Excerpt/Teaser Share, Release Day/New Release, Year in Releases - 2020

New Release – Blood and Wine by Margot Scott

Title: Blood and Wine
Author: Margot Scott
Genre: Dark Vampire Romance
Release Date: October 29, 2020

A slow-burning descent into darkness and desire…

Betrayed. Imprisoned. Alone.

For decades I have suffered as a reluctant blood donor. Caged like an animal and drained of my strength to enrich the Radcliffs and their winery. I’d forsaken all hope of escape—until the winemaker’s daughter returns to the family’s estate.

A drop of my immortal blood is all it takes to activate her psychic talents. Now we’re connected, and all that remains is convincing her to seek me in the darkness.

Bribe. Seduce. Deceive.

To claim she’s too young is an understatement. But a starving man doesn’t have the luxury of waiting for fruit to ripen. I’ve awakened her gifts, and now it’s her turn to replenish me.

I will have my fill of the winemaker’s daughter. Then I will take revenge on her family.

Author’s note: Please be aware that this book contains scenes of violence, gore, and rough sexual contact, as well as an age-gap pairing spanning literal centuries. If you find drastically inappropriate older man/younger woman romances squicky, do yourself a favor and skip this book.

GOODREADS LINK:https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/55354279-blood-and-wine

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I inhale the perfume of lilacs, and watch the horses grazing among the vines. Then I remind myself that it’s October, and there aren’t any horses on the grounds anymore.
That’s how I know I’m still dreaming.
I’ve been a lucid dreamer since I was little, capable of controlling my consciousness at whim while asleep. It’s the one Greyson-like talent I’ve been blessed with, and it’s not even that interesting.
A burst of laughter calls my attention to a couple drinking champagne on the patio. I approach them. They ask if I’m wearing that to the party, and it’s not until I notice how they’re dressed—her in a silk blue wrap dress with ruffles, and him in a fedora and striped jacket—and the way their silhouettes dissolve slightly into the air around them, that I realize they aren’t just stand-ins manufactured by my dream engine.
They’re ghosts. My mom tried describing them to me, but it’s one thing to hear about something and another to actually see it with your own eyes.
Ghosts don’t look the way you might expect, all white-sheeted and billowy. Neither do they resemble rotting corpses. They look like shimmery versions of regular people. A little fuzzy around the edges, maybe, but otherwise normal.
The clamor of horn-heavy music playing elsewhere on the estate coaxes me to step barefooted into the grass. I make my way toward the sound. Sure enough, there’s a party in full swing in the grand foyer. I peek through the windows at the crowd of ghosts having a grand old time, drinking, laughing, and dancing.
I stay and watch for a while and listen to the band play, until a man in a waistcoat comes up behind me and asks if I have an invitation. I run into the field, glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m not being chased.
A woman in a white dress watches me from a second-story window. I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I’m pretty sure she’s watching me from the room I’m staying in. She’s too far away to note the details of her face, but her hair is long, dark, and straight, like mine. I blink and she’s gone, and her absence unsettles me and sends me galloping further into the grapevines.
The sky hasn’t changed since I awoke into the dreamscape, giving the vineyard a sense of timelessness. Now that I’m away from the house, I make my way down the rows of vines slowly, skimming my fingers over the leaves.
This place isn’t so bad without Edward and his awful relatives making me feel unwelcome. It would’ve been even nicer to have come here with my mother; I could’ve listened to her tell her own stories.
A crow soars overhead and then drops into a cluster of trees. That’s when I spot the man standing with his back to me among the vines.
“Hello,” I call out, moving a little closer. He turns his blond head slowly, like he’s not sure if he heard me. I call out again, “Hello, sir?”
When our gazes meet, I stop advancing. His eyes are so blue they’re almost turquoise. I’m already lost in them, and I just got here. He studies me curiously, like he’s never seen a girl in a Blind Melon tee shirt before.
“Did you say something to me?” he asks.
“I said hello.”
The man looks around, like he’s making sure I’m not actually talking to someone behind him. He’s a pretty big guy, fit and brawny. Maybe he’s the ghost of a laborer, I think, though his clean shirt and fair skin would suggest he’s not one for toiling in the sun. I’d guess him to be somewhere in his mid-thirties. I wonder how long it’s been since he passed on, then remind myself he isn’t real. This place looks like the vineyard, but it’s not the vineyard. There’s no reason my mind couldn’t dream up ghosts just as easily as it cooks up impatient servers.
“How long have you lived here?” I ask. Mom also told me that ghosts sometimes forget they’re dead, and when they do, it’s best not to remind them. Nine times out of ten, whenever there’s an aggressive haunting, it’s because a ghost is confused, or hasn’t yet come to terms with their situation. This man appears lucid enough, and his silhouette is surprisingly crisp, but I figure it’s better to play it safe.
His lip curls slightly. “I’ve been here much longer than I’d like to be.”
“Oh. That sucks.” I’m not sure how else to respond.
Two rows of vines separate us, but even that distance and a coating of golden scruff aren’t enough to mask the fact that he’s handsome. His face is angular without being pointed, his lips full, yet defined. The longer I look at him, the faster my pulse starts to race. Heat floods my face as I force myself to stop gawking at him like some wannabe groupie.
“I’m just visiting my dad,” I say, hoping he won’t notice the tremor in my voice. The man says nothing. When I allow myself to glance his way again, he’s no longer standing in the same spot.
He’s right beside me.
I stagger back a few steps.
“How did you do that?” A dumb question, considering ghosts don’t have to follow the laws of physics in the real world, let alone the nonexistent rules in my dreams.
I hold my breath as the man reaches out to touch my cheek. Somehow his eyes are even bluer this close up.
“How is this possible?” He strokes the sides of my face.
“Anything’s possible in a dream,” I say. He shakes his head in disbelief, like I’m the ghost in his dreams.
“This is why he wants you,” he says, and I have no idea what that means.
“Who wants me?”
His gaze lifts over my shoulder, in the direction of the house.
“It’s time to wake up, Mariah.”
“Why?” And how does he know my name?
“You have a visitor.” He grasps my shoulders firmly enough to pinch and shakes me.
I’m jolted awake, for real this time.
It takes me a second to recall where I am—in bed, in the guestroom, at Red Cliff—and half a second more to realize that I’m not alone.


Margot Scott likes long nails and short, sexy reads, rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream, and rainy days spent in bed with her furbabies. When she’s not writing forbidden-love stories about bearded older men, you can find her browsing Pinterest for pictures of pink things.


Website: https://margotscott.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/gjdGNT
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/margotscottauthor
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/margotshouse
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Excerpt/Teaser Share, Release Day/New Release, Year in Releases - 2020

New Release – Deep Wood by Margot Scott

Title: Deep Wood
A Mountain Daddy Romance
Author: Margot Scott
Genre: Contemporary Erotic Romance
Release Date: May 1, 2020

She’s mine to claim. Mine to protect. Mine to care for.

I swore I’d never go back to that mountain, not after my childhood friend and I fell out years ago. So imagine my shock when I find out he’s died and left me his old hunting cabin.

On the way there, I find myself staring down the barrel of a pistol without a safety, in the form of smooth thighs, arresting green eyes, and curves that could charm a sapling into a mighty oak.

But it turns out my old buddy’s gone and thrown me another curveball: the nymph with the ass that won’t quit? That’s his eighteen-year-old little girl. She’s running from something, but I’m not about to let anyone lay a finger on this green-eyed angel.

I’ll put my life on the line to keep her safe, because that’s what good Daddies do.

** ** ** ** **

Author’s note: I’ve wanted to write a mountain-man romance for what feels like FOREVER! There’s just something about a rugged, brooding loner with a big axe that makes you want to curl up by a roaring fire. Enter, Silas Walker! He’s a little grumpy and a lot stubborn, but once this mountain Daddy gets his hands on his baby girl, he’s never letting her go.

Please be aware that this book contains suspense elements and discussions of past physical abuse. But don’t let that heavy stuff fool you, this romance is fast and filthy, with no cheating or cliffhangers, and features a guaranteed HEA!

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/53180544-deep-wood

BOOKBUB LINK: https://www.bookbub.com/books/deep-wood-a-mountain-daddy-romance-by-margot-scott

PURCHASE LINKS – only 99c!

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A gust of wind blows the playing cards off the table. Norah drops to her knees to collect the deck before it’s lost. I join her, stuffing the cards in the box as I grab them.
“Cold front’s moving in. I’ll go split some wood.” I hand her the box of cards and then run around back to fetch the axe. Beneath the awning off the garage sits a pile of logs protected from the elements by a blue tarp.
I grab an armful of logs and take them to the chopping block. I bust through half a dozen before I feel like I’m being watched. When I turn, I find Norah standing there, watching me.
“Enjoying the show?” I grab a fresh log. She shivers as if shaking off a trance.
“I’ll start bringing these in.” She fills her arms with wood and then runs off, returning just as the first drop of rain hits the back of my neck. I break up the last log and help her gather the remaining pieces. We’re halfway to the house when the sky opens up, dumping frigid water down on top of us.
“Better make a run for it,” I yell.
We sprint toward the house. Norah reaches the porch before I do, dumping her pile on the porch with the first load so she can open the door. I rush inside, drop my wood by the fireplace, then hurry back to help her with the rest.
Thunder rumbles in the distance. My T-shirt clings to my chest and back, and my jeans feel like they’ve gained thirty pounds.
“It got so cold so fast.” Norah rubs her arms. Even in the dim, gray light, I can make out the points of her nipples through her tank top. My cock perks up as I imagine fixing my mouth to her breast, tonguing her nipple through her shirt. I picture her without the shirt altogether. Soft, creamy skin. Round, jiggly tits. Stiff nipples.
She catches me staring, and rather than cover herself, she folds her arms and shoves her breasts together. Forcing myself to look away is like telling a wolf not stalk a rabbit, or a lion not to lick its chops.
Someday soon, Norah and I are going to sit down and discuss what to do about this thing between us. It’s time to set some ground rules, like no more paper-thin tank tops.
“Go dry off,” I tell her. “I’ll start the fire.”
She looks like she wants to say something, then purses her lips. As soon as I hear the bathroom door close, I let out a breath.
“Fuck…” This isn’t good. I have to get myself under control before she comes back.
I stack the logs in the fireplace, tuck a crumpled piece of paper into the center, then light it with a match. The fire crackles to life as another rumble of thunder shakes the cabin. The storm will be on top of us in a few minutes.
I peel my wet shirt off and toss it in the washer along with my jeans. My boxers are damp, but I leave them on so I don’t accidentally give Norah and eyeful on my way up to the loft. I’m about to head upstairs for dry clothes when I spot Norah standing by the fire, gripping a towel around herself that barely covers her ass.
She eyes me through strands of rain-soaked hair. I know she’s naked under the towel, and I know all it would take to see her in all her glory is a swift flick of the wrist.
“Silas,” she says. I don’t move a muscle. She moves closer, her bare feet sinking into the rug with every step.
My muscles tense like they’re gearing up for a fight.
She drops her towel, and my pulse jackknifes.
“I want you.” She takes another step. I can’t stop my gaze from drinking her in, and soon enough, I’m drunk. The firelight flickers off her bare skin. She’s even more beautiful than I imagined.
The boxers I’m wearing are a size too small. They don’t stand a chance once my cock starts to swell. She glances down at my bulge and her lips drift apart. I catch the glint of her teeth and the tip of her soft, pink tongue as she wets her mouth.
“Norah, we talked about this. I’m too old for you.”
“Actually, you’ve avoided talking about this. And you’re the only one who thinks you’re too old for me.”


Margot Scott likes long nails and short, sexy reads, rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream, and rainy days spent in bed with her furbabies. When she’s not writing forbidden-love stories about bearded older men, you can find her browsing Pinterest for pictures of pink things.


Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/margotscottauthor
Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/margotscottauthor
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Website: https://margotscott.com


There is a giveaway for a $10 Amazon gift card + an ecopy of Down Under (1 winner, US only)


Excerpt/Teaser Share, Release Day/New Release, Year in Releases - 2020

New Release – Pretty, Dark & Dirty by Margot Scott

Title: Pretty, Dark & Dirty
Author: Margot Scott
Genre: New Adult Taboo Erotic Romance
Release Date: February 21, 2020

Some lines should never be crossed.
But sometimes the temptation is too good to resist…

Mason Black was everything to me: my father, my provider, my protector. But then one day, he vanished, leaving me lost and alone.

I was devastated.

Years later, just when I thought I had put the pieces of my life together, my world splintered apart again. Everything I thought I knew about my biological father and Mason’s role in my life? Turns out, it was all a lie. Every. Last. Word.

Now Mason’s back.

However, he offers no excuses, no explanations. He just wants me to be what he claims I’ve always been: his little girl.

But the ache inside me won’t be denied. The longing I feel isn’t one of a little girl who misses her father.


I need Mason to be more than just a father figure.

More than a loving protector.

I need him to be my Daddy.

Author’s Note: Brace yourself for a twisty, forbidden romance so deliciously devious, it’ll tie you up by your heartstrings and then drag you along for the ride. Please be aware that this novella contains depictions of sexual activity within a highly taboo older man/younger woman relationship, in addition to brief discussions of past sexual abuse. Like my Quick and Dirty Reads, it features a guaranteed melt-your-heart ending. However, unlike those shorter stories, this book is NOT a light-hearted romp.

If you’re a fan of very taboo older man/younger woman pairings, broody, protective Daddy figures, and contemporary Gothic vibes, then this book was tailor-made for your Kindle.

The word “Dark” is in the title for a reason, folks. Please read responsibly.

GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/50538684-pretty-dark-and-dirty

BOOKBUB LINK: http://bookbub.com/books/pretty-dark-and-dirty-a-forbidden-romance-by-margot-scott

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A soft buzz disrupted the quiet that had settled between us. Mason drew his phone from his pocket, thumbed at it, then frowned. “Well, shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Krista has the flu.” His chest rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “This is going to set me back.”
I laid the sketchbook on the floor. “Can you find someone else?”
“Sure, but that would take a few days at least. I was hoping to finish the preliminary sketches this afternoon.”
An idea surfaced like a bottle in the ocean, a message borne from the deep.
“I could do it,” I said. He took in my face, my posture, my folded legs, then shook his head.
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
“It’s not like I don’t have experience,” I said. “Come on, it’ll be like old times.”
“This is different,” he said, his gaze hardening.
Technically, he was right. I’d seen the conceptual drawings in his sketchbook. This project was inherently sexual. He was trying to turn an intimate moment inside out, to take the most private activity in which a person could partake and make it public. If I did this, I would be laying myself bare for his and everyone else’s perusal.
The thought of it scared and excited me. It made my toes curl.
“You’re letting me work in your studio and stay in this incredible apartment for free. Let me do this for you.”
“You’re here as my guest, Jett, not as a tenant. You don’t owe me rent or favors.”
“It’s not a favor.” The offer was as much for my benefit as it was for his. Maybe more so. “I want to do it.”
Mason scrubbed his jaw, his expression dubious. The chair creaked as he stood. He crossed the room and entered the walk-in supply closet, then brought out a blue terrycloth robe.
He presented the robe to me, his stare daring me to flinch.
“You can change in the bathroom.”
I took the robe and rose from my chair. I was halfway to the bathroom when I heard him say, “You don’t have to do this, Jett. I can find someone else.”
I stopped. The words resounded in my ears, deafening. He could find someone else. Anyone else. Like he had scores of hopefuls lined up around the block, desperate to model for him. Like I was replaceable.
He hadn’t meant it that way, but that’s how it felt.
I draped the robe over a stool. He offered a kind smile, like he’d anticipated me changing my mind.
Grasping the hem of my tank top, I pulled my shirt off right there in front of him.
Mason’s eyes rounded with stark surprise. Letting my shirt fall to the floor, I unzipped my jeans and shucked them along with my underwear. I stood naked before him, hips squared and shoulders pulled back to accentuate breasts that stood quite proudly on their own.
A breath fell from Mason’s lips as his gaze caressed me. Goose bumps skittered along my arms and legs. The man could’ve wrapped me in burlap and it wouldn’t have made a damn bit of difference. As far as most of the world knew, I was still Mason Black’s daughter. I had his name as well as his love.
He couldn’t replace me.


Margot Scott is an erotic romance author who likes long nails and short, sexy reads, rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream, and rainy days spent in bed with her furbabies. When she’s not writing forbidden love stories about bearded older men, you can find her browsing Pinterest for pictures of pink things.


Website: https://margotscott.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/margotscottauthor
Instagram: http://instagram.com/margotscottauthor
Goodreads: http://goodreads.com/author/show/17998089.Margot_Scott
Bookbub: http://bookbub.com/authors/margot-scott


There is a giveaway for a $25 Amazon gift card