Forgotten Wishes
by Joey W. Hill, MaryJanice Davidson, Joanna Wylde
Ellora's Cave
Sensual: Anthology
January 28, 2004
ISBN-13: 1843607751
Available in: e-Book
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Forgotten Wishes
by Joey W. Hill, MaryJanice Davidson, Joanna Wylde
Love's Tender Fury by MaryJanice Davidson
Just once, Marnie Hammer would love to sign her real name to her extremely popular romance books. But her Jessica LeFleur pen name is more widely known. Add to that the love of her life is gay and just not interested in her that way. And now she is suddenly lusting after the gorgeous Tony Freeborg, literary agent extraordinaire. Such was NOT in her plans for her life.
Be Careful What You Wish For by Joanna Wylde
Sandra is having a bad day.
Her business is tanking and her latest therapeutic massage client, Edgar, thinks she's a whore. But even that pales in comparison to what happens when she goes into the bathroom to wash her hands...
Sean's spent the last five years in prison for murder. When he escapes, he wants two things: Revenge and sex. He finds both at the office of Edgar Williams, the man responsible for his partners' death. Now Edgar's dead, but Sean's still horny. Fortunately, the woman of his dreams is about to walk out of the bathroom and into his arms.
Be Careful What You Wish For
Threads Of Faith by Joey W. Hill
Marisa is a modern day witch, living at the edge of the woods and of society. She dispenses potions to help lonely souls find their true loves. Because of her inability to live among others, she doesn't believe love is for her, let alone sexual fulfillment. Then Conlon Maguire shows up at her cottage.
Conlon wants a potion to win the heart of his soulmate, but the magic behind the potion sets its price. Conlon's potion demands that he spend one night with Marisa, bringing her pleasure. As a servant of the Light, Marisa cannot refuse the price if Conlon agrees to it, but from the moment he touches her, she knows her heart and shields are in danger.
Other Books by Joey W. Hill
Joey W. Hill's Bio
I've always had an aversion to reading, watching or hearing interviews of favorite actors, authors, musicians, etc. because so often the real person doesn't measure up to the beauty of the art they produce. Their politics or religion are distasteful, or they're shallow and self-absorbed, a vacuous mop-head without a lick of sense. From then on, though I may appreciate their craft or art, it has somehow been tarnished. Therefore, whenever I'm asked to provide personal information about myself for readers, a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach as I think: "Okay, the next couple of paragraphs can change forever the way someone views my stories." Why on earth does a reader want to know about me? It's the story that's important.
So here it is. I've been given more blessings in my life than any one person has a right to have. Despite that, I'm a Type A, borderline obsessive-compulsive paranoiac who worries I will never live up to expectations. I've got more phobias than anyone (including myself) has patience to read about. I can't stand talking on the phone, I dread social commitments, and the idea of living in monastic solitude with my husband and animals, books and writing is as close an idea to paradise as I can imagine. I love chocolate, but with that deeply ingrained, irrational female belief that weight equals worth, I manage to keep it down to a minor addiction. I adore good movies. I'm told I work too much. Every day is spent trying to get through the never ending "to do" list to snatch a few minutes to write.
Despite all these mediocre and typical qualities, for some miraculous reason, these wonderful characters well up out of my soul with stories to tell. When I manage to find enough time to write, sufficient enough that the precious "stillness" required rises up and calms all the competing voices in my head, I can step into their lives, hear what they are saying, what they're feeling, and put it down on paper. It's a magic beyond description, akin to truly believing my husband loves me, winning the trust of an animal who has known only fear or apathy, making a true connection with someone, or knowing for certain I've given a reader a moment of magic through those written words. It's a magic that reassures me there is Someone, far wiser than myself, who knows the permanent path to that garden of stillness, where there is only love, acceptance and a pen waiting for hours and hours of uninterrupted, blissful use.
If only I could finish that darned "to do" list.
I welcome feedback from readers—actually, I thrive on it like a vampire, whether it's good or bad. So feel free to visit me through my website.