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Outfoxed

by Jasmine Aherne
sensual/light erotic paranormal romance novel (elves and fae/shifters)
$3.39 $3.99

Meet Colin. A zoologist. Dedicated to his work. Crap at meeting women. He’d like to meet the girl of his dreams, but he never
imagines she’ll be hidden in … a statue?

Rhoswen longs to bond with Colin and be part of his human world. She’s wanted him for so long, and that fact he thinks she’s a fake
hurts. So she sets out to prove to him that just because he can’t see or touch love, it’s a force to be reckoned with all the same…

Purchase direct from Pink Petal Books.

Help Around The House

by Karenna Colcroft
erotic contemporary romance novella
$3.39 $3.99

Two years after the death of her husband, Jodie thinks it’s time to move on. And who better to move on with than Todd, the
next-door neighbor who has stood by her and helped her with everything from snow removal to her two children?

But Jodie isn’t completely sure she’s ready to become involved with Todd. He’s been divorced for several years and barely
remembers how to be in a relationship. If the two of them want everything to work out, they must agree on what they want and work
through their pasts to build a future together.

Purchase direct from Pink Petal Books.

For the next two weeks, save 10% on all books by Jasmine Aherne and Alyssa Fox. Great contemporary reads to help end your summer in style!

“Nothing sells your current book like your next one.”

“Build a backlist.”

“You have to keep putting out books so readers don’t forget you.”

All signs point to GO when it comes to productivity. Especially in the e-publisher markets, authors are pushed to write more and more. But at what point does being too productive become counter-productive?

Read more »

This is free flash fiction from one of our new authors, Nicole Hurley-More. We hope you enjoy…

The Town of Adwan, 776 AD

Ranjinn silently scaled the jasmine covered wall; the heavy scent from the small white flowers was intoxicating. The waning moon was obscured by dark night clouds and he felt a cool breeze wash over his strong shoulders as he pulled himself towards the softly lit balcony above. Pausing for a moment, he glanced down to the fragrant garden fifteen feet below. A large rectangular pool was its center piece, around it the grounds radiated in four lush geometric designs featuring lemon and lime trees mixed with heady florals and pomegranates. The evening air was not only infused with the scents of Shuri’s garden, but also tempered by the salty sea that lapped at the nearby rocky coast. The once quiet village of Adwan had in a short space of time become a busy and bustling town that hugged the shore. It was renowned for its fresh produce and for that reason was pinpointed as a port of call to all the merchant ships that sailed past; the town had become prosperous from the trade and now its market place was a treasure trove of jewels, spice, scented oils and glorious coloured silks from the east. Ranjinn returned to his task and climbed swiftly up the remainder of the wall; soon he pulled himself over the intricately carved stone balustrade that formed the railing to his beloved’s balcony. Without a sound he stepped over the cool marble floor and lifted back the diaphanous silken curtains that led to Shuri’s chamber.

She was seated at a small table, brushing her long dark hair that fell far below her shoulders. Her gown was a pale blue and the room was scented with her favourite perfume – rose of Damascus. Shuri’s hand stilled and her back stiffened as she sensed a presence in the room; she whirled around and the look of apprehension was quickly replaced by relief.

“My love, you should not have come.” She said as she rose from her chair and ran towards Ranjinn’s open arms; the silky skirts flowing like water in her wake.

“I could not stay away.” He replied as he buried his face into her fragrant neck.

“But my uncle will kill us both if he discovers we have disobeyed his decree.”

“Your uncle has never loved, for if he had he would allow us to wed. We will leave this place and find a friendlier shore.” He explained as he pulled back a little and searched her face.

“Truly Jinn? Are you willing to leave all that is yours for me?” She asked as a doubt and fear clouded her green eyes.

“You are my heart, and by us leaving Adwan – I gain everything.” His lips captured hers in a kiss filled with love, reverence and the slow burning passion that they had both tried for months to contain. His hands roved over the silk of her dress, over her slim waist and the flare of her womanly hips. Jinn deepened the kiss as he felt Shuri wrap her arms tightly around his neck and draw him closer. He felt his heart hammer in his chest as she quivered within his embrace; fighting against his instincts gently he released her and stepped away in the hope of reigning in his desire. There would be time enough to savour their love …a lifetime … but first they must flee from the town. “Come we must slip from this house and out of your Uncle’s grasp. I have a ship waiting to take us to Al Basrah on the morning tide.” He explained as he took her by the hand and brought it to his lips, before gently pulling her towards the door.

“Wait we cannot leave by this route. My Uncle is away this night and because of it he has doubled the guards and even ordered two stay outside my chamber.” Shuri said as she came to a halt. “He does not trust us, Jinn – he believed that we would try and escape. He was right.”

Jinn thought for a moment. “Then it is just as well I brought this.” He said as he pointed to a thin coil of rope hung across his shoulder. “We will leave by the balcony – that is if you trust me not to drop you?” he asked with laughter dancing in his brown velvet eyes.

“I trust you.” She answered without hesitation and then added with a smile “But you had better not drop me.”

“If you are ready we will depart this forsaken house?” he said.

Shuri nodded her head.

“Then come my love, the night grows late and we should put some distance between us and your Uncle.”

Together they slipped out to the balcony and Jinn quickly tied the end of his rope to the sturdy stone balustrade.

“Jump up onto my back and hold on tight.” Jinn said as he waited for her to carry out his instructions. “Just remember there is nothing to fear, I will not drop you.”

“I am not afraid.” She answered as she settled herself on his back, bent over and kissed his ear.

Jinn took a deep breath as he began to lower himself off the balcony. “Please Shuri, this would be far less precarious if you’d stop that!” he said in a harsh whisper.

Shuri smothered a laugh but refrained from breathing softly into his ear until they had almost reached the garden below. As his feet touched the ground she slid off his back but before she had a chance to move away he pulled her into an embrace and ravished her mouth; he kissed her long and hard until their breathing quickened and they began to melt into each other.

“Come,” he said as he pulled away and retrieved the two cloaks he had hidden behind the jasmine before he had scaled the balcony. “We should not linger; let us make for the side gate.” He stated as he threw a slate blue hooded cloak about her shoulders and fastened it at her throat, his eyes smoldering with longing as he looked into her own.

Shuri gave him a knowing smile; she saw how he struggled to overcome his desire and she loved him for it. In fact she loved Jinn for many reasons – the way his eyes smiled when he said her name, his kiss, his touch and the way it made her feel inside. She loved the way he looked – with his almost black hair that felt thick and silky when she ran her fingers through it, his determined chin and the defined planes on his handsome face. In Shuri’s opinion he was the most beautiful man in Adwan. But tonight she loved him because she knew that he was willing to give up all that was his so that they could be together. Jinn was a merchant and as the town had grown rich, so had he; yet because of her he would give up all that he knew – his house, business and friends to start over in a distant city of strangers. A cold stab of guilt pricked at her heart, for his sake she should not run away into the night but stay and face her Uncle and her responsibilities … and marry Farrokh. A shiver ran up her spine as she envisioned a lifetime married to a man she did not love. She was being selfish, but how could she face life without her beloved Jinn? A life that would be harsh, brittle, uncaring and cold … and yet for his sake should she not make the sacrifice?

“Shuri … we must away.” He said as he urged her down the paved path.

“Perhaps I should stay … it would be better for you if we forgot each other.” She said quickly as she dropped his hand. “You are giving up everything, Jinn …everything.”

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. “Shuri, I love you and if we are parted … only then will I have lost everything. Come we must leave.”

She briefly closed her eyes and took a breath, breathing in the spicy scent of his skin; she knew that she was too weak to let him go. Whatever the future would bring they would face it together. Raising her head she looked into his eyes. “Very well my love, let us fly and leave Adwan behind.”

Turning together they ran through the scent drenched garden, through the roses, beyond the grove of almond, apricot and cherry trees; past the delicate pavilion where the honeysuckle and wisteria climbed and beyond the pool of reflection until they came to a small wooden door embedded in a high stone wall. Jinn turned the heavy lock and silently the door sprung open; without a backward glance he pulled Shuri through the door into the darkened streets of Adwan.

A Knight In Cowboy Boots by Suzie Quint
contemporary cowboy suspense romance novel (approx 98,000 words)
Cover Art by Valerie Tibbs
ISBN# 978-0-9837809-5-3

When Zach McKnight, an irresistible oil rig worker with a thick-as-honey Texan drawl, first pokes into the secrets surrounding the mysterious Maddie Wells, he has no idea that the chance encounter will change his life forever. Maddie Wells is on the run with Jesse, the infant son of her murdered sister. The boy’s father isn’t far behind. He wants his son and is willing to kill to get him. Zach is intrigued from the first moment he sees the dark haired beauty in a hotel, but getting his hard working hands on her delectable body is more easily dreamt than achieved. He gets shot for his trouble, by Maddie no less, and sucked into the web of lies and fear that are her constant companions.

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For the second time that day, their clothes ended up on the floor. Maddie straddled him as she pushed him down onto the bed.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Zach asked. “I’ll get a lot of depth with you on top.”

She leaned over to kiss him. “You haven’t hurt me yet.”

Zach groaned with pleasure as she lowered herself onto him. She rocked up and back a few times, seating him deep inside her.

“Ride ‘em, cowgirl,” Zach muttered.

Maddie grinned in response. “Yee-haw.”

The words were barely out of her mouth when the front door opened. A freckle-faced girl with strawberry blonde hair was several steps into the room before she saw them. “Holy shit!”

Pandemonium engulfed the bed. Maddie dove into Zach’s chest, her startled scream shrill in his ear, as he grabbed a fistful of the bedspread to drag over the two of them.

Maddie gathered up the other side of the spread as she slid off Zach. Bunching it up in front of her breasts, she struggled to cover all the vital areas before she said, “Peggy! What are you doing here?”

When Maddie called her name, Peggy blushed redder than her hair and spun on her heel. Speaking over her shoulder, she said, “I thought you wanted me to sit for you. Didn’t you say you were covering the last half of Pete’s shift tonight?”

“Oh, crap. I forgot.” Maddie started to scramble off the bed but bounced back when the spread Zach was laying on refused to stretch that far. “Shit, I’m going to be late.” Caught with no good choices, she glanced at Peggy’s back before dropping the spread and scurrying to the wardrobe. The open door blocked Peggy from seeing anything above Maddie’s knees, but there was nothing wrong with the view from the bed. Zach rolled onto his side, the bedspread strategically draped over his hips, and propped his cheek on his palm to watch.

He’d known since puberty that he was an ass-and-legs man. As she hopped up and down, trying to get a leg into a pair of black slacks, Maddie only demonstrated she had the qualities he found most appealing.

Across the room, Peggy started babbling about how someone had been going out the front door as she was coming in and how sorry she was for not ringing the bell to warn Maddie she was on her way up, and how sorry she was to have just walked in, but she knew it was Jesse’s nap time, and she hadn’t wanted to disturb him, and how she’d never had any reason to expect that Maddie might be getting lucky . . .

Maddie appeared to hear none of it as she pulled a raspberry and pink print shirt from the armoire then turned, looking around wildly for a second before her eyes found what she sought near the bed. She shot Zach a pleading look. He scooted over to the edge and stretched until he could hook his fingers around a strap of the bra she’d so hastily discarded earlier.

She mouthed a “Thanks” when he tossed it to her.

Zach continued to watch as she put it on then leaned over to adjust her breasts into the cups. It wasn’t anywhere near what he’d been hoping the afternoon would bring, but it wasn’t a bad consolation prize. Aside from how quickly she dressed—something he would have bet no woman he’d ever known could do—he liked that she was too distracted to realize the show she was giving him.

“You can turn around now,” Maddie tossed at Peggy as she closed the wardrobe. She skirted the bed, scooping up Zach’s jeans as she passed and throwing them at him. Maddie picked up the brush on top of the dresser, flung her hair forward as she bent, and began attacking her mane. Zach sighed with contentment.

Jesse started fussing in his crib as the commotion finally woke him.

“I’ve got him,” Peggy said. She hauled Jesse out of the crib and held him against her chest. “Is he the roses guy?” Peggy whispered loudly, as though Zach couldn’t hear her. From the grin on her face, he suspected he met with her approval.

Maddie tossed her hair back as she straightened, revealing a pinker-than-usual complexion. “Uh—yeah. Peggy, this is Zach.” She pointed the hairbrush from him to the grinning girl. “Zach, Peggy. She’s a neighbor. And Jesse’s sitter.”

“I’m guessing there’s going to be more roses in your future,” Peggy predicted with a grin, the memory of her own embarrassment obviously already fading into the distant past.

Zach silently blessed her for the inspiration. Flowers never came to mind unless he needed to apologize, but if anyone deserved them just because, it was Maddie. Especially after the day they’d just had.

“I’ve got to put on makeup,” Maddie mumbled, heading for the bathroom with Peggy on her heels.

Zach took the opportunity to pull on his jeans. Down on his hands and knees, he searched under the bed for his socks.

“What a hunk!” he heard from the bathroom, followed by Maddie shushing the girl. Zach grinned to himself as he put on his shirt.

Socks in hand, he sat down on the bed. His boots came next.

“You ready, Zach?”

He chalked up another point for Maddie. A new land speed record for applying makeup.

“Yeah. Here’s your bag.”

“Are you going to button your shirt? You look like you’ve been mugged.”

He let Maddie see a lustful twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, I have been. There ain’t no buttons left to button.”

“Ooh, Maddie!” Peggy said. “You go, girl.”

For the first time since Peggy walked into the room, Maddie stopped short. “You can’t walk into the hotel like that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got another shirt in my room.”

“But you can’t walk into the hotel like that,” she persisted.

Zach wasn’t sure where her distress was coming from unless it had to do with Rachel figuring out what they’d spent the day doing. He opened his mouth to reassure her again but stopped when she walked slowly across to the wardrobe and pulled out the last hanger. It held a faded blue work shirt like the ones he wore on the ranch.

She held the shirt against herself, and he would have sworn she breathed in the scent of it for a moment before she turned and offered it to him.

“Here. You can wear this.”

“You sure?” Zach asked, his hand closing around the hanger. He didn’t know why he asked, except it seemed as though she didn’t really want to part with the shirt. He was even more sure when she held onto the hanger as she considered the question. Not understanding the undercurrents of her emotions, he waited until she pulled her hand back.

“Yes. Leave your shirt. I’ll find the buttons.”

While she dug in her purse for her car keys, Zach sniffed the shirt. It smelled of sweat but only faintly, as though time rather than washing had faded the scent, but it fit well enough when he shrugged into it.

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A Deceitful Widow by Diana Hussey
sensual regency historical romance (Approx 84, 500 words)
Cover Art by Winterheart Design
ISBN# 978-0-9837803-6-0

Weary of war and turmoil, Jessica flees Spain for the peace of England with her orphaned nephew, determined to hide the boy from his father’s powerful family. She will do anything to protect him, no matter how tempted she is to trust the dangerously attractive lord who comes searching.

Lord Waring’s quest to find his late cousin’s child is thwarted by this disturbingly beautiful young widow. Elusive and defiant, her past shrouded with mystery, she is an enchanting enigma he cannot resist.

Now, drawn together by the silken ties of duty and love, they must find a path that frees them from the bonds of the past.

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“Tell me about Mrs. McClain,” he said in an off-handed manner that spiked Waring’s curiosity. This was no idle question. Why would his uncle ask about the widow again? He did not want to talk about the woman. Hell, he didn’t even want to think about her! All that did was feed the insane attraction he felt toward a woman who seemed to have little but physical beauty to recommend her.

“What do you want to know, sir? There isn’t much I can add to what I told you when I returned from Wiltshire.”

“You’ve told me little enough. That she is young and attractive and Andrew’s sister-in-law, but I want more than that. What kind of person is she?” He looked up and pinned Waring with a hard look. “Your impressions, what kind of life she has. Everything you can remember about your encounter.” He held up a hand. “You will hear my reason for asking soon enough.”

Waring stared at the crackling fire. How could he describe Jessica McClain in a way that would give his uncle more than a physical description, without giving away his growing and fiercely reluctant interest in the woman?

“As I said before, I expected her to be older, middle-aged,” he said at last. “But she is no more than twenty-five, if that, and tall for a woman. Slender, grey-eyed, and hair the colour of this brandy.” He gently swirled the rich chestnut-coloured spirit in his glass until the liquid gleamed red and gold in the firelight.

“But I’ve told you all that. My impression of the woman is harder to describe.” He paused to gather his thoughts. What did he think of the lovely widow? That just the thought of her tightened his groin, that he wanted to bury his face in her hair, wrap his hands in it, breathe in the womanly scent of her? He certainly was not about to share that with his uncle!

“I thought her elusive and subtly hostile in her manner, though polite enough, and she has a voice that would match any one of the Sirens, with just a hint of a Spanish accent. I think she is a mystery, our Mrs. McClain. All neat and tidy, and my guess is that it is not her usual style. I felt she was hiding something, but what, and why, I have no idea. Why would a beautiful woman, and she is that, want to play down her looks and hide away in the country?”

“Hostile? In what way? Do you think she was lying about Andrew and her sister?” Linden demanded.

“No, no, not at all.” Waring felt sure of that, whatever doubts he had about the woman herself. “Not about Andrew. But something isn’t right there. There’s more to the story if I’m any judge.”

“You’re curious.” Excitement tinged Linden’s flat statement.

Waring frowned. “I suppose anyone would be, Uncle James. There is nothing unusual in that.”

“Hah. There are plenty that would not be interested, having the brains of a sheep, most of your set. Well, it suits me fine, that curiosity, because I want you to go back there and persuade Mrs. McClain to come here for a visit.”

“You what?” Waring choked on his brandy and stared in shock at the older man. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” he managed after a moment, seeing the determined look on Linden’s face.

“Of course I am serious. I would go to her myself if I could, but that fool physician of mine has forbidden me to travel. I want to meet her, hear more about Andrew. I’ve written, several times, but all I get is a polite refusal. Someone needs to go there and convince her to change her mind. Tell her she can bring her son, her friend, the maid, anyone she wants.”

“I doubt if your choice of an emissary is wise. I don’t think the lady likes me,” Waring protested and firmly suppressed his interest in this ready-made reason to approach the widow again.

“An odd notion, since I have heard that the ladies like you very well.”

Waring’s mouth twitched. “There have been one or two, but Mrs. McClain is not one of them. The woman couldn’t wait to see me to the door.”

“Pride piqued?”

“Perhaps. I admit the feeling is not one I enjoy, but for all her flawless manners there was a definite chill in that room.”

“I have been intrigued by the lady ever since you learned of her existence,” Linden said slowly. “There are so many unanswered questions. Why didn’t Andrew tell you, at least, about his marriage? He was furious with me when he left England for not helping him with his commission, so I can understand that he would not contact me. But why didn’t anyone know? His friends, fellow officers.” He frowned. “Dammit, you can’t take your wife and her sister on campaign and not have them noticed.”

“I’ve asked myself the same questions a dozen times, but I don’t think you would get much information from Mrs. McClain. Frankly, I think she has no fondness for this family.” He shrugged at the question in Linden’s eyes. “Just a feeling, sir, and one I cannot explain.”

“But you will go?” Linden pressed in a suddenly shaky voice. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Waring viewed the pale face with alarm and jumped up to ring the bell. This was enough for one evening. He greeted Linden’s valet with relief and all but ordered his uncle to bed.

“I’m going.” Linden leaned heavily on Robbins. “But I’ll have an answer first. You will do it?” He gave Waring one of those stern looks he did so well, and Waring threw up his hands in mock surrender. Do what he wanted to do anyway? Of course he would go.

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Finding Home by Jaime Samms
Book 3 in the Ageless Series
M/M erotic romance novel (about 70,000 words)
Cover Art by Winterheart Design
ISBN# 978-0-9837809-7-7

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Mikko’s life is turned upside down when his old mentor, Morgan infiltrates his mind and forces him to hurt the lover he’s been trying to save. The attack leaves them both broken and uncertain, and Ken decides leaving is the only way to save Mikko more pain. Accompanied by friends who seem to have designs on something more, ken sets out on a quest to find Morgan and stop him.

Old friends and new lovers are all the pair have to sustain them on their individual journeys. There’s no telling if they’ll ever find the peace they seek for the world, or for themselves.

Series Blurb
In a world disintegrating under the weight of too many people, the Ageless men and women are finding their lifespan stretching well beyond normal, and discovering they have abilities never before documented. When children are few and far between, and people find they can shift to animal form with a thought, the rift between those doomed to age and die and those who seem ageless is growing.

Morgan has taken advantage of this rift to seize control of the central nervous system of the world’s social structure and make his bid for world domination. It’s up to Mikko and Ken and their small band of friends to stop the takeover even as they struggle on a much more personal level to find love and balance with one another.

Excerpt

“What is all this?” Ken’s earlier trepidations returned.

“Ageless immunity or not, the Young are terrified we’re carriers of everything that can kill them. More and more, they’re restricting movement of anyone not inoculated. You will need the requisite number of nano-inhibitors in your blood stream to travel by air and cross even provincial boarders these days.” He held up the hypodermic gun. “That’s what these are. Not the state bread little beasts that multiply and require implant upon implant to satiate them, but a neutered variety I’ve concocted. Central’s scanners are configured to pick up the DNA donor bots. The receptive bots are innate until they’ve been activated by the donors. They look just like red blood cells, so the scanners don’t bother looking for them. Without the receptors, all that DNA gets shot into the bloodstream and pissed out, harmless to create more bots, but you can pass through the scanners without the red lights and suspicion. All it took was a flip of a switch to allow the donor bots to trigger the DNA release in one another.”

Myst snickered. “He made gay nano-bots. Precious, isn’t it?” He tilted his own head to one side and bared his neck for Dean to inject the bots into his system. “Only trouble is, they don’t self perpetuate, so eventually, you need to inject new ones.”

“Thank you for that assessment, Beloved.” Dean tenderly scrubbed a cotton swab over Myst’s neck and pressed the hypodermic to his skin.

Myst flinched slightly, pressed his lips together and wavered in his chair.

Dean pulled his lover close and held him against his chest. “Very good, Beloved. Breathe evenly, now. Just relax.”

Ken could see all of Myst’s muscles had tightened and his chest rose and fell in quick, hard pants. Sweat broke out across his upper lip. Eventually, his breathing evened out and his body relaxed into the long strokes of Dean’s hand down his arm.

“I’m okay.” He turned a limpid smile on his Dom and sat back in his own chair, letting out a long breath. “Oh hells, that sucks.” Turning to Ken, he tossed him a slack grin. “Your turn.”

“I don’t think—”

“One thing you will learn, Ken,” Dean said as he rose and moved to stand behind him. “You do not argue with me.” He gripped Ken’s chin in his hand and pulled it around and up, holding it at the awkward cant against his stomach. The touch of the cool alcohol-laden swab against his skin was far from gentle. He had no time to protest before he felt to cold press of the hypodermic and heard the loud piston of the mechanism that shot the needle into his neck.

“Ow!” He squirmed, twisting to get away, myriad emotions spiraling through him, memories of having needles plunged into his flesh and other, even less acceptable things happening, flashed through his mind. It made him fight harder than he might otherwise have, and when his muscles cramped into tight knots, he was unprepared. The agony of his contorted muscles freezing in mid motion was ten times worse what Myst must have felt, coming into the sensation from a relaxed state. Knifing slashes of pain in every limb, through his neck and shoulders, the sensation his blood was suddenly on fire made him grind his teeth and groan.

“Fucking hell.”

Rather than the hard hands holding him down that he expected, Dean caressed his hair, stroked his back and whispered in his ear. “Breathe, Ken. Come on.”

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The truth is when it comes to trust in publishing no one lays it on the line more than the customer. It’s his or her dollars and his or her time which the publisher is entrusted with spending the right way. The reader hopes, for example, that an author’s second book will be as good as her first, or that a publisher will continue to have a dedication to detail and editing on each and every book produced. In the marketplace, the reader hopes that the publisher will be as considerate to his or her needs, such as by not using DRM or allowing multiple formats to be downloaded so the reader could start reading a book on one device and finish it on another, even if it means those two devices have different formats.

And there’s nothing other than the consumer’s buying power to hold the publisher or the author to those contracts of trust. Read more »

I believe it’s in the movie “When Harry Met Sally” that the characters insist a man and woman can’t be just friends. Of course, in that movie it proves to be true. Sally and Harry go from disliking each other to liking each other to lusting each other, and finally have a happily ever after.

That’s a movie. Fiction. And in fiction anything can happen.

In real life, I’ve found that a man and a woman can be just friends. I have platonic male friends who have always been just that; there wasn’t any spark between us. (I also have platonic male friends who haven’t always been platonic, but that’s a different blog post…) Sure,  most humans are wired to want sex from time to time. With a straight (or bi) man and woman, there might be some attraction there that might make it difficult to stay completely platonic, but it does happen.

In fiction, though, oftentimes even a man and woman who have never considered each other as anything but buddies end up lusting after and loving one another. And that can make for a very hot story.

Even though I know that friends-to-lovers isn’t a guarantee when a woman and a man are friends, it’s one of my favorite tropes to read, and to write. I haven’t written many stories in that vein, because the ideas that float into my head don’t usually involve people who already know each other. But there have been a few.

In my first-ever published romance story, Ask and You Shall Receive (currently unavailable; I have the rights back and am trying to decide what to do with it), the heroine and hero were just friends until he decided to help her overcome her fear of asking for anything. In You Shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This, released by Pink Petal Books in February 2011, Erin and Stefan weren’t even quite friends; they just taught a dance class together until they admitted they had feelings for each other. And in Help Around the House, recently accepted by Pink Petal Books (no release date yet), single mother Jodie falls for the next-door neighbor who’s helped her and supported her emotionally in the two years since her husband’s death.

Friends don’t always become lovers, but I think when they do it’s one of the most romantic types of story.

This is part three of our “trust in publishing” series, and the good news is the things that an author wants from a publisher are also many of the same things a publisher wants from the author. It may come as a surprise to think that publishers have a road of trust with the author. After all, publishers offer the contracts, so there are remedies if the trust is broken. However, there has to be some level of trust and positive feeling before the contract is offered, and it’s there that the publisher makes the first leap.

First, the publisher has to trust that the author has followed the writer’s guidelines and is polite and professional enough to notify the publisher if the work is accepted elsewhere (if it’s a multiple submission) or to have followed the request for an exclusive submission. Then, there’s the trust that once a story is contracted, the author is up to doing the requested edits. Then once the book is released, we have to trust the the author will promote the work to his or her best ability, to work on the next novel, and to protect his or her reputation.

If we go back and revisit the list of things the author has to trust about the publisher, we’ll see many of the same things.

• Adhere to the terms of the contract. In this case, the publisher trusts the author to respect the right of first refusal clause, if any, and to be truthful about the author’s warranty about the work being available by the author and that it is not infringing on any copyrights.
• Keep authors informed through a business loop. Publishers ask authors to keep us informed, too. Did you move? Do you need your payments sent somewhere else? How about an email address change? Or are you going to take longer than expected on edits. It’s okay if you do, just keep in communication.
• Do business honestly and not do anything to besmirch the name of the publisher or any authors associated with it. This one goes both ways.

The publisher also has to trust the consumer. The publisher trusts that the consumer will not illegally distribute or pirate work. There’s also the concern about reviews, making sure they are honest and fair, even if they’re not positive. And, the publisher trusts the consumer to deal fairly and be if not courteous, then at least professional in dealing with customer service.

The good news is that this road of trust runs pretty smoothly, as do most of them. Generally the author researches the publisher before making a submission, and the publisher researches the author before offering a contract. Customers have many choices for purchasing, and will generally chose the option that’s easiest for them.

Our final part on this topic is on consumers and how they have to trust both the author and the publisher. This road can be the most perilous, but it can also be the most rewarding as readers discover new authors and new stories.