most Frenchmen? I guessed he was trying to impress me, or maybe his equipment wasn’t all that impressive.
As soon as SDH left the table, I glanced at my watch. Omigod! Where did the time go? It was well past five and I’d just spent the afternoon drinking and schmoozing with a handy hunk of a man. Uh oh! Guilt started to surface. What was I doing? Spending a gorgeous afternoon with an equally gorgeous stranger while the man I loved toiled away in a subterranean office? Wait a minute! If the light-of-my-life had made me his wife instead of his concubine, wouldn’t I, too, be employed? Besides, hadn’t I just spent hours improving my French? That should make The Wolf happy as long as I omitted the part about where and with whom my schooling took place. I felt much better having justified my afternoon to myself. The moment SDH returned, I’d make some excuse and hightail it to the gym.
     The handy man rejoined me, bearing a fresh glass of wine and a new packet of Gitanes. My good intentions vanished. What could I do? I couldn’t be rude and abruptly leave. So, I enjoyed his company for another half hour on the beautiful day by the water. Then, like a good concubine, I bought a fresh baguette for my master, went home alone, and passed out.

END OF EXCERPT

Sounds like more fun than an afternoon at the gym! I’m sure many of you have questions, so leave them in the comments for Robin. If one of your questions is what happens with the handy man, use one of these links to get My Life as a Concubine to find out!
Here are some links to keep in touch with Robin Glasser:

Thanks for visiting First Sight Saturday! I hope you will come back next week to read another first meeting from a new guest author.
]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2014/02/my-life-as-concubine-on-first-sight.html/feed 7 Looking at Rose on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 11 May 2013 11:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html Each week on First Sight Saturday I feature an excerpt of a first meeting written by a visiting author.

Today I welcome Qwillia Rain with Looking at Rose, book one in her Poker Posse series. This is an erotic romance, but I promise the excerpt below is rated PG!

SETUP: In a story, it sometimes isn’t the first meeting between the hero and heroine that can reveal hidden depths, but encounters with those close the main characters. After Ibraham Rajonovich accepts Rose Whittman’s agreement to learn about the practices he participates in as a Dominant, his unexpected first meeting with Jake Boudreaux makes it clear that others will be paying attention to Ibraham’s treatment of Rose. It shows him that he isn’t the only man who sees how unique and wonderful Rose is, which only makes him more curious about why Rose doesn’t see her own beauty and passion.

EXCERPT

    Ibraham entered his office, a warm cup of coffee at his lips and a fresh pastry from Rose’s shop in his hand. Inside the door he stopped, surprised at the man lounging behind his desk, scuffed black biker boots propped on the polished oak and green eyes focused on him.
    It took a moment for him to put a name to the man’s face. “Boudreaux, right?”
    The man gave a nod but didn’t move. “Correct.”
    It wasn’t the black leather the man wore or the deep, rumbling voice that carried the same Southern drawl Ibraham had grown used to over the last year that made him ease the door shut and take his time approaching the desk. It was the air of menace that surrounded Boudreaux. Ibraham had sensed it in other doms over the years, the ones who skirted the edge not only in the lifestyle but in life itself. He might have a few inches on the man, but he didn’t doubt Jake Boudreaux had no qualms about fighting dirty.
    Ibraham took a bite of his danish, then washed it down with a sip of his coffee before asking, “Was there something you needed from me?”
    “Tell me what you want with Rose.”
    The tension tightening Ibraham’s muscles was instantaneous. It was clear the other man saw it, if the slight smirk on Jake’s lips was any indication. “None of your business.”
    Jake’s expression held no amusement as he swung his feet off Ibraham’s desk and rose from the chair. “Now that’s where you’d be wrong, Juice Man.” He kept his arms crossed over his chest as he stepped in front of Ibraham and looked up at him. “If you’re messin’ with Rose, it’s my business. You may not realize it, but Rose, she’s special. And there’s quite a few marines that wouldn’t take kindly to you dallyin’ with her affections.”
    “I was under the impression your interests lay in the direction of a particular strawberry blonde.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed, and his knuckles went white. “Norah has nothing to do with this. Rose deserves the best.”
    “And I’m not the best?”
    Jake shrugged and moved past him. He pulled the door open before turning back to look at Ibraham. Something in his gaze held a warning that was followed up by his parting words. “Jury’s still out. But know this, you hurt her, and I won’t be the only one ready to take your hide.”
    Ibraham watched him leave the room and exit the winery before he left his office. First Rose’s mother, and now Boudreaux. Ibraham chuckled at the attention he’d garnered because of his sexy sweets maker. On the sidewalk outside Rose’s shop, Jake paused to make a phone call. After he finished and tucked the phone inside his jacket, he stepped into Rose’s shop.
    Instinct told Ibraham, on the heels of last night, he had nothing to worry about when it came to his Rose and Boudreaux. All the same, it didn’t sit well that the man was inside her shop. There had to be some history between the two, even if they weren’t lovers. A man didn’t get protective without a reason, and Ibraham intended to find out what that reason was. He tossed the last of his pastry into the trash and finished his coffee before exiting his shop and heading for Sweet Rose Treats.

END OF EXCERPT

Looking at Rose: Poker Posse 1 and other links for Qwillia!
My Twitter handle: https://twitter.com/Qwillia

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/05/looking-at-rose-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 4 Give and Take on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 02 Feb 2013 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html Every week on First Sight Saturday, I invite one author to share an excerpt of a first meeting between two characters.

Today, I welcome Alisa Anderson with the second book in her Give and Receive series.  This erotic romance novella, called Give and Take, will be released this month.  The first book in the series, Give and Receive, is available now if you want to get primed!

Set up:
Lena is at the office with her business partner and good friend Reese when Reese finally gets to meet Ty, Lena’s best friend.
 Two of the most important people in Lena’s life, and two of the biggest epic forces of nature, finally collide.

Excerpt:
“This is beginning to get a little complicated, don’t you think? Do you really want to lose him as a friend?” Reese paused and repeated her last question. “Well. Do you?”
Lena looked at Reese and frowned. “God, Reese. You are so annoying, sometimes.”
“You know me, always encouraging and uplifting,” Reese said sweetly.
“You and your damn conscience, always interfering in the good stuff. And if you must know, I don’t plan on it happening again.”
Reese snorted. “Uh huh.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” Lena broke off a piece of scone from the desk and dipped it into Reese’s coffee. Reese looked in her coffee mug at the crumbs floating around and glared at Lena.
“So anyway,” Lena continued, ignoring Reese’s frown. “You should have seen him the next morning. He looked all pitiful and shit. I felt kinda sorry for the poor kid.”
“Pitiful, huh? You mean, kind of like he lost his best friend?”
“Well, yeah I guess…” Lena ate her piece of scone and chewed thoughtfully. “You think that was because of me?”
“You know, I like when you aim high and reach for the big fat clue right in front of you.” Reese laughed and popped a piece of scone into her mouth.
Lena grinned. “And I like it when you kiss my ass.”
Reese cackled and started to say something, but paused as she looked towards the door. Suddenly, she busied herself with something on the computer screen. Lena turned around and saw Tyler standing in the doorway.
Reese coughed delicately. “How are you, Ty?”
“I’m doing all right. It’s Reese, isn’t it?”
“The one and only.” Reese smirked at Lena and got up from her chair. She walked over to him and held out her hand. “Don’t believe anything she says about me.” She winked at him. “I’m really much worse.”
Tyler grinned and didn’t try to hide it as he assessed her from head to toe.
He liked what he saw. Especially Reese’s full, voluptuous chest, which he always had a weakness for. He cleared his throat and brought his gaze up to finally look at her face as he shook her hand firmly, not releasing it. He gave her a cocky grin.
“I’ll try to keep that in mind, sweetheart.”
But Reese was not to be outdone.
Rather than be offended at his sizing her up like a piece of meat, she yanked him a little closer to her so he could get a complete view of the treasures underneath her blouse. Then she eyed his crotch and replied, “Make sure you don’t, sweetheart. Because I eat little boys like you for breakfast.”
Lena couldn’t believe it, but Tyler flushed and yanked his hand away. Reese had actually flustered him. She laughed out loud.
“Reese, play nice with Ty. He doesn’t know you’re only teasing. Now we don’t want to scare him away, do we? Then he won’t come over to play, ever again.”
“Oh nooooooo, we don’t want that.” Reese cooed, settling back in her chair to blot her lips and apply more rum raisin lipstick. “Not when there are so many things…” Reese deliberately eyed Tyler’s crotch again, and licked her lips. “To play with.”
Tyler was horrified as he felt himself turning red once more. How was he letting some woman, he just met, show him up? He felt like some horny teenager.
Not cool. He tried to compose himself.
“Can I talk to you please?” Tyler looked at Lena. “Alone?”
Lena then looked at Reese. Reese smiled sweetly and said “Come back and see me sometime, Mr. Malone. I’m harmless. I swear. And besides.” Reese winked at Lena. “I hear we have a lot in common.” She snickered and turned her back to them.
Lena gasped, and pulled Tyler out of the room, shooting Reese a dirty look, all the while trying not to laugh.
“What did she-” Tyler began, but Lena cut him off. “Uhhhh…Tyler let’s hurry this up. I need to run some errands.”
Lena closed the door behind her and she heard Reese, still laughing.

Coming February 2013…In the meantime, read the novella where it all begins!


You can read a First Sight Saturday excerpt from Book One in this series, Give and Receive, on my blog by clicking here.


 Alisa’s Facebook              Alisa’s web page            Alisa’s Twitter

]]> http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/02/give-and-take-on-first-sight-saturday.html/feed 0 Arouse on First Sight Saturday http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html#comments Sat, 12 Jan 2013 13:00:00 +0000 http://www.jillhughey.com/2013/01/arouse-on-first-sight-saturday.html This week on First Sight Saturday I welcome Nina Lane with Book One of her Spiral of Bliss series, Arouse.  With a name like that it should come as no surprise that it is a contemporary erotic romance, but at 406 pages there is plenty of story there too.  The cover here is a little steamy but I promise that the following excerpt of the first meeting between hero and heroine is rated PG.

SET UP: Undergraduate Olivia Winter is struggling to straighten out her coursework with an unhelpful employee at the university registrar’s office.
EXCERPT:  “Look, Miss Winter.” Mrs. Russell pushed the papers back toward me. “We can’t retroactively allow your credits to transfer.
“I’m not asking you to do it retroactively!” I said. “This is my first semester here, and I’m trying to get my courses in order. If I have to take another foreign language translation class, then I’m already behind.”
“The courses you took aren’t equivalent to the requirements for your academic program.” Mrs. Russell glanced pointedly at the line of students behind me. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
I blinked back tears, refusing to budge. “Why would they have told me the credits would transfer if they’re not equivalent?”
“Can I help with this?” A tall, handsome man approached from another section of the office, his dark eyes fixed on me, his deep voice rolling over my skin like a wave of heat on a cold winter night.
My breath stopped in my throat. The sight of him jolted something loose inside me, and for an instant I could only stare at him, struck by the sharp, masculine planes of his face, the steadiness of his expression, his aura of complete control and self-possession.
He was wearing black trousers and a navy blue shirt open at the collar to reveal a V of taut, tanned skin. His hair shone under the fluorescent lights, and I was seized by a sudden urge to tunnel my fingers through the strands to see if they felt as thick and soft as they looked.
Unnerved, I jerked my attention back to Mrs. Russell, who was explaining the situation to him. She called him “Dr. West.” Likely a professor, then. I wondered what he taught.
Dr. West listened patiently, glancing at me every so often. “What classes are you trying to take?” he asked me.
 “She’s a library sciences major, and she has to register for foreign lit translation and intro to biology,” Mrs. Russell said.
“But I shouldn’t have to take those because my credits should transfer,” I persisted.
“Make an appointment with a guidance counselor, Miss Winter,” Mrs. Russell suggested. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“By the time I do that, classes will already have started.”
“You have a couple of weeks yet to finalize your courses,” she continued. “I’m sure they’ll help you sort this out.”
I knew by the tone of Mrs. Russell’s voice that she wasn’t going to give in, and the hopelessness of the situation crashed over me.
“The professors can—” Dr. West started.
“Never mind.” Because I didn’t want to start crying in front of him, I grabbed my bag and left the office.
Halfway down the sidewalk, my vision blurry with tears, I tripped on an uneven piece of concrete and went sprawling onto my hands and knees. My open satchel thumped onto the ground, papers spilling out.
“Are you okay?” Then he was there, crouching beside me to pick up the papers before the wind caught them. He reached out a hand but stopped an inch from my arm, his fingers brushing the sleeve of my gray sweatshirt.
“I…I’m okay,” I said.
He could have touched me. He was close. Close enough that I caught a whiff of him, a clean, soapy smell that settled in my blood and loosened the knot of frustration stuck in my throat. Close enough that I noticed the size of his hands, his long fingers and the dark hairs dusting his forearm where his sleeve inched up.
Awareness shot through me. I dusted the grit from my palms and straightened. He stood between me and the street, waiting in silence for me to collect my composure. A few people passed behind me, forcing me a few steps toward him.
He held out my satchel, his gaze moving over me, eliciting a surge of heat. I pushed strands of hair away from my face and looked at him. My heart hammered, my chest pooling with warmth. I was shaken all over again by the way my body reacted to him, with this hot pull of attraction I had never experienced before.
Not for any man. Ever.
“Thank you.” I took my satchel from him and straightened the papers. All I had to do now was turn and walk away.
I didn’t. He was still looking at me, his hands in his pockets, his hair ruffled by the breeze.
“Are you a professor here?” I asked.
He was big. Not all bulky and heavy, but tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and that air of self-control that made him seem in total command. The wind flattened his shirt over his muscular chest, and I had a sudden image of folding myself against that chest and feeling his arms close around me. Safe. Protected.
Nothing to fear. Not from him.
I stepped back, not having felt this way before and not knowing where it was all coming from.
Why him? Why now?
“I’m a visiting professor for the year,” he said. “Medieval history.”
He was a medieval history professor. For whatever reason—the sheer dorkiness of the field?—this admission eased some of my tension.
“Oh.” I hitched the satchel over my shoulder and folded my arms across my breasts. “Well, thanks for your help back at the registrar’s.”
“The professors of whatever classes you need to take can approve your transfer credits,” he said. “You don’t need to go through the registrar’s office first. Get the course syllabus and bibliography from your previous college, and bring them to the professors to see if it fits their curriculum. If it covers the same ground, they should approve the transfer as a direct course equivalent.”
“Why didn’t Mrs. Russell tell me that?”
“She probably didn’t know. Professors have a lot of power.”
I almost smiled. “Even medieval history professors?”
“Especially medieval history professors,” he assured me.
“Knights on horseback and all that?”
A responding smile tugged at his mouth. “And damsels in distress.”

END OF EXCERPT

Well, I never met any hot medieval history professors in my undergrad days.  I guess I chose the wrong major.  Click here if you’d like to check Arouse out on Amazon, and if you want to know more about Nina Lane, visit her at http://www.ninalane.com.  

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