“From the very outset, the Cabral household had not been a happy one.” (page 28)
On behalf of the psychotic little coal miner currently chipping and chipping away at the inner linings of my brain, I wish you welcome to Day Four of The –Forsaken- Blogs!
Please pardon the migraine-like racket likely to seep out between my words today. I’ve been fighting this headache for a couple of days, and right now the mean bastard has got me pinned to the floor. Before one of us goes down for the count, I have a surprise for you all…
Drumroll, please... oh, wait, my coal miner’s already got that covered. *grins*
Anyhow, in lieu of a regularly rambling blog, I give you all the cover to The Torch Forsaken…
Ok, I really, really love this one. I hope it tickles all of your fancies as well. Please, let me know.
Until tomorrow, when either me or the angry little coal miner will be joining you with a real blog…
Chloe Stowe and the bastard in her head.
Releases Thursday, Feb. 16th!
Ahh, Wednesday. “Hump” day has a whole different meaning for us romantic smut aficionados, doesn’t it? Eye-humping, leg-humping, dry-humping - just the “hump” alone puts a little more spring to our midweek getty-up… Or at least it could if we chose to look at it that way.
Optimism. The silver lining to all life’s maelstroms. It’s always there, or so they tell me, but sometimes it’s just damned hard to find.
Today is about making that pro-active choice to search out that silver. Consider me a blood-hound with an insatiable craving for silver. Nose to the ground, I will sniff it out.
I’m good at this. Just watch.
Due to my mental illness, I can’t work, not a normal 9 to 5 job at least. Heck, I can’t even manage a 10 hour a week job without completely losing it and being swallowed whole by panic. For someone who has been an over-achiever, the poster child for a hard worker, the girl with the big, big dreams, this particular life wrinkle is darn to take.
The chance for financial independence is literally shot to the outskirts of hell.
It’s oftentimes degrading, always demoralizing, and for a woman who has a wild, soul-defining streak of independence running inside of her it is aggravating, embarrassing and sucks rocks, big time.
So where is the silver?
The silver is right here. The newest vein of it is entitled Stripped Asset.
Without my mental illness, without the stubborn, never say die streak of independence that even now flows through me, there would be no Chloe Stowe. Sure, that might not be such a great loss to the world. Honestly, smut writers? There’s a million of them… but without Chloe Stowe, there would only be 999,999 of them. I’m one-one millionth of an industry that allows people to lose themselves in romance and passion for a few hours at a sitting. Not too bad a place to be, really.
So my novels are my silver linings. The silver in them might be small, miniscule even, but the worth is there.
And who knows? Tiny silver veins might one day, perhaps, lead to the grand-daddy of all silver strikes… I can only hope and keep my bloodhound nose to the ground.
See? I told you I was pretty good at this.
For your patience in reading that, I now proudly give you the chapter titles to my 10th novel Stripped Asset, releasing tomorrow…
Chapter One: In the Orchestra’s Absence
Chapter Two: Watershed Moments
Chapter Three: Of Sweet Oblivion
Chapter Four: Hellhounds on the Ocean’s Shore
Chapter Five: The Mysterious Case of Cinderella
Chapter Six: Voices in the Hall
Chapter Seven: Savory Morsels of Ecstasy
Chapter Eight: John Wayne
Chapter Nine: Maestro, If You Please
This one is a joy, folks. Dangerously hot and endearingly sweet. I hope you will enjoy this tenth silver streak of mine. Know that every word you read puts a little more shine to that elusive lining.
Until tomorrow (Release Day!)…
Available February 9, 2012!
Chloe Stowe has a Valentine’s Day novella!
Shirtless, sculpted and oiled male medics are on standby at each exit for any of your respiratory concerns.
“Hard Candy, Soft Cream” will be released tomorrow at Ravenous Romance just in time to get all your juices simmering and steaming for the big day next week. So, today, my friends, you get a loaded, double decker of a preview for my first ever Valentine’s story.
*excuse me while I put on my sideshow barker hat…*
You will get today not only a titillating, tantalizing synopsis of 20K words of pure romantic bliss, you will also receive 5, yes, count them ladies and gents, 5 chapter titles!
And, don’t catch your breath just yet folks, you are also going to get an extended excerpt and… *cue the guy with the drums*… a cover!
Whoa. I think I’ll be needing one of those virile medics myself.
So, without further adieu, let’s get this party started!
First up, the synopsis…
Join Mercer and Saul from the novel Hard Wood, Soft Heart in a standalone Valentine’s Day novella that will bring heat, tears and laughter to your cold winter days.
Mercer Braun is a former baseball player whose career was stolen from him by a chronic heart condition.
Saul Tidewater is a heart surgeon who moved to Las Vegas to escape a bitter divorce and the tragedy at the break-up’s core.
They’ve only known each other for nine months, but their love pulses strong and their passion burns magnificently.
But when a secret is kept on Valentine’s Day not only is the strength of their relationship put to the test, but their very lives are put at risk.
This is a story of how timeless love can rise up out of the ashes of tragedy.
This is the story of how eternal love is born and kept.
And, no, you will not have to run back and read your copy of Hard Wood, Soft Heart. This is truly a standalone story with just a couple of my favorite guys coming along for the ride.
Let me warn you though: this story is a genuine, no nonsense heart tugger. It’s going to pull some strings that may not have been strung in years.
Ok, up next are the 5 chapter titles! You’re giggling with excitement, aren’t you? I know I’m giggling but I think mine’s basically on my psych meds kicking in.
Chapter One: Under Neptune’s Gaze
Chapter Two: Pennies in the Fountain
Chapter Three: Two Boys in the Sandbox
Chapter Four: Flowers at Your Feet
Chapter Five: Playing in the Twilight
I love to tease and entice with my chapter titles. Hopefully these five have done just that.
And if that isn’t enough to tickle your Valentine’s fancy, here is a nice, long excerpt from Chapter One to stroke you in all the best ways…
Do you ever get a bad feeling about a day?” Saul Tidewater turned his head on his pillow and asked his lover seriously.
Both men lay naked under the covers of Saul’s bed, their legs intertwined, their hands softly roaming each other’s body. They had made love softly, easing each other’s orgasms out, coaxing the come from their cocks with long wet kisses and carnal nothings whispered into the skin. They had come only moments apart, their bodies more in sync with one another than either man dared to acknowledge.
Now, as the clock in the living room struck midnight, they were both drifting in the warm haze of afterglow. Sleep lingered in the corners of their consciousness, waiting patiently for the talk to run down and for the men to surrender to the sandman’s touch.
Thirty-two year old Mercer Braun yawned into Saul’s shoulder, his head nestled deeply on the doctor’s arm. With his short, sun-kissed blond hair ruffled and askew, Mercer lay curled up on his side, the length of his 6’2” frame plastered possessively to his lover. The stubble on his chin made delicious scratch-scritch noises against Saul’s skin as Mercer nuzzled himself deeper into his arms.
The men had only known each other for nine months; the last six they had known each other exclusively. Mercer having never been in a serious relationship for such a length of time, and still fought pinching himself every morning in which he woke up to the all-encompassing love that was Dr. Saul Tidewater.
It had been less than three years since Mercer, a major league first baseman for the Pittsburgh Pirates, had learned that he had a chronic heart condition called an aortic valve stenosis. While surgery was able to repair his heart, the ailment had stripped him of his career. Fortunately, he had always handled his money wisely. When retirement was forced upon the twenty-nine year old, he had by that time established a substantial nest egg for himself, one that would require him to work only part of the year.
Moving to Las Vegas to take advantage of the weather and the city’s proximity to the spring training leagues in Arizona, Mercer had opened a hitting clinic for professional baseball players which he ran out of his house in the winter months of baseball’s off season. The venture had been a roaring success. The rest of the year he volunteered with kids, coaching their little league teams and mentoring them both on and off the field.
Mercer Braun’s life was still good, but it was different. The heart condition had to be monitored regularly. While he had received a replacement valve, it was scientific fact that the valve would eventually wear out. Of course, another valve would then be inserted, but each surgery, each replacement got riskier as its odd for success got smaller. Mercer had learned to live with the realities of his future. His lover, a cardio thoracic surgeon, however, had not.
Saul Tidewater always remembered Mercer’s limitations. He always made sure that Mercer didn’t push himself physically too far, made sure that the former ballplayer was never far beyond a doctor’s reach. Honestly, it was sometimes annoying as hell, and Saul’s well-meaning but firm limitations he’d set had forced Mercer to give up some of the activities in life he had cherished the most. The almost daily dawn to dusk hikes in the desert that had filled Mercer’s empty summer hours were now a thing of the past. Sometimes, Mercer missed those days terribly.
He, however, bent to Saul’s wishes out of an ever growing love and inextinguishable passion for the heart surgeon. Mercer’s condition scared Saul and rightfully so. While Mercer lived his life from day to day, soaking in as much life as God allowed him, Saul often lived for the future. Their future. It was a difficult balancing act both men had to play in their relationship. It was fragile and both feared it could so easily be broken.
“No,” Mercer answered Saul’s question with a sleep-beckoning sigh. Every day was a blessing in Mercer’s book, so no day could possibly be tagged as bad. He knew he wouldn’t win that argument though, so he shelved that discussion in hopes of a sex-drowsed nap. “Why? Do you?” he asked as he nuzzled his nose into Saul’s shoulder.
“Yeah,” Saul replied half distracted by something Mercer was too tired to name.
“Bad feeling about today?” Mercer raised his head up off of his shoulder just enough to meet Saul’s gaze with his own. Saul had the most spectacular deep hazel eyes, with his rich black hair they sparkled devilishly in his face. Mercer could literally stare at Saul all day and never tire of a detail. Unfortunately, sleep was a necessity no man could completely ignore. Another yawn caught Mercer off guard then, but he refused to relinquish the connection until an answer to his question was given.
Saul shrugged his free shoulder and forced a small smile that was no doubt for Mercer’s benefit alone. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just tired.”
“You sure?” Mercer asked, planning to go back to this subject once his brain was more awake than asleep.
“Yeah.” Saul craned his neck down to give his lover a kiss on the crown of his head. “Go to sleep.”
Mercer needed more than a nice peck on the noggin though, so he took it. Maneuvering himself farther up Saul’s long, lean body, Mercer sloppily devoured the doctor’s lips with his own.
A sleepy-eyed Saul gave as good as he got.
The kisses were messy and loud and lacked all grace, but they were still perfect.
Mercer sighed as he finally let Saul’s mouth free. “That’s better.”
Saul smiled as he combed his fingers lovingly through Mercer’s hair. “You’re right. It is.”
Heavily, Mercer dropped his chin to the doctor’s chest. He looked blearily up at his lover and asked rather dopily, “Can I go to sleep now?”
Running a hand reverently down the side of Mercer’s face, Saul said softly, “Dream away.”
Mercer grinned, turned his head to the side and down just a bit so that the sound of Saul’s heartbeat was all he could hear, and mumbled in one last final breath of awareness, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Ok, I think I’ve just sprained my self-promotion muscle… Oh, Mr. Medic!
Seriously though, thank you all for taking the time to stop by again. It’s been a while and I’ve missed you probably more than I should. I’ll be back in the next week or so with my usual strung-out foreplay to promote my next novel Stripped Asset. It’s at the publisher’s right now so it won’t be long until you hear from me and my madness again.
I hoped you enjoyed and I hope you will consider adding “Hard Candy, Soft Cream” to your library tomorrow.
Spread the word everyone… I’m hoarse and I need a drink. *grins*
Until next time…
Coming January 3rd, 2012!
It’s cover time! Yes, after twelve long days of putting up with my hype and my woes and my questionable taste in all things humor, you finally get a peek at the cover for Shafts of Torchlight. Are you excited? Is everyone rushing to their computers with sweaty palms and irregular heartbeats… or is that just me? *grins*
To accompany your eye candy, here is Chapter Eleven’s tease of the day…
Chapter Eleven: DiMaggio and Boss Tweed
“There was no turning back, however. Cane could only go forward.” (page 134)
January 3rd is only a few days away, everybody. Have you all reviewed Torched (Book #1) and Blow Torch (Book #2) like all good students of romantic smut series should do? I’d offer you my own cheat sheets to the novels but my chicken scratch is not safe for man nor beast. If you would like a little refresher on all things Hellesgate please see Day Eight’s blog for a look back to the characters of our small little Kansas town.
Whew! This promoting myself every day is something so foreign to me that it sends all my screwy brain circuits out for a dizzying spin. Whenever I get done publishing these daily masterpieces of egotism, I have to spend the next hour or so picking up the marbles scattered messily around my computer. Thankfully when it seems that I’ve actually lost track of a spent marble or two, God provides me with nice, shiny, new ones for me to scuff up the next day. It’s always nice when you realize that God’s got your back.
I think I’ll be needing some more divine intervention as I’m struggling with novel titles and building my first website at my recently purchased domain of chloestowe.com. Yesterday, I spent hours (yes, actually hours, folks) trying to come up with titles for my next batch of novels for Ravenous. I obsess. I know, I know, no surprise there. But I do try to keep it under some kind of control. I didn’t wake up every hour last night running titles through my head so I’ll count that as a success.
As for the website, well, I’m a perfectionist. You’re jaws are dropping, aren’t they? Yep, I’ve got a mania for every situation, folks. Anyhow, I will keep you updated on that marble-losing venture as well.
I will leave you now to go drool over my new cover. I’ve already shorted out two keyboards this morning myself, so be safe but stay horny… yeah, I can’t believe I said that either. I guess I lost a marble under the couch yesterday.
Good Tuesday morning everyone! As it looks like I’m going to be spending my day dodging tornadoes again, I figured I’d make today’s post short and sweet… especially since you get a peek at the cover of Peak and Thrust as a special treat.
Let me count the ways that I love this cover… Better yet I’ll let you count the ways and you can get back to me with a nice concise list. Spare no adjectives, however. I live for adjectives. *grins*
As for your tease into Chapter Five, I proudly give you the following tidbit…
Chapter Five: The Coarse Wool of the Dark
“Yeah, the Fates better know what the hell they were doing because Joey Ballios didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.” (page 58)
Yes, by Chapter Five we’re hitting some heavy emotional stuff… the meat and bones to any memorable romance. And believe me Joey and Laird’s tale is a deeply romantic one. So don’t let the delicious cover fool you into expecting only really hot guys doing really hot things to one another… although there’s plenty of that… plenty. (And that ladies and gents is your tease for the day!)
Until tomorrow, stay safe…
Good morning and welcome everyone to Day Six of the Twelve Day Hard Wood, Soft Heart Teaser Spectacular!
We’re half way there and to celebrate this monstrosity of self-promotion, silliness and smut a special surprise awaits you as you leave. No peeking!
To even out the silliness that was yesterday’s post I thought I’d give you all another glimpse into my world of crossed brain wires and brick walls. I hope this little window into my life doesn’t bore. It’s meant to encourage others in a similar situation and to enlighten those who are blessed not to know anything of which I speak. So here it goes –
My daily life is full of brick walls. Not just any ordinary brick walls either, but the kind that spring up out of literally nowhere and refuse to be torn down by prayer, explosive or tenacity. Let me give you an example…
One morning I wake up, get my sh*t together and head outside to my backyard deck with an orange juice in hand. I do it every day. I enjoy it, but I’ve never thought anything about it. Who would? Well, this one morning I put my hand on the knob of the back door and my mind simply refuses to allow me to turn it. There’s no explanation forthcoming from my head as to why I can no longer go out that door. I just simply can’t.
So like most of you, I tell myself “Just do it! Don’t think. You have to do it so do it.” Yeah, well, that doesn’t work. Next comes the logical approach, trying to think through the reasons why my mind might be balking about going out that door. Unfortunately I can find no reasons. Even when I’m able to perhaps catch a glimpse of a shadow of a possible reason to this stupidity, it doesn’t help. All the logic and common sense and coping mechanisms in the world doesn’t get that brick wall between me and the back door down. I’m literally, figuratively and physically stuck.
Yeah, I know. It sounds silly, ridiculous, funny even. But it’s not… at least not for the crazy girl on the wrong side of the brick wall. Sometimes when I’m standing there, I hate my mind – never my life but my mind I could really put a freaking beat down on my brain.
So what do I do, the curious reader might ask? Do I never go out my back door again? The answer is a painful “maybe.” Just as my brick walls are wont to pop up out of nowhere they occasionally start to crumble in their own inexplicable time.
Maybe in a few months, my brain will let me talk myself through that door.
Maybe it will be years.
Maybe it will be never.
So, the curious reader asks again, what do I do?
I go out the window.
I go in through the back gate.
I jump my fence with my orange juice in hand and spend my morning on my deck.
Simply, I find ways to get around the brick wall. I can’t tear it down but I am a darn good escape artist. I will usually get by it somehow. So pardon my scraped knuckles, my skinned knees, the spilled orange juice on my shirt. I’m just trying to live here. I’m just trying to get out that door.
Ok, on to the appropriately named sixth chapter of Hard Wood, Soft Heart…
Chapter Six: Dirty Little Secret
“The road was bumpy. Saul didn’t mention that though. He figured it was fairly obvious. Besides, he really didn’t want to engage the man. Mercer was driving. It was definitely an inappropriate moment to play vacuum cleaner and suck the man’s brains out through his cock like a straw…” (page 96)
Now, for your surprise! After suffering through me and my brick walls, you have definitely earned a sneak peek at the cover for my seventh novel! So once the thunderous applause has died down to an excited murmur, you can check it out here… http://www.facebook.com/#!/photo.php?fbid=212132328851213&set=a.106121559452291.9606.100001633419040&&theaterOn your way out please help yourself to a handful of M&M’s. I think we all need the chocolate after that touch of mortar and brick insanity.