Midnight Caller re-release #historical #interracial Romance by @haleywhitehall

Midnight Caller eBook Cover Large


5 lessons learned from re-releasing Midnight Caller.

  1. A book can always be improved. Authors become blind to errors after reading and editing a manuscript many times. Let it sit (published) for two years and read it again. Errors will become obvious, and there might be major things about the story you would like to change, too. A re-release is your chance to make your story better.


  1. Interracial cover images are really hard to find whether you are looking for contemporary romance or historical. Rely on the expertize of a cover designer if you are writing in the interracial or multicultural genre. It will save you a big headache and hours of scanning stock image sites.


  1. In the course of writing a series often the idea or arc of the whole series will become clearer. Re-releasing the books will give you the opportunity to set the foundation you didn’t know you needed when you first started. Book 1 becomes even more important than it was before.


  1. As the series grows many secondary characters might beg for their own book. Re-releasing previous books in the series gives you the ability to develop these secondary characters, so that readers following the series will already know them when their book finally comes. It will also make writing their story easier as you, as the author, will also know the character.


  1. Many ebook publishers do not release boxed sets with books in a series. Boxed sets are popular and will add to your backlist. Investing in edits and new cover design does not only go toward the single book, but also to the boxed set edition(s) you can release through self-publishing.



Frederick licked his lips, drew a deep breath, and knocked on the door. No one answered. Had she heard him? He waited, staring at the back yard. The barn roof could use patching. The woodpile wasn’t well stocked, and the fence marking the property line had a few rotten and leaning posts. Good signs he was going to be with a widow. The bright spot was a well-kept rose garden, many of the flowers climbing and intertwining on a tall trellis against the side of the house. The sweet perfume mixed with the fresh night air. He breathed in deeply. A pleasant feeling bloomed in his stomach.


The door finally opened. Frederick whirled around and found himself face-to-face with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was young, couldn’t be much more than twenty, her black hair cascading past her shoulders with a slight wave. She had an ample bosom for her petite frame, the day dress she wore showing off every curve. The red color made her tanned skin look paler. Her hazel eyes seemed so innocent Frederick wondered what he was doing here at all.


“I was told you wanted company,” Frederick said. Why didn’t this woman have every man in town chasing after her?


She offered a tentative smile and opened the door further. “Yes. Please come in.”


Frederick stepped into the house and she softly shut the door behind him. Walking around him, her skirts brushed his side, making his stomach clench. She stood in front of him and assessed him as she peeked through her lashes, working her way down his frame.


He bowed. “My name is Frederick, ma’am. I am at your service.” His toes tensed in anticipation. This was going to be the best night of his life.


The woman shifted her weight and pushed a strand of black hair behind her ear. Nervous energy filled the room. He knew he was a massive man; hopefully the slight woman was not intimidated. She motioned for him to follow her. They walked through the kitchen into the dining room. “Have a seat.”


Frederick slid a chair back from the table and sat. He wanted to drink in her beauty, but that was not polite. He kept his eyes on the table.


“Would you like tea, coffee? Or perhaps brandy from my late husband’s liquor cabinet?”


“Coffee would be fine, ma’am. Thank you.” Some of his clients had him take his clothes off the minute he walked through the door. This woman was a slow mover. He liked that.


Unfortunately, she moved so slow he didn’t even know her name.

She brought him a cup of coffee and sat next to him, drinking a cup herself.

A few awkward moments passed with the two of them stealing glances at each other. He felt eager and uncomfortable, like he was a youth chasing the girls around the plantation yard all over again. The coffee, strong just the way he liked it, gave him the burst of energy he needed. It glided into his stomach with a bitter kick. This pretty young woman would give him more exercise than the old widows he usually visited.


“My name is Emma,” she said. “Emma Bennett.” She blushed, her cheeks a delicious red. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”


“You have nothing to fear, ma’am.” Frederick smiled. “I am here to please you.”


Life without love is painful, but in the Reconstruction Era South forbidden fruit can be deadly. A fiery romance between a widow and an African American man has more consequences than either of them imagined.


Slavery has ended, but racial prejudice remains in Kentucky. Emma Bennett guards a secret that could destroy her life. Until now she never considered the price of her security. Becoming a well-respected member in Louisville had seemed a dream come true, but at what cost?


Her husband’s death from a carriage accident releases Emma from her loveless, controlling marriage. Now she has a chance to find happiness and raise a family. But before she begins courting again she wants to experience her freedom. At the advice of the leading socialite in town, she takes a black lover to fulfill her sexual needs. His raw masculine power awakens feelings she didn’t know existed. After the first touch, she craves more.


Frederick works as a roustabout by day and moonlights as a prostitute. He knows better than to fall in love with his white client, but Emma enchants him the first time he calls on her. To keep them both safe, he works hard to put up barriers. Unfortunately, he can’t protect Emma from the slimy Mr. Hawthorne, who wants her as his bride. Frederick vows to keep her safe even if his forbidden love costs him his life.


Buy Links:

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Author Bio:Haley's Portrait for Slider

Haley Whitehall lives in Washington State where she enjoys all four seasons and the surrounding wildlife. She writes historical romance set in the 19th century U.S. When she is not researching or writing, she plays with her cats, watches the Western and History Channels, and goes antiquing. She is hoping to build a time machine so she can go in search of her prince charming. A good book, a cup of coffee, and a view of the mountains make her happy.


Social Media Links:

Website | Blog | Facebook | Fan Page | Twitter | Amazon Page | Pinterest


#Christmas in August! New #Sweet romance from @DaisyBanks16 and @LSB_lsbooks



Christmas Carols Blog Tour.


Thank you, Eva, for your kind offer to help me celebrate the release of my new book Christmas Carols, published by Liquid Silver Books on the 10th of August.

I know readers might think it a little odd to be thinking about Christmas in August but in Victorian England, where my story is set, people were used to starting their Christmas preparations early. One of the things that people in the Victorian era spent time making was dried flowers. All manner of spring and summer blooms were dried to be used later in the year for flower arrangements.

A method for drying roses for dried flower arrangements.

You can use cut roses for this method, perhaps ones you have enjoyed in a vase. When they start to look a little tired you can dry them for future use.

Tidy and trim your roses cutting off any rusty leaves and pulling off any floppy petals.

Turn the stem upside down and tie a long string, about a foot to the end of the stem without the flower. This helps the roses stand straight when dried.

Tie each rose individually if you want individual dried flowers or you can make a bunch. If you decide to make a bunch make sure the string is long enough to go around each stem to secure it in place.

When you have tied the flowers hang them head down to dry. They must be dried in a dry atmosphere a steamy bathroom or kitchen isn’t ideal. The flowers take a couple of weeks to dry. They will retain traces of their fragrance and a delicate shade of their original color.

When you have as many as you wish for make your arrangement using dry floristry foam or wire. You can use a glue gun to fix the flowers in place on wood plaques or shells and decorate with ribbons, a fun project and you can create a lovely table center or gift for a friend.

This little taster from Christmas Carols show just how useful dried flowers might have been for Alice.



He sneezed and sniffed. “Please tell me, madam, is your presence always announced with flowers? I can smell lilies.”

“No, and yes, sir. I’m just placing this arrangement back where it belongs. Someone had moved them.”

“I know. I asked Oswald to remove them before the recital last night.”

She set the flowers down. “I don’t understand, sir.”

He took off his hat. Several strands of his fair hair stood up. The dog sat at his side. “The matter is quite simple, ma’am. I have an aversion to lilies. They have a debilitating effect.”


“Well, all flowers to be truthful, but lilies more than most. I must ask you to refrain from using them in the displays you place anywhere near my seat at the organ.”


“If you’d be so kind could you remove them at once?” He sneezed again.

“I’ve never heard the like.”

An expression that might have been a smile rose on his face. “I’m sure I am not the only individual to suffer from the symptoms they induce.”

“Of course I’ll take them away, Mr. Grafton. May I ask, are there any flowers that don’t affect you?”

He pursed his lips and tapped one finger against the walking cane in his hand. Several seconds passed until he spoke. “Daisies, I believe they cause no reaction at all.”

“I can’t possibly acquire daisies this time of year!”

“Then perhaps you can turn your thoughts to using something else in your displays?”

Heat flooded her cheeks. She bent and picked up the arrangement and hurried away to put it back on the pedestal in the gloomy alcove. Setting the flowers in place, she gently twisted one or two to enhance their position, and all the time she bit at her lip. There seemed little choice but to modify her plans for roses and lilies during Advent. Daisies were quite out of the question, even the tall ox-eye form would be impossible to obtain from the market wholesaler in winter. No one she knew of grew daisies in their hot house.

She made her way back to the pew where she’d left her sketchbook. All flowers except daisies. His complaint made her task no pleasure.

The sounds from the organ as he played did nothing to soothe her mind. She sat and opened the note pad, staring at the designs she had begun. Three evenings this week she’d made drawings. Now none of them might be suitable.

Grace, simplicity and elegance, those words always summed up her efforts when creating arrangements for the church. She sucked at the end of her pencil, her chin on her palm, while she stared into the dim corner for the whole length of the beautiful piece he played, whatever it might be named.

If she didn’t order flowers each week from the wholesaler she may well lose the generous discount the trader had offered, knowing the work she did was for the church. If that happened the price of the displays would increase, and perhaps the committee might come to the decision they no longer needed her services.



Stephen Grafton, the blind organist at Holy Trinity Church, is gaining a reputation for his fine playing and compositions. Alice Broadbrace’s initial venture back into society after years in deep mourning brings her to the notice of the talented organist, and he offers her the opportunity to sing a solo carol to his accompaniment. His courage convinces her to find her own, while her charm entices him into thoughts of romance. A difficult walk in a snow storm is only the beginning of Stephen and Alice’s journey to happiness. Enjoy this sweet Victorian tale of talent and love blossoming.


Thanks for reading

Daisy Banks


Find Daisy Banks here

Blog http://daisybanks.wordpress.com/

Website http://daisybanksnovels.yolasite.com/

Twitter @DaisyBanks16

Facebook http://on.fb.me/18iRC35

Pinterest http://bit.ly/16sF1XG

Tsu   http://www.tsu.co/DaisyBanks

Amazon http://amazon.com/author/daisybanks


Buy Links



Barnes and Noble  http://bit.ly/1NWh8gi






Daisy Banks is the author of

Soon to be available with Liquid Silver Books Serving the Serpent

Christmas Carols

Marked for Magic

To Eternity

A Perfect Match


Valentine Wishes

A Gentleman’s Folly

Your Heart My Soul

Fiona’s Wish

A Matter of Some Scandal

Daisy’s books are available here

Amazon     http://amazon.com/author/daisybanks

Barnes and Noble    Kobo   iTunes

Daisy Banks writes a regular monthly story in the Sexy to Go compilations.


















Let the drooling commence! Plus a #giveaway from @lsjromance

LSJ_Claimed by the Bad Boy_MD
Title: Claimed by the Bad Boy
Series: Bad Boy Fever (Book 2)
Author: London Saint James
Publisher: Decadent Publishing
Release Date: August 11, 2015
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance, BDSM, Multiple Partners, Suspense
Heat level: 5
Word count – 53k
Cover art by Mina Carter

Something always brings him back to her…
Ryker Cage is a rough guy, with very particular tastes when it comes to sex. Rough, hard, and dirty is the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He doesn’t have a clue about connecting with his sensitive side in the bedroom, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit. He fears nothing, except—his feelings for the sweet and innocent Molly Monroe.

The bad boy who lived next door claimed Molly’s heart long ago. Crazy, or not, she loves him. Always has. No matter what he does to push her away, nor how far he runs, Ryker is the one man she’ll never stop loving.

When Ryker finally finds his way back home, will he find the courage to claim what’s always been his? Or, will he be destined for heartache when someone threatens to take everything away?



“Fuck,” Ryker said in a gruff grumble, staring down at the smoking-hot, red-headed bartender on her knees, polishing his dick with her tongue stud—her shorts unzipped, her right hand tucked inside—rubbing herself. Let’s just say, when he ordered a deep throat, this wasn’t what he had in mind.

“You’re-so-big,” she managed between long licks. “Just look at you.”

He was a big guy, so hearing what she thought he wanted, wasn’t a turn on. What was? The way Red nibbled down his length and fondled his balls.

He sucked a breath through his teeth. The little vixen teabagged him.

“Sweet.” His head went back when she trailed her tongue up his sack, between his testicles, continued up his shaft, swirled the metal piercing of hers across the winking slit of his cock before wrapping those lips around the broad head—sucking him hard.

“There you go.”

“Do you like that?” she asked.


The bar-babe picked up the pace, using her left hand to grip the base of him, alternating between jacking and sucking.

“Keep it up, and I’ll come, baby,” he said.

Ryker had no idea what she said her name was. Why? Easy. He’d been too busy eyeing her round ass jiggle in those skin-tight daisy dukes when he escorted her to the back door of The Cherry Bomb for a cigarette, although he didn’t smoke. And when she rubbed up against him—supple breasts to muscled chest—whispering things like, “Suck,” and “You,” and “Down the back of my throat” into his ear, they’d taken a quick detour.

He wasn’t what one would consider sensitive when it came to the opposite sex. Rough, hard, and dirty was the extent of his repertoire. Never soft. He supposed his tastes were very particular. And, he didn’t have a clue about connecting with his softer side, or that find-your-inner-femininity bullshit his free-spirited aunt Dali spouted to him and his brother every chance she got.

The bombshell scraped her teeth up his shaft and he groaned low in his throat, muscles flexing, fingers splaying wide on the two, steel-sidewalls of the stall—calves hitting the front of the toilet.

“Mmm….” The little hum she did sent a satisfying vibration down the length of him.

The shine from the overhead light bounced off the top of her head, setting a sunset blaze as she bobbed up and down on his cock. She was eager. Focused. Determined to have him bust a nut. He growled at the sight. She reminded him of a porn star by the sounds she made. And the suctioned pull of her mouth on him with the twist at the tip, along with the hand-tug at the root—freaking brilliant. But when she changed things up and twirled her tongue around the under-edge of his flared head, good God, the combination was shiver inducing. Having been the happy recipient of a lot of differing techniques in his almost thirty-two years, Ryker figured she hadn’t learned to do that without plenty of practice.

Shit. She did the combo thing again. Red had him there. Ready.

“I’m going to come,” he warned.

She popped her plump lips from his throbbing dick. “Mm, yes,” she uttered in a breathy voice. A second later, he exploded, warm jizz covering her manicured fingers and silky-smooth palm, while she shook—her other hand still shoved down the front of her shorts—climaxing.

Ryker closed his eyes for a moment reveling in the extraordinary haze of nothingness. No thoughts. No guilt. Nothing but the slowing of his breaths until they drifted into quietness.

“Good?” she asked, disrupting the silence.

His eyelids lifted and he glanced down into her face. “Great, baby.”

She took on an eye-twinkling, pleased expression, then Red slipped her fingers free, reached for the toilet paper, and wiped her cum-covered appendages.

“I’m off in a couple of hours.” She smiled up at him—a dimple creasing the right side of her cheek.

Ignoring the comment, Ryker righted himself and tucked his softening cock back into his pants in an efficient manner. Here was the part he detested the most. He hadn’t thought Red would be a clinger. He figured she’d be well versed in the rules of a random hook-up. But he also understood what her last statement was leading to. She wanted more, and he didn’t.

When Red stood up, his gaze shifted to her. She reached around him and tossed the TP in the toilet, zipped up, turned, unlocked the slider on the stall door, and stepped out. They were the only two in the restroom. He was glad they didn’t have an audience awaiting their exit.

“Want to hang around for a while?” she asked. “We can go back to my place when I clock out.”

They both cleaned up at the sinks. No need to wait. He wouldn’t be going to her place.

“Can’t.” He added soap from the dispenser to his palm. “Early morning.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled while washing her hands.

Jesus. He hoped she wasn’t going to make a fuss. He hated those pouty, I-can’t-believe-I-blew-you, you bastard, scenes. But when her green-eyed gaze met his sea-blue one in the mirror, she appeared fine. No frown. No pursed lips. No tears threatening to overflow. She didn’t look as if she were going to go all fatal attraction on his ass.

She asked, “Do you want my digits?”

Ryker rinsed and dried his hands. He might be an epic asshole at times, nonetheless taking her number, and acting as though he would call, wasn’t something he’d do.

“I think we both know I won’t be calling.” Being as upfront as he could be, he strived not to sound too douchebaggery.

She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least give it a shot.” Red sauntered to the restroom door. Glancing over her shoulder at him she said, “Thanks for taking a ciggy break with me.”

“Sure thing, although I should be the one thanking you.” She grinned. “So, thank you.” No reason not to be polite. After all, Red did all the work, and even got herself off in the doing. He’d just been along for the joy ride.

“I guess I’ll see you around the club, Ryker.”


He stared after her. Something about the way she said “I’ll see you around” in a soft, almost remorseful tone, reminded him of—

“Don’t,” he reprimanded and scrubbed his palm down the back of his neck.

Fan-fucking-tastic. He was talking to himself now.

He pulled his cell from the top pocket of his shirt, gripping too hard.

Letting up before he broke his phone, he brushed his thumb across the black screen, bringing it to life, and gritted his teeth. Ryker detested this. He despised a lot of things when it came to his desires he supposed, and this ache for something he couldn’t have kept him traveling so much over the past year, taking on software security jobs, which took him away from home. Far from….


So much for the bliss of oblivion, which was, let’s face it, always fleeting. Chasing that short-lived minute was part of the reason for his extracurricular activities. To stop thinking. Forget. Lose himself. And here he was, minutes after his latest quickie, contemplating a conversation better left alone. Nothing good would ever come from what he was considering.

Ryker glanced down at the phone—finger poised.

“Screw it.”

He typed in his text. Paused. Thumb hovering for a long moment, reading those four words over and over. And, then, unable to do anything else, he pressed—send.

Add on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26077565-claimed-by-the-bad-boy 

Buy Links:


Author Bio & Links:
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
Web: http://www.londonsaintjames.com
Blog: http://londonsj.blogspot.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/LSJRomance
FB Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SlipBetweenthePageswithLondon/
Bad Boy Fever FB Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/badboyfever

(From Aug 11th to Aug 31st )
An ebook or audiobook of Spanked by the Bad Boy (Winners Choice)
and $10.00 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway