The Wrong Man by Delaney Diamond ~ Book Spotlight! #Nov #SweetRomance #EroticRomance #ASMSG



They have nothing in common. So why can’t they stay away from each other?

Construction foreman Tomas Molina has no desire to settle down. He enjoys the single life too much, with all the choices of women available to him. But when ad executive Talia Jackson becomes single again, they start an affair that has him questioning his beliefs about relationships. And the next thing he knows, he’s the one demanding exclusivity.

Talia Jackson has always done what’s right. Gone to the right schools, worn the right clothes, and married the right man. Seeking a boost when her marriage ends in divorce, she finds comfort in the arms of Tomas Molina, a man who makes her feel alive in a way she never has before. Then an unexpected result of their affair forces her to make a tough decision—stay in the world she’s known all her life, or make a future with the man she’s grown to love.


The deep timbre of a man’s laughter in the hall caught her attention, and she knew right away who had arrived. Oddly, her pulse jumped a little at the sound of his voice.

Sure enough, in walked Tomas Molina, six feet two inches of flirtatious male. Wearing a pair of snug fitting jeans on his long legs and a black T-shirt that stretched over his powerful chest, he already had women eyeing him as if they wanted to take a bite out of him instead of the food on their plates. Natural blonde highlights streaked through his brown hair, which always had a slightly disheveled look, giving him the appearance of someone who’d just rolled out of bed. At least today he’d pulled the unruly shoulder length locks into a decent-looking ponytail.

One woman stroked his ripped bicep, and he flexed the muscle for good measure. “Buenos días, Tomas,” she purred.

He flashed an open, friendly smile. “Buenos días. ¿Estas bien?”

Sí, gracias.”

Rolling her eyes, Talia picked up a Styrofoam plate and began to spoon potato salad onto it. The way women fawned all over him disgusted her, and he lapped up the attention like a true narcissist. She heard him exchange pleasantries with a few other guests while she lifted the plastic wrap on another container and added coleslaw to her plate.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Tomas stroll over with a lazy gait. “Well, well, Talia Jackson is here.” He peered out the kitchen window at the sky. “No. No pigs are flying.” His Spanish-accented voice, low and husky, reminded her of the actor William Levy.

She and Tomas seldom spoke, but whenever they did, he always had something smart alecky to say. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what she’d done to make him pick on her all the time. Probably because he was an arrogant chauvinist and she had no qualms about calling him on it. Fortunately she knew how to dish the witty retorts as well as he did.

“Oh look, another T-shirt. What a surprise.”

He apparently never met a T-shirt he didn’t want to own, and it seemed his entire wardrobe consisted of them in all colors. He wore them so tight they banded around his large biceps and molded to the contours of his muscular chest.

Unfazed, he responded, “You notice what I wear? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” Talia said.

He folded his arms and leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m surprised you came.”

“Why wouldn’t I be here for my friends’ housewarming party?”

He shrugged. “You’re such a busy woman. You hardly ever hang out, and every year Shawna invites you to my picnic on Memorial Day weekend, but you never come.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re disappointed I don’t.” She lifted the aluminum foil on another container, and when she found the baked chicken, she added a leg to her plate. “Tell you what, I’ll come this year so you won’t feel so neglected.”

“I like it better that you don’t,” he said.

Riiight.” She smirked at him and added corn on the cob to her plate.

She felt his gaze on her, and a prickling sensation crawled up the back of her neck. He had a way of looking at women as if he was undressing them with his eyes. She didn’t know if he did it on purpose or not, but it made her feel stripped bare in his presence. Every time he came near, she became hyper-aware of him and a little anxious, a little…breathless. Even his voice made her feel odd. She liked the sound of his rich baritone too much, and the physiological responses she experienced at his proximity were clearly inappropriate.

“We should call a truce,” he said.

“Are we at war?”

He chuckled. “You always have an answer, don’t you? No, we’re not at war. At least, I don’t want to be. We should try being friends since our best friends are married to each other.”

“That would be boring, wouldn’t it, if we got along?”

“So you like fighting with me, is that it?” His eyes mirrored the question. They stood out against his swarthy skin, and she wondered how she’d never noticed how attractive they were before. Light brown. No flecks of green or other colors, only a pure, antiqued gold like a strong whiskey.

Did she like arguing with him? Maybe she did. Their sparring matches always left her buzzing with energy afterward, and after the meeting with her grandmother, she welcomed the interaction.

“Even if I do,” she said, “you like it way more than I do. You’re always the one who gets the fights started, like you did a minute ago.”

“Only because you need it.”

“Need it?” Talia cocked an eyebrow. “You have to explain what you mean.”

“You’re one of those women who can get out of hand, so I have to keep you grounded. You have a…cómo se dice? Oh, I remember.” He snapped his fingers. “You have a Napoleon complex.”

She shot him her Are-you-for-real? look. “I don’t think so.”

“Yes, you do. It’s because you’re so short.” He sliced his hand horizontally from his nose over the top of her head. “See?”

Talia stood up straighter, as if she could grow taller by sheer will power. “I do not have a Napoleon complex, and anyway, I’m pretty sure that only applies to men.”

He looked amused. “No, I’m sure the complex applies to women, too. I have a perfect example standing right in front of me. How’s the weather down there?”

She cut her eyes at him and continued searching for food.

“No response? I’m so disappointed,” he said.

“I’m ignoring you for the rest of the day.”

“This is a first. I silenced Talia Jackson all by myself, and I didn’t need to tape her mouth. I should make an announcement.” He picked up a piece of baked chicken with his hand.

There are tongs.” Talia held up a set. “What are you, a barbarian?”

“We called a truce, remember?” He bit into the chicken and winked.

She stared at him for a moment and then shook her head, laughing. He was so ridiculous. How freeing it must be to do as you please and not worry about what others think.

She noted the expression on Tomas’s face but couldn’t decipher the look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He took another bite of chicken and finished chewing before he answered her question. He grinned. “You should smile more.”

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Delaney Diamond writes sweet and sensual romance novels and is the site manager of Romance Novels in Color, where diversity in romance is celebrated. When she’s not reading or writing she’s trying out new recipes or traveling to an interesting locale. Find free reads and the first chapter of all her books at

Book Spotlight ~ The Blind Date by Delaney Diamond #Oct #IRRomance #ASMSG #MCRomance

Cover_The Blind Date_200X300Blurb:

One night changes everything . . . again.

Years ago, when Ryan Stewart saw Shawna Ferguson, it was love at first sight. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a free man, and his deception caused him to lose her after a weekend that changed his life.

When Shawna’s sister and brother-in-law set her up on a blind date, she has no idea it’s with Ryan, with whom she’d spent a weekend she wishes she could forget. She reluctantly agrees to finish the date with him, but doing so leaves her vulnerable to his charms and the heat he ignited in her that very first night.


Yvonne Wallace looked at Shawna from across the table in the kitchen. They were having breakfast, and as usual, Little Miss Homemaker—as Shawna liked to teasingly call her sister—had set out a feast of homemade raisin bread, butter and homemade jam, scrambled eggs, and fruit cups.

Only two years separated the sisters, but their personalities were as different as black and white. While Shawna had dreamed of opening her own boutique, which she’d accomplished four years ago, Yvonne had dreamed of becoming a wife and mother. At twenty-four she’d married a doctor, and by their second anniversary, she’d quit her job to make that dream a reality. After six years of marriage, they had a four-year-old daughter and two-year-old son, and Yvonne was seven months pregnant with her second son. Taking care of her family and getting ready for the baby filled her days.

Yvonne was one of those people who, because she was happily married, wanted the same for everyone else. She’d found her Mr. Right and claimed he existed for every woman. Shawna knew better. Finding a good man—with whom one was compatible—seemed as unrealistic as finding a diamond mine on her property. Basically, it wasn’t gonna happen, and Shawna had resigned herself to the fact.

Her sister couldn’t seem to understand she was perfectly happy being single, and she kept trying to help Shawna find a man through “chance” meetings and “unexpected” visits when Shawna came to visit her.

When the conversation came up about her paltry dating options, Shawna had a solution. “I’ll hire an escort the next time I need to attend an event with a date.” She shrugged.

“Ew. You will not. No sister of mine is going to pay for a date.”

“There’s nothing nasty about it,” Shawna said. “Lots of women do it nowadays.”

“Desperate women.”

No. Women who don’t have the time or energy to sift through what’s out there. The companies match you up with someone who has similar interests, you go out, and then you’re done. Bam. No fuss, no muss.”

“Why do that when I have the perfect man for you?”

“I’m not looking for a man.”

Yvonne rolled her eyes. “Okay, whatever. I have the perfect escort for you. Is that better?”

“No offense, but you haven’t exactly done a good job setting me up with the right men in the past.” Shawna pretended to be in deep thought. “Let’s see, remember the guy from your church, Steve, who started singing hymns in the car on the ride back home and prayed for my soul as we stood at the front door?”

“He loves the Lord. What’s wrong with that?”

Shawna narrowed her eyes and continued. “David, who wouldn’t stop talking about his ex-wife the entire night. Our date ended with him crying on my shoulder about how much he missed her.”

“Look at the bright side. You got a free meal, and at least you didn’t waste any more time with him than necessary. One date in and you already knew he was wrong for you.”

“And I can’t forget Nolan. Sexy, suave, rich. What a surprise to see his face on the evening news as the person who’d robbed several banks in the area and left lines of poetry as his trademark. Just think, I can say I dated the Poetry Bandit.”

“Granted, I should have dug a little deeper when he said he worked in banking.”

Shawna sighed. “I know you mean well, but your choice in men leaves me a bit . . . how should I say this? Terrified.” Shawna slathered butter on the bread and bit into a crunchy slice.

“This guy could be right for you, though. I really think the two of you will hit it off.”

“How do you know him?”

“So you’re interested?”

“Answer the question.”

“He’s a friend of William’s.”

The fact that he was one of her brother-in-law’s friends meant he was probably better vetted than the men her sister had introduced her to in the past. Interest piqued, she said, “Tell me about him.”

“I thought you weren’t interested.”

“Would you tell me about him!”

Yvonne giggled, cocky in her triumph. “Like I said, William knows him better, but I’ve also met him, and he’s really nice. You’ll like him.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s about six feet tall. Great personality, really nice guy.”

Shawna watched her sister closely. She seemed evasive, which made Shawna suspicious. “You mentioned nice twice, but not whether or not he’s attractive. Does he have an eye in the middle of his forehead or something?”

Yvonne waved her hand and snorted, as if to say, don’t be ridiculous. “Of course not.”

“Then what does he look like?”

“Don’t worry, he’s attractive. He’s not your usual type, that’s all. So please don’t do that thing you do.”

“What thing?” Shawna asked, already offended.

“You know that thing you do when you’re trying to cover up your surprise or when you don’t like something—you smile, but it’s this weird, creepy smile. Be open-minded.”

“I don’t do that. And why would I need to be open-minded? What’s wrong with him, Yvonne?” Concern started to set in.

“Nothing. But really, I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Trust your big sister on this one, okay?”


Get it now for FREE until October 7, 2013: Amazon

Contest information:

Not only is Delaney Diamond giving away a free copy of her book, she’s having a contest!

Prize: Winners choice of four (4) of the following items: (1) Delaney Diamond T-shirt in large or extra large (2) Delaney Diamond two-tone tote bag (3) $20 gift card to Amazon or Barnes & Noble (4) Delaney Diamond keychain (5) an autographed copy of Hot Latin Men Vol. I (6) an autographed copy of Hot Latin Men Vol. II (7) four bookmarks with Delaney Diamond book covers.

Eligibility: You must be a subscriber to Delaney’s blog. Prizes open to U.S. and international entrants.

How to enter: Correctly match each blog on her tour with its description. Visit the contest post on her website for the details.

Deadline to enter: October 13, 2013 at 11:59 pm EST

Winners will be notified by email and announced on the contest post on her website.


Delaney Diamond writes sweet and sensual romance novels and is the site manager of Romance Novels in Color, where diversity in romance in celebrated. When she’s not reading or writing she’s trying out new recipes or traveling to an interesting locale. Find free reads and the first chapter of all her books at


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BBF Guest Post: Sweet Cravings by Eva LeFoy

Sweet-Cravings300x450Desserts and hot chefs go together!

When I wrote a hot dessert chef, I had to pair him with a woman who liked desserts. After all, a vegetarian and a butcher just don’t go together  🙂  So I came up with a woman called Violet Cunningham. She not only likes desserts, she has a favorite one: raspberry cream puffs.

Now, cream puffs aren’t that hard to make, as I later discovered after the writing group took me under their wing and into the kitchen.  Since I’m not really an ardent baker – I make really good brownies, but don’t do the fancy stuff – I thought there must be some trick to them. There’s not. Especially if you’ve got a good hand mixer!

Here’s the tried-and-true ancient Betty Crocker recipe we made:

1 C water

1/2 C butter

1 C flour

4 Eggs

Filling – whipped cream, etc.

Confectioner’s sugar

Heat oven to 400. Heat water and butter to a boil. Stir in flour. Stir vigorously over low heat about 1 minute or until mixture forms a ball. * Note: I took the pan off the heat and used a mixer to do this. Much easier! * Remove from heat. Beat in eggs all at once, continue beating until smooth. *Note: again, I found the hand mixer indispensable! * Drop dough by scan 1/4 cup fulls 3″ apart on ungreased backing sheet. Bake 35 to 40 minutes or until puffed and golden.  Cool away from draft.

Pull out any filaments of soft dough. Carefully fill with whipped cream. Replace tops; dust with confectioners’ sugar. Refrigerate.

Close up II

Be careful – they don’t last long!

There’s another recipe in the back of my book, Sweet Cravings, out now from Decadent Publishing and below is an excerpt that should get your whipped cream whipping.


I ducked into the kitchen before the bored-looking maître d’ could accost me and found myself heating up at the sight of a stainless steel table. Sous-chefs in white hats and dishwashers with racks of clean plates bustled back and forth down the aisle in front of me, but I didn’t spot the pastry chef in their midst. I almost gave up and left before noticing the light was on in the “secret kitchen.” I gulped.

My knees went weak, and I stood frozen to the spot. Inside me, determination, embarrassment, and heady desire warred. I wanted so bad to turn and walk out, find another caterer, and be done with it. But I couldn’t. There’d be questions. Chuck would want to know why he wasn’t getting the best French-trained chef in town, and I’d be up shit creek without a paddle. What could I say? Sorry, I didn’t mean to have hot, sweaty sex with the guy—if I’d known you’d need him the next week, I would have waited?

Remembering the hot sex had my traitorous feet moving forward, toward the door instead of away. Wrong direction, I told them. Shut up and go with it, my pussy ordered. I bit my lip, swallowed my pride, and knocked.

The door opened and the man himself appeared wearing a chef’s coat splattered with pretty light pink frosting and powdered sugar. One whiff of him convinced me he’d taste positively delicious. My stomach let out a loud rumble, and I put my hand over it to try and squelch the embarrassing sound.

His mouth fell open when he caught sight of me. In fact, he seemed kind of stunned for a second. My fight-or-flight response kicked in. I swiveled on my heel, but he grabbed my elbow and tugged me inside his secret domain once more. “Mademoiselle,” he murmured low and rich as fudge pudding. “How nice to see you again. Please, come in.”

I glanced at his face from under my lashes and found him smiling at me, looking as though he might actually be glad to see me again. Part of me stiffened, vibrating with nervous energy. The rest of me tingled in saucy anticipation. The promise of man and dessert made one once more for my licking pleasure had me close to giggling with happiness as the door snicked shut. As he twirled me in his arms and drew me close, the all-important notes clutched in my hand could have jumped a shuttle for Mars for all I cared.

His mouth surged over mine, his lips warm, wet, and insistent, as though he needed to make up for lost time. I heartily seconded the sentiment, and the kiss turned from buttery hot and soft to spicy and decadent with a touch of dare.

I opened my mouth to let his tongue in, and we both moaned at the intrusion, his hips bucking against mine as he pressed my butt into the table. I clutched his shoulders, pulling him closer as my initial embarrassment waned. He tasted of sweet pastry, and I savored the flavor as I relaxed in his arms. God, the hungers the man awoke in me with just one kiss!


See what else Violet and her sexy chef Max do in his secret kitchen, and if you have time, whip up a batch of cream puffs to eat while you read!


Eva Lefoy




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