Archive for the Lexxie Couper Category

The Fire in the Heart is the Hardest to Fight…

Posted in Lexxie Couper, New Releases with tags , , , , , , on April 28, 2015 by Lexxie Couper


Harsh, rugged and unforgiving, the Australian Outback is the perfect place for Evan Alexander to hide. Up in the air, fighting fires from the cockpit of his helicopter, no one sees the scars that run clear down to his soul.

When a massive fire breaks out in a nearby national park, Wallaby Ridge becomes a media staging ground, and Evan’s daring piloting skills the center of attention. Evan finds it easy to dodge every reporter—except one. A woman from his past.

Jenna McGrath can’t believe the quiet, withdrawn man declared a hero is the same arrogant, cocky pilot she fell in love with six years ago. A cruel betrayal caused Jenna to remove herself from his world, but she’s never been able to erase him from her memories.

Their long-suppressed attraction reignites, but the walls Evan has built around himself are high. And while Jenna easily overlooks the scars on his body, she begins to wonder if molten desire is enough to melt the emotional scars binding his heart.

Warning: It’s not the flames devouring the landscape that will stir your soul…it’s the wounded, broken man fighting them from the air.

Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ iBooks ~ Kobo ~ ARe

“This isn’t a long read, but man is it a great one. There aren’t many authors that can grab your heart as hard in these few words as well as Lexxie has. I highly recommend this book and series!!! I can’t wait to see what else she has coming from these guys of Wallaby Ridge.” ~ KcLu, Guilty Pleasures 


No way.

Jenna’s stride, normally utterly confident, purposeful and commanding, betrayed her. She stumbled, her four-inch Manolo Blahniks scraping over the gritty concrete, her mic slipping from her loosening grip.

Reflexes contracted her fingers around the microphone before it could fall to the ground. Her cameraman, Theo Theodopolis, snared her upper arm before she herself could tumble in that direction.

“Gotcha, boss,” he muttered, laughter in his voice.

She tried to shoot him a grateful smile over her shoulder, tried to show her appreciation for his quick action, but she couldn’t seem to drag her stare from the man in the baseball cap and battered bomber jacket standing near the helicopter.

There was no way it could be who she thought it was.

No way.

For starters, the Evan Alexander she knew five years ago would never hide under a baseball cap. Evan Alexander only ever stood tall and arrogant, smile smugly charming, oozing sexy-as-sin cockiness and surety.

That Evan, the one her best friend had married—correction, so-called best friend—had married would never wear his collar up hiding half his face.

Evan Alexander knew he was too good-looking to deny the world his countenance. Evan Alexander preened when the world looked at him. Evan Alexander would not, repeat, would not turn his back on a reporter making their way towards him like the man in the bomber jacket was doing now.

Which meant the man Wallaby Ridge was hailing a hero couldn’t be Evan Alexander, right?


So what’s with the punch-to-the-tummy sensation then, Jenna? The same punch-to-the-tummy sensation you always got every time your eyes connected with Evan’s back when you still hung out with him and Tracey?

Drawing in a slow breath, she straightened her spine and continued towards the man so very obviously ignoring her approach. There was no way it could be Evan. No way. It was a freaky trick of light, is all. A snatching glimpse of eyes similar to Evan’s. Hell, what with the way the man was wearing his baseball cap so low over his face, and with the cocked-up bomber jacket collar, she was lucky to have seen his eyes at all, especially in the darkness of the evening. Where were all the streetlights in the Outback? Surely the helipad should have some kind of illumination? How did they see anything out here at night with so little electric light? By the gazillion stars overhead?


She flicked the tall man standing beside the one ignoring her a look. He smirked at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Jenna swallowed, casting her gaze over him from eyes to boots and back to eyes again. Charlie Baynard, Wallaby Ridge’s Senior Constable. A ripple of apprehension shot up her back. She’d spoken to him only a few moments ago, trying to track down the hero of Wallaby Ridge. He’d been intimidating then, shielding a small group of firefighters just in from the massive blaze from a frenzied gaggle of print-media reporters desperate to get a story.

“Senior Constable.” She licked her lips, her belly tight. Why, she had no idea. There was no reason for it. The man with his back to her wasn’t Evan. She indicated towards that broad back with her head, gripping her mic tighter. “Is this who I’m after?”

Charlie Baynard nodded. The shoulders of the man refusing to look at her stiffened.

“It is,” Charlie said. “But I don’t think he’s in the mood for talking. And I wouldn’t call him a hero if I were you.”

Jenna frowned. “But he is. Everyone is talking about the helicopter pilot who risked his life to save the team on the north line of the fire. Even his own captain says they’d all be dead if he hadn’t…” Huffing into her fringe, she tore her focus from the smirking police officer and reached out to tap on the other man’s shoulder. What was she doing wasting time with Baynard? “Excuse me, I’m Jenna McGrath from Chanel Eight News. I’m wondering if you’d permit me a few moments to talk about what you did out there?”

The man half turned his head, enough to grant her a glimpse of what little profile the low baseball cap peak and high collar allowed. “I just did my job,” a deep voice, scratchy and husky from smoke, no doubt, declared. “There’s no story here.”

The tension in Jenna’s stomach fluttered. Her throat thickened.

In amongst all that scratchy timbre was a voice she recognized, one that had stayed with her long after she and Tracey had parted ways. One that visited her often in her dreams and when her hands took care of the yearning in her body.

She stared at the glimpse of a profile. At the downcast eyes refusing to look at her.


His name slipped from her lips, doubt and confusion tripping over the syllables.

The broad shoulders encased in beaten leather stiffened. She saw his eyes squeeze shut. Saw his head dip a fraction, as if weighed down by a fatal sense of acceptance.

And then the man every member of the media here in Wallaby Ridge wanted to talk to turned and faced her fully. Fixed her with eyes as piercing as they’d ever been despite the dark shadow thrown over his face by the peak of his baseball cape, and Jenna forgot how to breathe.

“Hi, Jenna.”

A lump lodged itself in her throat. Got stuck there, fast and tight.

She caught sight of white twisted flesh beneath his left eye, over his cheek. Saw a hint of the same on what little of his jaw and the side of his neck was visible behind the cocked collar of the bomber jacket.

Are they…are they scars?
The shocked thought ran through her head at the very second she realized just how long she’d been staring.
Amazon ~ Barnes and Noble ~ iBooks ~ Kobo ~ ARe

Last Phrase

Posted in Jambrea Jo Jones, Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr, Sami Lee on June 15, 2013 by jambrea

Today’s blog is brought to you by the phrase: Clam Jam

Sami Lee and Lexxie Couper joined in today. This is the last day for our fun with words and phrases. I know I’ve enjoyed it and I hope you did as well. Without further ado…


Jambrea Jo Jones

“It’s a regular clam jam in here.” Fred exclaimed as they walked into the bar.

Henry looked around in surprised. Usually the place was packed with men.

“Must be ladies night.” Henry shrugged. “Does it matter?” He took Fred’s hand in his.

“No, because I get to dance with you no matter what.”

“So you’re happy?”

“I am. And maybe a little shocked.”

“So now would be a good time to tell you—mom-is-staying-for-another-week.”

“What did you say?”

Henry smiled and tugged Fred to the bar.


Mari Carr

“You ready to go?” Brittany asked.

“Um, no,” Shea replied. “Do you see me talking to Jason? I think I’ve got a shot.:

“Sorry, I’m just really tired. Please?”

Shea rolled her eyes. “Typical clam jam. Fine. Let’s go.”


Sami Lee

“If you don’t get over there soon, that bitch is going to clam jam you.”

Tessa almost choked on the mouthful of white wine she’d just sipped. She stared at her friend Helena. “What on earth does that mean?”

“It’s like cock blocking for chicks,” Helena explained. “Don’t you read the urban dictionary?”

“Not regularly enough, apparently,” Tessa drawled. She glanced across the crowded boardroom to see Sean—handsome, athletic, talented Sean—talking to the receptionist who’d just started working at Walter and Shilton Lawyers. The woman was doing that arm-touching thing, the universal body language for ‘I am totally up for it’.

Tessa clutched her wine glass as everything in her chest pulled tight. Women were always coming onto Sean, and it never failed to make Tessa feel queasy.

“You know you have to do something, don’t you?” Helena prompted gently. “Forget the stupid no-fraternization policy. You need to tell Sean you’ve got the hots for him before some other woman scoops him up.”

Tessa winced inwardly at the very thought of walking straight up to Sean, the most handsome and successful lawyer at Walter and Shilton, and telling him she’d been having inappropriate daydreams about ripping his shirt off and doing him right on his expansive oak desk.

Not going to happen. Ever.


Lexxie Couper

He handed me a tiny square of toasted bread with something dark and mushy spread on it.

I took a sniff. “What is it?”

He grinned. “It’s delicious. Eat it.”

I cocked a dubious eyebrow.

He grinned again, wider this time. “Go on. Eat it.”

I took another sniff. “And you say this is caviar?”

He nodded.

I pulled a face. “Smells like clam jam.”

It’s Friday! Let’s play.

Posted in Jambrea Jo Jones, Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr, Sami Lee, Valerie Tibbs on June 14, 2013 by jambrea

Today’s blog is brought to you by the word: Fuckerdoodle

Sami Lee, Lexxie Couper and Valerie Tibbs are joining in this round!


Jambrea Jo Jones

Fred walked in on an argument with Henry and his mom. He almost turned around, but he heard the woman say something he never thought would come out of her mouth.



“What did I miss?” Fred looked between mother and son.

“Henry was just—ah—putting me in my place? I’m sorry, Fred.”

Fred shook his head because he couldn’t have heard what he did. That woman was never nice to him.

“Don’t look so shocked. A girl can be wrong. Shawn was a friend of the family and I’m sorry I let that get in the way of knowing you. Now, why don’t you boys go do something fun. Get out of my hair for awhile.”

She got up and patted Fred on his shoulder before heading out the door.


Mari Carr

Using Happy Hour Characters

Todd sighed wearily. “Damn, I’m tired. I swear that week felt like it had twelve days. Can’t think straight anymore.”

“I hear that. How many more days until summer?” Jeff asked, trying to suppress a yawn.

“Fifty-seven,” Todd replied, not missing a beat.

Jeff winced.

Jenny rested her head on her hand, relishing the opportunity to unwind at the quiet bar with Todd and Jeff, two of her fellow P.E. teachers one Friday afternoon. “Did you hear that woman at the next table?”

“No. What did she say?” Todd looked over his shoulder to see who Jenny was talking about in a less than subtle way.

“She was telling her friend how she won’t be on the continent next weekend. She sounds British to me. I was just thinking that’s a cool way to say that. I mean we just say we’re leaving the country.”

Jeff took a long swig from his bottle of Budweiser. “Who says continent anyway? I don’t even remember the names of the continents or how many there are.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “There are five continents, fuckerdoodle.”

Todd nodded his head. “Yep. There are five. I bet you two can’t name them.”

Jeff laughed. “You’re only daring us because you can’t. But I know one. Australia. I think that’s a continent. Oh wait. Shit, nope, that’s an island.”

Jenny snorted. “Australia is a continent AND an island. Jeez. Where did you go to elementary school?”

Jeff shot her a dirty look. “Like you’re so freaking smart. You haven’t named any.”

Jenny began ticking them off on her fingers. “There’s North and South America, Europe, Asia, Africa, Australia and Antarctica.” She looked at her hands and laughed. “Oops. There are seven continents.”

Todd looked around the bar, confirming no one had heard their conversation. “Maybe we should just order another round.”


Sami Lee

What did the rooster say to the hen? Let me Fuckerdoodledo you!


Lexxie Couper

He stood before me, arms outstretched, a grin on his face that told me loud and clear he was God’s gift to women. “So? What do you think? Lucky, aren’t you?”

I looked at his package and suppressed a grimace. Damn, a damn toothpick had more wood than this guy. This is what I got for losing a game of strip poker set up by my maniacal best friend. Now I had to spend the night with Mr. Tiny. I was going to kill her.

Nope. You bought this on yourself. You boasted no one could bet you at poker, now you have to face the consequences.

I grimaced again. One of these days I’d learn my lesson.

“Never left a single woman dissatisfied,” Mr. Tiny crowed, giving his hips a wiggled. “Ready for this roaster to rock your world?”

Letting out a ragged sigh at Mr. Tiny’s woeful mix metaphor, I raised my gaze back to his face and forced a smile to my lips. “Cock-a-doodle-do?”

More like fuck-a-doodle-do.

Oh man, I was in for a fun night.


Valerie Tibbs

Writing blog posts is a real fuckerdoodle to my brain. Going to the gym is a big fuckerdoodle.

We’re going to…

Posted in Bianca D'Arc, Jess Dee, Lexxie Couper, Lila Dubois, Mari Carr, Rhian Cahill, Valerie Tibbs on April 28, 2013 by maricarr

…Kansas City. Kansas City, here we come! The ladies of International Heat are taking the BBQ capital by storm as we all converge in the Midwest for the Romantic Times Convention. Valerie will arrive Sunday afternoon, while Lexxie and I hit the hotel late Sunday evening. Lila and Rhian (and Mr. C.) will arrive Monday around dinner time, and Bianca (her dad) and Jess are joining us Tuesday midday. To say we’re all excited about this opportunity to hang out, while attending fun sessions and drinking at the bar with reader friends is an UNDERstatement! We’ve been practically giddy for months!

There are two events that are open to the public. If you’re a KC local, we’d love to meet you!


On Thursday, May 2 from 4 – 6 pm, there will be an ebook expo with more than 300 e-book and small press authors and many graphic novel authors. RT recommends that you download any QR Code Reader from iTunes since many authors will have a QR (Quick Response) Code on their promo materials. With this QR Reader you can scan the code on your mobile device and go right to the book you want to purchase. You can buy your E-Book, Indie Publisher and Graphic Novel Expo ticket at the door for $5. The location is at the Sheraton Kansas City Crown Center, 2345 McGee Street, Kansas City, Mo., 64180. Tickets can be purchased on site and we suggest you arrive at 3:30 pm.


Join in the virtual EXPO event!

THIS YEAR THE RT EXPO IS GOING GLOBAL! ARe is the official bookseller for RT’s Expo and this year they are making the book lover event global so that everyone from home can participate. Join in the fun by visiting this page on May 2 from 4pm to 6pm and attend the virtual event! Just click on any author’s name and it will take you to her unique author page on All Romance e-Books website where you can begin purchasing. If you do not already have an account with ARe, you should set one up before the EXPO begins to make your purchasing easy on the day of the event.

This year’s giant book fair will take place on Saturday, May 4th from 11am – 2pm.

For those bringing collectibles and “keeper” books, they have a system to separate these books for you, so as not to mistake them for new books! You can purchase a $5 ticket at the door to attend just the book fair.

We hope to see you in Kansas City!

Release and Contest!

Posted in Lexxie Couper, Mari Carr on April 24, 2013 by maricarr

Misplaced Hands releases TODAY! It’s the final book in the Foreign Affairs series and it might just be the hottest of the bunch!

Lexxie and I have been hosting a red hot dirty excerpts party this month where we shared super spicy snippets from each of our Foreign Affairs books.

And to sweeten the pot, we’ve made a contest of it. Each Wednesday, we’ve featured a different book from the series and asked two questions. TODAY…you can email your 8 answers to to be entered to win.

AND…what’s the prize? It’s an Ellora’s Cave box o’ fun! That’s right–there are all kinds of crazy Ellora’s Cave things (track pants, t-shirt, hats, keychain, post-its, deck of cards, etc) as well as two signed print books–one from Lexxie and another from Mari and a $25 gift card to Amazon. You must email the answers by May 5 to be entered to win!

The first three rounds are live, but it’s not too late to join the fun. The game is explained over at our Foreign Affairs site. Pop over for all the details.

Foreign Affairs, Book Four

A “life swap” with her Australian friend finds Harper on Farpoint Creek cattle station, resident teacher for the next two weeks. Having rarely left Chicago, she’s unprepared for so many things Down Under—not the least of which is an instant, and instantly intense, attraction to not one, but twoAussie cowboys. She’d promised herself an adventure, so when the handsome pair come calling, Harper dives in. Literally.

Stockmen Keith and Marc are head-over-heels in lust with the American teacher, though the attraction brings about some surprising revelations. Like how right it feels to share a woman. This woman. No jealousy between the lifelong mates, just a burning need to see to Harper’s pleasure. Together. And they happily do so—until an unsettling event unearths Harper’s own tragic revelation.

Between Harper’s inability to confide in the men, and her stay at Farpoint racing to an end, it seems inevitable the three lovers will be driven apart. Doesn’t it?

Inside Scoop: This story has a very brief, non-descriptive recollection of child abuse. Good thing Harper has two strong stockmen to chase away the bad memories.

Misplaced Hands is available at Ellora’s CaveAmazon and Barnes and Noble.


The leaner of the two cowboys sauntered over to her. There was no other way to describe the way he walked. Like sinful temptation, mischievous charm and cocky indolence.

Low-slung faded jeans that had no hope of concealing the sizable bulge of his crotch hugged long, muscular legs. An equally faded chambray shirt wrapped a torso so perfectly proportioned—wide shoulders, flat stomach and narrow hips—that for a moment, Harper forgot how to breathe.

Her pulse kicked into overdrive and her mouth went dry. Her pussy, on the other hand, grew damp. Damp and tight.

Now that’s a cowboy.

“Thomo,” Ronnie muttered at her shoulder, turning his back on the approaching sex-god in denim and a hat. “Watch out, he’s the smooth-talker of the two.”

Thomo—surely that had to mean Marc Thompson—stopped but a foot away from her, his sapphire-blue gaze roaming over her from head to toe. He touched the tip of his index finger to the brim of his hat, his lips curling in a smile. “G’day, love. You must be the American.”

Harper oozed poised calm and aloof indifference. Well…tried to. It was goddamn hard when her heart was thumping fast in her throat and her nipples were pinching in her bra. Holy crap, she’d never seen such a sexy example of maleness. Everything about the cowboy radiated testosterone, pleasure and carnal delight. And his accent? Oh God, after listening to Ronnie talk for the last four hours, she’d figured she was over the Australian accent already, but it seemed not.

“Hello,” she croaked back, her mouth dry. Damn, was she flushing? “I am.”

The cowboy’s lips curled a little more, turning the smile into a very seductive grin. “Welcome to Farpoint. I hope Big Mac here has been treating you right so far?”

Harper nodded. It was the only thing she could do. That and stare with helpless lust at the man in the hat before her, reminding herself he was gay. That seemed so unfair. Who said God didn’t have a sense of humor, putting a man like this on the planet and then making him off limits for…

The wild mental tantrum faded out of Harper’s mind, her stare falling on the other cowboy she’d noticed earlier as he joined Marc.

She let out a soft gasp.

Christ, he was—

“G’day.” The cowboy stuck out his hand. Blue eyes twinkled beneath the brim of his hat. “I’m Keith Munroe, one of the hired hands here at Farpoint. Welcome to Australia, Ms. Shaw.”

If Harper didn’t love her brother so much, she’d curse him black and blue. She’d never been more aware of the fact she’d lived a very sheltered life until now. She wasn’t prepared for exposure to such raw manliness. If Marc Thompson was sinful temptation, mischievous charm and cocky flirtation wrapped in tight denim, Keith Munroe was potent strength, concentrated sexuality and rugged masculinity.

She stared at the cowboy, never more grateful for wearing sunglasses, even ones that cost her damn near a week’s pay.

He was broader in the chest than his companion and wider in the shoulders, but just as exquisite in his physique. His biceps strained against the cotton of his shirtsleeves, highlighting the sculptured form of his strength. The same potent power was barely concealed by tight jeans, the corded muscles of his thighs evident despite the material covering them.

Unable to stop herself, Harper slid her gaze to the cowboy’s groin. And jerked it up to his face again at the sight of a bulge as large as Marc’s, trapped beneath his jeans.


Realizing Keith still stood waiting for her to shake his hand, she snagged it in both of hers, giving it a somewhat frantic shake. “H-hello.” Damn it, her voice was still croaky. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Keith laughed. “Nice to be met.”

Warm heat filled Harper’s cheeks at the greeting. She smiled at him, unable to tear her stare away. A lock of blond hair—tinged with faint copper-red—tumbled over his forehead from beneath his hat, brushing long, thick lashes a shade darker. His face was more tanned than Marc’s, a little more creased, but none the lacking for it, and he had a hawkish nose, adding to the air of absolute control and power the man exuded. A fine strawberry-blond stubble dusted a square jaw and chin, drawing her eye to the open collar of his shirt where a hint of a tattoo peeked out at her.

Men like this didn’t exist in Chicago. At least, if they did, she’d never met them.

Five Things About Kansas City You May Not Know…

Posted in Lexxie Couper on April 23, 2013 by Lexxie Couper

Continuing my exploration of Kansas City before I touch down on Sunday, here’s five things you may not know about my destination.

1/ It is illegal to have oral sex.


Wait? What? WHAT??

2/ No one may catch fish with their bare hands.

sexy Guyfishingwithnothingon-1

Which is why he’s using a rod. See his rod? Are you all looking at his rod?

3/ It is prohibited to use mules to hunt ducks.


Yes, I know this is shirtless Jacob…but this image of shirtless Jacob was offered to me by Google when I searched for “mule and duck” so I figure, Google has never lead me astray before, better include it now.

4/ Riding an animal down any road is against the law.


Unless the rider looks like the above…

5/ Bathtubs with four legs resembling animal paws are prohibited.



Look! It’s Colin Firth. In a bathtub. What? Does the bathtub have animal paws? Who cares? It’s Colin in a bathtub!

The Countdown to RT Begins…

Posted in Lexxie Couper on April 21, 2013 by Lexxie Couper

…With ME!

Hee hee hee.

So how am I going to get us all ready for the Romantic Times Reader Convention in Kansas City? I’m going to share with you all everything I’ve discovered about the fair city from now until I take off Sunday. Ready?

1/ John B. Stetson of St. Joseph, Mo., invented the cowboy hat in 1865. The original hat, called “the Boss of the Plains,” featured a high crown and wide brim.


We’re all looking at his hat, right?

2/ KC has more fountains than any city except Rome. (OK, everyone knows that.)


This fountain is NOT in Kansas City, but man, I wish it was.

3/ The Kansas City Barbecue Society reports that KC has more barbecue restaurants per capita than any other city in the nation.



I tried to find a sexy nekkid cowboy at a BBQ and found this instead. Which is both disturbing and stimulating to look at.

4/ KC ignored Prohibition during the 1920s, leading to an abundance of jazz clubs, brothels and gambling halls. This earned KC the moniker “The Paris of the Plains” after one journalist wrote “If you want to see some sin, forget Paris and head to Kansas City.”

I Googled “Sexy Guy Drinking Beer” and got this picture. So I used it, because Google told me this is a sexy guy drinking beer.

5/ KC is home to the largest maker of boxed chocolates in the world. Based here since 1932, Russell Stover Candies still hand dips more than 25 million pieces of chocolate each year.

man-eating-chocolate-sexy-hot-35314147029_largeWho wants chocolate?

So, my education about Kansas City has begun. Tomorrow…more sexy half naked guys….err, I mean, more info and facts about Kansas City.

Hee hee hee.