New Release! Palace of Scoundrels by Nicola Cameron @YesItsNicolaC

PALACE OF SCOUNDRELS by NICOLA M. CAMERON

palaceofscoundrelspdf

Hello, and thanks so much for having me on today! Palace of Scoundrels is kind of a surprise baby because the first book in the series, Empress of Storms, was supposed to be a standalone until I started getting asked when the sequel was coming out. I am not one to disappoint readers. I’m describing Palace of Scoundrels as “Game of Thrones, except with less violent death and more snark. The wine drinking is about the same, though.” And I already have an outline for Book Three and two novellas in the same universe – whee!

Fantasy Romance, Erotic Romance, MF
Word Count: 70,000
Heat Level 4
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-1-37-031324-2

BLURB:

Spring has sprung in the island kingdom of Hellas, and with it come thoughts of young love and fruitful fields. But with no signs of an occupant for the royal nursery, Queen Danaë is starting to worry about her own fertility. Her concerns aren’t helped by the arrival of the legendarily conniving Dowager Queen Atilia of Illium–or the woman’s handsome grandson Prince Marcus, on the run after being accused of poisoning his older brother.

In the neighboring kingdom of Ypres, Danaë’s royal husband Matthias is dealing with dangerous family politics and a wolfish duke who has kidnapped a young noblewoman for immoral purposes. Or has he? Can Matthias ward off the threat of civil war, outwit his relatives, and deal with a charming rival in his wife’s own palace?

BUY LINKS:

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EXCERPT

Matthias pulled Danaë into his lap, squeezing her close. She felt his chest rumble in rueful laughter. “Only you could fall into the ocean, be rescued by pirates, and wind up haring off with them on a treasure hunt.”

“Oddly enough, Father said much the same thing,” she admitted. “But it turned into a wonderful adventure. I even got my favorite tiara out of it, the silver one with the large pearl.” She’d also earned the unswerving loyalty of Captain Jason Constantinedes and his crew, who now served as her personal spy network outside of Hellas. After brief consideration she decided not to mention the days she had spent as Jason’s willing lover. It was in the past, and she didn’t want Matthias harboring a grudge against Jason if the captain ever had cause to come to Hellaspont. “They brought me back home with a wealth of knowledge about piracy on the high seas. Which is why I know I don’t want to be a pirate queen.”

“Thank the gods for that,” Matthias muttered, kissing her hair. “You’re rapacious enough as it is.”

She turned so that she could nuzzle under his ear, licking the salty skin there. “I never heard you complain before.”

“I’m not complaining now, little bird, merely observing.”

She hummed, catching his earlobe between her teeth and nibbling on it. “Rapacious,” she whispered after she let it go. “I like the sound of that.” His breath caught as she traced spirals on his skin with the tip of her tongue. She could smell clean sweat, male musk, and something distinctly Matthias underneath it all. “Would you like me to show you how rapacious I can be?” she teased.

“Another night, perhaps,” She heard a promise in his voice. “Tonight, milady, I plan on doing the boarding.”

His arms tightened around her and he got up with a soft grunt, carrying her to the bed and dropping her onto the silk coverlet. She bounced with a giggle and rose up on her elbows, watching avidly as he pulled off his shirt and breeches. Regular riding and sparring matches with his guard had kept him muscled and firm, and she could spend hours running her fingers over the curves and dips of his body, particularly his broad, furred chest. The flickering light from candle and fireplace transformed the hair there into gold and amber sparks, trailing down his carved abdomen before spreading into a darker nest of curls around his rising cock. She rubbed her thighs together, feeling the delicious ache that always grew between them when he stripped like this for her.

He cupped himself, squeezing the shaft hard enough to make the sheathed head bulge. “Still want a statue of me?” he asked, with the cheerful arrogance of a man who knew he was desired.

She licked her lips. “More than ever.”

He glanced down at his swelling flesh and grinned. “You can’t scare me, you know. I’ve seen the kind of statuary you have in Hellas. I doubt anyone would bat an eyelash at it.”

“Bat an eyelash, no. Be violently jealous of me, yes.” It was her turn to tease, and she took her time unfastening the brooches that held up her gown. She slid the delicate fabric over one breast, then the other, letting it caress her hardening nipples. The sensation made her shiver. Cupping one breast, she rolled the peak between her fingers, imagining his hot, wet mouth around it. “The question is, what will your future subjects think when they see the statue of me?”

Matthias put a knee on the mattress. The movement made the furred sac between his legs swing a bit, and she reached out to cradle it, enjoying how he shivered at her touch. “The women will weep from envy, and the men will all fall in love with you,” he murmured, his voice rough and needy. “And none of them will ever have you.”

“No, they won’t,” she breathed, letting him push her onto her back. The ache between her hips grew, turning into a slow, sweet throb. “Only you, my love.

BIO

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

Inside Look with Nicola Cameron author of Two to Tango

Click to see all the Inside Looks here at SJs

Nicola Cameron is here today with her new release, Two to Tango. I adore Nicola’s writing because it makes me smile, but also because she knows how to bring the passion and the heat. I hope you enjoy her visit. 🙂

FIVE THINGS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT DMITRI GRIGORYEV:

1)      His guilty indulgence is Isaac Asimov’s Foundation trilogy.

2)      He loves playing racquetball.

3)      His favorite summer memories are of staying with his Uncle Misha and Aunt Viktoria.

4)      He wishes he could paint in the style of the Dutch Masters.

5)      While he’s never had to do it before, he knows five different ways to kill people with his bare hands.

BLURB:

twototango1sRory MacLellan, AKA the Highlander, may be the most successful interstellar art thief in the Known Worlds, but he still has a conscience. So when he runs into a suicidal museum worker during his latest job, he has no choice but to stun the man and rescue him from certain death.

Dr. Dmitri Grigoryev was an up-and-coming exoarchaeologist until a disastrous dig left his career in tatters. Hungry, broke, and desperate, the last thing he expected was a dashing thief to come along and save his life.

Thrown together by accident and with interstellar police on their tail, Rory and Dmitri reluctantly join forces for a major heist. But will their simmering attraction get in the way, or prove that they were meant to be together?

BUY LINKS:

EXCERPT

Dmitri turned over, glancing down the line of their bodies. Rory’s erection was very obvious in his kilt, almost comically so. The other man must have been contorting himself to keep it off his ass. Of course, now that he was face up, his own erection started filling out nicely.

Rory started massaging his shoulders and arms, going nowhere near his nipples or other erogenous zones. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Um, you’re hard.”

“I know,” Rory said evenly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Kind of difficult to do that when it’s right over my stomach. Besides, so am I.”

Rory gave a half shrug. “Totally normal. Lots of guys get an erection during a massage. Don’t worry, it’s not like I’m going to make a move on you or anything.”

He didn’t understand why that admission annoyed him, but it did. “Of course not,” he muttered. “Why would you?”

Rory stopped at that, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” He turned his head, staring at the bulkhead. “Never mind.”

“Hey.” Long fingers cupped his chin, urging it back. “I’m not making a move on you because I don’t believe in hitting on someone when they don’t have a way out of the situation. I mean, yes, I think you’re incredibly hot, which should be obvious by the fact that my cock can now cut diamond.” Rory glanced down at his crotch and grinned. “But that’s my problem, not yours.”

That’s what you think. Dmitri could feel Rory’s body heat moving through him, lighting up nerve endings. He’d been sure that his life would be one long, slow slog through museum workshops, getting older and more bitter with each passing year until he was shunted off to some sterile senior station to die.

Instead, he had been kidnapped during a heist by the Known Worlds’ sexiest antiquities thief, rescued from CAPOD by said thief, been given the chance to restore a shattered Saolao ceremonial bowl, and now had the same sexy thief kneeling over him with a rock-hard erection after giving him the best massage of his life. Except he’s backing off like I’m a nervous virgin.

It was time to take matters into his own hands, quite literally. He cupped his palms over Rory’s exposed knees, feeling the other man twitch from the unexpected contact. “What if I said yes?”

Rory frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“What.” Dmitri slowly ran his fingertips under the tartan, up Rory’s thighs. “If I.” He pressed the heels of his hands against the soft prickle of hair and the lean muscle underneath, continuing his upward slide. “Said yes?” His fingers reached the top of each thigh, dancing over the crease where leg met groin. The skin was smooth there, but he could just feel the beginnings of crisp pubic hair brushing his thumbs, and the heat from what had to be an aching cock.

He wouldn’t let himself touch it. Not until he was sure they both wanted this. “Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Nooo, I think I’m catching on.” Eyes gleaming, Rory leaned over and kissed him. “Is this all right?” he whispered, each word the softest puff of breath against Dmitri’s lips.

“Definitely.”

“Good. Because if you don’t put your hand around my cock in the next thirty seconds, my head is going to explode.”

Dmitri couldn’t help chuckling. “Well, we can’t have that, can we?”

BIO

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).

 

Inside Look with Nicola Cameron author of Grading the Curve

click to see all the Inside Looks posted here at SJMaylee.comI have Nicola Cameron in the ehouse today and she’s giving us the inside look into her new release, Grading the Curve. It has been released through one of my favorite Evernight Publishing lines, Romance on the Go. First up, I got Nicola to answers some questions and below you’ll find the cover, blurb, an excerpt, and all her links. Enjoy.

What turns you on creatively?

Something unusual that piques my curiosity. One time, I got stuck in downtown Dallas traffic and noticed the proliferation of pyramids that are used in architecture there. As I thought, “Gee, someone who could use pyramid power would love this place,” a plot bunny landed and I got a book out of it.

That’s fabulous. Plot bunnies really are everywhere, lol. What do you consider your greatest achievement?

My mother would have said it was surviving past the age of 6 (I was a bit clumsy when I was young). I would have to say it’s my writing career — 2013 in particular has been an absolutely spectacular publishing year for me.

Ha! My sister-in-law is the same way, total klutz. I’d bet 2014 is going to be even better yet. What is your greatest fear?

Being forced to do work that I hate just to survive. I’ve had to do it before, and I really, really don’t ever want to go back to that place again.

I hear you. Evil day jobs are the worst.What are some of your favorite curse words?

As the daughter of a Marine, “fuck” and variations thereof are usually on my playlist.

Nice! That’s one of my favs too. J What is your favorite music (genre/artist/album/song)?

I like a wide variety of music from classical to rock. I like writing to instrumental soundtracks, and Sherlock Holmes, Pirates of the Caribbean, Stage Beauty, and The Fountain are some of my favorites.

Instrumentals can definitely be fabulous to write to. I don’t pick them enough. I’ll have to try these out. Thanks! When you’re not writing what are your favorite hobbies?

Do you have a couple of hours? When I’m not writing, I knit, quilt, crochet, make dollhouses, design jewelry, make dolls, and

Wow. Very interesting. What is your greatest extravagance?

Ebooks and crafting stash.

What quality do you most admire in a man?

Kindness. Too often, men these days are taught that it isn’t manly to be kind, and that’s just so damn wrong.

Truth! I saw several character trait lists today for various heroes and kindness definitely wasn’t listed that often. What is the one thing you do after finishing a story?

Enjoy the day-long writer’s high that comes with it. I don’t know what goes on in my brain when I finish something, but it’s better than Vicodin.

I know that feeling. It’s so very satisfying. Tell us a bit about the projects you are working on now?

I’m currently working on Breaker Zone (Book Two in the Olympic Cove series), a sci-fi caper romance called Two to Tango, and an MMF time-traveling adventure called Pharaoh’s Desire.

Grading the Curve cover - click to see on GoodreadsGRADING THE CURVE

by NICOLA CAMERON

BLURB:

Ellen Ragsdale is a scholarship student who just wants to get her college degree and start her life. Alexander Cord is a widowed English professor who hides his loneliness behind a sardonic facade. School rules have kept them at arm’s length all year long. But on the last night of Ellen’s college career, the two of them risk everything to find out if their mutual attraction is more than a classroom crush.

BUY LINKS:

EXCERPT

“Did you know that you always blush when you talk to me?” he said quietly. “It’s charming. You look like a medieval maiden receiving her first suitor.”

It felt like someone had painted fire across her skin. She ducked her head, staring dumbly at the hallway’s scarred paint. He couldn’t know. Nobody knew that about her. It wasn’t that obvious.

Was it?

“Interesting.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “I meant it as a compliment, but perhaps I struck closer to the truth than I’d intended.” He moved closer, and she could feel the heat from his whole body now, warming her like an invisible caress. “Are you?”

She swallowed hard. He couldn’t be asking what she thought he was asking. “A-am I—”

“A maiden. A virgin. I believe a popular term is ‘unicorn bait.’” His voice dropped, turning into a soft rumble. “I have to admit, I’m puzzled as to how someone as lovely and intelligent as you could still be virginal.”

Her entire face now felt like it was on fire. She’d gone on the occasional date, usually doubling with Keisha or Dianne, but once the guys found out what her schedule was like they didn’t bother calling again. “Too busy, I guess. Working, studying.”

To her surprise, cool fingers slid under her chin, gently turning her face up. “What a shame,” Cord said, his voice low and soft. “But if it’s of any consolation, men your age do tend to be rather slapdash and impatient when it comes to women. I assure you, you haven’t missed out on much by skipping the undergraduate sexual circus.” The façade of the academic disappeared. Underneath was a man she didn’t know, warm and standing so close to her. “That being said, I wonder … would you be willing to consider me?”

“What—” Her throat clicked, it was so dry. She swallowed and tried again. “What are you saying?”

He tilted his head to the side. “I want to take you to bed, Miss Ragsdale. I want to kiss that pink mouth of yours, undress you ever so slowly, play with those gorgeous breasts and suck your nipples before I caress every inch of your body. I want to bury my tongue between your legs and lap at your clit, and when you’re dripping wet I want to bury my cock in you. I want to see that sweet mouth of yours open and scream my name as I make you come over and over again.” Now she could smell his cologne, something masculine, woody, and underneath that, the musk of clean male. “Come home with me tonight, Miss Ragsdale. Let me make love to you. I promise you, you won’t regret it.”

BIO

Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of “y’all,” much to her Chicago family’s dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn’t until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture…).