Reading Order

Hello to all my new readers! Welcome to the party. :)

I've been working on building a book universe for eight years. It didn't start out with that grand scheme in mind. It just sort of... happened.

It began with what I call Easter Eggs, those little nuggets referring to other stories that fans will recognize as my little shout-out to them, recognizing and rewarding their loyalty to my books. I got the idea from Stephen King and just kind of rolled with it. Truthfully, I love it when characters from other books pop up in new stories. They surprise me often. I hope it works the same for you, just like it worked for me as a SK fan.

But, if you're new here because later books brought you into my universe, you might need a cheat sheet showing you the reading order. It's true that when it comes to the Groupieverse, you don't know the WHOLE story until you've read all the books, because I've sprinkled that fairy dust EVERYWHERE.

The safest bet is to read by order of publication because I'm a linear thinker. Some books that are out of genre, however, won't tie into the main through-line. That is not to say that your favorite characters won't still pop up from time to time (Chasing Thunder,) but here are the books that support and define my Groupieverse:

1. Love Plus One:

This standalone romance introduces us to Shannon, Dixie and Jorge, who pop up again in the Groupieverse in Mogul, which is Book Three of the original Groupie Saga. They also show up in the Fullerton Family Saga, starting in Book 2, Entangled. Jorge comes back often because I just love him.

2. Groupie -> Rock Star -> Mogul -> Vanni.

Here's where my most beloved character, Vanni Carnevale, makes his grand introduction. He has a prequel, Vanni, which you can read first if you'd like to get his perspective prior to going in. He's a bit of a douchebag at first, so if you need a reason to root for him, you can start with his story first. It was written to work either way, however.

3. Fierce -> Unstoppable -> Epic

For those who are disappointed by my "big girl" stories starring smaller sizes like 12-16, Fierce introduces Jordi Hemphill, a size 20+ young woman who moves to L.A. to take Tinsel Town by storm. She ends up on Vanni's radar, and is swept into the Groupieverse as a result. All your favorites pop up in this series.

4. The Undisciplined Bride

This is another standalone which introduces the Bravos into the Groupieverse. Both Graham and Jace (from the Fierce trilogy) pop up to help tell this Texas tale about a bridezilla from hell and the hot Latin cook who is about to turn her world upside down.

5. Enticed -> Entangled -> Enraptured

My Groupieverse shares the stage with my Fullerton Family Saga, which is most beloved by my readers. The Fullerton family blends well with the Groupieverse, starting with Book 2, Entangled. Vanni pops up, as does Graham, Shannon, Jorge, etc. Most importantly, it introduces Alex and Jonathan Fullerton, who will come into play in later books/series. Young Jonathan will get his own romance book one day. If you've read Beauty and the Bitch (formerly Big Fat Bitch), you've already met someone who will be very important to him in the near future.

6. The Leftover Club

This is another standalone that introduces a character who will enter our Groupieverse: Meghan Lawless. Expect her to shake some stuff up when I publish Rewound, the next book in the Groupieverse, coming in 2019.

7. Southern Rocker Boy -> Southern Rocker Chick -> Southern Rocker Showdown

My southern rockers start in Texas, but by the ends of both SRB and SRC, they end up heading for the Golden Coast of California, where everyone in the Groupieverse is waiting to help make their dreams come true. Technically speaking, Boy and Chick are the same story from two different perspectives. They are not, however, a retelling of the same book. Southern Rocker Chick is most like the Danielle Steel books I grew up reading. It's about Lacy Abernathy's life, getting her to her HEA/dream come true. Jonah Riley just happens to come along and mess up all her plans.

8. Masters for Hire -> Masters for Life -> Masters Forever

This series stars L.A.'s rich and powerful, so naturally they orbit in the same galaxy as my Groupie/Fullerton Family Saga characters. Graham Baxter and Alex Fullerton actually come into play in a BIG way in Book Three, but Graham was sprinkling his fairy dust long before that. (I love that man.) It also introduces Caz Bixby, whom I love even MORE. This man is now my copilot. You'll see him a LOT in upcoming books, including one just for him. (You've already met the woman who is going to rock his world, too.)

9. Glitter on the Web -> Masked in the Music -> FFF

This series wasn't really written as a series on purpose, but the characters insisted that they all be grouped together. It starts with Carly Reynolds meeting Caz Bixby, which opens the Groupieverse even more. Each of these TECHNICALLY work as standalones, because whether or not the couple in question get together is answered by the end of their specific book, but the world they're living in is the same - so they're linked as family. (And I like that.) If, however, M/M romance is not your cup of tea, or... if the reverse is true and M/F is not your cup of tea, you can skip the story. But FFF embraces both couples, so... it'll help keep you up to speed to read them all.

10. Beauty and the Bitch (formerly Big Fat Bitch)

Likewise, Beauty and the Bitch is a standalone, but we're setting the stage here for other books coming next year, listed below:

11. Rewound -> Rebound -> Renowned (coming in 2019/2020)

Here we pick up with Andy, Vanni and Graham, as well as Carly and Eli, Rudy and Tony, and, of course, Caz Bixby. If you prefer your HEA from the original book rock solid, you may want to take a pass with these. I've had to pick up some pieces of what happened in FFF, and it will throw our favorites into chaos for a while. But that's the fun of it, am I right? When they're blown apart, we can see if their love is strong enough to bring them back together again. And believe me, there's nothing I like more than falling in love with Vanni all over again.



My next group of books will be a departure from my Groupieverse, but who knows? Maybe the characters there will find a way to interject themselves into new stories. They're minxes like that.

Watch for book 1 of the Scar Trilogy, Shattered, to publish *hopefully* by the end of this year.

That's it! I hope this list is helpful. It kinda helps me, too. The vines are growing longer with each passing year. But, just like my Barbieverse from the 1980s, these are stories and characters I love to revisit, so... I predict it will only continue to grow.

Thank you so much for reading my books and loving these characters as much as I do. Please feel free to drop me a line and let me know what you think. We writers kinda live for that sort of thing. I churn out book after book, hoping I can make a connection. When you all let me know I have done what I set out to do, that rewards me in ways mere words are too small to describe.

How can you thank someone for letting you live your dream? The only thing I can do is write even more books.

So, that's what I'm going to do.

Until next time, dream big... live large... BE FIERCE.

Valentine #14 - Eli Blake. I didn't want to love him. But I do. I really, really do.

What is the name of today's Valentine?

How old is he when we meet him?

Mid-twenties.

What stands out most about him?

He's a superstar.

Nice guy or douche?

Big time, enormous, colossal douche. Douche with a capital "D" douche. DDDDOOOOUUUUCCHHHHEEEEE.

Favorite moment with him?

When I sat down to write Eli, I had a pretty clear idea of what I was going for. We'll get to that later, but suffice it to say, he did not disappoint.

I wanted to write someone so cocky, so arrogant, so egotistical, so full of himself that any little glimpse of a a "real boy" underneath it all would blow. Everyone. AWAY. (Starting with me.)

This was that moment for me. This was where I knew I could love him. (I've added some previous scenes for context.)

Thanks to his celebrity status, we were ushered back into a private waiting room, to wait our turn behind the other non-critical injuries currently clogging up the hospital ER. An hour ticked painfully by, and my ankle darkened by the minute. It was clearly bruising from my pinkie toe all the way up to my lower calf. Eli smirk fell as he watched, calculating how we were going to handle this new complication.

“You’re going to have to stay with me,” he decided.

“No way in hell,” I replied. I was in a lot of pain, but I wasn’t delirious, for fuck’s sake.

“You can’t stay in your apartment,” he reasoned. “Especially if they put you on crutches.”

I thought about the narrow stairwell at Ling’s place. It would be a bitch to navigate that steep, dark staircase on crutches, but it was infinitely more preferable to staying at Eli’s place.

Then it occurred to me that I only had one month left before I had to move out of my apartment, which meant not only would I have to walk up and down those stairs every day, I was going to have to find a way to move what little stuff I had there into a whole new place entirely.

“You’re such an asshole,” I muttered before I gently held my ankle, which had now swollen twice its size.

“It was an accident, Carly. You know that.”

“Do I?” I shot back. His eyes met mine.

“Yeah. You do. I didn’t hurt you on purpose.”

“No, you never hurt anyone on purpose,” I sneered. “Just behind everyone’s back like the sniveling coward you are.”

It was his turn to get mad. “What do you want me to do? I can’t go back in time and change anything.”

My eyes shot to his. “You could apologize. That’s what normal humans do when they fuck up. ‘Gee, Carly. I seem to have really hurt you. I’m so sorry.’ Not, ‘here, let’s use your injury as an excuse to move in with me, because we can’t let PING to use video against us and hurt my precious career.’” I growled deep in my throat. “Face it. Everything always works out the way you want it to.”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before we were taken back to the examination room. He stood by quietly as the doctor began his examination.

I ended up moving in with Eli Blake not on Valentine’s Day, like he wanted, but January 17th, just five days into our year-long contract. All because of my Grade III ankle sprain, and the six damnable weeks it would take to heal.

By the time I left the ER, I had a brand new splint and boot for my ankle, along with some crutches, which would make navigating the narrow stairwell of my current apartment practically an Olympian feat, especially given I did this now for an audience of curious camera monkeys who wanted to publicize my every move—the more embarrassing the better.

So I didn’t argue much when Satan—I mean, Eli—offered to let me recuperate in his Malibu beach house.

He kept things quiet on the drive there. He didn’t even play the radio. When we got there, he pulled the car as close as he could to the front door to make it easier on me.

Of course, navigating my new crutches like a newborn gazelle was anything but easy. Eli hovered around me to make sure I didn’t fall.

I so wanted to stick one of my crutches where the sun didn’t shine.

As soon as we entered the hallway, the polished wood floor presented yet another challenge. It took me what felt like an hour and a half to get down to the sunken living room, where I nearly broke my neck maneuvering down the wide steps. I hobbled towards one of the leather sofas, where I collapsed gratefully. The hydrocodone they had given me at the hospital had finally kicked in, though it really didn’t do much to help with the pain. I just didn’t really care I was in it anymore.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he said as he placed everything aside. “It’s a lot more comfortable than this small sofa.”

“I don’t care,” I mumbled as my head lolled on my shoulders. I could have slept on a bed of nails at that point.

Little did I know that was exactly where Eli planned to take me. He whisked me up into his arms, not even bothering with the crutches. This was bad enough. Folded in half, stuffed in his arms, I knew he could feel every inch and bulge he despised.

Worse, he pointed us right towards his master bedroom.

It scared me straight. I practically clawed at the wall to stop his progress. “I’m not sleeping in your bedroom,” I told him.

“It’s the only bedroom on the ground floor,” he countered without even looking at my face.

“How convenient,” I snapped. He just clutched me tighter. “Let me go, Eli, or I swear to God…”

He didn’t even let me finish. His blue eyes flashed at mine. “You’ll do what, Gimpy?”

Suddenly it made perfect sense why Rhonda had turned Frank’s office into a carny ring-toss. This egomaniac didn’t give a shit. About anything. Or anyone. “I hate you.”

“Maybe. But you need me. So pull up your big-girl panties and deal with it.”

He kicked open the door to his bedroom and stalked purposefully towards the bed. I couldn’t help but note the irony of our situation. Out of all the girls he had brought into this very room, likely carrying them to bed just like he was carrying me, I was the only one he would never dream of seducing, despite all the songs he sang.

So I didn’t argue as he placed me on the bed, grabbing some of the extra pillows to prop up my leg per doctor’s orders. Instead I laid flat, as bone-weary as I had ever been since coming to California. The exhausting events of the day finally took their toll. With the help of heavy narcotic medication, I was asleep before he finished fussing over me.

It was dark when I awoke some time later. The window blinds were open, as well as the patio door, so I could hear the waves crash against the shore just outside on Eli’s private stretch of beach.

My leg was propped up on the extra pillows, and a thin blanket covered me to give me a little warmth against the cool ocean breeze that filtered through his room. There was a glass of water on the nightstand beside the bed, along with my phone. My crutches were in reach just beyond that, in case I needed to get up for any reason, like going to the bathroom.

It was practically thoughtful. And very puzzling.

Our eyes met when he walked back into the room. “I feel like watching some TV. Want to join me?”

I swallowed my immediate denial, which came as natural as breathing. “Sure,” I finally said.

He walked over to where I sat and scooped me effortlessly into his arms.

“I can walk, you know,” I muttered.

“No, you can’t,” he said. “Non-weight bearing, remembering?"

“That’s why I have crutches.”

“The media room is downstairs,” he commented. “Besides, I would think my new loving girlfriend would entertain any excuse to be in my arms.”

I swallowed any retort and allowed him to carry me downstairs into his epic media room, at the end of a long, Kelly green hallway with the same polished wood flooring as in the entryway.

The walls of the media room, however, were flame red, as were the leather sofas that sat in front of an 88” curved TV with every bell and whistle any man in his 20s might require. There were at least three game systems as well as video and audio equipment. On the other side of this windowless room was a fully stocked bar. “You spared no expense,” I commented.

“I’m not afraid to pay for the best,” he replied, tongue planted firmly in cheek.

Thanks to my .5mg hydrocodone, I didn’t make it long into the movie. I awoke just long enough to feel Eli jostle me back into his arms to carry me back upstairs to bed. Like before, he set up my leg on the pillow and covered me up so that I wouldn’t get too chilly from the open windows. He refilled the water, brought me my phone and my computer, which he placed on the other side of the bed.

He didn’t say anything, leaving me alone in the bedroom. I thought maybe he’d gone back down to the media room, but instead he brought me a piece of cake and some milk, which he placed on the table beside me. As he straightened, our eyes met. I sucked up all my pride as best I could. “Thank you.”

A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

I watched as he walked back around the bed and towards the other end of the bedroom, where his office was. He reached the door before he turned back to face me. “Carly?”

I held my breath. “Yes?”

“I’m really sorry that I hurt you today.”

His apology was softly delivered, with no smirk to be seen. It was everything I had wanted all day, and everything I was sure the likes of Eli Blake could never deliver.

“Thank you,” I said softly, stumbling over my own tongue in my surprise.

He nodded and shut the door behind him.

What do you love about him?

His tenacity. When he wants something, he'll do whatever needs to be done to make it happen. He is not afraid to work for his dream, either.

What do you hate about him?

His an entitled, self-absorbed prick who sees things a very specific way. And he's self-absorbed to think everyone else must feel the same.

If you went on a date, where would you go?

Dancing barefoot on a beach, next to a posh, five-star restaurant where he introduced me to exotic new food and wine.

Who inspired him?

This guy.

Who might play him in a movie?

Do you have a special song that reminds you of him?

I found this one while still working on the outline. It became the instant theme.

Any "Easter Eggs" planted with this book boyfriend?

A few more than I want to own at the present time. Ask me in a year. Maybe I'll be a little braver then.

Where can we find him?

GLITTER ON THE WEB was my best-seller for 2016, and it's all full of Eli Goodness (AND badness.) Not only can you win your own copy with my sweepstakes, but it's going to have its own countdown deal all Valentine's Day. The quicker you one-click, the more you save. But, wait! There's more! The story continues in FULL-FIGURED FLOOZIES, which is available to read FOR FREE through Kindle Unlimited.

Enjoy a little Eli on this, our last day of this promotion. And wait till next year, when I hope to introducing you to at least one more dreamy hero, while exploring more stories with our old favorites.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all. From all my guys and me. <3

Valentine #13 - Another Multiple, courtesy of Caz Bixby #RomanceWeek

What is the name of today's Valentine?

How old is he when we meet him?

Late twenties.

What stands out most about him?

His smirk. He's up to absolutely no good, but you can't help but find that a lil appealing.

Nice guy or douche?

Depends on what's in it for him.

Favorite moment moments with him?

I have a confession. I love Caz probably more than any other Book Boyfriend. (Don't tell the others.) Truth is...I'm okay to let the others go to the women that populate their lives, but I haven't been able to part with Caz yet. It's just too much fun letting him wreak havoc wherever he lands, the ultimate temptation. He first appears in MASTERS FOR LIFE, where he had one task: make sure Devlin and CC never get their HEA.

He appraised me thoughtfully. “Guess we better hit the gym then. New Year’s Eve will be here before you know it.”

“I’ve been ready for a half-hour.”

He glanced down at his suit. “Oh yeah,” he said with a grin. He put his glass onto the table before he stood. He crossed the distance between us in two steps, before hovering over me with a different kind of smoldering glance all his own. I watched as he tugged free his tie, which snapped from around his neck before he trailed it across one of my wrists. My fists balled tightly, so he tossed the tie away. With that despicable smirk, he ran his hands up his sculpted chest until his fingers circled that top button. Slowly he released them, one at a time, revealing his sculpted bare chest underneath, which caught me off guard. His bold tattoos on both arms appeared to breathe thanks to his rippling muscles.

He took off the shirt and tossed it onto the sofa next to me, before angling his pelvis towards my face. “Help me with my pants?” he said as he held his hands out to the sides of his hips, like he was presenting me with pure gold. I practically breathed fire, but I didn’t move one muscle. “No? I guess I can do it then.”

His strong fingers unfastened his dress slacks, slowly unzipping them. His slacks fell to the floor, revealing snug compression workout shorts that hugged his defined bulge proudly. As he stepped out of his pants, I realized that he still wore his dress shoes. “Looks like you forgot something,” I sneered.

He chuckled as he kicked off his shoes. He reached for one sock. “I guess I’ll have to go bare. Do you mind?”

I scowled at his innuendo. “You’re such a pig.”

He leaned over me, backing me up against the cushion of the sofa, one arm on either side of me. “We’re all animals deep down, baby.” His gaze liberally drifted towards my mouth. “So what do you say? Wanna burn some calories?”

But he wasn't just throwing a wrench between Devlin and Caz's "pussycat" CC. He got hit by a thunderbolt of his own when he met the women he would come to call "Sunshine" - Carly Reynolds in GLITTER ON THE WEB. Despite how hard Carly and her douchebag hero Eli were trying to sell a fake relationship, Caz saw through all that mess just like only Caz would. And he called her out on it like only he could.

“Care to dance?” he offered and I shook my head.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? He’s having a good time,” he added, nodding once again to the dance floor. There Eli was sandwiched in between my two friends, who were having a sexy good time grinding against a famous, sexy crooner. “Come on,” Caz urged. “I really want to dance and my favorite girl is behind the bar.” I still hemmed and hawed, so he added, “Don’t you want to show a poor, lonely guy some of that southern hospitality?”

I looked up into those playful hazel eyes. I couldn’t help but smile. “Okay.”

He pulled me towards the dance floor, where Lola had just started playing “More Than a Mouthful.” Caz plastered me against his hard body. “I love this song,” he grinned, and I knew in an instant he was completely incorrigible. “So tell me what it’s like to fall in love under a microscope,” he said.

“You should know,” I countered. “You’re more famous than I am.”

He laughed. “I don’t do love, sweets. I do sex and lots of it.”

The way his body moved against me left no room for argument about that.

“Then you and Clem are perfect for each other,” I teased.

He laughed again. “Clem is a hoot. And a riot in the sack.”

My eyes widened. “You slept with her?” That didn’t sound like Clem at all. Normally she never mixed business with pleasure.

“I sleep with everyone,” he grinned, unabashed. “Haven’t you heard?”

My eyes narrowed. “Oh. So you’re a liar.”

He leaned forward with that cheeky grin. “Takes one to know one.” I gasped as I realized what was happening. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to bust you. But if you want to sell this relationship, you’re going to have to go for broke, baby doll. I can smell the neglect all over you. You haven’t been properly fucked in,” he paused to lean closer still and peer into my face, “four months at least.”

I gasped at how on the nose he was. Who the fuck was this guy?

“If you ever need help in that department, I’m available for that too. No one sells a lie better than Caz Bixby. Ask anyone.”

“Thanks,” I muttered as I tried to turn away, but he pulled me back.

“Don’t get all sore. Come on. Let’s dance,” he added softly as he pulled me closer.

Just then another man’s hand landed on my arm. It was Eli, and he wasn’t happy. “Is this jerk giving you a hard time, babe?”

Always in character, I thought. Caz, unfortunately, ran with it.

“Not yet, but I’m trying,” he added with that self-satisfied smirk that rivaled Eli’s.

“She’s with me,” Eli practically growled at him.

Undaunted, Caz shot back, “Sorry, man, it was hard to tell, considering you were dancing with other girls and all.”

Eli’s glare narrowed to pinpoints. “Who are you?”

Caz reached out his hand. “Caz Bixby. Clem works for my show.”

I could see Eli quickly process the data. “I see.”

“Clem was working the bar so I asked Carly here for a dance. Figured no harm, no foul, right? I mean it’s Valentine’s Day. All the pretty girls deserve a dance on Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re so right,” Eli said as he pulled me to his side. “Carly’s dance card is full. But I’m sure you’ll find another.”

“I always do,” Caz said. His eyes returned to me. “They all come to Caz eventually,” he grinned as he bowed, then disappeared into the crowd.

I have to admit I get excited when he pops up in my stories. He definitely knows how to bring it, no matter who you are or what you need. In MASKED IN THE MUSIC, young hottie Rudy Renfro needed someone to see him for exactly who he was and guide him to who he would ultimately become. Who other than Caz?

“That was brutal.”

I shot to my feet and spun around, peering into the darkness just beyond the light’s edge. I saw the bright tip of a burning cigarette, though when the smell hit me, I knew it wasn’t an ordinary cigarette. The man stepped from the shadows, coming more into view. He sported a tux like nobody’s business, tall and beautiful, roughly around thirty, with sun-bleached sandy hair that flopped over one of his incredible amber eyes. He offered the joint.

I didn’t refuse it. When other people walked through the doors, he motioned for me to join him in the shadows, where we could partake in private.

Out of sheer curiosity, I followed. I gave him back the joint and he inhaled deeply. “God, I hate these things. Fucking boring as hell. That’s why I bring my own party favors,” he grinned before he exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke.

“Then why do you come?” I asked as I took another hit of my own.

He shrugged. “It’s a good cause. Besides, wearing a tux, dancing with all the pretty girls and drinking from a full bar all night isn’t a bad way to make a living.”

I peered at him even closer in the low light. Why did he look so familiar?

He answered my unspoken question with an outstretched hand. “Caz Bixby. In case you’re wondering where you’ve seen me before.”

My eyes opened wide. His reputation had definitely preceded him. He was probably the best known male escort on the planet, hence why he’d be working a party like this one. I took his hand, which he held for just a beat longer than necessary. “And you are…?” he asked with one cocked eyebrow.

“Rudy Renfro,” I supplied. His smirk deepened.

“Please tell me you have a job worthy of such a celebrity name,” he teased.

“I play guitar in a band,” I dismissed easily.

“A rocker,” he surmised as he glanced me over. “Not what I would have guessed. Good for you.”

I shrugged. “I don’t know what I am anymore.”

He chuckled again as he took one last hit, before he snubbed it out on the stone wall. “You’re not in love with that pretty girl, you know that much.”

“Yeah,” I muttered as I glanced back at the patio.

He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. You can’t help it you’re gay.”

My eyes shot to his. Even in the shadows of the darkened gardens, I could see how they pierced through my armor to see right to the very heart of me. It was one thing for my sister to see it. She’d known me her entire life. It was another for Tony to see it, because he could see physically how I reacted to him. But a stranger I just met? I stammered as I tried to find my footing.

“I’m not… I just… what?”

He pulled me into the crook of his arm. “Don’t panic, Rudy Renfro. Your secret is safe with me. And before you drive yourself crazy with the question, no. I don’t think everyone can tell. But it’s my job to see what people lack so that I can give it to them. And dude, your frustration is full-tilt.”

My gaze narrowed. “Is this where you give me your card and tell me to call you for a little alone time?”

With the flick of his wrist, he offered his card.

“Sorry,” I said as I pushed away. “I don’t think I can afford your rates.”

He chuckled as he followed me through the darkened garden. “You are probably right about that, young Rudy. I’ve never been in one but I’ve heard bar bands don’t pay for shit.”

I made a face he couldn’t see. He could read an awful lot for such a short acquaintance. “So I guess you’re just wasting your time.”

I could feel his shrug. “Maybe it’s the mood of the evening, but I’m feeling kind of charitable.”

I spun around to face him. “I’m not interested, okay?”

His grin deepened. “Is it the whole virgin thing, or are you just that tied up in knots over the guy who won’t return the favor?”

I gaped at him. He stepped forward.

“So it is what’s behind Door #2. Again, your secret is safe with me.” He put his card into my breast pocket. “But if you ever need a friend, especially one who has many friends in the music biz, call me. No strings. No hourly rate.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “You mean you’d fuck me for free?”

He chuckled as he stepped forward, till we were practically nose to nose. “I don’t give away freebies to men,” he assured as he bent closer, his mouth above mine. “But you remind me of someone I used to know. And I guess I kind of like you, baby.”

With that he kissed me. It wasn’t sexual—just a peck. It floored me all the same as he patted the pocket where his card now hid and left me alone in the darkness.

That's the thing about Caz Bixby. He adds to. Adds to what? *Everything.* He's so bad, but so good at it. He never makes apologies for who he is. And if he claims you, he'll never give up on you. For all his douche-bag ways, he is probably the most romantic of all my heroes, even when he's being a full-fledged floozy

Meredith Levi was a stunning woman, with long, black hair and an immaculate figure, and eyes so bright and blue he wanted to dive right in and swim around in them for a while. She was smart, she was educated. She knew what she wanted. And she wanted one night with Caz Bixby.

He’d give it to her. He’d take her into his arms, letting his hands wander all over her body. He’d strip her slowly, relishing each inch of flesh as it bared itself to him, like a present on Christmas morning. He’d taste those lips, thrusting his tongue inside to swirl around hers, an intimate promise he’d keep the minute he dove between her thighs later. He’d tease one breast, then the other, until she was breathless and begging for him.

He knew what he had to offer. Nine solid inches of ecstasy that would make her eyes widen with surprise as he opened her body up to him with one commanding thrust. God, he got off on that. Every single fucking time, he got off on that. They would get so wet, allowing their bodies to accommodate him until he was buried inside of them. Neither one of them would know where he ended nor where she began, both impaled and consumed.

And then he’d fuck her. He’d watch her face and listen to her gasps and moans, letting her guide him to what felt best. Every woman was different. It was like putting together a new puzzle every time. He loved them wild. He loved them tame. He loved them shy. He loved them bold.

He loved, most of all, showing them they could be everything all at once.

He’d stare into their faces and memorize every detail. He never had to think of someone else to get him there. That trick was for amateurs and he’d long become a master. He could fuck anyone he wanted for whatever reason he wanted. That was his trick of the trade.

It was only after they had fallen asleep, happy and satisfied that his thoughts would wander. Lately they had wandered right to Carly Reynolds. Unlike Coralie, who belonged to the man he regarded a best friend and mortal enemy, Carly was a free agent. There were no rings on her fingers, and Eli Blake was unlikely to put them there.

Most importantly there were no children binding her with their umbilical cord to another man. That was one rule even Caz Bixby wouldn’t break.

But she had already proven she could love a man like him by falling hard for a smug asshole like Eli. Caz knew that they only needed one night together to steal her away. Caz knew something about women that Eli simply didn’t. They deserved better than being a toy locked in someone’s private box. They needed to be celebrated. They needed to be worshipped like the goddesses they were.

Only Caz could give her that, he decided.

And he would.

He would.

He killed his brandy by the time Meredith slipped through the bedroom door, wearing an expensive negligee. The cameras rolled as he joined her in the middle of the room, taking her into his arms for a passionate kiss.

Caz Bixby was on the clock, about to make yet another woman’s fantasy come true.

His could wait a while longer for his own.

For now.

What do you love about him?

His smirk. His wise cracks. His flirting. He makes people feel special. That's his job. And he's a master.

What do you hate about him?

He manipulates with that smirk. He hides behind his wise cracks, and he'll never ever stop flirting with everyone he meets. It's a game to him. A challenge. He falls in love often, but always with those safely tucked away with others. For all his bravado, he often runs scared.

If you went on a date, where would you go?

Caz is the kind of person who would not only strive to give you something you wanted, but something you needed. If you were afraid of flying, he'd charter a plan and screw your brains out the whole trip so you'd never be scared again. He will always, ALWAYS, take you right to the edge.

Who inspired him?

I had a visual prototype the second I saw this guy...

Who might play him in a movie?

I hate to repeat myself, but there really is only one perfect choice...

Any songs that remind you of him?

Let him entertain ya till you scream...

Any "Easter Eggs" planted with this book boyfriend?

We're covering so many books, it's hard to keep track of them all.

Where can we find him?

He's introduced in MASTERS FOR LIFE, which is book #2 of the Masters series. He returns to heat things up in MASTERS FOREVER. If you ever thought I didn't go far enough, THAT is the book to check out...

A dance tune by Madonna began to play, the aptly titled “Hung Up.” Caz pulled me close, his hands on my hips, to guide me through the sensual movements as we began to undulate to the music. I stole glances at Dev, who watched us from his spot in the corner of my couch.

It was the very same corner where he had been that first night, when he commanded that I strip for him. He had seduced me that night, confidently and well. My flesh responded instantly to the memory. I shuddered and looked way, focusing on Caz, who danced closely to me, grinding his hips against me, his eyes locked with mine. “Only a couple of hours left, baby,” he said. “Do you really want to spend it sad?”

The music pulsated around me, a rolling beat that made the entire room felt like it was spinning and tumbling through space. Of course, that might have been the pot. My brain had taken off somewhere around Pluto. That, combined with the alcohol I had consumed, helped me submit to the dance. I closed my eyes and just allowed myself to ride the music. His hands slid up my sides, raising my arms to link around his neck. I was powerless to stop him, a slave to the beat that guided us.

“That’s it,” Caz murmured. “Let yourself go. You know you want to.”

Again my eyes sought Dev. Maybe I was waiting for permission. Maybe I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to lose his shit again. My eyes snapped open when I realized he was no longer sitting on the sofa.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I felt him fall into step behind me, pinning me between both of them.

“Dev,” I started, but his mouth landed right next to my ear.

“Shh,” he shushed, and it sent an involuntary shudder all the way through my body. His hands landed on my hips just above Caz’s, where they once again rested. They both guided my movements as we danced closely together. I shivered as Dev’s hands slid up my sides, hooking my arms on his as they curved around each shoulder to pull my arms back. Using his body he arched my back towards Caz, who danced even closer, his hands sliding up my sides until his thumbs could brush under each full breast.

Their eyes locked, and the intensity of their stare took my breath away. It was as if they communicated with no words at all, with Caz immediately followed Dev’s lead. It was as if wherever he touched, whatever he did, he had to get that silent permission first. We undulated to the song, no longer three separate people, connected by the thundering beat of the music.

In GLITTER ON THE WEB, he makes life more interesting for Carly. Remember, you only have a few days left to enter the sweepstakes to get that book for free.

He pops up in MASKED IN THE MUSIC, where he makes Rudy his protege. That book is FREE today only.

Finally he plays a major part in FULL-FIGURED FLOOZIES, because he's Caz Freaking Bixby. There's no Floozie any bigger.

Enjoy getting to know Caz. He'll get his own book one day, when I'm ready to let him go. Until then he's mine all mine.

Thankfully I know how to share. ;)

"Glitter" Confessions

1. "Glitter on the Web" likely would never have happened had it not been for Macklemore.

The bestie and I share movies and videos with each other every weekend, which is pretty cool that even 35 years into our friendship, we find new things to share between us. We're still teaching each other things, and he, inadvertently sometimes, purposefully other times, has inspired more than one story doing it. Many months back, he sent me the video for "Downtown" by Macklemore.



In the video, Macklemore shows some love for a bigger girl:

Now do you or do you not wanna ride with me
I got one girl, I got two wheels
She a big girl but ain't a big deal
I like a big girl, I like 'em sassy

First thought: "Aw, that's cool. Hope he means it." So, being me, I dug a little deeper as I'm known to do, to find a pic of his wife to see if she, too, was a big girl. She wasn't. It got the gears turning. What if a popular singer showed love for bigger girls, endearing him to that particular audience, but it was all a marketing ploy? Hence, Glitter was born.

Confession, Part Two - I had completely forgotten about this until the bestie showed me ANOTHER Macklemore song where he, once again, proclaimed his affection for bigger girls and it sparked the memory. (I still hope he means it.)

2. GLITTER is my unintentional homage to Purple Rain.

This one happened by accident, really. It's Eli's fault. He started playing an instrumental piece early in the book, and it just felt right to give it the Purple Rain treatment. That movie makes the list of one of my favorite closing scenes ever, given the emotional payoff at the end. To have a musician struggle with an important piece of music, to figure out what he wanted to say, and say it when it had the most emotional payoff, made sense. I had already given Eli a few Kid/Price-like qualities, including his teaching himself to play the piano, and producing/writing/performing all of his earliest work. So really, it was unintentional, but in the end I was proud to pay tribute to one of my idols, especially one who taught me so much how to be my own kind of artist. Little did I know at the time it would be a memorial. :(



3. It took me a long-ass time to title this book.

Names come to me relatively easy. It's not so much a choice as it is a discovery. When I name my characters, I generally know who they are before they have a name to go with the character. So I go down a list of potential names that I keep (and add to,) until I find the one that feels right, like I'm looking for someone who already exists and I'm just waiting to have them step forward for roll call. (This is also why I generally don't change names easily when I've found the one that clicks, and why working with anyone else creatively is so challenging because they typically want to change these names first thing. It's like taking your kid to school and introducing them, only to have the teacher say, "Hum, we already have a Justin. Can I just call him Doug?" Self-publishing allows me the freedom to allow my characters to be who they were supposed to be, something I got to know very early on in the creative process.) Book titles are even harder, because if you inadvertently name your book after a book that already exists, you can risk suffering from comparison. I knew I had to think outside the box with this one, because I really, really wanted it to stand out. With GLITTER, I had my concept and my characters, but I had no idea what to name their journey. Finally I circled around to the "web" idea, given the story is about a big lie. What's the only thing that could entice someone like me onto a web? My husband doesn't call me a magpie for nothing. Also, GLITTER ON THE WEB leaves a little wiggle room if I ever want to revisit the story... like... GLITTER DOWN THE AISLE, or GLITTER IN THE CRIB... that kind of thing. Y'know... just in case... ;)



4. Eli is based on real men I've known.

If you're really close to me, you probably recognize Eli. I really didn't hide what I was trying to do with this character. While reading it, my husband turned to me and said, "You think So-N-So will recognize himself in your book?" My first thought was, "Probably not, because anyone who would really Eli me wouldn't read the book in the first place." Which is true. All I can say is I hope so, even though the So-N-So Steven referred to isn't *technically* the whole inspiration for the character (though bad experiences involving him definitely worked themselves out in the book, as they tend to.) Truthfully I hope every guy who has ever Eli'd me sees themselves in the book, because they're all represented in every nasty thing Eli said or did. I threw it all into an Asshole Bouillabaisse as my way of saying, "How you treated me was not okay, and I only wish I had had Carly's ovarian fortitude to tell you that." Everything Eli did or said to piss you off has happened to me at some point, just like it has probably happened to many, many women of size reading the book. Typically these were the things I accepted and excused when I was too stupid to recognize my own value, and this was my way to rewrite things, to let someone else know that it isn't okay of if someone treats them this way. Stand up for yourself. You can. And if the guy is worth having, he'll cowboy the fuck up. (Many don't, but that's okay. If they can't see your worth, they don't deserve you anyway. Trite, but true.) Honestly, it gives me great satisfaction when I hear that people hate Eli. I wanted you to. I wanted you to see how unacceptable this behavior is, so that we learn to nip that shit in the bud in real life. He is the voice of our media... he's the voice of our society. It's *our* job to stop agreeing with it, and demand the respect and human courtesy we deserve.



5. Eli's and Carly's story isn't over.

For everyone who wanted an epilogue, to see what happens with this couple beyond any kind of HEA (or HFN, you don't know,) there's a reason I didn't include one. Their story isn't over, and you WILL see them again. FFF releases this November, and will focus on all THREE of the owners of the club, Carly included. Oh, and Caz hasn't gone away either... so this should be all KINDS of angsty fun.



Have you read GLITTER? Tell me what you thought!

The weight of writing "plus-size" fiction, and why I cannot be shamed.

The story of how I came to write "plus-size" or Rubenesque romances is pretty well known by this point. As a "plus-size" woman, I was sick and tired of reading books where women who looked like me were treated as the supporting characters, the comic relief, or the sad examples of what not to be. This was not my experience. As the star of my own life, I have had quite a bit of romance, quite a bit of sex, and quite a bit of drama all on my own. It rubbed me raw that, especially in romance, the "ideal" I needed to "escape" to was someone other than me. See, that kind of thing just feeds my internal chatterbox, which is already running 24/7 telling me I'm a piece of shit anyway. It ends up reinforcing this societal message that if I don't conform to the standard of beauty set by other people... I just don't count. I don't deserve to find love, I don't deserve to be successful, and I certainly don't deserve a happily ever after.

Entire multi-million-dollar industries are literally banking on this premise, from the magazines we see screaming at us from the check-out aisle, to the cosmetics and fashion industry and... let's not forget the weight-loss industry, which brings in BILLIONS per year. So naturally the women we see reflected back to us in the media all tend to fit a certain type, and woe to the women who don't. Any time any woman dares to dip her tippy-toe outside of this narrow definition of ideal feminine beauty, there's shame the size of Texas waiting to be heaped on her, to corral her back into line.

And we all kind of accept it. We all kind of go along with this idea that women in particular deserve our ridicule and our disdain simply because of how they look, which reinforces the even more destructive social messaging that a woman's value hinges on something so temporary and so superficial. If you dare to be successful in any OTHER way, whether professionally, intellectually, in your character, with your achievements, even if you want to be president of these United States, it all comes back to how you look.

If you don't look a certain way, you simply don't deserve to be happy.

And it's bullshit.

I used to shovel the shit, same as the majority of folks in our culture. I wrote thin and beautiful women, desired women, who didn't know they were thin, beautiful and desired, something I wouldn't know dick about, and publishers told me thanks but no thanks. My characters were "too perfect."

But that was how I saw the women mirrored back to me. They were certainly more perfect than I was, and more deserving of good things than I was.

I mean, that IS the message, right?

In 2007, I set out to change that message. I wrote my first Rubenesque romance, LOVE PLUS ONE, about a size-12 (gasp! shocker!) gal who not only didn't know she was beautiful... she had the world around her reinforcing that sad message. She had to fight through BOTH piles of bullshit to find her happily ever after.

THAT... I know.

Since then I've written all sorts of "plus-size" fiction, with all sorts of heroines. I have my confident, DGAF heroines who embrace the fact they are different and don't give a rat's ass who agrees with them. (Rachel from THE FULLERTON FAMILY SAGA, Andy from THE GROUPIE SAGA, Coralie from THE MASTERS SAGA, Caitlin from PICTURE POSTCARDS and Carly from GLITTER ON THE WEB.) I have my more insecure heroines, who are fighting uphill through molasses to figure out their worth. (Jordi from THE FIERCE TRILOGY, Shannon from LOVE PLUS ONE.) I have my pissed off heroine, who gained weight just to keep men dafuq away from her, (Jessica, UNDER TEXAS SKIES,) and the character who has battled the chatterbox a lot like me over the past four decades, even when she couldn't see the great things that were right in front of her. (Roni from THE LEFTOVER CLUB.) Joely Morgan, from BACK FOR SECONDS, was a 40-year-old mother of three who gained weight and alienated her hubby, who dropped her like a bad habit for a 20-something size-perfect beauty. She got the interest of a younger, hotter man who wanted to get his hands all over her neglected curves, again... writing what I know from real-life experience.

I've written characters who are where I used to be. I've written characters who are who I want to be. And each and every one I allowed to be who they were, no physical changes necessary. They had to change their attitude only, one that said, "You're allowed to find love the way you are. And that must always start with you."

Needless to say, there's been some negative feedback. In a genre where fantastic, unrealistic things happen all the time, I've heard my share of complaints that "plus-size" fiction isn't "realistic" enough to sell. One blog I read treated the whole Rubenesque genre as a joke, saying it would be more realistic to her if two mentally challenged people found love together, as long as they were hot. You can be an asshole, you can be missing limbs, you can have the IQ of a kumquat, but God forbid you're larger than a size-6, which is where this particular blogger started her fat-shaming because "No man I know would ever date a woman bigger than that!"

So the majority of American women, who tend to be a size 14/16, are SOL when it comes to finding love... even though they do, even though they date, have sex, marry, have families and generally live happy lives.

I've had personal reviews that reinforce this sad message. One reviewer, an admitted size-16 herself, said my GROUPIE SAGA was unrealistic because no rock star AND music mogul would fight over a woman who wore a size-16.

Ahem...

Oh yeah. Nothing to like THERE. She's only the first model of size to grace the cover of the coveted Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. She's listed in People's Most Beautiful. Oh, and she's also married to a hot guy who digs her curves like there's no tomorrow.

And she did all that as a size-16.

Another interviewer took issue with the fact that I don't shy away from numbers in my book. CC Cabot (or Coralie) from my MASTERS SAGA was also a size-16, which... if you look at the Victoria's Secret Sizing Guide, is 42.5-34-44.5. Coralie is 46/34/44. I made her top-heavy because some women don't necessarily have sizes that fit these cookie-cutter sizes, and my whole message with Coralie was that American fashion sizing is bullshit (particularly the use of the term "plus-size.") She, as the daughter of a fashion industry icon, couldn't even find stuff to fit or flatter in her very own store because of this segregated idea of feminine beauty. I wanted to make it hard for her to find clothes, because for many of us it IS hard to find clothes. Even Salma Hayek and Scarlet Johansson, some of the hottest babes in Hollywood, overfill certain sizes. Salma is 39-24-36 and Scarlett is 36-25-36. Back at Victoria's Secret, a size-4 is 34.5-26-36.5, but you don't get into the 39" bust size until a 12, or a 36"-bust size until an 8. Did I mention already that the fashion industry standard for "plus-size" starts at a size 6? WHICH, btw, is a SMALL at Victoria's Secret.

See where I'm going with this? THIS guy does.

But because I said that Coralie had a size-46 bust, a reviewer took issue with my gender identity. "Is this writer even a woman?" she wanted to know, because 46 inches was HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGE.

She's right. I don't know much about being a size-16, as it's been about three decades since I wore a 44-36-44. My current bust size now is 48". Whether I'm a woman or not... well...

Many a guy has looked at my chest and didn't give a shit about the number (unless it was my phone number,) but thanks for the reality check, I guess. Living in my skin day to day, I had forgotten what an anomaly I was. Thank GAWD someone was there to remind me how I don't fit in. Having made the career of my dreams out of thin air, raised two amazing men, and been loved and desired by many amazing guys, my confidence was getting OUT OF CONTROL. Someone definitely needed to put me in my place.

Even though I can point to real life examples of what I write...including my very own story, it's "unrealistic." I'd venture to guess more size-16 women get married every single day than college graduates get whisked away by gazillionaires, but ... y'know... whatever. Gotta protect the message.

It should be crystal clear by this point I don't give a flying fig about "the message."

Actually that's not true. I care enough about the destructive nature of this bullshit message to change it. This is why I write the books I do. I was sick and tired of being told I wasn't the ideal, I couldn't have my happily ever after, and I was not good enough. This is the uphill battle I climb every single time I walk outside my front door, facing a culture that would rather shame me into conforming than understand me as I am.

In my book, GLITTER ON THE WEB, Carly Reynolds shares this same mission. She is likewise a size-16, but she doesn't give a fuck if you think she's huge. She dates. She has an active sex life. She lives her life on her terms, and fuck the naysayers who want to shame her for any of it.

Because every plot needs an opposing force, I decided to make a living embodiment of our social standard. I've done that before with Eddie in FIERCE, but this time I had a different agenda. I was going to put these two opposing mindsets together, and use the resulting chaos to change the fucking message. So I created Eli Blake, who is the perfect ideal of a man, according to society standards. He's painfully good-looking. He's white. He's rich. He's straight. He's successful in the eyes of the world. These are his "get out of asshole" free cards that society hands to guys like this, even when they're ginormous douche bags.

It really is amazing what we, as women, tolerate from guys who simply look a certain way. (I'll get to that more in a minute.)

GLITTER was my way of shining a light on the destructive nature of the shaming mindset that goes hand-in-hand with shaping a message around beauty conformity. Needless to say, Eli had his biases when he got into this relationship, but so did Carly. Forced to work together, and live together, to perpetuate the lie of being a couple, they were able to get past the bullshit. And that's where the real chance for romance starts.

Fast-forward to May 9, the day before I released my ambitious project, and the book world exploded around the concept of "fat-shaming" when a male model went on a social media rampage against fat women, both the authors and readers of romance. I won't name him, he got enough publicity at the start of the week, but his message was that fat writers had to write romance because they weren't getting any dick at home, and readers of romance should just go eat ice cream and hang themselves in the closet.

No, really. That was his message, word for almost fucking word.

That he wasn't more widely panned by the women who had become his "fans" as a fitness role model and cover model for romance novels, just reinforced the power of this destructive message. It's also a sad social statement that women accept abusive behavior from jerks just because we think they're good-looking. (Raise your standards, ladies. S'all I'm saying.)

This is a guy who told us fat girls to go hang ourselves in the closet. I want no part of that message. Instead I'm trying to tell us all that no matter what your size, you deserve to be happy. You don't lose your worth as a human just because some jagoff is pissed off you're not doing more to attract him.

For some reason, some guys get really REALLY mad about this. I mean, why else would you say to someone that they need to hang themselves in a closet??

He did try to wrap this "concern-trolling" bullshit with the more socially accepted "obesity epidemic" trappings. But this guy doesn't give two shits about your health if he's trying to tell you you need to end it all simply because of what you weigh. What kind of fucked up message is that?? "I really want you to lose weight so you can live longer. But fuck that, you're a fat slob of a pig. Kill yourself now." That is a passionate, deep-seated hatred of you as a potential sexual partner who didn't do enough to please him, like you owed it to him to be hot.

Spoiler alert: You don't.

Like Jennifer Weiner said, there is room in the world for the unpretty. You don't owe it to him to give him a boner or to get his attention. From this kind of explosive meltdown, I'm going to go out on a limb and say this is not the kind of man you want ANY attention from. EVER. But regardless of who or what, you don't owe it to anyone else to be thin, to be pretty, to be perfect, to look good, to fit into a certain size - OR exercise and diet and starve yourself just so the people who are trying hard to find reasons to hate you will somehow like you one day.

Spoiler alert: They won't.

I didn’t want to tell her that “they” would never stop finding things that girls are “too” this or that for, to deny us our happy endings, like we somehow didn’t deserve it anymore because we’re not perfect. It starts with too young, then it becomes too fat, too thin, too loud, too quiet, too timid, too bold, too chaste, too slutty, too ugly, too pretty… until finally we’re too old, and we get put out to pasture like any brood mare who was no longer useful.

“‘They’ will always try to make you feel like a half-person, who will never be complete until you have a man to validate you. But ‘they’ are full of shit. You are an amazing person all on your own. The right person will see that. It’ll turn all those things that are too much into just right.” - Carly Reynolds

I've talked about fat-shaming before, where I was actually FAT-SHAMED for doing so. (Not surprised.) In fact, there are some who would fat-shame me for writing romances about bigger women, just because it's "unhealthy" to encourage happiness/self-acceptance when the accepted wisdom is fat is bad. Even though studies have proven that fat-shaming is way more damaging than helpful, which I know from my own personal experience.

All of this stuff just reinforced why I write the stories I do. My entire purpose on the planet is to change the message, because I know first-hand how destructive it is. You want to be really, truly healthy? Try loving yourself enough to be imperfect. Convince yourself that you matter. You have value. You are here to be what no one else can be... and that's you. You're here to love, to learn and to grow, and you deserve to be happy. If you're not happy where you are, then change it. You have the power to do that. If you are happy where you are, then work on those things to make you stronger, to help you live longer, so you can show all the naysayers that no matter how much they try to steal your thunder, you're here to shake things up, and fuck 'em if they don't like it.

So stop accepting these ill-fitting boxes they try to cram us all into to make THEM feel better about themselves, when they're the ones who are limited. You matter. And you deserve to be here. You're going to make waves standing out, being different, but don't you dare apologize. People will try to shame you, sure, because they don't know how to handle it. This usually indicates these are people who aren't fit to judge you anyway. So don't accept that shame. There's no one on this planet more qualified to judge you for being you except you. And I got news for you... you're fucking perfect at it. Because of the scars you wear... not in spite of them.



Shake off the haters, lift your chin and own. You might be surprised who might someday agree.

“You really don’t care what people think, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like today. I tell you to skip makeup, you put on sunglasses like it’s nothing. If I had said that to Rhonda, she would have spent the next ten minutes yelling at me in Spanglish, telling me I didn’t understand what it was like to be a woman in the public eye.”

“Big difference. I’m not in the public eye.”

“Yeah, you are,” he corrected. “You just don’t care. At the spa. On the beach. You just walked through a crowded lobby in beachwear, and don’t even notice if other people stare or talk behind your back. It’s like you’re a queen and they’re all beneath you.”

I chuckled. “Oh, I notice. But you’re right. I don’t care. I’m not defined by the opinions of others.”

His caresses grew even gentler. “Like a queen.” I said nothing. “It’s sexy,” he murmured, his fingers trailing over my shoulders and down both arms as he leaned closer. “You’re sexy.”

My eyes met his. “Surprised?”

He nodded. “Every day.” He leaned forward for another kiss.

GLITTER ON THE WEB now available in Kindle Unlimited.

Last Sneak Peek Saturday - and LAST WEEK to get Glitter on the Web for $2.99

This is it folks. GLITTER ON THE WEB releases May 10! (Which, incidentally, is the same day that DEADPOOL releases on DVD - so if you're anything like me, I know you will likely be torn. Pro-tip: cast RR as Eli Blake and you're good to go for a sexy all-nighter!)



So we've covered already that my heroine, Carly, doesn't care much for our douche bag hero, Eli. She signs up for a year pretending to be his girlfriend because there's a LOT of money involved, but she has no intention whatsoever of actually falling for the guy. He has no intention of falling for either, because clearly she's not his type.

This makes for all sorts of interesting situations because neither one is trying to impress the other. They can speak bluntly. They can tell the truth. They can push back instead of roll over. They had a push-pull relationship from the get-go, which - truth be told - are my favorite kinds of sticky romantic entanglements.

The following scene is one that Carly herself finished. Characters do that sometimes, throwing curve balls at you with surprising new actions you didn't outline or predict. It was clear she wasn't about to take my guff any more than she took Eli's. It was a scene where Eli orchestrates this huge makeover for our casual, atypical beauty, which doesn't go over very well for Carly. So she takes matters into her own hands. Like Eli, I didn't really see this little surprise coming. It was the exact moment that I fell head over heels in love with her. This is a strong character who doesn't let others tell her how to feel about herself, especially an arrogant dickhead like Eli Blake. This is an example of how far she's willing to go to prove her worth, even when he wants to deny her of it. (Later in the book... she goes further. I LOVE THIS GIRL.)

****

Cabot’s Department Store had been a L.A. staple of fashion since the 1940s, and in the past couple of years they had started up a new plus-line of clothing called Youniquely Cabot, which, for the beginning of their run anyway, was modeled by heiress C.C. Cabot herself, who, like me, had an ample figure.

Her sister-in-law, Darcy Masters, was the mastermind behind all the amazing creations, and it was her genius that guided our personal shopping experience when we got there for our eleven o’clock appointment.

Eli had beaten me to the store, where he turned on the charm for our personal shopping assistant, Ashley. Since she was thin and pretty, he got her name right the first time, and used it often with that blinding white smile of his.

That wasn’t what bothered me. I was used to that. What I wasn’t used to was the way he hung on me like a cheap coat, trying to sell this new romance to the 20-something salesgirl.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted with that same smile as he walked right up to me, put his arms around me and reached for a kiss.

Though I was no prude, and PDAs never really bothered me, having that mouth open over mine—again—made my skin crawl. It wasn’t that he wasn’t a good kisser, of course he was. It was that he was Eli Blake and the kiss was for show and I was a big fat phony faking liar, just like he was.

Needless to say, my response was lukewarm, which earned his cheerfully delivered reproach. “Come on, baby. No one cares,” he murmured as he cuddled me close, his hands sliding down my back to rest on either hip. I used my eyes alone to warn him of the boundaries he was crossing. It only made him smile wider as he turned back to Ashley. “You’ll have to forgive her. She’s shy.”

She giggled. “Not a problem. I’m the same way. My boyfriend always wants to get cozy in public. Drives me crazy. Of course I don’t have the whole world watching,” she added empathetically as she glanced my way.

I could barely unclench my jaw. “That does make it a little more challenging,” I agreed.

Ashley remained cheerfully on point. “Darcy looked over your list of events and she sent over quite a few options for you to consider. Give me five minutes to get everything started.”

“We’re in your hands,” Eli smiled at her while he cuddled me closer, squeezing one ass cheek for effect.

The minute she left the mirrored room, I thrust him away. “I wish you’d stop telling everyone I’m shy.”

He shrugged as he made his way to the tufted upholstered loveseat. “Which would you rather be? Shy? Or a frigid bitch? Because it could go either way.”

I glared at him. “I’m neither, for your information.”

He crossed one leg over the other, his eyes icy as he stared back at me. “Could have fooled me. We’re supposed to be crazy about each other, remember? That’s the story you’re being paid quite well to sell. Haven’t you ever been in a relationship before?”

“Is that what you think?” I gaped. “That I’m some sad wallflower that has never been kissed?”

“I know you’ve been kissed. You’ve been kissed by me.”

I barely concealed my growl of frustration just as Ashley lowered the lights and began our own private fashion show. I glanced back to Eli, who patted the space beside him with that self-satisfied smirk of his. My teeth clenched together tightly as I walked over to the love seat and squeezed myself next to him on the tiny, intimate piece of furniture. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, almost like a vice grip to keep me in line, as the first model appeared.

She was a size 14/16 like me, but her look was far more stylish than the nondescript pantsuit I happened to be wearing. She wore funky layers and bright colors, with the sass and attitude to match as she sashayed from one side of the room to the other, with a twirl as she reached us, so we could get the full 360-degree view of her outfit.

“This is for those casual occasions,” Ashley said. “Going to the movies, out to the mall, maybe meeting for lunch at an outdoor café. Just add some funky jewelry or maybe a jacket over a casual shirt and you’re ready to take on the town.”

“I like it,” Eli told her. “But I would like to see something a bit sexier.”

Ashley bestowed a smile. “Not a problem. Next is Emma, who will model one of our more versatile looks that would work for day or night, dressy or casual.”

Emma wore a sleek pencil skirt in snakeskin print, with a white blouse and an olive-colored leather jacket, along with the kind of high heels I had given up in middle school, when my growth spurt put me eye-to-eye with most the boys in my class.

Given my new steady Eli was a good seven inches taller than me, this was no longer a concern. I could only hope I remembered how to walk in the silly things.

When Eli commented he would like to see more skin, the next model, Ariel, walked out in silky black palazzo pants with a corset top with sheer lacy sides. “Add a black leather jacket and you’re good to go,” Ashley said.

“That’s more like it,” Eli murmured as he cuddled me closer. “I can’t wait to see you in that one,” he murmured, grazing his lip against my cheek near my ear. “Or, more accurately, out of it.”

I nearly bit the inside of my cheek clean off to keep from screaming.

Ashley wasn’t done. She had everything to show us, from cocktail dresses to athletic wear. “My baby does like to stay active,” he said as he grinned at me.

“You have no idea,” I promised just under my breath, plotting my revenge accordingly.

Eli made his next request to Ashley, though he looked straight at me. “Maybe we should see some lingerie, then.”

From negligees to baby doll nighties, each and every model paraded past us in silk, satin and lace. There were swimsuits, bras and panties, everything one might need for a year-long romance with one of the most desired men in the world.

It took at least two hours for us to finish our business there at Cabot’s, but if I thought he was done, I was seriously mistaken. The next stop we made was to a salon, where he suggested we do something a little more exciting with my chestnut brown hair. “Blonde highlights,” he told the stylist, who proceeded to wrap me up in so much tin foil I was pretty sure I could pick up communication from the International Space Station.

After that, it was a couple’s afternoon at a spa, where we got plucked, pampered and groomed. I very nearly brought the whole thing crashing down when it was time for our dual massage, since I had to strip down to just my panties underneath my robe.

I could tell from the cocky look in his blue eyes that he was just waiting for me to buckle. Maybe he thought I should be ashamed of my body since it wasn’t “perfect,” and he was just waiting for me to agree. So I walked into that room and let the robe fall right off my shoulders, revealing myself almost entirely for his curious stare. I wore no bra, so naturally that was where his eyes first fell, taking in every inch of my breasts as they swayed heavily before him.

Yeah, fucko, this is what natural, unenhanced tits look like.

He wanted to shame me, but I wasn’t ashamed. Like the great Eleanor Roosevelt once said, no one can make anyone else feel inferior without their consent. I simply refused to consent—to the world at large, and to Eli Blake in particular. So I wasn’t shy at all when I climbed up on my table and waited for a rub-down.

Eli was so taken aback that he didn’t say much during our massage. I made a mental note to get naked more often.

Afterwards, when they had placed hot stones along our bodies, they left us in the softly lit room, illuminated only by candlelight, with gentle music playing in the background. Finally Eli spoke.

“I have to admit, I never thought you’d go through with all this,” he murmured.

I turned my head to look at him. “Told you I wasn’t shy.”

“You’re full of surprises, Carly Reynolds,” he said, his eyes closing as he enjoyed his hot stone therapy.

“Just wait until tomorrow. You might want to wear a cup.”

He opened one eye to look at me. I just chuckled and looked the other way.

****

I had so much fun with these characters. I really can't wait for you to meet them. So get your pre-order today! This weekend will be the last that GLITTER is on sale, after May 10th it goes up to $3.99.

And don't forget to subscribe to my email list. Tomorrow I'm sending out an exclusive sneak peek by email only!

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I have one word for your Sneak Peek Saturday: Caz Bixby. (Wait, what?)

If you've been around a while, you already know that I love, love, love to include little Easter Eggs in my book, bringing back characters from other stories for unexpected cameos. I got the idea from Stephen King, the Master, whose little asides for his diehard fans (and by diehard, I mean those who read more than one of his books,) made me feel special, like we were connecting on a delicious little secret casual fans might miss. You just get more out of it that way, and I love doing that in my books, building my universe a little bit at a time.

Mostly, I can't let some of these characters go. Vanni, Graham, Jorge... these are characters I bring back again and again because they just make life so much fun. Well, no one, and I do mean no one, made my life more exciting than Caz Bixby, one of the stars of my MASTERS saga. This guy was shameless and naughty, and I like that. I knew when I ended the Masters series that he would be back - as many times as I could make it happen - before one day starring in a book of his own.

He doesn't get his own book/HEA yet, simply because that's not what Caz Bixby is about. He's a catalyst, not a romantic hero. Like he says, "I don't do love, sweets. I do sex and lots of it."

So needless to say, when Eli Blake, Douche Extraordinaire, thinks that Carly is too much woman to fit his narrow standard - I introduced a naughty, shameless little catalyst to prove to him that some guys found her "just enough." He gets to see her through the eyes of a man who knows exactly what to do with her.

It doesn't go well...

Here's another snippet from GLITTER ON THE WEB...

****

“Carly, I have someone I want you to meet.”

The man in question stood to his full height and turned to me with a familiar smirk. I had seen him somewhere before, though I wrestled with my memory to place him. Finally it clicked a half a second before she said, “This is Caz Bixby, my new boss.”

Caz Bixby—notorious playboy and known gigolo, one who had taken pop culture by storm when he outed one of his more notable clients and dismantled an entire election campaign airing her dirty laundry. He was rewarded with a TV show of his own, and my guess was that was where Clem had been keeping herself lately.

OGWO was once again as right as rain.

“Carly,” he crooned as he took my hand in his and brought it to his lips for a kiss. “I’ve heard so much about you. And not just from Clementine. You get any more press and they’ll have to give you a show.”

I laughed. “God forbid.”

He grinned. “Is that an accent I detect?”

“Maybe a little,” I replied in good humor. He was fun, and he was almost painfully good looking. It wasn’t a bad combo. “Guess where and I’ll buy you a shot.”

“Ooo, a challenge,” he said as he leaned back to inspect me. “Talk dirty to me.”

I leaned forward. “Mud. Soot. Manure. Oil.”

He clapped one hand on the bar. “Say no more. You are from the great state of Tejas, am I right?”

“Give that man a silver dollar,” I nodded as I held up my finger to order a shot from Clem.

“Make it two,” he added before turning back to me. “You’ve got to join me in a Valentine’s Day toast.”

I shook my head. “Can’t. Pain meds,” I said with a pout.

“Oh, yeah.” He glanced at my foot. “How’s the bum foot?”

“Healing,” I said. “I’m starting physical therapy next week.”

He smiled wide. “If you ever need a trainer…,” he said, letting his offer trail off.

“And here I thought you were way too busy for something like that.”

He laughed. “For one of Clem’s friends, I could make an exception.” His eyes glittered as they ran over me. “Especially for a pretty one.”

“Actually,” Clem said as she leaned across the bar, delivering the shots, “Carly is taken.”

He glanced out onto the dance floor, where Eli now danced with Lisa and Daisy. “Yeah. I heard.” His eyes met mine. In an instant, I feared he could easily read all those things I would never say. I could say nothing as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a black card with a gold lettering embossed on it. He handed it to me. “Offer still stands, though. Even if you need to talk. I know instant fame can be tough.”

I nodded and took the card, placing it in my clutch.

He continued to study me with that thoughtful stare. “Care to dance?” he offered and I shook my head.

“I probably shouldn’t.”

“Why not? He’s having a good time,” he added, nodding once again to the dance floor. There Eli was sandwiched in between my two friends, who were having a sexy good time grinding against a famous, sexy crooner. “Come on,” Caz urged. “I really want to dance and my favorite girl is behind the bar.” I still hemmed and hawed, so he added, “Don’t you want to show a poor, lonely guy some of that southern hospitality?”

I looked up into those playful hazel eyes. I couldn’t help but smile. “Okay.”

He pulled me towards the dance floor, where Lola had just started playing “More Than a Mouthful.” Caz plastered me against his hard body. “I love this song,” he grinned, and I knew in an instant he was completely incorrigible. “So tell me what it’s like to fall in love under a microscope,” he said.

“You should know,” I countered. “You’re more famous than I am.”

He laughed. “I don’t do love, sweets. I do sex and lots of it.”

The way his body moved against me left no room for argument about that.

“Then you and Clem are perfect for each other,” I teased.

He laughed again. “Clem is a hoot. And a riot in the sack.”

My eyes widened. “You slept with her?” That didn’t sound like Clem at all. Normally she never mixed business with pleasure.

“I sleep with everyone,” he grinned, unabashed. “Haven’t you heard?”

My eyes narrowed. “Oh. So you’re a liar.”

He leaned forward with that cheeky grin. “Takes one to know one.” I gasped as I realized what was happening. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to bust you. But if you want to sell this relationship, you’re going to have to go for broke, baby doll. I can smell the neglect all over you. You haven’t been properly fucked in,” he paused to lean closer still and peer into my face, “four months at least.”

I gasped at how on the nose he was. Who the fuck was this guy?

“If you ever need help in that department, I’m available for that too. No one sells a lie better than Caz Bixby. Ask anyone.”

“Thanks,” I muttered as I tried to turn away, but he pulled me back.

“Don’t get all sore. Come on. Let’s dance,” he added softly as he pulled me closer.

Just then another man’s hand landed on my arm. It was Eli, and he wasn’t happy. “Is this jerk giving you a hard time, babe?”

Always in character, I thought. Caz, unfortunately, ran with it.

“Not yet, but I’m trying,” he added with that self-satisfied smirk that rivaled Eli’s.

“She’s with me,” Eli practically growled at him.

Undaunted, Caz shot back, “Sorry, man, it was hard to tell, considering you were dancing with other girls and all.”

Eli’s glare narrowed to pinpoints. “Who are you?”

Caz reached out his hand. “Caz Bixby. Clem works for my show.”

I could see Eli quickly process the data. “I see.”

“Clem was working the bar so I asked Carly here for a dance. Figured no harm, no foul, right? I mean it’s Valentine’s Day. All the pretty girls deserve a dance on Valentine’s Day.”

“You’re so right,” Eli said as he pulled me to his side. “Carly’s dance card is full. But I’m sure you’ll find another.”

“I always do,” Caz said. His eyes returned to me. “They all come to Caz eventually,” he grinned as he bowed, then disappeared into the crowd.

“What a prick,” Eli muttered, which made me laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“I would think you guys have a lot in common,” I shrugged.

His gaze fell over me. “We have one thing in common, it would seem.”

“Please,” I dismissed. “It was just a dance.”

“Tell that to the flush in your cheek,” he hissed before he dragged me back to the dance floor.

****

If you didn't get enough Caz in the MASTERS saga, pre-order GLITTER ON THE WEB right now at the discounted cost of $2.99! Price goes up after the May 10 release!

Sneak Peek Saturday, Week Two

It's Saturday, so you know what that means. More Eli to whet the appetite just in time for the release of GLITTER ON THE WEB on May 10th. Can you believe it? That's only a little over two weeks away. Sure it's foreplay. If you've read my books, you're familiar with that concept, and nothing - NOTHING - will match what Eli is about to do to you in Glitter.

Don't forget that you can pre-order right now for the discounted price of $2.99. Prices go up to the regular price of $3.99 after May 10.

In GLITTER ON THE WEB, my heroine has made a pact with the devilish douchebag, Eli Blake - a pop sensation who has made a name for himself writing songs for all the bigger girls. Of course, he's not one known for actually *dating* them, so when his carefully constructed house of cards threatens to come down, he decides to pay Carly a pretty penny to act as his girlfriend for a year in order to protect his phony baloney image.

At first he sees her hatred of him as a positive. He's not attracted to her, she's not attracted to him. Odds are she won't get too attached when they go their separate ways, and he can tie the relationship up in a neat and tidy package. No muss, no fuss. But there's more to Carly than meets the eye, which he figures out almost immediately. It doesn't take long at all before he starts to see her as the ultimate challenge, especially the more she resists.

This isn't going to come easy, y'all. You just THINK you've cursed me before.

Enjoy...

*** I followed him onto the dance floor, where Lola slowed it down to a sensual, familiar tune. My eyes met his. “That’s yours?”

He nodded with a smile as he held me closer. “Still working on the lyrics. You were right. They’ll make or break the song.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” I said.

“God, I hope so,” he replied. “I’m not used to writer’s block.”

“Used to things always coming easy for you?” I challenged.

His unapologetic eyes met mine. “Of course.”

I chuckled. “Great doesn’t come easy. If it did, it wouldn’t be great.”

He laughed. “Such sage wisdom. Should I call you Confucius? Or Yoda?”

“That’s OGWO to you,” I corrected.

His brow lifted. “OGWO?”

“Oh Great Wise One. That’s my nickname around the office, because I was able to…,” I trailed off.

“Able to what?”

I sighed. It was too late to turn back now. “Because I could always tell what you were going to do.”

His eyebrow arched even higher. “Is that so?” I shrugged. “And what makes you think you know me so well?”

“I pay attention,” I told him. “It’s like playing chess with someone who only has a few tried and true moves. You have one winning strategy and you keep using it. Simple as that.”

“If it ain’t broke,” he shrugged with that smirk I used to hate. He spun me out, twirled me around and brought me back. “So I take it you think you’re impervious to all my tricks.”

I laughed again. “I know I am.”

He ran his hand along my back until it rested on my hip. “What makes you so sure?”

I shrugged. “I see through the bullshit. There’s glitter on your web, Eli, but it’s a trap all the same. I’ve seen it. I’ve always seen it. When you see it for what it is then you can’t get caught up in all it’s not.”

He swung me around. “You sound so confident. Care to make it interesting?”

“Any more interesting than it already is?” I countered.

He laughed. “I guess you have a point,” he conceded. “But I still think I could make you fall in love with me.”

“Gee,” I said, completely in character. “And I thought I already was.”

It made him laugh again. “Touché,” he said before he kissed me on the lips. He deepened the kiss, and I responded. His eyes were cloudy as he straightened. “So tell me, OGWO. What am I thinking now?”

He kept me flush against his body, which I could feel come to life. “You’re thinking that you haven’t fucked anyone in a few months, and maybe I’ll do.” His eyes met mine. “But I won’t do. Not for one million dollars.”

I smiled and exited the dance.

*** What would you do for one million dollars? More importantly... who would you do, and how much would you give?

Pre-order GLITTER ON THE WEB today!