My Alpha’s Sexy Cover!

My_Alpha-Jianne_Carlo-500x800If you’ve read any of my books, you might have noticed I hardly ever have faces on my covers. The reason for that is I love to imagine what the character looks like. If there’s a face on the cover, there’s nothing left to the imagination. That said, I’m in lust with the guy on My Alpha’s cover. He’s exactly how I pictured my hero, Joe.

Blurb:

Susie White wants no picket fences, no alpha, and no cubs. White wolf woman she may be, but no pack for her, no sireee. Alpha me not, that’s her motto. In all caps.

Half-breed wolf Joe Huroq’s not looking for a mate. His job in international security’s too dangerous and too erratic for relationships. Stop and go screwing, that’s his motto—hot and heavy between missions.

Then he glimpses his new neighbor tanning nude and the situation explodes.

Literally. Susie’s house is consumed by fire. What’s Joe to do but offer Susie sanctuary?

Susie can’t resist the temptation of hunky bad-ass Joe. She suggests a friends with benefits arrangement, which he accepts with remarkable alacrity. The sex is frantic, steaming, and non-stop. Neither one can keep their hands off the other.

Then Joe’s best friend’s son is kidnapped on the way home from school, the fire’s deemed arson, and two other kids go missing.

A serial killer’s on the loose, and he has Susie in his sights.

Susie refuses to accept Joe’s mate claim.

Can he keep her safe when she won’t obey a single order?

Here’s how Susie sees Joe:

Susie stared at Joe. He wasn’t handsome by any conventional standards. The craggy features, the myriad faded scars above his right temple, and the crooked nose didn’t soften the harsh lines of his features but added a piratical, brooding aura that ambushed the senses—hers anyway. He wasn’t the kind of man to do anything by halves, not Joe Huroq, and he was giving her fair warning, big-time. Whatever was going to happen between them would be temporary…and exciting. Gawd, all her woman parts were on overdrive.

What do you prefer – face or no face?

Merry Monday!

Cheers,

The Dorland Brothers and Ginger Tart!

Soul_Deep-Jianne_Carlo-200x320Today, I’m celebrating the release of my latest paranormal, SOUL DEEP.

Mike Dorland, the hero of  SOUL DEEP, reluctantly agrees to accompany his gregarious, publicity-loving younger brother, Drake, to the television studio where he will be interviewed by local celebrity, Ginger Tart.

A professional poker player, Mike distrusts and dislikes media professionals. He’s been burned too often by their outright lies and scandalous innuendo. Although he’s determined to stay in the background, Mike doesn’t count on Drake’s mischievous manipulations or Ginger Tart’s obvious attraction to him.

Here’s what happens when Mike and Drake arrive at MMTV4, Makinac’s local television studio.

***

Mike Dorland scanned the TV set and focused in on Ginger Tart, the hostess of Makinac’s county most popular talk show. Thirty-ish, voluptuous curves, and a mane of wavy hair the color of the spice she was named for. He sighed. She was exactly his brother’s type. He elbowed Drake and attempted to offer his kid brother salient advice. “Try not to hit on her, Drake. She’s hot, but recently divorced.”

Drake rolled his eyes. “Puh-lease. I like my women with a little meat on them. Those rail-thin types do nothing for me.”

“That’s not Ginger Tart you’re looking at. She’s standing behind you.”

Mike winced when Drake pivoted and blew out a prolonged wolf-whistle. “For crap’s sake, why’d you do that? Now she’s glaring mayhem and murder at both of us.”

“Got her attention, didn’t I? I could eat her up. Literally. Come on. Let’s introduce ourselves.” Drake shoved Mike and dragged him forward.

“You’re doing the interview, not me. Why do I have to meet her?” Mike let his muscles go slack. But even though he resisted Drake’s momentum, in less than thirty seconds the two White Wolves stood right in front of Ginger Tart.

Drake held out his hand and clasped Ginger’s. “Hi, Ginger. Drake Dorland. This is my big bro, Mike. Thank you for agreeing to interview us.”

Us? Mike gnashed his back molars. He stamped his heavy steel-toed CAT boot on Drake’s moccasin-clad foot.

“Ouch. You just about broke every toe, Mike. You’ll have to excuse my big brother’s scowl and temper. Horniness tends to make him real ornery. Tell me you’re not taken—”

“Shut your trap, Drake.” Mike inserted himself in front of his dead meat sibling. “I apologize on my idiot brother’s behalf, Ms. Tart—”

“Ginger, please Mike. Drake’s reputation preceded him. I’ve heard all about his relentless flirting. Nothing beats the speed of gossip in Mackinac County. I have to say I’m a big fan of yours. When you won your first poker championship, I begged management to let me cover it. I even offered to pay my own way, but…” She shrugged.

Mike’s face heated. He never knew how to react to effusive fans. “Er, thanks.”

“Actually, if you’re not doing anything after we finish taping, maybe we could grab a drink at The Wahzoo? My friends and I recently started playing Texas Hold ’Em, and I’d love to get your take on how to win.” Ginger leaned forward and ran a finger along Mike’s forearm. The cleavage exposed by her scooped neckline plumped.

Mike cleared his throat.

“He’d love to have a drink with you.” Drake butted in front of Mike.

“I warned you, Drake. Stop being an ass,” Mike snapped. “I appreciate the invite, Ginger. But I’m planning on seeing my fiancée, Melanie White, tonight.”

Ginger’s blue eyes popped. She sighed. “Figures. All the good ones are taken.”

Ginger insisted on including Mike in the session no matter how vociferous his protests. He endured the thirty-minute Q&A and only relaxed when Ginger announced she’d end the interview with a word association game.

“Paint,” Ginger said.

Mike retorted, “Chocolate.”

“Wrists.”

“Cuffs.”

Ginger tsked. “Blindfold.”

“Fun.”

“Woman.”

“Mate—help-mate.” Mike cringed.

“No self-correction. First thing that pops into your mind. Let’s continue. Sexy.”

“Melanie.”

“Wife.”

“Melanie.”

“I must say that whoever Melanie is, she’s one lucky woman. Okay, let’s wrap up with your favorites. Favorite Color?”

“Blue.”

“Food?”

“Chili.”

“Dessert?”

“Melanie.”

***

 

I hope your enjoyed Mike and Drake’s interview with Ginger Tart. What are your word associations with:

Paint

Wrists

Blindfold

Sexy??

 

Two of my books—SINNER & PRYMAL LUST— are FREE on Amazon this month, so please download them! Here are the links:

http://tinyurl.com/SinnerHadesSquad-1

http://tinyurl.com/Prymal-1

Have a Magnificent Monday!

Cheers,

Jianne

And The White Wolf Series Begins!

Soul_Deep-Jianne_Carlo-200x320

Yesterday, the first book in my White Wolf series—Soul Deep—became available for pre-order on Amazon at this link:

http://www.amazon.com/Soul-Deep-White-Wolf-Pack-ebook/dp/B01D2703UY/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1458490606&sr=1-1&keywords=soul+deep+carlo

Uber-talented Georgia Woods created the cover and the look for the series and I’m thrilled with the results – what do you think?  Thumbs up or down?

I love the black and white. It’s intriguing and mysterious and certainly sets the mood of the story, which is sexy and suspenseful.

In other news, I handed in Prymal Hunger yesterday. Hopefully, I’ll have a release date for everyone soon.

So far, here’s my release schedule for 2016:

Soul Deep       April 7, 2016

My Alpha       June  2, 2016

Wolf Raider   August 4, 2016

Gray Wolf      October 6, 2015

Prymal Hunger will fit in somewhere in there and  I’ve yet to find out when my Viking Warriors series will be re-released. In other news, on the contemporary scene, I’m working on two brand new series tentatively titled—Sanctuary—and—Secrets. For the Viking lovers out there, I’m in the middle of my first tale in the new Viking Invasion series—Wùlfe. I’m hoping that one will release before the end of 2016—keep your fingers and toes crossed for me!

Have a magnificent Monday!

Cheers,

 

Halloween Giveaway and The Romance Studio’s Spookalooza!

 

spookapalooza2015-520x340

From October 24 to 31st I’ll be parting with The Romance Studio at their annual Spookalooza Event! (whoever coined the name deserves a creative genius prize!)

First and foremost, The Love, Lust, and Laptops sizzling Halloween anthology, LOVE IN THE CARDS, is available FREE!

Love in the cards cover

Blurb:

A mysterious invitation…

Dacre House. A decadent Garden District mansion on Halloween night. Some are here to work, some to play, but all are here for a reason. Will old lovers reunite? Ancient conflicts be forgiven? Can strangers enter the house alone and leave as mates? How valuable is a friendship? What would they do to keep–or lose–a job? The answers are in the cards.

Ten naughty stories of love and lust from the ladies of Love, Lust, and Laptops.

The Jack of Hearts
The Three of Cups
Two of Wands
The Two of Cups
The Star
The Strength of a Lion
Judgement Day
Empress
The Wheel of Fortune
The Lovers

Here’s an excerpt from the first tale (just so happens to be mine *smirk*:

The Jack of Hearts:

***

Ricco stared out the open window and willed Kata to walk through the gate.

He wouldn’t lose his mate twice.

Seth had won Kata once, but he was long dead and buried, and all bets and rules were off.

The gas lamp hanging from an iron post just inside the award-winning front garden of Dacre House highlighted the raven-blue woven into the fibers on the black hood and long cloak Kata wore. The cape swirled around her ankles, and the ancient iron creaked in a drawn out protest when she shoved the gate open.

He tracked her steps and inhaled the musk of her desire mingled with the night-blooming jasmine. He hadn’t been certain she’d come after their confrontation earlier today.

Kata climbed the stairs, her feet dragging as if she was about to put her neck on the guillotine block.

Ricco’s mouth watered. His canines tingled and his gums ached with the need to claim.

The door opened and the attendant said, “Card.”

Her graceful fingers reached under the cloak, and she opened her hand to display half of a torn tarot card. The half that matched his, the Jack of Hearts.

“Third floor. Last door on the left. Stairs are straight ahead.” The doorman hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

“I don’t understand.”

The man growled, “Those were my orders for anyone with that card. You in or out?”

For long moments Kata remained quiet.

Scenting fear tangled with her mounting excitement, Ricco waited, his fists clenched. If necessary, he’d reveal his other half of the invitation―and his identity―and drag her up to the prepared attic room.

Her face reflected indecision for a brief moment, but then she squared her shoulders and let the card drop into the servant’s outstretched hand.

Ricco sighed his relief, and his knitted neck muscles relaxed.

Kata sidled past the doorman.

Ricco splayed his fingers wide and rotated both wrists. He withdrew into a shadowed corner and, being capable of both place and form shifting, transported to the lair he’d prepared earlier. Dacre House required signed contracts from all participants before renting out a room for BDSM activities and said contract had shed a glaring spotlight on Kata’s secret fantasies.

He’d worked off most of his fury in the ring after overhearing Kata’s conversation with her BFF, Shauna, earlier.

It had taken all his willpower to leave Kata alone after Seth died. He’d signed up for another tour in Afghanistan to avoid the daily temptation of being around her. If only he had followed his instincts and teleported back often to keep an eye on her. But, no, he curled his lips. He had to be fucking honorable and give her space.

Tough titties. No more space.

Not once had he imagined Kata fantasized about bondage and submission.

***

Want to read more??? Simply click on the cover above or the link below—it’s FREE!

http://www.amazon.com/Love-Cards-Becca-Jameson-ebook/dp/B00GCRF61I/ref=cm_cr_pr_product_top?ie=UTF8

Merry Monday,

*Warning* Love in the Cards includes bondage, bdsm, and m/m as well as m/f tales.

Returning From Social Media Hibernation!

Prymal_Hunger-Jianne_Carlo--200x320It’s amazing how much you can get done when you take a social media vacation!

Honestly, I never realized how much of a time-suck updating FB, my blog, and tweeting was until the last couple of months.

I’m finally up to date on most of my projects.

Manhandled is finished—YAY!!!

Notorious, Carnal, Prymal Hunger, and Wulf are in the works.

And I’ve started three new Viking books!

I should take social media holidays more often, right? Maybe. But while I hunkered down in my EDJ and writing caves, summer ended, pumpkins are now everywhere, and I just know before I blink—the holidays will be on us!

Swear to all the gods out there—the globe spins faster from September to January 1st!!!!

Who doesn’t agree with that?

Here’s a tempting tease from Manhandled:

***

“Rolan, sweetie. You’re not eating. The food’s gonna get cold,” whined Cindy-something, breaking into his reminisces.

Rolan stifled another groan as he took in the clothes strewn across the burgundy Persian rug, the rumpled bed sheets, Cindy’s naked double-D breasts, the platinum nipple rings, and the diamonds dangling from her navel.

What had Sarita seen?

Closing his eyes, he tried to picture the scene she’d interrupted—Cindy on her haunches, one palm on his groin, his semi-erect prick. He choked back a howl. What a disastrous way to reunite with the girl who’d haunted his dreams for  the last twelve years. Shame had him stumbling back to the bed.

His knees collapsed and his butt slammed onto the mattress.

What a f**king man-whore he’d become. When had it happened? When had he gone from shiny and idealistic to contemptuous, egotistic, and unscrupulous? At least where women were concerned.

Elbows jammed onto his thighs, forehead propped in his palms, he closed his eyes against the mortifying ignominy burning his flesh. Sarita had once adored him, but now she must despise and scorn him.

And rightly so.

He didn’t even know Cindy’s last name. Didn’t care to know. The Rolan Sarita had known in high school might’ve been bigheaded, but never would he have sacrificed his morals. Shit to that. He’d abandoned any sexual ethics after his first Super Bowl win.

Twelve years ago, he’d taken Sarita’s virginity.

And on each twenty-ninth of May for every year since, he’d awoken aroused, with her face burned on his pupils. He’d learned after the first couple of years not to bother with substitutes, not when their faces were replaced by hers at the height of his climax.

He downed a glass of orange juice.

How had Sarita ended up on Sir Geoffrey Stanford’s yacht in Monte Carlo? Where had she been all this while?

***

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt

Merry manic Monday everyone!