The Work in Progress (w.i.p.) Blog Tour

Writer and blogger Ebony Angel, who currently resides over at, tagged me to share a little something of what I am currently working on. I recently met this lovely lady at the Peterborough signing and you should definitely check her out and follow the thread back to who tagged her and who tagged them and who tagged who… just keep the chain going!

This task made me think hard about what to share because my current WIP is full of potential spoilers for Unbind and Unfurl, books one and two in the SUB ROSA TRILOGY. The snippet that follows is from book three Unleash and I haven’t released many details about this book yet, but obviously it’s the last and final SUB ROSA book . . .

I’m going to tell you nothing about Unbind and Unfurl except those two books are Cai and Chloe’s story and this one is Kayla’s. Kayla’s story goes into a little bit more depth about hers and Chloe’s childhood and draws together all the threads previously laid out in books one and two. There’s been a lot going on behind the scenes that Chloe doesn’t know about and basically, this snippet gives you some idea of the network of people embroiled in the SUB ROSA secrets. Unleash picks up exactly where Unfurl left off. Below, I have removed some spoilers with the mark […]

Kayla has been an absolute scream to write. The research and well, just everything about the last book, has been an exhilarating, rollercoaster ride . . . and I can’t wait for you to get to know her better. So let’s go . . .


Valentine’s. There couldn’t be a worse day to be single, right? Wrong! I love being single. I’ve learned to love being single! What’s not to love, right? I don’t have unwashed pants to pick up off my floor nor any used condoms stuck to the toilet bowl or the bottom of my refuse bin. Plus the biggest bonus is that I know nobody can cheat on me as long as I am single.

When I finished university twelve years ago, I left my hometown behind and moved to London—basically for a man—and for the next nine or ten years (I don’t like to count the wasted time), I lived in misery. All because of my ex, Rob, a serial cheat I held onto for longer than I should’ve done and all because he was a vicious cycle I couldn’t stop repeating.

Now I’m free, what’s not to like about being single? Well, no sex is a bit of a downer but then again there are battery operated devices. Then again I could do one-night stands if I wanted to. If I wanted to. I’ll never be that type. [. . .]

My best friends Chloe and Cai are opening a gallery tonight. So here I am. Getting legless and swooping about the place like the social butterfly everyone has come to view me as. It’s how I’ve gotten here and it’s how I’ll stay in this world, I tell myself—being the flame every moth gravitates towards.

Except some days I feel so dark inside, I need other types of darkness to obliterate me. Like heavy metal throbbing in my ears at full blast from a pair of headphones or a bottle of bourbon I might find my way to the bottom of, so that I might find the bottom of me. It never works.

Cai has really good taste. This place is not only lit well, but huge. Like, massive. I could start running from the front door and have built up a full sprint before I reach the other end of the room. In the centre of the main downstairs gallery, a long row of leather armchairs and sofas divides the room, all of them facing opposite ways like musical chairs. Standing by a wall on my own, in my already slightly drunken haze, I imagine this being a great venue for a Christmas party, some bad Noddy Holder tune stopping as at least three hundred people try to squeeze their arses into the Chesterfields. I laugh to myself. My mind drifts easily, I guess.

The artwork in here is worth in excess of £1billion and no foppish Christmas party will ever take place inside. In fact, the armed staff in starched shirts are casting such a presence on this room, nobody could have fun without worrying they’d get bounced at the door. Anyway, back to the subject. The original floors have been polished to within an inch of their lives. I get that my best friend’s husband likes wood—he’s American after all—but this stuff in here is pretty amazing. Chloe told me he had the floor pulled up and all of it completely restored piece by piece. The walls are all painted a crisp white and offset the exceptional artwork hanging all around. [. . .]

When the racket of shouting photographers and screaming fans from outside hits the inside of the gallery, I groan and toss my head back. I grab another glass of fizz from a passing waiter and drown more of my sorrows. I know the only person on the guest list tonight who commands that kind of reaction is Carl Sorensen. [. . .]

I know he’s here because the hairs on the back of my neck are on end and my heart is racing so fast! Defiant, I turn my back on the room and absorb myself in the glass I’m holding—and in thinking about plans for my new business. I try to forget HIM, but it’s difficult.

All I feel is the heat in my cheeks evoked by the mere thought of Carl Sorensen, whom I haven’t even laid eyes on yet. However, I know he’s here. I feel him in the room. Every pore of me reacts to his proximity.

I hear Cai’s voice before I hear Carl’s but I know they’re walking across the room together, Carl’s arm around Cai’s shoulder. I see their images reflected in the large windows at the back of the gallery.

God, so, they’re best buds now?


I toss a side glance in their direction and now I feel even worse than I did before. He looks absolutely, unbelievably gorgeous in a designer suit.

Cai leads Carl to the temporary bar set up in one corner and the two chat sociably for a couple of minutes before Cai is collared by one of those arty farty types you thought only ever left their houses for bread, milk or cigarettes. Seems not.

Carl’s head jolts when he catches my eye. For a second I’m not thinking, not even sure I’m feeling, I’m just lost in his eyes. Then I remember…

* * *

I’d now like to tag my friend, romance author Audrina Lane to share some of her WIP and tell you more about her books. Also, I’m going to tag fantasy author Blake Rivers who has been a huge support! I hope you guys are able to share something!

Thanks x x x

Earth 8-8-2: Boundless Limits Blog Hop


Dear Reader, Writers and Precious Patrons,

All Authors Publishing House would like to bring you a Double Book Release of earth shattering proportions.


Are there any limits out there which are boundless? Two characters, two different stories of paranormal drama, put that to the ultimate test!


“Earth 8-8-2: The Genesis Project”


Y. Correa


Could Science Serve as Salvation?
One-fourth Human.
One-fourth God.
One-fourth Superhuman.
One-fourth Vampire.
For Dr. Scott, the combined strengths of each life form represent the answer to the onslaught of malice and tyranny plaguing his Earth. When his creation—Genesis—begins developing, the lines between scientist and father become blurred. Soon the time approaches where Genesis is expected to fulfill her purpose. Does she go along willingly, or will her rapid evolution obliterate everyone’s best laid plans?


“Boundless Limits: Transcendent Choice (Book One)”


Da’Kharta Rising


There’s Love … and then there’s Love Beyond Limits.
Felipe and Therice had a love that knew of no boundaries. When Therice and “Mama” lose their lives in a tragic car accident, Felipe has a gaping hole that just refuses to heal and Therice has a determination to see him again that just refuses to die.
Heaven feels anything but, when Therice discovers that spirits are prohibited from visiting loved ones after they have died. Sensing that her angelic guide Amare possesses empathetic traits, Therice develops a plan of appeal in the hopes she will see Felipe near the anniversary of her death.


Get Your eBook Copy Today!


Boundless Limits: Transcendent Choice Book One

Earth 8-8-2: The Genesis Project

Coming Soon to …


If Death Should Love Me for FREE on Kindle




Author C. Desert Rose is happy to bring you “If Death Should Love Me; Fate’s Endeavor Series Book 1” absolutely FREE for the first and last time this year. For a limited time only you can get If Death Should Love Me for FREE on Kindle.

Here are some reasons why you should run, right now, and get your free copy of If Death Should Love Me by C. Desert Rose.


  1. You may have gotten a Kindle for Christmas. Why not fill it up?
  2. Reviewers have fallen in love with If Death Should Love Me.
  3. IT IS FREE!!!
What more must be said?

Here is what readers are saying…


Can a love story come from death to the living or from the living to death? You’ll have to find out… As a paranormal romance series, I would recommend this one.” A. Lopez Jr, Goodreads.

If Death Should Love Me is a wonderfully written paranormal romance that offers a mixture of love, humor, and adventure.” Carol Cassada, Goodreads.

… I must say this book is WONDERFUL!!!!! I love it! I am currently reading it a 2nd time. You will not regret reading this book.” Drandie Dodson, Goodreads.


Try an Excerpt
If Death Should Love Me
Fate’s Endeavor Series
Book One


Copyright C. Desert Rose & AAPH
Comoros, Africa
197 A.D.


I was eighteen. A man in both body and mind. No longer was I the boy that wished to prove himself a man. There was no doubting it—everyone knew the man I had become. My wife, family and friends were proud of the person I now was. Everyone knew, as did I, that as the first born son I would be the inheritor of my father’s reign. Unless of course, something should happen to me. Now, in being a husband and a prince, I was of the right mind to have many sons. This was, after all, the way of my people.
I was hunting, readying my wife, soon to be born child and myself for the winter that was quickly approaching. From afar I heard my sister’s voice calling me. “Amari! Amari! Come… come quick! It is time!”
The thought came that I must have lost track of time, I had not realized that I had been away so long. That morning Sulika mentioning that she felt some discomfort. When I asked her if she would be alright, she assured me that she was fine, that there was nothing to worry about as she still had another two weeks before her child baring day. So clenching my teeth, I went ahead and left to hunt, deciding against my better judgment.
And yet, here was my little sister, gravely calling for me to return.
There was no denying it, the time had come. I would be a father. Today. Running fast through the jungle, making certain that I would not miss the big event, I practically flew through it. All of the women gathered together in Sulika’s birthing hut call out to me, urging me to hurry. Sulika had been calling for me. It was not customary that a man enter the birthing hut, but this time the women made an exception as I was being insistently requested by my wife.
Sulika’s mother came to me, “Amari. Please, hurry. She has been calling for you.”
Sulika?” I called softly, she heard me and looked over in my direction. Her skin so very pale—a thin blanket of snow upon rich chocolate skin, it was. Completely flushed of color. Her lips were dry and cracked.
She saw me and reached to me, “Amari,” she spoke, so softly, so void of strength, that I barely made out what she had said. “Come.”
Closing the distance between us, I sat at her side and took her hand in mine. Then grabbed a rag that was beside me and wiped her head. “I’m here now. Fear not.”
She smiled a very weak, fragile grin, “Yes. Thank you.” This birthing was indeed taking a toll on her.
“No worries love, soon it will all be over and you will be holding our baby in your arms in no time at all,” I smiled at her and continued chatting, hoping inwardly that it was making her feel better. “It will be a boy. Strong, like his father. His mother’s eyes. We will walk around the entire village displaying his greatness. Everything will be over before you know it.”
A contraction. She squeezed my hand with whatever strength she still contained. She moaned and whimpered. My heart broke for her. With my other hand, I rubbed her back, “I am here, love. I am right here.” She breathed, trying to ease the pain. Still it was of no use because she had no strength. No fight was left in her. So once again I commenced my babbling, hoping that to a certain extent it would help her feel better—even if just the slightest bit. “When he grows, I will make sure that he becomes the tribe’s best hunter. And, he will be the tribe’s strongest man,”
She looked at me with hopeless eyes. “What if it is a girl?”
“Well if it is a girl, she will look and be everything like her mother. Nothing like her father. I would not want to ruin a perfectly good thing.”
Another contraction. She tensed. I could feel the pain that ran through her also run through me. I wished and prayed to all the tribal gods that they would help me ease her pain somehow.
My mother pulled me aside for just a moment. “Amari, she is not well. We are doing everything we can. But, her labor is not normal. The child is breached. She is losing too much blood.”
My hands began to shake, I was irrecoverably unnerved. “What is going to happen, Mama?”
“I do not know my son. We are doing all that we can. I hope the gods help her through this.”
For a long time, I did not leave her side, not letting her hand go for a second. I could feel the life drain from her with every breath. I worried deeply for her and my unborn child.
After several hours of agony and pain, it was time.
All the women scurried around her, cheering her on as best as they could. Some ran about trying to collect cloths, others gathered hot water, some had tools in their hands. And Sulika, was weakened flimsy and lifeless. I panicked. They were screaming, yelling, fussing about.
All of it seemed like a blur. My eyes were fixed on my wife, observing that she was even paler now, than just a little while ago. I bent over her. If it was a reflex of protection or desperation, I do not know. I needed to collect my emotions. Then I kissed my wife’s forehead and whispered into her ears. “Everything is going to be alright.”
“No… it is not.” was her reply, and her words seeped out of her lips like soft, supple smoke from a dimming candle. Barely audible, barely there.
“Push, Sulika, push!” Someone demanded. She used whatever strength she had and pushed. This went on for just a few minutes. At one given moment she pushed with all her might. Then, I heard my wife take a long aching breath, and breathed no more.
My heart dropped to my stomach.
I looked at her, staring, hoping that what I had just seen was in my own imagination. I heard more commotion. The women were running amuck. They began to yell and scream to each other.
Everything turned into slow motion. Muffled voices, screams and cries. Yet my eyes were fixed on my wife. For a split second I looked down at the child. A girl. She was right, but the babe was lifeless as well. She flopped like a wet rag in the arms of my mother-in-law.
Just like that, it was all over. My wife and my child were gone. I had lost everything that meant anything to me in a matter of a day. I was broken. Destroyed.
I named the child Alala, meaning like a dream—for that was all that she had been. A dream…
We buried them together, the tomb read; “My FIRST and ONLY wife, Sulika and our little angel Alala. You will never be forgotten.”


So … Don’t delay!

Get your copy today!



Why Do I Write? A Blog Hop…

Thank you Charming Man for asking me to do this Blog Hop. Pay Charming Man, also known as A S Wilkins, a visit to see why he writes! I thoroughly enjoyed hearing his comments on this subject, and more besides.

I too have been asked a number of times to explain why I write. I have even wrote poetry about why I write! It does seem to vary from writer to writer but ultimately we all seem to have the same goals in mind: we have something to say, we have a shared enjoyment of forming stories and we wouldn’t mind one day seeing our words on shelves.

I have written professionally since my early twenties and now in my early thirties… well… you get the picture. My words had been out there for years before I began writing creatively. When I first started getting paid for writing, I thought it was such a novelty because writing has always been something I have enjoyed. Don’t get me wrong, you won’t ever get paid much for writing. Not unless you drop lucky with the right thing at the right time. Those stories are very few and far between. Apparently the average novelist earns about £11,000 a year but that is of course an average. I earned more than that writing TV magazine features.

Why I write? I guess writing is installed in me like WiFi is in nearly every home in the land these days. I was told from a really early age that I could write and I knew that how I felt when I wrote was what made it special, because… this is where it is hard to explain… it feels good to write and it feels, basically, REAL. It’s hard to put it into words even though I am meant to be a wielder of words! LOL. Like I said, so many teachers actually sat me down and said with a restrained smirk, “You do know you can write?” I would sit and gawp, inwardly think they were deranged, and ask, “What do you mean I can write?” Then they would say, “Not many people can write.” Over the years I got to realise exactly what they meant because the formation of sentence structure and all that is really a struggle for some whose brains are wired differently, but obviously my brain is wired toward words. Don’t ask me why. I know I am certainly not wired properly in other ways… not that I am crazy! Okay, maybe just a bit! I just can’t sing and I don’t think I will ever be able to draw.

My story began on maternity leave. I wrote a sci-fi series with a baby attached to me. It was an idea that had been brewing in my mind for so long and when I gave birth, it brewed some more and when my daughter began sleeping, it got put down on a page. Writing those books was like breathing, to me, and not writing them was not even a possibility. I had to write those books. Even when I went back to work, I found time to write. I made time. It was hard but I enjoyed it so much. Whenever I finish a novel, I think, “Not again, not again,” but if an idea starts to brew and I start to think about where I could take it, that’s what pushes me on to write again. So I guess one of the essential reasons I write is that there are always paths to venture down and you never know where you may end up. I like writing stories a little differently, sometimes… testing what I can and can’t get away with in terms of exposition. It’s the pattern and the puzzle and the arrangement I like. That’s what I can get involved with, anytime, anywhere. That’s how I know wherever I am, whatever point in my life I’m at, I’ll always make time to write even if it’s just a few paragraphs each day. Because it’s having that chance to explore and play with words—and that is something I truly, truly love.

One thing I will say is that it took me a long time to snap from journalist to creative writer. As a journalist you are taught to shed all the nuances of your writing and to hone everything so that you present the details in as few words as possible. That was a hard thing to learn and to some extent, I had to unlearn that when I came to writing novels. Writers are told they should start small and work their way up from say short stories or poetry but I honestly just had this story in my mind that was so big, I had to get it down and there was no build-up—the result a 100,000-word beast that was my first novel and my first creative outing too.

My latest book features a journalist. She is happy enough to plod along until someone says, “You know what? You can do better.” I think writers write and continue to write according to response and approval, too. Many writers would argue they only improve through their readers and from feedback. That is why I think writers just have to keep writing and why every word counts, because it could lead to a monumental paragraph or sentence, even. If you stand there thinking, Shall I pick up the pen? you probably never will. I know that I wouldn’t have kept writing novels with such verve unless I’d gotten such positive feedback. Some people have even come to me after reading A Fine Profession and said, “I am going to change my life now after reading that.” Some books aren’t easy books but you just know that it feels right to write, at that point in time.

The mind of a writer and a writer’s life is explored in more depth in, UNBIND… for details visit or Amazon here… ‒ RELEASED ON OCTOBER 20th!!

I now hope these three authors will tell us more about why they write. Find out more about their writing here:

Traci Sanders:

Stevie Turner:

Blake Rivers:

Sarah Lynch is attending the Orchard Book Signing in March next year. Visit their website for more details…


British erotic author reaches Nevada…

Please read After Dark Online’s review of A Fine Profession. They said it was the first book they had reviewed that they’d given an all-round five-star status!!!

Thanks After Dark Online!!!


Review Sq: A Fine Profession

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

Welcome to another segment of Review Square. Today, we’re hosting a review of Sarah Michelle Lynch’s erotic novel – “A Fine Profession”, in part of The Chambermaid Series.

When I was asked to read the book, to be honest, I was a bit reluctant because of the timeframe that I can deliver the story’s review. I’ve read novels that were good, but filled with far too much fluff and filler; never straight to the point. In this one, I over-estimated the timeframe, and managed to get through the story, within a few weeks time.

A Fine Profession WEBSITE USE

The Chambermaid is a character I can identify with and relate to, except that I’m a guy. When I first read the story, I had to admit I needed to re-read the story, because I wasn’t following it through. The beginning of the story did have fluffs and fillers, and I was almost turned off, until I got a better understanding of the beginning of the story. My interest of the story began when I read the pieces between Alex and Charlotte. Charlotte was a cancer survivor who was just finding herself. At first, she never understood why Alex treated her so special, and how much he had cared for her. Charlotte pushed him away, but her awakening didn’t happen until after his death, and her chance to reconcile with Alex never happened.

Without giving any other spoilers, I read the story through, and I’ve got to say… hell ‘fuckin’ yeah! Where was this author all through my life. If a movie was made, I’d watch the movie. I’ve always been a fan of Emmanuel, but Sarah Michelle Lynch has created “The Chambermaid.”

I rate story – a Platinum Read (5-Star). While I’m not a reader of BDSM, I am a reader of erotic romance. Author Sarah M. Lynch made a name of herself on AfterDark Online. This is a story that if I was to hear about it in the movie theatres, I would watch it, and put it on my DVR, or ask for my DVD. The first two chapters, I will admit, are the tough part, if you’re the kind who’s looking for the straight-to-the-point feeling like me. However, Author Sarah M. Lynch delivers. My advice: read her story through, you’ll grab on to her excitements in her story. She has the potential.

If I had to say about the sex scenes in the story, you are going to need more than a toy to please yourself; even more than napkins. I’ve read erotic romance novels, and despite her writing a BDSM erotic romance, I see her as an erotic romance novelist. She has the ability to cry out for pleasure. And she finally made her mark on AfterDark Online as the first author on here to write a 5-Flame story. I’ve read plenty of stories where the authors will turn you on, and keep you masturbating or having unadulterated sex. I will never disclose, but tell you what to look out for. Home girl, take a bow. You’re first person to make it known. I must advise you, you’re going to get wet or hard off her sex scenes. She more than just delivers, she’s putting you there; very cinematic!

The cover of the story was just as enticing as I could imagine. This is an author who takes into consideration of her stories and the imagery of her story. I also have a thing for women in lingerie, except I’m not into being dominated. LOL.

When it came to suspense level, she also managed to make it to a Game-Changer Status. There is something to be glad about reading this story. She is the first one to reach an all five-status; overall feeling, sex scenes, and suspense. author Sarah Michelle Lynch has made a name of herself. If a movie deal was to take place, my advice would be don’t be a fool. I could envision it on film. Baby girl, give yourself a round of applause! You are the first to hit an all-five category! While BDSM isn’t my true forte, I’m willing to keep an open-mind about reading it. Somehow, I can see Sarah Michelle Lynch writing more erotic stories in the future. My advice, keep a watch out for her.

After Dark Online give you a round of applause. You’re the first to make an all-five star status, and we hope to see you on here again.

Definitely a recommend.