Eva Lefoy - Sweet Cravings - Guest spotting What I have learned in the publishing industry

I’m a former newspaper reporter from a small town on the west coast. I know deadlines. I can do production. In the newspaper world it’s all hurry, hurry, hurry, now, now, now.

In publishing, the work flow can sort of be the opposite. It’s more akin to hurry-up-and-wait. You write your piece and submit it and you … wait. Then after they accept it, you … wait for an editor to be assigned. You wait for a cover. You wait for a release date. Etc.

The book publishing process is a whole different animal!

What’s fun about it though is all the great people you “meet.” I say “meet” because unless you go to a conference, you mostly meet people online. But they’re generally pretty terrific. Since I’ve been in the Decadent Publishing family I’ve had people I’d just met crit my work and be very generous with their time. And this is for someone that just showed up one day in their group and said “hi!”

Authors have also been very generous with their personal space – their blogs. Promo opportunities, and shares and all kinds of stuff. I feel very lucky to have met all of them for sure!

Book publishing is really more of a community.

By the way I’m happy to announce I’m the newest blogger at Silken Sheets & Seduction and we will be doing a Summer Seduction blog tour with giveaways August 14 – 21st so check us out!

In the meantime, feel free to reach me at:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Eva-Lefoy/344907072265234

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Eva_Lefoy

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6656950.Eva_LeFoy

Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Eva-Lefoy/e/B00CE0EY0G

Blog: http://writery.wordpress.com/

Bio:

Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers.

 

 

Sweet Cravings by Eva Lefoy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riding the waves of a sugar high, Violet Cunningham seduces the town’s newest pastry chef, slathering him with whipped cream in his secret kitchen. But all that is made of sugar melts, and her brazenness vanishes soon after their tryst, leaving her battling old insecurities about her waistline and appetites, courtesy of her mother. Positive she’s only made a fool of herself, she’s mortified when her boss sends her back to sexy Chef Max’s kitchen and into the proverbial frying pan. After a red-hot date, her chef disappears, and Violet’s emotions simmer to a boil, forcing her to confront the awful truth: there’s more to life than pastry.

 

 

 

 

Amazon  Decadent Publishing buy link  Facebook  Website

 

 

 

 

About the Author

 

Eva Lefoy writes and reads all kinds of romance, and is a certified Trekkie. She’s also terribly addicted to chocolate, tea, and hiking. One of these days, she’ll figure out the meaning of life, quit her job, and go travel the galaxy. Until then, she’s writing down all her dirty thoughts for the sake of future explorers

 

 

 

 

 

 

Excerpt:

 

“You hungry, sweetheart?” His hot gaze left a trail on my skin and heated through more than one layer of fabric. The innuendo in his voice was unmistakable. He tucked a stray hair behind my ear with a super-warm finger whose touch promised tingling satisfaction. I held my breath and nodded. “For what?” he whispered.

 

I wanted to whimper. Wanted to melt right there on my kitchen floor. I’m good at bravado—up to a certain point—but being interrogated, even by a hottie, or especially by a hottie, turns me shy real quick. And Max’s stare-right-through-me intensity made me very shy, very quick. Made it hard to say that one little word…the one I so badly wanted to say: You. I opened my mouth but he’d started talking again.

 

“You see, I know all about hungers. About appetites.” He circled me slowly. Like a tiger using its steamy breath to tenderize its next meal. “And how to satisfy them.”

 

Maybe so. But surely I must come off as a rather odd case? I mean, I practically raped a pastry chef at a chamber of commerce event! Was there even help for people like me? Concern and embarrassment had me chewing my lower lip. I wanted badly to look away from his gaze—look anywhere but into his chocolate-drizzled eyes. But as if he could read my thoughts, he placed a finger under my chin and held me captive with that simple touch.

 

“All people have appetites,” he stated. “Your appetites, I know how to feed.” He smiled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I will enjoy feeding them. If you will let me.”

 

I tried to hide a gulp. He sounded sincere. But how could it be? No man had ever made me such an outrageous offer. I had half a mind to put up a hand and stop him right there. But wasn’t this what I truly wanted? Or would I rather stay within the safe bounds of the pastry goal lines forever and watch my waistband expand? Alone? God. I could hear my mother’s voice…. You’ll never get married with those eating habits, Violet. No man will ever want you. Besides, bigger women can’t get pregnant very easily.

 

As if he could hear my thoughts, he said, “Even if you think some of your hungers are bad…or wrong.” He pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of my nose. “I assure you they are not. They are perfectly normal.” His arm slid around my back and pulled me close, hip to hip. My sex clenched in anticipation. “All of them.”

 

Elene Sallinger - Awakening

Hailing from Washington, DC, Elene Sallinger first caught the writing bug in 2004 after writing and illustrating several stories for her then four-year-old daughter. Her writing career has encompassed two award-winning childrens stories, a stint as a consumer-education advocate, as well as writing her debut novel, Awakening - a novel of erotic fiction that won the New Writing Competition at the Festival of Romance 2011.

 

 

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Awakening/462987500405696

Book(s) you want to market: Awakening

Release Date:  September 3, 2012 ebook, March 15, 2013 paperback

Blurb:

 

This is the story of Claire Ryan and Evan Lang. 35-year-old Claire joins a local book club for romance readers in order to get over the breakdown of her 10-year relationship, there she meets book shop owner Evan, a dominant man who has never recovered from the sudden death of his submissive wife.

As their relationship develops and they embark on the path of Claire’s submission, it becomes harder and harder for Evan to keep his emotional distance. Claire is open and responsive and he wants her badly, but refuses to let himself go.

As Claire falls deeper in love with Evan, she realises that he is holding back and decides to end their relationship, forcing Evan to confront his own past and his feelings in order to save his new love.

Winner of the New Writing Competition at the Festival of Romance 2011

Yes, I'm willing to giveaway a one free ebook at each stop.

 

 

 

Excerpt:

 

‘I feel safe here.’ She waved a hand around to encompass the bookstore. ‘You make me feel safe. Despite your attitude, I don’t believe you would hurt me.’ Claire flushed such a sweet shade of pink as she spoke, her hazel gaze roaming the store as she looked everywhere but at him.

Safe. She thought she was safe with him. That he wouldn’t hurt her. Evan sat in stunned silence for the briefest moment before a red tide of fury suffused his body. Fury at Marianne for dying and leaving him alone when she had been the centre of his life. Fury at Claire for tempting him and reviving desires that he’d believed were dead and buried with his love. Fury at himself for being so damned foolish and afraid in the face of his temptation. In that moment, he knew himself for a coward and he snapped.

‘Safe. You think you’re safe with me?’ he all but sneered at her. ‘You know nothing.’ He spit the words at Claire as he leant, forward his hands clenched into fists on his knees. She shrank away from him, pushing so far back into the leather club chair her feet no longer touched the floor. Her eyes were wide with shock and the beginnings of fear. Shame crawled over his skin and he reached for self-control, only to lose it all over again when her small, white teeth bit into her trembling lower lip.

‘Damn you!’ He slammed a fist down on the arm of his chair, causing her to jump at the violence of his action. ‘You are anything but safe with me. Every time you walk through that door all I can think about is bending you over my lap and spanking that pretty little ass until it is shiny, red, and stinging. Then fucking you from behind so that the sting feeds the orgasm I give you. I fantasise about binding you and whipping those sweet little tits, your pussy, and your ass. Marking you everywhere so that each time you look in the mirror you remember me and how I put them there, and then beg me to put more on you when they heal. I want to drench you in my come, fuck you in every goddamn hole, and make you scream until you can’t speak.’

As the words died on his lips, he dragged in a breath and took Claire in, really saw her now that the apex of his anger had passed somewhat. She was glassy-eyed and panting. The knuckles of her slim, elegant fingers were white and she gripped the arms of her chair as if her life depended on it. She looked like she was having a panic attack.

Fear and shame overrode his anger and he lurched forward, coming around and sitting on the table before her. He took her face between his palms. She was so tiny, his hands seems to swallow her up.

‘Claire.’ He spoke softly, soothingly, as he rubbed his thumb over her cheeks. ‘Claire, please. Look at me.’

She turned just a fraction, closing her eyes and refusing to look at him. Her motion brought his thumb to rest on her lower lip. Quickly, so quickly he almost missed it, she licked his thumb. It was the barest touch, but the sight of her pink tongue against his skin was more than he could take. What control remained to him was lost.

‘Damn you,’ he repeated, but this time it was the hoarse whisper of a drowning man. ‘Suck it,’ he demanded as he thrust his thumb between her full, rosy lips. She obeyed instantly, enveloping the digit in wet, velvet heat. A shudder coursed through him at the silken feel of her mouth on his skin. She sucked gently in slow draws that he felt all the way to his cock, which surged violently to life.

With his other hand he untied the bow that held the halter of her dress together and yanked the barrier from her body so that it pooled at her waist in a lake of red silk. She faltered briefly, but continued to suck on his thumb as he squeezed her breast, massaging and shaping it in his large palm. She was small, tiny even; the entire globe barely filled his palm, but his mouth watered to taste her. He pulled his thumb from her mouth and trailed damp circles around each nipple before leaning down to suck the puckered tips into his mouth. He sucked hard, eliciting a cry of pained pleasure from her as she arched into his mouth.

He squeezed and pulled, sucked and bit at her nipples furiously, his mind blank except for the driving urge to mark her, claim her. Only when they were red and swollen, jutting out from the cream of her skin, did he leave her breasts. But he was far from done with her. He yanked her hips forward and roughly pushed the skirt of her dress up to her hips. She wore a brief, black silk thong which disappeared in a savage yank as he tore it from her. The fragile elastic snapped as easily as if it were an errant thread. He dropped the offending silk to the floor and threw her legs over the arms of the chair so that she was spread and open to him.

He didn’t stop to appreciate the sight she made, though the memory would haunt him later. Her eyes were half-closed and glazed with desire. Her rosy lips were parted and damp from her tongue. Her small, tight breasts were swollen and tipped with hard, berry-red pebbles from his earlier feasting. The scarlet silk pooled at her waist, framing and showcasing her plump hips and drenched pussy. The damp curls were trimmed close, just a shade darker than the honeyed brown of her tousled hair. No, in that moment, he only took in the sandpaper dryness of his throat and the need to taste her.

 

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