BLURB FROM OH, HOW THE MIGHTY ARE BALLIN’:

Bella-Sophia “Blitz” Forrester is your average African-American woman … if you having two undergraduate degrees, an M.A. in Exercise and Sports Science and a J.D. from the prestigious University of North Carolina average.  You’d think that with a resume that impressive, Blitz would be rocking evening gowns by New York fashion designer Stephen Burrows and jewelry by Tiffany and working for a prestigious law firm in her native Atlanta … and you’d be dead wrong.  Blitz’s standard outfit consisted of cargo jeans and cleats, and the only bling she wore was a standard coach’s whistle.  That’s because instead of arguing cases for wealthy clients, Blitz Forrester worked as a defensive coordinator for a Division I college men’s football team.  The only female to hold such a position in the male-dominated bastion of big time college football, Blitz was all business … all the time.

Wulf Altenöder is your average man of privilege.  That is, he enjoys his jet-set lifestyle and the women who come with it.  A soccer guru from Liechtenstein, he is asked to coach the men’s soccer team at the same university where Blitz coaches the men’s football team. 

Sparks fly when Blitz, on vacation in Europe, is asked to stop by and deliver updated regulations to Wulf.  It wasn’t the delivery that was the problem, but Wulf’s arrogance.  Blitz’s plans to stay away from Wulf are blown all to hell when she’s elected to show him around the city. 

Seething at having to play babysitter to a man who considers the pussy-ass sport of soccer to be not just the ‘real’ football  but the only football, Blitz shows him her native Atlanta … and unbeknownst to her shows him the woman beneath the coach.  Wulf, of course falls madly in love with that woman.  But what’s a man to do when he’s done nothing but piss off the woman he loves.  Why, woo her with chocolate of course, and then with his words, and finally with his body.

EXCERPT FROM OH, HOW THE MIGHTY ARE BALLIN’

Blitz was deep into her list of reasons why soccer should be outlawed when the door opened.  The secretary poked her head in and informed her that Mr. Altenöder was walking down the hall.  Smiling, she thanked the secretary feeling for the first time a bit of sisterhood with her for giving her the heads up.  It wasn’t that she was doing anything wrong, but the heads up gave her time to get that ‘fuck you’ look off of her face.  Blitz had just put on her ‘I really care what the fuck you’re saying’ look when the door opened again.  Standing to greet Mr. Altenöder, who she’d pictured as a salty-haired, stocky man with a drill sergeant persona, she froze in her tracks when she got her first glimpse of the new coach. 

HOLY MARY MOTHER OF GOD!

Blitz kept her eyes in her head … barely.   Biting her lower lip, she perused Mr. Altenöder and dammit if Wulf Altenöder didn’t command the full attention of both of her eyes.  In fact, her eyes were completely FULL of this motherfucker! He was huge for a soccer player.  How rude was that? 

Wulf Altenöder looked like he should play football, not that sissy ass soccer.  He had a linebacker physique, all wide shoulders and what she guessed were ripped abs under his tailored shirt.  And how is his tackling technique? the defensive part of her mind asked.  Yeah, how is it? the woman in her chimed in.  He can tackle us anytime.

Though he was fully-dressed, her mind took the liberty of filling in the rest.  From his thick neck and large hands she’d bet the bank (and not just any bank but the all of the banks in Europe) that Mr. Wulf Altenöder had a banging ass body hidden under his suit pants and dress shirt.   Let’s play Europe and claim it in the name of the current monarch.  Do we have a flag?  Her body asked.

After one got past his tempting physique, then there was his face.  Dammmmmnnn! He had Steven Tyler lips (big lips on a white boy).  Those lips made a woman wonder how good he ate pussy.  She guessed that Mr. Altenöder ate pussy like a mad man, and if he didn’t she could teach him. 

Pulling her eyes away from those lips, Blitz finally looked into his eyes.  Mercy! Mr. Altenöder eyes were the color of tropical oceans.  Glimpsing such mesmerizing eyes, she had to call upon every bit of her will to stop herself from licking her lips.  Damn, Mr. Altenöder eyes’ evoked scenarios that involved her lying beneath him whilst he wore coconut oil and a smile.  For a moment, Blitz lost herself in that little fantasy.

***

What do you get when you have a heroine named Yonder Austin (who just happens to be an African-American billionaire heiress), a hero named Aonghus Fulgencio Din Eidyn (who’s not only a Selkie but a Din Eidyn Selkie), a vendetta against Portuguese Man-of-War, a T-Rex as a best friend, oceans that throw house parties that get out of hand, and more?  You have our newest story, Sealed with a Fist, which is part of the Dark Waters Anthology coming out from Red Rose Publishing.

BLURB FOR SEALED WITH A FIST

Is it really so bad when the bane of your existence a) is a bigot; b) hates animals unless they're dipped in batter; c) cannot swim; and d) keeps a running commentary of insults aimed at you?

It is when you're a Selkie and your ball and chain is bigoted against anything in the water that doesn't have a motor or sails.  Well, that's not exactly true because Yonder also hates sailboats.  Ever since those meddling damn dolphins saved the feisty human girl from certain death she's been part of Aonghus's life. 

Why does he have to get stuck with the surly ass woman who is a) human and b) human, and c) did he mention human?  Oh yeah, because his Da –the Emperor of the Selkie and democratically-elected president of all water creatures - made Yonder his responsibility as part of his punishment. 

Since she has nowhere else to go and he cannot drown her, she lives with them.  Ever since she woke from the healing sleep she's brought nothing but chaos into his life.  If he's not serving as her sounding board for her long list of 'why killing people is not always bad', he's serving as her impromptu bodyguard.  The last thing Yonder needed was a bodyguard.  No, what she needed was a bail-bondsmen, a parole officer, and a priest.  He cannot even count the number of times that he's been tempted to throw her to those shifters that have a hit out on her (which is pretty much every single animal in the Animal Kingdom including some humans) or outright kill her. 

Excerpt FROM SEALED WITH A FIST

Finally arriving on Galápagos, Aonghus changed back into human form, slipped into the castle and donned clothes.  By clothes, he meant that he donned the Din Eidyn kilt.  Being that it was always warm on Galápagos there was no need for anything else although he’d have to adopt formal dress for tomorrow afternoon’s meeting of rulers. 

Aonghus knew that he should’ve greeted his mam and da but he’d wanted to see Yonder first.  He didn’t have anything to prove to his parents as they loved him unconditionally.  Yonder, on the other hand, liked him more than Portuguese-Man-of-War, but less than food.  He might not have anything to prove to his parents but he damn sure had something to prove to Yonder. 

“Who is that?” Aonghus asked Oron, his hand-to-hand combat instructor, best friend, and partner in all mischief.  Though Oron was a powerful being, he was quite casual about it.  The big man of African descent had a smile upon his lips that managed to be both mysterious and smirky all at once.  It was a smile that others had attempted to imitate but to no avail.  That smile belonged to Oron and Oron only.  Oron’s trademark, it was a smile that tended to piss others off - Aonghus included. 

“Whom do you speak of Aonghus?” Oron asked with a raised eyebrow as he turned just his head to look at him.

“Her!” Aonghus exclaimed as he pointed to the full-figured woman who stood with her toes in the sea and her head and muscled-arms raised to the sky.  A riot of braids fell down her back but he couldn’t make out her face as she was looking in the opposite direction.  Oh well, he still had plenty to look at. The beauty was wearing a delicate blue spaghetti-strapped shirt that outlined breasts the size of cantaloupes and blue denim shorts that hugged hips that he longed to hold onto an ass that was begging to be spanked.  Damn, she was beautiful, so beautiful that he didn’t know where to look first. 

“Before I start lusting too hard over her, she’s not one of your females is she?” he asked.

“No,” Oron said being all helpful with the information as was customary for the man of few words.

“Is she one of the mermaids that coming to the meeting?” he asked.  

“Ah, no that is not a mermaiden,” Oron answered with a chuckle. 

He was about to stalk off and discreetly inquire who the woman was when she leaned her head back and hollered for all to hear:

“MEATBALLS!!!!!!!”

Oh fuck he thought as Oron threw his head back and laughed his ass off.  Stomping off to confront the woman that had the unmitigated gall to a) look so fucking beautiful; b) look sooooooooo unbelievably fucking beautiful; c) fucking ignore him, the thirteenth son of Galápagos Rule and Din Eidyn, and d); act like she could just prance about wearing such revealing attire.  It wasn’t that Yonder was dressed inappropriately; she was simply too fucking beautiful to be wearing that.  Either she was going to have to go back to her old style of dressing or they were simply going to have to move Galápagos

Island Proper closer to one of the poles so that she’d be forced to cover up that beauty.