Welcome Angela Claire

Hi and welcome to my blog, Angela Claire. Please make yourself at home and grab a drink from my hunky cabana boys, Zeke and Jake.  So tell us a little about yourself. 

So tell us a little about your latest book. What inspired this masterpiece? 

My current release, Seductive Intent, is a sequel of sorts to my first book with Ellora’s Cave, which was called Executive Perks. The heroine in Executive Perks had a big family, including a brother, Brendan, who was a bit of a playboy. When I was writing Executive Perks, I found myself writing in an erotic love scene (in a bathroom no less!) for Brendan because he was so cute and sexy. So I was not surprised to find myself writing his story a little later on. Seductive Intent is the story of a rich playboy who meets a girl he starts to fall in love with, but who turns out to be a thief. Another bonus for me in linking the stories is that I was able to write a wedding scene for the hero and heroine of Executive Perks as well. 

If you had any super powers, what would they be and why?

 I think that answer changes with my moods. Right now, I wish I could transport myself so I could beam myself out to some tropical beach and get away from everything in my real life right now. 

What genre haven’t you tried yet but want to in the future? 

Science fiction. Definitely.


What is one thing readers might be surprised to know about you? 

I’ve always had long hair. My heroines all have long hair. And yet on a whim in the last few weeks I went into a hair salon I had never been in and had it all cut off. So now I have a very short, pixiesh (if a just turned 50 woman could ever be described as such) do. I think I am in the midst of a mid-life crisis.


If we asked your muse to describe you in three words, what do you think they might say? 

Again, that might change with my mood. Right now it would be ornery and, uh, I think I better stop right there.


What authors can be found in your library of books? 

Lately, the guy who wrote the Lincoln, Vampire Slayer book. I’m not reading much lately. Too busy trying to write.


Have any guilty pleasures you want to share with us? 

Not lately, but I’m looking for one. Maybe tonight might be my lucky night.


Is there anything you’re currently working on that you can give us a taste of? 

I have about 13,000 words of a time travel that I started in December, but I keep putting it down. I’ve written three books since then. So maybe I don’t have the time travel one in me. We shall see.


What is your favorite way to relax after a hard day working and writing?

Watching old seventies shows on Netflix. You see why I need another guilty pleasure? My current one is pathetic.

What is one historical figure you would love to chat with and why?

Cleopatra for all the usual reasons! Or wait, maybe Don Juan, given my guilty pleasure needs …was he real?


Would you care to mention any upcoming or WIP projects that readers can look forward from you in the future?

I just signed one with Ellora’s Cave called Undercover Surrender. It’s about an Interpol agent who is undercover when his evil cohorts hijack a yacht with a very spoiled young miss on board. I had a tremendous amount of fun with that one. I had a scene where she tries to make coffee and looks at the espresso maker in the yacht’s galley like it was from Mars. The hero asks how she usually got coffee on the yacht if she didn’t know how to make it and she says “someone brought it to me.” Later, she tries to cook an egg.

Out of all your books, do you have a favorite one? If not, then which one is closest to your heart?

I guess my first, published with Siren, called Saving McCade, might be my favorite. Or else one at Siren that was called To Catch a Pirate because it didn’t sell that well and yet I really thought it was a sweet one.

Teaser Excerpt for Seductive Intent by Angela Claire

Ellora’s Cave


Contemporary Erotic Romance

Set in the same world as Executive Perks. 

It’s not unusual for playboy Brendan Beckett to wake up with a girl in his bed. One holding a gun to his head, though, does give him pause. In the dark, he can’t see the female burglar grilling him about some safe, but he has to admit he likes the feel of her straddling him to keep him still. 

Sophia may not know her last name or her real age, but she knows the life of crime, usually as bait for the rich men she cons. But now she’s looking for a mysterious puzzle-box that her mentor urgently needs. When she can’t get any information out of Brendan during her midnight foray into his apartment, she crashes his sister’s wedding to meet him and hopefully spark his interest. 

The stacked beauty sparks something, all right—his suspicion. At his house in the Cayman Islands, Brendan’s determined to get the truth out of her. Or seduce her. Actually, he’s kind of good either way.


The sound of a gun cocking was not something Brendan Beckett was used to hearing. Even in his dreams. It made an impression, as did the woman leaning over him in the dark with that very dangerous weapon pointed at his temple.

“I know this sounds trite, but if you move a muscle, you’re dead.”

Trite or not, that kind of statement never got old.

“Uh, okay.”

“Tell me where the safe is.”

He was so going to get his money back on that expensive security system the building had sold him when he bought this penthouse. How the hell did this woman just waltz right in here in the middle of the night and hold a gun to his head? He knew it was a woman only from her soft voice and the feel of her straddling him. Too light to be a man. But it was so fucking dark, he could barely see the black garbed figure sitting on his stomach.

Sitting on his stomach? What the fuck? It wasn’t bad enough he was being robbed by a woman—which was only bound to put a damper on the high regard he normally had for the female sex—but she had to go and mount him? A position which, by the by, he usually enjoyed a lot more than he did at the current moment. He’d never hear the expression “woman on top” with quite the same enthusiasm.

The barrel of the gun pressed a little harder into his temple, nudging him ever so not slightly into providing the information his midnight visitor had requested.

“There is no safe.”

“You’re lying.”

“Look around yourself. Or, wait, you probably already have or you wouldn’t be asking me. I imagine you professional burglars like to get in and out with a minimum of fuss. You’ve probably been here for quite a while already, taking care not to wake me.”

“How do you know I’m a burglar? Maybe I’m an assassin?”

Although he was always one for witty repartee with a woman, he found it hard to appreciate the chit chat given the current circumstances. As it was, the mere fact of a woman sitting on him in the middle of the night was having a predictable effect. Christ, to be honest, he was scared as hell, but apparently his cock didn’t scare easy. He hoped she didn’t notice.

She scooted a little farther up and muttered, “What a wolf.”

No such luck.

“What?” he demanded.

“Your erection is prodding my ass.”

The final indignity. “Well, you are on top of me in my bed.”

“With a gun pointed right at you. You’d think that’d give you pause.”

“It does. Believe me.”

“But you’re still up for a fuck?”

“Was that an invitation?”

“No. More like an observation. Now where is the safe?”

“Look, I’m being honest here. Why wouldn’t I be? There is no safe. If there was, I’d point you right to it so you could get the hell out of here. Believe me, I’m no hero.”

“I believe you.”

Okay, so he wasn’t in much of a position to argue. He really should just let it go. But this girl, whoever the hell she was, was really pissing him off here. And it wasn’t just the gun thing. Although he guessed he should be more pissed off about that.

“What the hell does that mean?”


“That I’m no hero.”

“Nothing. You’re the one who said it.”

“But you agreed with me pretty quickly.”

“Well, you do have a reputation for being a playboy.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“I imagine you probably have bodyguards and the like to do the dirty work for you rather than mess up your pretty face.”

She was the one with the gun, but did she have to be such a bitch about it?

“I’m twice your size. I could probably overpower you.”

“Exactly. But you haven’t even tried.”

“You observe I’m ready for a fuck and now you’re practically inviting me to overpower you? I’m starting to doubt here that you even are a burglar.”

His eyes were accustoming themselves to the dark, a dark much blacker than he usually had in his bedroom. He realized she must have shut the blinds, since he’d fallen asleep with them open. Her face was so close to his now, mere inches away at most, that he could almost feel her breath on him. Arguing with her hadn’t dissipated his erection any more than having a gun pointed at his head had.

Okay, so he’d had some inadvisable hookups in his long and varied sexual history. Of course there’d been the usual sleeping with his mom’s slutty best friend when he’d turned eighteen. The slutty best friend of one of his sister’s even earlier than that, for which he’d inevitably gotten no end of grief. Then the occasional slutty girlfriend of a friend, though he’d honestly been ashamed of himself for giving in to that and really hadn’t done it more than once. Twice maybe. He had a thing for sluts. Then there were the wild days when he’d pick up a girl in a bar, even a biker bar once and a while just for fun, when he had no idea who she was or where she’d been, although he was always careful to suit up first and had never gotten his throat slit for his troubles.

But he’d never contemplated a hookup as bizarre as this.

Not that this unseen girl was inviting him to hook up. More like insulting him non-stop, but somehow managing to turn him on nonetheless. He’d never figured himself for low self-esteem.

And of course there was still the little matter of that gun.

“I’m not going to risk trying to overpower you when you have a gun to my head. What kind of an idiot do you think I am?”

“A cowardly one?”

Okay, that was it. Enough was enough. He batted as hard as he could at the gun, feeling the shocking and unpleasant sensation of clipping her wrist in the process. He heard the gun skitter away as she clasped her wrist and he flipped her over, coming full on top of her with his weight.

“Ow!” she cried, pushing her palms against his shoulders to no avail. “Get off me. I can’t breathe.”

He felt for her wrists and wrenched them above her head and once they were safely by her head, he relented and leaned a little to the side to take some of the weight off her.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Oh, you big baby. Who’s the one who broke into whose apartment and held a gun to whose head?”

“And that gives you the right to manhandle me?”

“Well, uh, yeah, Miss Smarty Pants. I’m defending myself.” The words were no sooner out of his mouth than his overtaxed body registered the feel of her under him. Wow. Even in the dark, not able to see her, just feel her. Per his usual custom he was naked and her limbs were encased in some lycra-feeling material, all over, so they weren’t skin to skin exactly, just the next best thing. He could feel long, long legs and, whoa, a tight, high chest. A hook-up wasn’t seeming so far-fetched at right this moment, though he briefly wondered how he’d find an opening in this cat suit thing and whether he could trust her enough to let go of her to reach for a condom from the night stand.

Oh, and whether he should call the police while he was at it.

He involuntarily arched his hard cock into the vee of her legs. Very nice. He let out a little moan and pushed her hands up higher.

She wasn’t struggling. Oddly, without her gun, she wasn’t so talkative either, which did give him pause. Burglar or no burglar, of course if she wasn’t into this…

She leaned up to him and he felt soft lips graze his chin. Optimistically, he told himself she’d probably been aiming for higher and he brought his lips to hers, tasting a slight lemony flavor.

Then he was out.

About the author

Angela Claire’s first love was romance novels, but she resolved to give them up temporarily for law books (which were considerably less fun). In a quest for a ‘responsible’ career, she headed off to Harvard law school, obtained her diploma and settled into a corporate law practice in New York City — which she hated! After staying in the rat race long enough to pay back her massive student loans, Angela returned to her roots in the Midwest and is working as a lawyer at a more leisurely pace than big city law firm life would allow. A multi-published romance author, she writes in her spare time and finds romance in real life with her husband. Angela would love to hear from you.



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