Fresh FIction Box Not To Miss
Fresh Pick | THE BLONDE SAMURAI by Jina Bacarr
Fresh Pick / February 19, 2010

February 2010On Sale: February 1, 2010Featuring: Katie O’Roarke; Shintaro352 pages ISBN: 0373605404EAN: 9780373605408Trade Size$13.95 Romance Historical, Romance Erotica Sensual Buy at The Blonde Samuraiby Jina Bacarr Spring 1873: I arrived in Japan a virgin bride, heartsick and anxious beyond measure. Yet I embraced this perplexing world with my soul laid bare after uncovering an erotic, intoxicating power I hardly knew that I, Katie O’Roarke, possessed. Japan was a world away from my tedious Western existence, a welcome distraction from my recent marriage to a cold and cruel husband. But when James attacked me in a drunken rage, I could tolerate it no longer…. I had no choice but to escape into the surrounding hills. I awoke in the arms of Akira, a young Samurai, and it was he who took me to Shintaro, the head of the powerful Samurai clan. At first distrustful, Shintaro came to me every day for a fortnight until my need for him made my heart race at the very sound of his feet upon the wooden floor. He taught me the way of the Samurai—loyalty, honor, self-respect—and the erotic possibilities of inner beauty unleashed. It is his touch that shatters my virginal reserve, evoking…

Vicki Lewis Thompson | The Truth About Cats and Dogs
Uncategorized / February 19, 2010

I’m absolutely thrilled to be here today! Picture me as a cocker spaniel dancing around in total excitement, tail wagging, ears flopping, big smile on my face.. But don’t picture me piddling on the floor, which sometimes happens with excited cocker spaniels. I was lucky to grow up with both dogs and cats, so if you’d asked me as a kid whether I was a dog person or a cat person, I would have said both. But now I’ve changed my mind. I still love the doggies, love their eternal optimism and undying affection and loyalty. But these days I’m drawn to cats. I heard someone describe them as living sculpture, and so they are. My all-black cat Eve seems to know exactly how to drape herself over the furniture or curl up on the bed so that she’s part of the décor. Eve’s her own person . . . um . . . her own cat. She greets me at the door when I come home . . . most of the time, if she’s not napping or otherwise engaged. She’ll sit in my lap if she feels like it, but sometimes she’d rather not. And that’s okay with…