Holiday Wishes

Wishing you all a romantic Christmas and an erotic New Year.  

 May the coming year bring all your sweetest dreams to life. 

Love, Juniper

Stuff Your Stockings Blog Tour

I don't know about you, but I'm definitely getting into the Christmas spirit these days. 

Hunky Santa always helps, of course. 

Especially if his reindeer look anything like this.

Somehow, pictures like these put me in a giving state of mind. Christmas, to me, is all about gratitude. For instance, I'm grateful for hot men (can't you tell?), my family, my wonderful sweetie whom I love so much, the opportunity to write stories and especially to you READERS!!

So as part of the Stuff Your Stockings Blog Tour, I'm offering a prize to two winners: the first is a $25 gift certificate to winner's choice of Amazon/Ellora's Cave/Samhain; the second is the winner's choice of any two books from my backlist. All you have to do is leave me a comment telling me what you're grateful for this Christmas.

Easy peasy! Not only that, but if you click on the Stuff Your Stockings graphic below, you'll be linked back to an amazing list of authors who are giving away all kinds of gifts this weekend.

So enjoy, stuff your stockings, enjoy the holiday season, and hug your loved ones. 

Peace and love,

Juniper

Jingle Bell Hop -- On the Second Day of Christmas

On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me ....

 Two Turtledoves, No Money Back

Jingle bells jangled as the door of Fluff burst open in a flutter of tinsel. Carrie jumped around in alarm, nearly trapping her hand inside an African Gray’s cage. A tall hunk of a man dressed in an expensive gray winter coat was blasting his way toward her, an ornate birdcage brandished in one leather-gloved hand.

“I want to return these birds. I expect my money back. With interest.” He plopped the cage down on the counter. Carrie peered at the pair of perfectly harmless-looking Streptopelia turtur, otherwise known as European Turtle Doves, perched inside. They cocked their heads at her and cooed.

“What’s wrong with them?” Puzzled, she looked back at the irate customer, only to find her breath snatched away by the impact of his jade-green eyes and late-in-the-day stubble.

“They’re worse than a horror movie, that’s what. You’ll be lucky if I don’t charge you for all the damage they’ve done.”

“These are turtledoves, not cobras. Turtledoves hide out and coo all day. That’s why they’re a symbol of devoted love, though as an ornithologist I never really bought into that romantic crap.”

The man, if possible, grew even more enraged. “Well my girlfriend did buy into that romantic crap. Turtledoves for Christmas, that’s all I’ve been hearing about for weeks. So I finally gave in and bought her the evil beasts.”

“Birds aren’t beasts. Beasts implies a mammal, whereas birds are descended from dinosaurs, which, come to think of it, could be called beasts, since it’s not exactly a scientific term...” She frowned, puzzling it over.

“Who are you?” He slapped one hand on the counter and leaned in. She caught of whiff of fresh snow and noticed a stray snowflake on one black eyebrow. Lord, he was a good-looking man.

“I’m an avian veterinarian. I’m here to help the new Rosy Bourque Parakeets settle in.”

“A bird vet? Perfect. Maybe you can explain why these demented birdbrains tried to peck out my girlfriend’s eyes. She had to lock herself in the bathroom.”

“That’s ridiculous. Why would they do that?”

“You tell me. After they scared the life out of her, they knocked over the candles I’d lit and set the tablecloth on fire. While I was running for the fire extinguisher, they flapped around the room, squawking up a storm, and managed to spill a bottle of champagne. At least it put the fire out. But that was a five-hundred dollar bottle of Veuve Cliquot.”

“Special occasion?” Carrie gingerly opened the door of the birdcage. True, turtledoves tended to be unpredictable in captivity, but she’d never heard of one pecking at someone’s eyes.

“Marriage proposal.”

“Oh.” A quick shaft of disappointment surprised her. She murmured to the turtledoves, who gave a peaceful trrr trrr in response.

“Yeah. I bet you can guess her answer.”

“I’m sure if she loves you and you love her, her answer was yes.”

“Well, it wasn’t. She thought I was trying to kill her.” All the ire left his voice, leaving only a weary sadness.

“I’m very sorry. But clearly that’s absurd. Turtledoves aren’t anyone’s murder weapon of choice.”

The birds looked alert and bright-eyed, perfectly healthy. One of the doves stepped onto her forefinger, wrapping his claws around it for balance. She brought it out of the cage, murmuring soothingly the whole time.

“What are you doing?” The man stepped back in alarm.

“I’m showing you there’s absolutely nothing wrong with these birds.”

“Are you kidding? I should have wrung their necks on the spot. I don’t know why I didn’t get my shotgun out.”

Now it was Carrie’s turn to glare. “Probably because you didn’t want to ruin your fancy bachelor pad.”

“Excuse me?”

“These birds are perfectly fine. Maybe your girlfriend’s the one with the problem.”

“Oh really? What problem would that be?”

Carrie had had it with this arrogant, anti-bird bozo, now matter how sexy he was. “I don’t know. Maybe her problem is you. Did you ever think it just wasn’t meant to be?”

Jacob couldn’t believe his ears. This petite little scrap of a woman, with her big blue eyes and cinnamon hair fluffed around her head, was taking the turtledoves’ side over his? Of course she might have a point about Liz. He’d been so relieved when she turned him down, he’d decided not to throttle the birds or hand them over to animal control. But still. They’d wreaked havoc in his house, which was not a bachelor pad, no matter what the snippy bird vet thought. 

“Are you saying these doves know what’s best for me and my love life?” He used the low, menacing tone of voice he employed with the criminals he interrogated on the witness stand.

“Maybe they do. They are symbols of romantic love, after all. Aren’t you, little sweetie-kins?”  She cooed at the dove in a revoltingly endearing way. The bird responded by rubbing his feathered neck against her wrist. He experienced a sudden longing to do the same. Despite her lousy attitude toward customer service, she had a serene, grounded air that he found incredibly appealing.

“Here,” she said suddenly. “Why don’t you two get to know each other a little better? You probably didn’t get properly acquainted. European Turtle Dove, meet…”

“Jacob Harper.” He shifted uncomfortably. Had he just introduced himself to a bird?

“James, meet European Turtle Dove. He’s a member of the bird family Columbidae. He likes woodland walks, rooting around for seeds, and falling in love. Turtledoves are monogamous and mate for life. Your turn.”

“Um…” Though he felt ridiculous, those wide blue eyes wouldn’t let him off the hook.

“I like walks in the woods too, but I’d go for a steak instead of the seeds. And I’d like nothing more than to fall in love.”

“You weren’t in love with your girlfriend?”

Ouch. She sure knew how to stick the knife in the wound. “The hell if I know. She had everything I thought I wanted. Beautiful, smart, good family connections.”

“Wow, can’t imagine what went wrong.”

Her sarcastic tone made him laugh ruefully. “Okay, so I’m not as good at romance as I am in the courtroom. That’s why I got the turtledoves. Figured they’d do the job for me.”

“Mr. Harper, they’re just birds. Maybe that was asking too much.”

“Call me Jacob.” As if she’d ever have occasion to call him anything again.

“Okay. I’m Carrie.”

“Carrie.” For a moment they stared at each other. The turtledove cooed peacefully as she stroked its back in an absent-minded manner. He reached out a finger to touch the bird. He’d never even taken the turtledoves out of the cage until the disastrous proposal. Its delicate brownish-gray feathers were deliciously soft. A patch of pastel pink adorned its breast. It was exquisitely beautiful, though Liz had been disappointed that the doves weren’t white. 

He accidentally touched Carrie’s hand and felt a current of electricity travel up his arm. He snatched away his finger. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Her eyes widened. Had she felt it too? Curious, compelled, he reached out to stroke her feather-soft hair. Again, that remarkable spark ignited his blood. Her pupils dilated. He leaned toward her, needing to explore this mysterious connection. Their lips met.

Magic. Pure, raw magic. She tasted like the outdoors, like pine trees and marshmallows and campfires in the snow. She tasted like a promise of everything good and sweet and real. Right then and there, he made up his mind not to let her out of his life, if he could help it.

When they finally pulled apart, she put a hand over her mouth, looking flushed and adorably rattled. “I’ll tell you what, Jacob Harper. I’ll give you your money back. But you should keep the birds.”

“You’re giving them to me?”

“Yes. This species can be a wonderful choice for the right person. They’re a bit wild but worth the extra attention. I recommend a ten-foot high aviary and an occasional treat of mealworms.”

He caught the purple-ringed eye of the dove. Was that a wink? “You’ll have to help me get everything just right. For their sake. And mine.”

She blushed even more deeply. “Fine. I’ll be happy to help you.”

Eyes a-blaze, heart a-glow, he pulled her into another deep, soul-searing kiss. 

The turtledove lifted off her finger and perched on the top of the cage. The other bird hopped to the door and flew up to join its partner. They cooed and rubbed their necks together. In the back of Jacob's mind, he wondered what all that trrr trrr-ing meant. Not that it really mattered. All that mattered was how he intended to win Carrie’s heart forever.

On top of the cage, a deep, wordless discussion was taking place. “Typical humans. Trrr trrr. Don’t they listen to the actual song? Who do they think the line “my true love gave to me” refers to? Just anyone you’re hot for?”

“Would you relax, my love? Trrr trrr. At least she got it right. She gave her true love two turtledoves, even if she didn’t realize it. True love always wins out.”

“I guess all’s well that ends well. I just wish it didn’t take so much work.”

“Oh, you. As if you didn’t enjoy that champagne.”

“Trrr trrr. You know me so well, my sweet.”

“Stop that! Not in front of the humans.”

“Oh please. They’ve forgotten we exist. Look at them. By the time they’re done with that kiss, it’ll be the Third Day of Christmas.”

“Well, I think it’s romantic. I guess I’m a sucker for true love.”

“We’re turtledoves, what do you expect? Now let’s show these humans a thing or two about necking.”

“Trrr trrr TRRR.”

 The End

Thank you so much for joining the Jingle Bell Hop. Click here to start at the beginning or to get back on the "tour bus."

You probably already know about all the prizes offered as part of the hop. Well, here's one more. My next release is called BEAUTIFUL OBSESSION from Ellora's Cave. I just got the cover yesterday, so here's the world premiere! If you leave me a comment, I'll put you in the running for an ARC of this super-hot menage as soon as it's available.










May true love surround you with peace and joy this holiday season.

Love, Juniper

Countdown to the Jingle Bell Hop!

This blog hop is going to be SO FUN! We're doing a Twelve Days of Christmas theme, and I signed up for the Second Day of Christmas, the two turtledoves. If you click on the banner above you can sign up to receive a reminder about the hop once it's underway. As always, there will be amazing prizes, including a KINDLE FIRE! I hope you'll join us as we kick off the holiday season with eye candy, sexy stories, and fun prizes.

Contract News

Signed and sealed ... well, signed anyway ... my next release will be BEAUTIFUL OBSESSION from Ellora's Cave. Release date TBA, cover soon to come, blurb still to be written, but I can tell you this much: it's about a graduate student who becomes obsessed with three mysterious, inseparable students. It's a menage, it's experimental, and it's one of the hottest things I've ever written.

I can't wait!

Ripped Roaring Halloween Hop

Happy Halloween! Welcome to Juniper's House. Last Halloween I promised my blog hop winner she'd be a character in a story. So here's Cathy MacDonald in...

WEREWOLVES DO IT WILD

“I won’t be a stupid ghost! I won’t, I won’t!”

Cathy MacDonald gave up with one final eye roll of frustration. Of course her obstinate son Dylan would turn down the easiest costume, the one she’d already made in the five minutes between work and Trick or Treating.

“Fine, then. Pick something else. But make it quick. Kids are already hitting the streets.”

Dylan uncurled himself from his facedown sprawl on his bed. “I’ll be a…” His glance zeroed in on his favorite stuffed animal, the one he’d slept with every night since the age of two. “Panther. A black one.”

“I do believe they’re all black, except for that goofy pink one,” Cathy murmured, mentally calculating the time it would take to stuff a black stocking with newspaper to make a tail. At least he hadn’t chosen something really complicated, like Picachu or Angry Birds Rio. “Get your black jeans and black sweater. Whiskers, ears…piece of cake.”

She wanted to say, “Good choice,” but was afraid that might make him change his mind. He’d been so difficult lately, not her normal sweet-natured boy at all.

“Thanks, Mom.” He smiled, a brief flash of his old self.

Minutes later, completed tail in hand, she hurried into the kitchen. Dylan, all in black, had the refrigerator open and was glugging milk straight from the carton. “Dylan! You know better than that!”

Dylan raised his head quickly, giving her a shock. The pupils of his normally green eyes were so dilated they looked black. 

“I didn’t mean to frighten you, honey.”

“That’s okay.” He put the carton back in the fridge. “Sorry, Mom.” But he didn’t look sorry. He looked annoyed.

“Turn around, I’ll pin this to your butt. Then I’ll draw you some whiskers with my eye pencil.”

“I don’t need whiskers. I’m not five.”

“Eight year old panthers don’t have whiskers?”

“Okay, whatever. But what are you going to be, Mom?”

She drew whiskers on herself. “A panther’s mom, of course.”

They joined the kids and parents roaming the neighborhood amid gusts of wind and swirling autumn leaves. At the first house, the woman who answered the door smiled down at Dylan.

“What are you, young man?”

Dylan made his hands into claws and roared. Cathy stepped back and put a hand to her throat. She’d never heard a sound quite like that come out of her son’s mouth. 

“He’s a panther,” she said, when she could. “And I’m a panther’s mom.”

“I see.” Shakily, the woman tossed him a granola bar. Dylan caught it in the wink of an eye, gave it a scornful glance, and turned away.

“Dylan!”

“Thank you.” He snarled over his shoulder.

As the evening went on, and the streetlights made spooky shadows from the motley parade of costumes, Cathy became more and more shocked by her son’s behavior. He snatched the offered treats and buried them in his plastic pumpkin. He shoved other Trick or Treaters out of the way with a harsh hiss. He ignored her completely, pacing ahead of her or off to the side.

By the time they reached Mr. Gideon’s house, she was nearly in tears. Ben Gideon was Dylan’s third grade teacher and, truth to tell, Cathy had a secret crush on him, the first since Dylan's father had left them. Dark, virile, magnetic – his sex appeal wasted on a bunch of eight-year olds. He was thoughtful too; the only teacher she’d been able to approach with her concerns about Dylan, and the only one able to control him.

But why had he chosen to dress as a werewolf? She shuddered as his deep, dark eyes smiled at her from behind glued-on fur. He wore a Medieval-looking leather gherkin over bulging muscles and lots of fake black chest hair. At least, she assumed it was fake. If not, he sure was…manly. She had to admit he wore it well, with a sort of Hugh Jackman flair.

“Happy Halloween,” he growled. “Having a beastly night?” 

“Yes,” Cathy said, nearly bursting into tears, until she realized he was referring to Dylan’s costume. “I…I think he’s taking his costume a little too literally.”

Ben Gideon’s sharp gaze focused on Dylan, now standing a few feet behind Cathy. Standing? More like skulking.

“Dylan,” said Gideon sharply. “Can you hear me?”

“Of course he can hear you. Whether he chooses to listen, that’s another issue.”

But Gideon ignored her. He brushed past her. Her nose prickled at the unexpected, gamey scent of wild thing. He loomed over Dylan, who crouched on the ground.

On all fours.

“Dylan. Get up,” she pleaded, mortified.

Dylan’s whole body quivered. In the light of the open door, his shadow blackened the concrete driveway. Wow. Distracted for a moment, she congratulated herself on her handiwork. Her son’s shadow looked exactly like a cat, the way the tail swished back and forth, the way his hindquarters twitched, as if he was getting ready to pounce…

And then he was leaping through the air toward Mr. Gideon’s throat, claws extended, mouth open on a long yowl.

Claws? She hadn’t given him claws. Everything went black and she crumpled to the ground.

  

***

When she woke up, she was inside Ben Gideon’s house, on his couch, and his worried dark eyes were staring into hers. “Are you all right?”

“That depends.” If everything was a weird dream, then sure. Otherwise…She glanced around the room. In the corner, a young, sleek, black panther lapped milk from a bowl. “No. No. No.”

“I’m afraid so, Cathy.”

“What? Afraid so what?” Someone needed to spell this out, because…what the fuck?

“I’ve been noticing the signs but didn’t know how to tell you. Dylan’s a…well, you can see for yourself.”

“No, I can’t.” She squeezed her eyes shut to make it true.

“I know this is hard. And strange. But you’ll get used to it. Your son’s a shifter. A were-cat. There are worse things to be, Cathy. He’ll have amazing powers, when he learns to control them. I can vouch for that."

She inched her eyes open and let his dark glance steady her. God, he was sexy. But what a time to notice that.

“And you know this because…what, you’re a werewolf?” She laughed to take the edge off the absurdity of it, all the while knowing the truth.

“You know what they say,” he said, with a devastating hint of a smile. “Werewolves do it wild.”

She stared at him. The panther finished his milk, sat on his hind legs and licked his chops. With one paw, he swiped a drop of milk off his whiskers. Dylan had never been that tidy. Then he trotted over to the couch, jumped up and curled in the nook between Cathy’s hip and the couch cushion. Contented purrs filled the air.

“My sweet boy,” whispered Cathy, touching him gently on his glossy head. The purrs doubled in volume. She smiled. The boy Dylan rarely let her cuddle him anymore. 

“Now that he’s shifted for the first time, his behavior will improve, I promise. If you let me, I’ll help you both through this phase. Teach you what you need to know.”

He lifted her chin in his lightly furred hand. Intense heat radiated off his body, along with a dizzying, primal sexuality. 

“It would be my honor and pleasure,” he added in a husky whisper. "I can't get you out of my mind." The promise in his eyes brought all her latent lust for this man boiling to the surface. She leaned in and their lips met. Wildfire cruised through her veins. 

Whatever Ben Gideon was, she wanted him. Whatever Dylan was, she’d take care of him. She was a panther's mom, after all. Why not a werewolf's mate?

"Do werewolves really do it wild?" 

"Only one way to find out."

 

Thanks for reading! To return to the Blog Hop, click on the banner or here. Feel free to explore the rest of my blog while you're here. And because I love comments, if you leave me one I'll put you in the running to star in a story for next Halloween.

Have a Beastly Halloween!

A New Life for The Extremist

I just realized I haven't mentioned my re-release of The Extremist here yet! I got busy with the release of Go Deep and kept putting it off ...

So here it is. The Extremist was my first erotic romance novella and one of my favorites because it's about a woman coming out of her shell--a great way to begin my career as a writer of steam. ;-) Liquid Silver Books published it, for which I will always be grateful. Now I have the rights back, so I decided to put it up on Amazon and Smashwords. Dar Albert created this gorgeous, sexy new cover, Kinsey W. Holley helped me with some editing and formatting, and voila! It also has a new, lower price -- one I think is more suited to a novella. It will also eventually be available on Kobo, Nook, Sony E-reader, etcetera.

Here's the blurb and the Kindle buy link if you'd like to check it out.

CLICK TO BUY

  BLURB

 

Sex on the beach…just what the doctor ordered.

Lovely, shy Annie Swenson has a few phobias. Okay, more than a few. Crowds, heights, sun, public exposure.  When her therapist urges her to take a vacation, she picks a remote island in the Bahamas – the perfect solo hideaway.

So much for plans. Who knew she’d be the only single woman at the resort? Who knew her nemesis from college would be staying there?  Who knew she’d be desperate enough to introduce the gorgeous man behind her in the buffet line as her boyfriend?  

The sexy stranger goes along with her charade…for a price. Before she knows it, she’s playing his erotic, boundary-pushing games and loving it. How far will she go? How many of her inhibitions will she shatter? And who is this mysterious man known as “The Extremist”? After a vacation like this, Annie’s life will never be the same.

Reader Advisory: This novella contains explicit sex, light bondage, exhibitionism, a supremely hot Aussie, and, of course, sex on the beach. 

Peace and Love, 

Juniper