Surrender to Sanctuary

by Leah St. James

The Wild Rose Press (June 25, 2010)

ISBN: 1-60154-750-1

ISBN: 13: 9781601547507

A young woman is brutally murdered, her body dropped into the sea and carried by the tides onto the beach at a federal park at the Jersey Shore. Hometown investigators believe the woman simply partied too hard and fell overboard, but FBI Agents David Owens and Anna Parker know better. David and Anna trace the victim’s path from a local BDSM club to a dangerous and shadowed world that forces them under cover, into performances that awaken their own desires, and draw them closer to the killer. Soon they are racing against a clock set by an unknown enemy, compelled to carry out a plan that not only jeopardizes their lives, but tests their very belief s, and their newfound love.

Buy at The Wild Rose Press / Amazon (Print) / Amazon (Kindle) / Barnes & Noble

Guest Post from Leah:

Lessons Learned

It’s been just about a year since Surrender to Sanctuary, my debut novel, was published. Like so many other newbie novelists, I waited for the big day with excitement and just a bit of anxiety, both of which kept me sleepless at night. This was my virgin experience after all! Would the big event live up to my expectations? Would it hurt at times as much as some claimed? Would I look back feeling satisfied, or disappointed, maybe even deflated?

Now, a year later, I guess I’d have to answer “All of the above”! The thrills of those publishing “firsts” will stay with me a long time: First glance at my book cover, first galley read, and a biggie – first touch of that printed book in my hands. (I think I might have slept with a copy that night. <g>) But seeing my book go up for sale on various web sites brought fear and worry along with the joy and pride I expected. It reminded me, in a way, of giving birth, and the book was my newest baby. I needed to care for it, nurture it, make sure it grew and thrived as intended. (Oh the pressure!)

So I devoted myself to launching my baby. That meant blog tours and interviews, meeting new readers, and generally stepping out from my cozy writing cocoon to talk about my book and describing it to virtual strangers and casual acquaintances. It meant revealing the secret life of Leah to friends at work and church whose taste in reading material might not match mine. It meant basking in the praise and compliments of some, and withering under the disappointment and criticism of others.

But as most people, I learn from life’s experiences, good and bad, and I’d like to share a few of the lessons I’ve learned this past year. (Most of them deal with writing, but you can probably apply these to whatever your life’s goals.)

* The greatest blessings of life are family and friends who stick by you even if what you write makes them cringe in embarrassment.

* Everything is relative. People who tell you they like sex in books could be talking about a one-paragraph summary instead of the detailed, three-page scene you wrote.

* Watching sales figures on Amazon probably isn’t the best use of a writer’s time.

* The best use of a writer’s time is writing, working to improve his/her craft.

* Don’t shy away from talking about your work for fear of criticism. When it comes, use it, learn from it.

* Enjoy the journey. Be grateful for the gifts you’ve been given and use them.

Happy reading!

Leah St. James

About Leah St. James

Leah’s fascination with all things written began when she picked up her first Dr. Seuss book, and she has rarely been seen without a novel, or pen and paper, close at hand since. She enjoys delving into the deepest of human emotions–love and hate, bravery and cowardice, joy and despair–and how we, as human beings, relate to each other. Her greatest hope is to touch her readers’ hearts and help them experience the joy that only love can bring.

Married with two grown sons, Leah is a native of the beautiful Central Jersey Shore but now enjoys the peace and quiet of Virginia’s Hampton Roads.

Leah’s Web Site

Leah on Facebook

Contact Leah at leah@leahstjames.com

Surrender to Sanctuary

by Leah St. James

The Wild Rose Press (June 25, 2010)

ISBN: 1-60154-750-1

ISBN: 13: 9781601547507

A young woman is brutally murdered, her body dropped into the sea and carried by the tides onto the beach at a federal park at the Jersey Shore. Hometown investigators believe the woman simply partied too hard and fell overboard, but FBI Agents David Owens and Anna Parker know better. David and Anna trace the victim’s path from a local BDSM club to a dangerous and shadowed world that forces them under cover, into performances that awaken their own desires, and draw them closer to the killer. Soon they are racing against a clock set by an unknown enemy, compelled to carry out a plan that not only jeopardizes their lives, but tests their very belief s, and their newfound love.

Buy at The Wild Rose Press / Amazon (Print) / Amazon (Kindle) / Barnes & Noble

Message from Leah:

Greetings, everyone! Thanks so much for stopping by to learn a little about me and my debut novel, Surrender to Sanctuary. I love hearing from readers, so please don’t hesitate to drop me a note (leah@leahstjames.com)! Happy reading!

Excerpt: Surrender to Sanctuary

As if reading her mind, David said, “It’s not too late, you know, to come up with something else.”

“No, I’m sure this is the right way to go. We decided.”

No, you and Larkin decided, and I agreed to go along with your asinine–your proposal.” He pushed to his feet and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Just listen for a minute, please. Say we convince Runco of the plan and he manages to get us into the club. What happens after that? What are you going to do once inside?” He paced to the window and back.

“We’ll have to orchestrate that part with Dr. Runco. He’s been there, he knows the routine. I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about the end game, shutting down Sunday’s auction, finding the person at the top, not what comes before.” She lifted a shoulder, tried to appear nonchalant. “We’ve calculated the risks and devised precautions. But there are no guarantees, you know that.”

“Shit, Anna, you have to worry about what comes before. What if the orchestration falls apart and we get separated?”

“No one would touch me without your permission.” It wasn’t so much a lie as a hope. Truthfully, she had no idea what might happen if they were separated, if she were discovered by the wrong people.

But he bought it, and he sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Okay, but what about Saturday? I won’t be with you. The asset won’t be in a position to help you without jeopardizing himself.” He pulled her to her feet and lifted her arms out to her sides. “Look at you.” His eyes pleaded, his voice suddenly soft, entreating.

She looked down and the heat of humiliation spread from her chest to her face. The tank was skimpy, and her nipples popped through the flimsy fabric. The shorts rode low on her hips, the hem of the legs falling only a few inches below her butt. “They were the first things I found to throw on.”

“I don’t mean your clothes, for Christ’s sake.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“You’re tiny.”

There was a hint of disdain in his voice, and she straightened her spine. “Hardly. I’m five-seven.”

“Still shorter than the average man, and you weigh, what, about one thirty?”

She nodded. “Thereabouts, yes. But I’m tough.” In a moment of insanity she nearly flexed her biceps at him, but checked the impulse when he rolled his eyes and let out a disgusted huff of air.

“Yeah, tough.” He ran his gaze down her body once more. “And at least forty pounds lighter than most men, probably closer to fifty pounds under the average weight, and more.”

“What’s your point, David?”

He tapped his fist on his forehead a few times before answering. “The point is, you’re young and beautiful and you’re offering yourself to be sold like chattel. What if some sicko picks you for the Saturday night test drive? You think can just say no and the nice man will leave you alone? You put up a fight and God knows what’ll happen.”

Suddenly hot and cold at once, Anna shivered and folded her arms across her chest. “You’re sweet to be concerned, but I can’t tell you how I’ll react to a hypothetical situation. Just trust me that I know how to take care of myself, and I will, in a way appropriate to this investigation.”

His eyes narrowed, and he laughed softly. “Oh yeah?”

She recognized what was coming next, yet did nothing to stop it. And in a flurry of movements, he tugged her arms behind her back, captured her wrists with one hand, and kicked her legs wide apart, planting his solidly in between. Hauling her to his chest, he grasped her face and with his free hand and tipped it up. His grip tightened, all over, and he held her locked against him.

“Go ahead, try to get away from me. Try to move. Your arms, your legs.” He paused. “Admit it. You can’t even use your teeth. Maybe you could spit, but that wouldn’t do anything but piss him off.” His eyes, a deep indigo now, roamed her face. “I’m not even using half my strength here, Anna.”

No, she could tell he wasn’t. He held her tightly but with care. His hands warmed rather than bruised. His legs locked hers in place, separated and useless, the denim of his jeans chafing her bare skin. Their torsos and hips were pressed together, fitting like they belonged, and as if suddenly realizing the same thing, he sucked in a breath and abruptly shifted his weight.

It was a minute before she could speak over the pounding of her heart. “You’re trying to scare me, but it’s not working. I’m not afraid of you, David.”

“Yeah? Well you should be.” He groaned, a sound that came from somewhere deep inside, and his hands gentled, at her wrists, her face. “What the hell,” he said under his breath just as his lips came down on hers. They were soft–searching, not demanding–and he dropped the pose to wrap both arms around her, pull her even closer, his hands on her back and lower, kneading flesh through the layer of clothing that felt suddenly itchy and coarse. She flushed again, her entire body thrumming with an aching heat, and opened her mouth to his.

His breathing hitched, and when he shifted once more, entwining their legs, and angled his head to take the kiss deeper, slower, her senses swelled and tumbled. She was tingling, head to toes, and enveloped in his scent of musk and laundry detergent. His hands were in her hair, his thumbs stroking along her jaw. She couldn’t breathe, and when she raised on her toes and linked her arms around his neck to press closer, he slid a hand under her shirt and found her breast.

Fire surged through her chest, to her fingers and toes, low into her belly. She heard herself whimper right before the room started to spin, right before her legs lost their strength, and she tore her mouth from his to catch a breath, catch her wits. He stiffened, muttering a curse, and stepped back to tug her shirt down.

They stared at each other like prizefighters in the ring, their breathing labored, each trying to anticipate the other’s move.

“Well,” he finally said, “I believe I proved my point.”

And it was only after he said goodbye, after admonishing her to get a good night’s sleep, that she realized she hadn’t even tried to stop him.

Buy at The Wild Rose Press / Amazon (Print) / Amazon (Kindle) / Barnes & Noble

About Leah St. James

Leah’s fascination with all things written began when she picked up her first Dr. Seuss book, and she has rarely been seen without a novel, or pen and paper, close at hand since. She enjoys delving into the deepest of human emotions–love and hate, bravery and cowardice, joy and despair–and how we, as human beings, relate to each other. Her greatest hope is to touch her readers’ hearts and help them experience the joy that only love can bring.

Married with two grown sons, Leah is a native of the beautiful Central Jersey Shore but now enjoys the peace and quiet of Virginia’s Hampton Roads.

Leah’s Web Site

Leah on Facebook

Contact Leah at leah@leahstjames.com

First Timer Friday

with Christine Ashworth

Join us in meeting some of the newauthors on the scene every Friday.  Hear what the newbies have to say and discover your new favorite author.

1)  How well do you really know your characters? Underwear preference? Favorite flavor of ice cream? Coffee or Tea?

Gabriel Caine is my tribred hero – demon/human/Fae blood runs in his veins. He prefers to go commando, but when he has to he goes with briefs. His favorite ice cream flavor is dark chocolate, and he’ll drink coffee all day long. My heroine, Rose Walters, wears thong underwear, prefers Italian lemon ice to ice cream, and likes her coffee mixed with cream and lots of chocolate, lol!

2)  Things that go bump in the night, Scary Real in your book or Scary Sexy?

Oh, most of them are Scary Real. Rose thinks she knows how scary life can be. But that’s before she discovers she has a fire demon possessing her body.

3)  If you could switch places with one of your characters would you?

I would love to be Rose for a day, and feel what it’s like to be able to shape fire, to dissolve herself into fire. But otherwise, I really like my life!

4)  Secret Fantasy, If you were going to be famous for something other then writing what award would you want to win? Tony? Grammy? Oscar? WWE Championship belt?

I’d like to win a Tony Award. I’m writing a two-person play and it’s gotten a lot of great feedback. No, there aren’t any demons in it, lol! But I’d love to see it open in New York.

5)   What was the best advice you were given leading you to getting published?

A NY Times Bestselling Author once told me that maybe I needed to write bigger books, that maybe category romance wasn’t where I belonged. Plus, she said to keep writing, and never quit. That, I believe, is the best advice any writer can take – never quit. Oh, and always submit!

CHECK OUT CHRISTINE ASHWORTH’S BOOK – AVAILABLE NOW!

Demon Soul

by Christine Ashworth

Publisher:  Crescent Moon Press

Buy at Amazon

Synopsis:

Gabriel Caine stands on the edge of the abyss. A vampire has stolen his soul and if he doesn’t get it back soon, his next step will be into Hell. Only the naïvely mysterious Rose can help him retrieve it. Without her, he really will become the devil himself. Rose Walters has been sent back from the dead to complete one task-save Gabriel Caine. She’s drawn to Gabriel on the most basic level, but restoring his soul may cost Rose her life. Rose has touched the whole of Gabriel, making him yearn for a love he believes he can never have. Her willingness to put her human life on the line for him forces him to bring all three parts of himself-demon, human, and Feri bloodlines, and the strengths of each-into harmony and into the fight that decides their fate.

About Christine Ashworth:

Christine Ashworth is a native of Southern California. The daughter of a writer and a psych major, she fell asleep to the sound of her father’s Royal manual typewriter for years. In a very real way, being a writer is in her blood—her father sold his first novel before he turned forty, and he is still writing and selling novels 40 years later.

At the tender age of seventeen, Christine fell in love with a man she met while dancing in a ballet company. She married the brilliant actor/dancer/painter/music man, and they now have two tall sons who are as brilliant as their parents, which keeps the dinner conversation lively.

Christine’s two dogs rule the outside, defending her vegetable garden from the squirrels, while a polydactyl rescue cat holds court inside the house. Everything else is in a state of flux, leaving her home life a cross between an improv class and a think-tank for the defense of humans against zombies and demons.

http://christine-ashworth.com

Twitter: @CCAshworth

Skinwalker

by Faith Hunter

Paperback: 336 pages
Publisher: Roc (July 7, 2009)
ISBN-10: 0451462807
ISBN-13: 978-0451462800

Synopsis:

A year ago Jane nearly lost her life taking down an entire blood family of deadly rogue vampires that preyed on the helpless local populace of an Appalachian town. Now, after months of recuperation, she’s back and ready to fight again. Except this time, she’s hired by those she’s trained to kill—vampires…

Jane Yellowrock is the last of her kind—a skinwalker of Cherokee descent who can turn into any creature she desires and hunts vampires for a living. Back from hiatus, she’s hired by Katherine Fontaneau, one of the oldest vampires in New Orleans and the madam of Katies’s Ladies, to hunt a powerful rogue vampire who’s killing other vamps.

Amidst a bordello full of real “ladies of the night,” and a hot Cajun biker with a panther tattoo who stirs her carnal desire, Jane must stay focused and complete her mission—or else the next skin she’ll need to save just may be her own…

Buy Skinwalker by Faith Hunter ~ Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Borders

SKINWALKER

by Faith Hunter

Chapter One

I travel light

I wheeled my bike down Decatur Street and eased deeper into the French Quarter, the bike’s engine puttering. My shotgun was slung over my back, a Benelli M4 Super 90, loaded for vamp with hand-packed silver-flechette rounds. I carried a selection of silver crosses in my belt, hidden under my leather jacket, and stakes were secured in loops at my jeans-clad thighs. The saddle bags on my bike were filled with my meager travel belongings—clothes in one side, tools of the trade in the other. As a vamp killer for hire, I travel light.

I’d need to put the vamp hunting tools out of sight for my interview. My hostess might be offended. Not a good thing when said hostess held my next paycheck in her hands and possessed a set of fangs of her own.

A guy, a good-looking Joe, standing in a doorway, turned to follow my progress as I motored past. A dark-haired local, he wore leather boots, a jacket, and jeans, like me, though his hair was short and mine was down to my hips when not braided out of the way, tight to my head, for fighting. Without moving, he followed my progress down the street. A Kawasaki motorbike leaned on a stand nearby. I didn’t like his interest, but he wasn’t hunting. He didn’t prick my predatory or territorial instincts.

I maneuvered the bike down St. Louis and then onto Dauphine, weaving between nervous-looking shop workers heading home for the evening and a few early revelers out for fun. I spotted the address in the fading light. Katie’s Ladies was the oldest, continually operating whorehouse in the Quarter, in business since 1845, though at various locations, depending on hurricane, flood, the price of rents, and the agreeable nature of local law and enforcement officers. I parked, set the kickstand and unwound my long legs from the Hogg.

I needed work. My best bet, was a job killing off a rogue vampire hunting in the City of Jazz. It was taking down as many as three tourists a night and had left a squad of cops, drained and smiling, dead where it dropped them. Scuttlebutt was, that it held all the men in thrall while it feasted. All that suggested the rogue was an old, powerful, deadly, whacked-out vamp. The nutty ones were always the worst.

Just last week, Katherine “Katie” Fonteneau, the titular head lady of Katie’s Ladies had emailed me. According to my website, I had successfully taken down an entire blood-family in the mountains near Asheville. And I had. No lies on the website or in the media reports, not bald-faced ones anyway. Truth is, I’d nearly died, but I ’d done the job, made a rep for myself and then taken off a few months to spend and invest my legitimately gotten gains. Or to heal, but spin is everything. A lengthy vacation sounded better than the complete truth.

I took off my helmet and the clip that held my hair, pulling my braids out of my jacket-collar and letting them fall around me, beads clicking. I palmed a few tools of the trade and adjusted the braids, rearranging them to hang smoothly, no lumps and bulges. I used the motion and the time to assure my safety through the upcoming interview. To take in the city. And to try and relax. I was nervous and being nervous around a vamp was just plain dumb.

The sun was setting, casting a red glow on the horizon, limning the ancient buildings, shuttered windows, and wrought iron balconies in fuchsia. It was pretty in a purely human way. I opened my senses and let my beast taste the world. It liked the smells and wanted to prowl. Later I promised it. Soon. Predators usually growl when irritated. As it was, she sent mental claws into my soul, kneading. It was uncomfortable, but the claw pricks kept me alert, which I’d need for the interview. I had never met a civilized vamp, certainly never done business with one. So far as I knew, vamps and skinwalkers had never met. I was about to test that premise. This could get interesting.

Sunglasses went into my collar, lenses hanging out. Cool is good, but most vamps like it dark and I didn’t want to limit my senses. I glanced at the witchy-locks on my saddlebags and, satisfied, I walked to the narrow red door and pushed the buzzer. The man who answered was definitely human, but big enough to be something else. Professional wrestler or troll. Both, maybe. The thought made me smile. He blocked the door, standing with arms loose and ready. “Something funny?” he asked, voice like a horse-hoof rasp on stone.

“Not really. Tell Katie that Jane Yellowrock is here.” Tough always works best on first acquaintance. That my knees were knocking wasn’t a consideration.

“Card?” Troll asked. A man of few words. I liked him already. With two gloved fingers, I unzipped my leather jacket, fished a business card from an inside chest pocket, and extended it to him. It read, “Jane Yellowrock, Have Stakes Will Travel.” Vamp killing is a bloody business. I had discovered that a little humor went a long way to making it all bearable.

Troll took the card and closed the door in my face. I might have to teach my new pal a few manners. But that was nearly axiomatic for all the men of my acquaintance.

I heard a bike two blocks away, maybe a Kawasaki, like the bright red crotch-rocket I had seen earlier. I wasn’t surprised when it came into view and it was the Joe from Decatur Street. He pulled his bike up beside mine, powered down and sat there, eyes hidden behind glasses so much like mine we could have ordered them from the same online site. He had a toothpick in his mouth and it twitched once as he pulled the helmet off.

The Joe was a looker. A little taller than my six-feet-even, he had olive skin, black hair, black brows. Black jacket and jeans. Black boots. Bit of overkill with all the black, but he made it work, with muscular legs wrapped around the red bike.

Question: What part of Skinwalker is your favorite?

Faith: Oh, my. The beginning. There is something so creatively satisfying about starting a new project, especially one that might become a new series, which it did. It’s all fresh and new and the character might do anything, become anything, say anything, and surprises are the nature of the writing experience. It’s a lot like meeting the eye of a stranger, feeling that instant attraction, and knowing that anything – anything! – might happen next! When I started Skinwalker it was just like that – like falling in love! Jane Yellowrock was so different from any character I’d ever known, and it was like she was alive, right there on the page, or inside my head. She had opinions and life experience that she was ready to share with me, and she was a strong believer in justice and righting wrongs. She was gentle and tough, nonjudgmental (in her own unique way!) and she was open to new challenges. She became my new best friend!

And the fact that Jane Yellowrock was a shapechanger, a shape-shifter, one who carried the soul of another intelligence inside her – her Beast – added so very much! I knew right away that Jane had to go to work for the very beings she hunts – vampires! That beginning was total fun!

Buy Skinwalker by Faith Hunter ~ Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Borders

Half Hearts

by Sherri Desbois

Publisher:  Liquid Silver Books

ISBN: 978-1-59578-766-8

A promise broken
Losing her family at a young age, and then broken promises from the man she’d loved all her life, Charlie McCarty rarely allows anyone to get close to her. Resolved to live her life without love and determined to become a top-notch Veterinarian, she begins her residency in Redfield. Fate, however, has a way of stepping in to change even the most obstinate set plans and forces Charlie to face her past, push the boundaries of her control and her heart to the brink of destruction.

A passion fueled desire
It started out as a celebration, a chance for Charlie to let her hair down and just let go of her firm control for just one evening, but meeting a sexy as hell cowboy—and his familiar best friend—ambush everything. With relentless determination, both cowboys set out to show her that she is everything they want to complete their lives. Charlie begins to dream, once again, for the future she thought lost to her years ago.

A Journey of the Heart
When a terrifying figure from the past steps into their fragile romance, is their love enough to overcome the horror about to be unleashed or will it leave them with hearts broken in half?

Buy Half Hearts by Sherri Desbois at Liquid Silver Books

Message from Sherri Desbois:

Hello – My debut novel Half Hearts is my first attempt at writing. It took over a year to complete and it was only because of the hard work and dedication of my editor that Half Hearts was ever published. She looked beyond the typeo’s and run on sentences to see the story beneath and for that I will forever be grateful to her.

Excerpt: Half Hearts by Sherri Desbois

“See, that’s your problem right there. I never said you needed a date, just that you should get laid. What’s it been, like a year? Is that even possible? Honey, what you need is one of these big strong, hot and horny cowboys to work all that tension right out of your system.”

Actually, it had been one year, eleven months and four days–not that she was counting or anything. The image of rope-calloused hands as they stroked up and down her body made Charlie squirm in her chair. She would certainly never admit it to Rae, though.

The idea of having her wicked way with one of these cowboys made her fidget and her stomach tighten. The self-induced celibacy was sometimes even a bit much for her. She had her reasons and knew she had made the right choice not to get involved with anyone physically or otherwise. Dammit, some days were harder than others.

“Besides,” Rae continued. “It would do the locals good to see their new town doctor, her hair down and having some fun.”

“First of all, I’m just an overworked, underpaid resident. I won’t officially be able to call myself a doctor for another two years. Secondly, I don’t really think the “locals” will give a damn whether my hair is up or down when I have my arm shoved up their cow’s asses.”

“Eww,” Rae grimaced, “TMI Charlie, too much information!”

A roar of laughter escaped Rae and Charlie joined her. They laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks and Charlie’s sides ached. They wiped the tears from their eyes as their waitress approached, set down two longneck bottles of beer and two shot glasses that smelled strongly like tequila.

Charlie stared at the waitress through watery eyes. The woman was short, but what she lacked in height, she obviously tried to make up for with the size of her surgically enhanced breasts. They strained against a-size-too-small t-shirt that advertised she got “off” at Jack’s Place. Some might say the coverings she wore across her ass shorts but calling them that would be adding length to the barely there material.

Charlie couldn’t help but wonder how uncomfortable it must be to have to wear such an outfit at home let alone in public. Maybe that was why the woman had a look of disgust in her eyes and a snarl on her bright red lips, though she highly doubted it.

“Compliments of the cowboy at the end of the bar.” the waitress drawled, jerked her head in the direction the bar. She met Charlie’s eyes with a look of pure hatred before she turned and stalked off.

“Jesus, what the hell is her problem?”

“Who cares? Holy shit, Charlie! Turn around and look at the wet dream that just bought us drinks.” Rae murmured. “I think I just came in my panties.”

Charlie picked up her beer and turned toward the bar with every intention of saluting the cowboy with the beer in a gesture of thank you. When her eyes locked on the man standing at the bar, she was too stunned to move.

“Holy shit is right.” Charlie panted.

At the end of the bar stood a curly, dark-haired mountain of a man, a black Stetson pulled down low over his eyes. Olive skin accentuated a strong masculine face with full lips turned up into a sly smile above a strong, square jaw with just a hint of dark stubble.

The man was a God, pure and simple and the look on his face made Charlie realize he knew exactly what effect he had on the opposite sex. Hell, he was gorgeous enough that he probably had the same effect on most of the same sex as well.

Charlie let her eyes travel downward from his handsome face to broad shoulders and thick chest, which tapered beneath a tight white t-shirt to lean narrow hips. His jeans were loose, hung low on his hips and covered tree trunk sized thighs.

Charlie’s eyes took in the sight of him with a deep appreciation as she moved back up the man’s smoking hot body and locked on with those piercing eyes. Her quickened heart rate sped to hummingbird speed and her lungs forgot the need for oxygen as the sexy cowboy’s smile moved from sly to dazzling, then winked in her direction.

Heat rushed through her body like a freight train and heated up every cell of her body, only to merge into one lava hot charge between her thighs.

Turning back to face her friend, Charlie knew the awed, dazed look on Rae’s face was a mirror image of her own. She worked hard to slow down her breathing and squirmed in her seat in an attempt to relieve the ache in her sex.

“Rae?” she whispered.

Silence.

“Earth to Rae.”

Rae continued to stare in the direction of the bar, never once blinking as if she was under some hypnotized trance until Charlie kicked her shin under the table. “Please tell me I’m not imagining that the sexiest man on the planet is standing against a bar behind me and just bought us a drink.”

Rae jumped with a start, nearly knocked her beer over, and they both burst out laughing at the flushed looks on their respective faces.

“So, what were you saying about not needing to get laid?”

“Well, I do believe that Mr. Yum-Yum might be able to convince me otherwise given the right motivation.”

“Uh huh, might?  Riiiight! On that note I think I’ll head to the little girls room to wring out my panties.”

Buy Half Hearts by Sherri Desbois at Liquid Silver Books

About Sherri Desbois:

I live in Michigan and work in the health care industry. I balance my time writing, working and being the proud mother of the Brady Bunch. Not sure how my husband and I keep sane, it’s difficult with 3 boys and 3 girls. Truth be told were totally insane but i wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sunday Showcase:  Jasmine Aherne

author of Birthday Shift

Following a disastrous love life, Molly Jenkins likes her life alone even though her best friend and her mother think differently. Cue her birthday gift of a cat; one male who won’t cheat on her!

Molly soon comes to rely on her new friend, so imagine her surprise when he reveals himself to be a Fae shape shifter, exiled from the Faewild and driven to find a human lover for bonding.

Shy of romance, Molly is slow to trust the new man in her life. But the sexual tension between them can’t be denied. Will Molly choose to bind Cade to her forever or send him back to the Fae world alone?

Buy it:  Pink Petal Books / Amazon / Bookstrand / All Romance Ebooks

EXCERPT:

Molly dropped Cade’s shirt to the floor. “How about we do that later.” She slid her hands down his arms, then linked her fingers with his tenderly, playfully. “I want you to show me what you can do to me. How you can make me feel.”

“You mean… make love?” His face lit up with surprise and pleasure.

“Not yet.” She willed him to understand. “Just kiss me. Show me… pleasure. It’s been so long since I felt a man’s touch.”

Cade’s lips curved then. “I understand.”

“Then, maybe later tonight, we could go out. For dinner. On a date.”

Now Cade’s eyes lit with understanding. “I know this word. When humans like each other they do this. A date.”

“Yes.” She laughed, excited. “We can see if we like each other enough to at least give this binding thing a shot. I’m sorry that I can’t decide right now, Cade, but I need time. I’m not used to putting my heart in someone’s hands right away.”

“You are right to be cautious, my lovely one,” Cade reassured her, squeezing her hands. “You are very smart. That is part of the reason why I wanted you for my own so much. Now, sit down. I will show you how I can make you feel.”

Stomach churning with excitement, Molly did as he bid, releasing his hands and moving to the couch. As she sat, Cade moved to sit beside her. “How I have longed to touch you,” he murmured as he cupped her face with one hand, his thumb gently stroking her lower lip, creating delicious friction. For a moment that seemed to stretch into an hour all he did was touch her there, the briefest of connections.

Then, just when Molly thought she could wait no more, and she wanted to reach out and grab him, he leaned forward, and his lips replaced the teasing touch of the pad of his thumb.

Desire sizzled through her as Cade oh-so-slowly drew his tongue across her lower lip, stroking, caressing. Then he kissed her, butterfly kisses at first, fleeting, light, no more than the brush of his mouth against hers.

Molly thought he’d stop teasing then. But, surprising her, he left her mouth and turned his attention to her neck, bridging kisses down over her chin, then whispering praise against the long column of her neck, briefly nipping with his neck, stroking with his lips.

His hands remained on his lap, not touching her, and, driven to distraction by that, Molly took his hands in hers. “Touch me,” she murmured, almost subconsciously giving the command. “I want to feel your hands on my skin.”

With previous lovers, she’d never felt confident enough to give such a command. But Cade wasn’t like human men. He seemed content only to please her, to spend hours on kisses if she so desired.

She wanted more.

He did as she bade him, placing his hands first on her shoulders, gently kneading them in a sensual massage as his lips worked their way down her neck, both tickling and arousing her. The combination made her skin tingle with excitement and lust.

When his hands slid down her chest to cup her breasts, she felt the heat of his palms through the thin lace cups of her bra. Her nipples, already hard, strained through the layers of fabric.

Cade smiled knowingly and strummed his fingers over one hard peak. Molly moaned as sensation flooded her. That same arc of sensation arrowed down between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs together, knowing her body had quickly readied itself for him.

Cade rolled her nipple between his thumb and finger. “I want to kiss you here,” he murmured against her neck as he toyed with her breast. “Would you like that?”

“Very much,” Molly gasped.

Cade’s hands wandered to the hem of her t-shirt, and he lifted it over her head, leaving her exposed to him in her lace bra, the pretty, flower-patterned white edges starkly pale against her skin.

“You humans have the most beautiful under coverings,” he whispered as he traced his finger over the cups of her bra. “How do I remove this?”

____________________

Howdy Ladies & Gents!

(OK, mostly ladies. But who’s to say I haven’t got a few male readers out there?!)

My name is Jasmine and I write contemporary, paranormal, sweet and erotic romance. The whole wonderful spectrum.

I live in Cardiff, UK, with a bearded dragon called Kai, a lot of shoes, and a wonderful man who is very tolerant of both.

My latest release, with the romance publisher Pink Petal Books, is titled Birthday Shift, and it’s my first foray into the paranormal, as well as one in the multi-author, world-spanning Spellbound Treasure series. It’s a little bit naughty, and an indulgent quick read for those summer holidays spent lounging on beaches or in bed.

I’d love to hear what you think. Drop me a line at www.jasmineaherne.com

Keyboards & Kisses

Jasmine

First Timer Friday

with AJ Nuest

Join us in meeting some of the new authors on the scene every Friday.  Hear what the newbies have to say and discover your new favorite author.

1)  How well do you really know your characters? Underwear preference? Favorite flavor of ice cream? Coffee or Tea?

I think it’s imperative that every author know their characters on a very personal level. Not only their wardrobe, diet and sexual preferences, but also internally – what makes them tick emotionally. To me, knowing what motivates a character, what quantifies their reactions or choices in certain situations, is what makes them real – not only to the author, but the reader, as well. Verbiage plays a huge part in this. I can’t tell you the times I’ve walked around my house, trying for just the right line so my characters’ language sounds uniquely original. All those little mannerisms, the things that define an individual personality are what make characters stand out to the reader. In all my favorite books, several characters stick with me simply because they had a chipped tooth, or a habit of chewing gum. I even sometimes wonder ‘where are they now?’ What better compliment to give an author than to remember the people they created? To think of them long after the story has ended. Without a doubt, knowing your characters is paramount to crafting a good story.

2)  What makes your First book Naughty?

Jezebel’s Wish contains several naughty elements, and not just because of the heat level. Jezzy is struggling through a difficult time, is terribly guilt-ridden and holding onto a dark secret. She consequently creates a protective wall between herself and those closest to her. But this wall isn’t meant to protect her. It’s meant to protect the ones she loves. Jezzy doesn’t want her family to discover the mistakes she’s made for fear it would damage their relationship. Because of this, she exhibits caustic behavior, knowing this is the only way to keep everyone at a distance. Enter the virile Matthias Saunders, the local veterinarian who proves to Jezzy he is more interested in helping her heal, than worrying about her past. This combination of dark emotion, peppered with their undeniable attraction, a dash of snappy dialogue, and you’ve got a recipe for some very naughty scenes indeed.

3)  How likely are people you meet to end up in your next book?

Usually, some aspect of each person I meet ends up somewhere in a story, but generally only as a secondary character. Whether this person has an unusual name, an interesting personality trait or family history – I glean little parts from each new acquaintance and smash them together with people I already know. However, for my main characters I usually start from scratch. While this can be hard, it also allows me total freedom to mold a character so their motivation fits the story’s specific needs. In truth, I love this part of the writing process – getting to know my characters as I create them is a very addictive experience. After all, I don’t really know too many devastatingly handsome, sword-fighting dragon slayers.

4)  What was the best advice you were given leading you to getting published?

Strangely enough, the best advice I ever got came from a non-published friend of mine. She told me, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” To this day, I’m still learning that lesson. I’m one of those people who isn’t happy unless I’ve got several projects all going at once. A query here, a blog there, promoting a new release over at this place. However, I’m also a closer, and achieve a great sense of satisfaction in completing a project. Because of this, I tend to think that once a story is completed, I’ve done my work and can move on. Not so, because this is when the real work begins. I think it’s very important all new authors learn how to stay motivated, either with promotion, or querying, or writing. Don’t ever put all your eggs in one basket and then sit back and wait. If you want to succeed, never stop testing boundaries, networking, and fighting for what you believe in.

5)  Favorite Superhero?

Ever since being introduced to the X-Men in college, I’ve had a mad crush on Wolverine. Does that make me sound like a complete whack-job? Well, I can’t help it. He’s a reluctant hero, a wounded hero, both physically and emotionally. Something about his dark history draws me to his character. How he exhibits this gruff, animalistic exterior to mask his damaged soul. How he teeters on the border between avenging do-gooder and outright criminal. Plus, he drives a motorcycle, has a penchant for growling, and totes around a hairy chest and a rockin set of abs. How much more alph-male can you get? Yep, Wolverine easily beats out all the other super-heroes as my favorite.

CHECK OUT AJ NUEST’S BOOK – AVAILABLE NOW!

Jezebel’s Wish

by AJ Nuest

Publisher:  Wild Rose Press

Buy at Wild Rose Press

Buy at Amazon

Synopsis:

Haunted by nightmares, tormented by guilt, Jezebel came to Redemption Ranch to escape the past—except now she’s stuck in the middle of nowhere with no redemption in sight. When her mother pushes her into riding lessons with local veterinarian Matthias Saunders, Jezebel balks. Sure, the doctor is gorgeous, but he’s completely obnoxious and knows how to push every one of her buttons.

Only her deep connection with The Reverend, a gentle stallion who guards her darkest secrets, has her agreeing to spend any more time with Dr. Saunders. Caring for the stallion is the first bright spot in her life in months, and if being around the horse means she has to deal with Matthias Saunders, then so be it. Surely a city girl like her can handle one country vet—even one with disturbing blue eyes. Can’t she?

About The Author:

AJ Nuest lives in Northwest Indiana with her loving husband and two beautiful children. She is the author of two contemporary romance novels.

Website/blog:  http://ajbooks.blospot.com
Facebook Page:  Tattered Pages  http://tinyurl.com/3qvxyn6

Rougaroux Social Club: Bayou Dreams

by Lynn Lorenz

Publisher:   Loose Id
ISBN   978-1-60737-960-7
Length – Novel
Blurb:

Sheriff Scott Dupree’s got more problems than he can handle. He’s alpha of his small werewolf pack and coming up for re-election as sheriff in a year. On top of this, his mother is casting love spells to find Scott a mate. It’s all Scott can do to keep the town and pack under control, let alone his urges to mate.
Ted Canedo is openly gay, a disgraced ex-cop from New Orleans. His patrol partner was killed on duty and Ted took the blame for taking protection money from the store owner to save his partner’s wife and kids grief. No one knew Ted was in love with his partner, not even his partner. Having him die in Ted’s arms killed something inside Ted too.
When the moon is full and Scott’s momma works her magic, Ted’s erotic dreams and his work as a PI bring him to St. Jerome and sexy, straight Scott. Scott’s stunned to learn his wolf is gay and wants to mate with Ted. Ted refuses to become involved with a straight man, much less a werewolf, terrified to risk his heart again.
Especially if it he has to watch Scott fight to the death for his right to claim Ted as his mate.

Buy Rougaroux Social Club: Bayou Dreams by Lynn Lorenz at Loose Id

Message from Lynn Lorenz:

Hello to everyone near and dear to my heart… backseat drivers…. Wait, you’re not driving? What are you doing in the backseat? Oh….uh, that. Okay, but please keep your shoes on and one foot on the floor. Well, I’ll just say a quick hello and Yeehaw! to everyone, I’m just thrilled to be here and have the opportunity to pimp my ride.

Excerpt:  Rougaroux Social Club: Bayou Dreams by Lynn Lorenz

Scott drove faster than usual down the uneven asphalt and gravel road, then came to a car-rocking stop outside the little cottage.

He jumped out, hood-slid across the car, took the steps in one leap, crossed the lit porch, and banged on the screen door.

“Mom! Open up!”

A light came on behind the door, curtains parted, and then his mother opened the door.

“What the hell you makin’ all that racket for, boy? You tryin’ to wake the dead?” She glared at him, but he glared right back.

Scott jerked open the screen door and pushed inside.

“I need to talk to you about that fucking spell you cast.” He headed straight to the kitchen where he knew she’d have a pot of coffee on.

“Watch your language. What spell?” she asked, padding behind him in her pink slippers.

“I want to know what you did. What you said. Just exactly what was in that spell”—she frowned at him—“that prayer you did the other night in the woods.” He grabbed a cup from the cabinet and poured his coffee.

“Oh, that old thing. That was just a prayer to Mary.”

“I know that, Mom, but what did you ask for?” He took a sip of the thick black steaming liquid.

“The usual. A mate for you. Been asking for four months, every full moon. I’m about to give up.” She shrugged and picked up her own cup. A newspaper had been spread out on the kitchen table, telling him that he’d interrupted her reading.

“Tell. Me. Exactly.” He growled. Good Lord, sometimes he wanted to strangle her with his bare hands. Anyone who knew her would understand. If the trial stayed here, the worst he’d get would be justifiable homicide.

“I prayed for the Virgin to bring you a mate. The perfect mate meant only for you.” She reached out and put her hand on his. “That’s all.”

“Any particulars?”

“Particulars?” She stared at him.

“Yeah, you know. Height, weight, hair color.” Gender.

“Non, cher, like I told you, I just want someone who’ll love you for you. Someone who can hold their own with your alpha, who’d stand by you no matter what.”

“Right.” Scott groaned. Like another guy.

“A good woman.” She nodded and took a sip.

“Did you say woman?” He jumped in his seat.

“What kind of question is that?”

“Just asking, that’s all. But did you?”

She cast her gaze heavenward, as if divine inspiration would come to her, then shrugged. “Nope. Don’t think I said woman at all. As well as I can remember, I just asked for a mate.”

“Just a mate?” Scott exhaled and fell back into the chair. He was screwed. Somehow, for once, his mother’s voodoo-hoodoo actually worked, only with a backfire of cosmic proportions.

There was only one answer. He’d been sent a mate. Only it was the wrong fucking sex.

Scott groaned and cupped his head in his hands.

“Oh, Mom. Oh shit.”

“Scott, stop. You’re scaring me.” His mom tried to pull his hands down. “What’s going on, son? Tell me.”

“I can’t. I just can’t. Promise me, you’ll never, ever do that again. No more spells, no more prayers.” He dropped his hands and stared into her face. “Please, for my sake.”

“Well, you can’t ask me to just stop praying. I’m a Catholic; it’s what we do best. That and guilt.” She reached into her apron and pulled out her rosary. “See? I pray all the time.”

“The kind of praying I’m talking about is the one with dead cats and candles and is done at midnight.” He growled again.

“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I’ll stop.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She looked at him as if he’d lost him mind.

“Thank you.” Well, that was great for the future, but what was he going to do about now?

She’d called on whatever godforsaken powers of heaven or hell and brought him a mate, only it was a man, not a woman.

A fucking man.

A fucking gay man.

Scott had no idea how to make this go away.

“Mom, if I reject my mate, what happens?”

“What? No one does that, cher.” She chided him as if he were a child.

“But what if? As alpha, I can deny a mating, and I know that the male can fight me, leave the pack, or find another mate.”

“That don’t happen very often. Usually a wolf finds another mate if his own mate dies, or the one he would be mated to dies.” She picked up her pack of smokes and tapped one out.

“What if he doesn’t like his mate?”

“That’s impossible. Your mate is your mate. You two are bound to each other, destined to be together.”

“But what if someone doesn’t want their mate?”

“They don’t. No one gets a divorce.” She shook her head, flicked her lighter, and lit a cigarette.

“Then why the prenup?”

“It’s really just to show the woman how serious this whole werewolf thing is.” She sat back and tapped her ashes on the edge of the ashtray. “Scott. Think about it. Who do you know in this pack who’s ever been divorced?”

Scott thought. Not a single name came to him.

Oh he was so screwed.

“But for argument’s sake, say I don’t want my mate. What would happen?”

She closed her eyes. “I’m not sure, cher. I know a wolf without a mate can wither and die, that’s for sure. Turning away your mate would be like committing suicide, child. It’s crazy, and no one I know of, or ever heard of, has done that.”

Suicide.

God, it just might come to that.

How could he…what could he…what would everyone think? They lived in conservative, Catholic bayou country. There were no gay marriages in Louisiana. As far as he knew, there were no gays anywhere around here.

A sheriff with a gay partner? He’d never get reelected, no fucking way.

Oh hell. An alpha with a gay mate? What would Bobby Cotteau say about that? At fifty, he’d stepped down, trusting Scott to lead the pack in his stead. How could he face Bobby?

Wyatt. Wyatt would jump all over this. Push for a pack decision against his mating.

The bastard would pounce on the opportunity to knock Scott out of the alpha spot. Scott’s only choices would be to leave the pack, give up his mate and take a chance on not finding another and dying, or stand up to the pack and fight for his mate.

Right. Fight Wyatt to the death for a man Scott barely knew. He could hope Wyatt won, or maybe he’d just let Wyatt kill him.

There had to be a way out of this, but his options looked slim.

Leave his home and career behind.

Be mated to a man.

Or suicide.

Damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

Right now, Scott didn’t know which one he’d chose.

* * *

Ted pulled into the parking lot of the B and B and turned off the lights as he rolled to a stop. Still shaken from what had happened at the restaurant, he needed some time to think. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

“Hey, you don’t look okay.” Darcy rubbed Ted’s back, his hand gliding gently over his muscles.

Darcy had been so quiet, Ted had forgotten about him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He straightened, making Darcy move his hand.

Really it had been comforting. Not for the first time Ted thought about hooking up with Darcy.

He turned to look at the man next to him.

Darcy gazed into his eyes, then let his gaze drop to his mouth, and leaned forward.

What the hell.

Ted caught Darcy’s mouth with his, taking control and pushing the man back against the seat.

Darcy gave in, opening his mouth, letting Ted take what he wanted.

Usually, this surrendering would turn Ted on, but tonight, nothing.

His cock didn’t even twitch.

Shit, what was going on? He must be more out of it than he thought, so he tried harder. He’d force himself, if he had to.

Ted deepened the kiss, grabbing the back of Darcy’s head, clutching a handful of hair, stroking the artist’s mouth with his tongue.

Still nothing.

He broke the kiss, leaving Darcy panting and gasping for breath.

“Goddamn, man.” Darcy put his hand on his chest. “That was intense.”

“Sorry.” Ted shrugged. “Guess I’m not really in the mood.”

“If that’s not in the mood, I’d be terrified to see what was. Although, it might be a wild ride.” Darcy chuckled.

“Yeah. Wild.” Ted snorted.

“Are you sure that guy wasn’t the one you knew? It seems like that encounter has upset you.”

“Yeah. It has. I can’t explain it right now.” Nor did he want to tell Darcy about the overpowering lust that hit him at meeting the sheriff’s blue eyes.

Ted opened the door and got out. Darcy followed him up the walk and through the front door.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Darcy gave him a wave and went up the stairs. Ted was thankful the man didn’t push for more, because right now, he just couldn’t deal with it.

Marie stood behind the counter and smiled at Ted. He remembered a little unfinished business.

“Oh, by the way, did that other fellow ever show up?” Ted asked.

“As a matter of fact, he did. About an hour after y’all left. I told him where everyone had gone to dinner, but he said he was tired and went straight up to bed.” She nodded to a few of the other guests as they came through the door.

“Guess I’ll meet him in the morning.” Ted turned and climbed the stairs. He waited until he was in his room before peeling off his jacket, so no one caught a glimpse of his gun.

Once he’d grabbed his kit, he took off his shoes, and stowed his holster and gun in his luggage, then headed to the bathroom. The door stood open, and he went inside. Either Darcy had gotten there first, or Ted had beaten him to it.

Ted brushed his teeth, washed his face, and decided to shower in the morning. He trod barefooted back to the room. As Ted closed the door, Darcy slipped across the hall to the bath, wearing only his jeans. Ted watched through the crack in the door.

No denying it, the man was fine. Why didn’t Ted’s body think the same thing?

After replacing his kit on the bedside table, Ted undressed down to his briefs and climbed in bed. He sank into the feather bed, groaning with relief.

With everything he’d been through tonight, he doubted he’d have a hard time sleeping.

But an hour later, Ted still lay in bed, thinking about the sheriff.

Blue eyes. A killer body. And Ted couldn’t be certain, but he thought just for a moment, he’d seen light reflect off golden hairs on the man’s hands. Across his knuckles to be exact.

Tanned hands.

Ted closed his eyes as if he could shut out the truth. No fucking way. It couldn’t be the guy from his dream.

That would just be too fucking unreal. Too much of a cosmic joke.

Well, the universe could try to screw Ted Canedo, but Ted wasn’t going to bend over for it. The universe could take a flying fuck, for all he cared.

There was no way he’d get involved with another straight man.

He might as well just pull out his gun and shoot himself right now.

Buy Rougaroux Social Club: Bayou Dreams by Lynn Lorenz at Loose Id

About The Author:

Lynn’s been writing for publication since 2008. She found her nirvana when she finally gave in and let her male characters rub up against each other. She writes both traditional and gay romance, but her men hold a special place in her heart. She truly believes everyone deserves a HEA, and that if you open your heart, you open your mind.

Website … http://www.lynnlorenz.com
email …. lynnlorenz@live.com
twitter … http://twitter.com/LynnLorenz
facebook …. Lynn Lorenz

The Geek Job

Eve Langlais

Publisher Eve Langlais

ISBN 978-0-9869154-0-6

Protect the geek, that’s the job she’s been hired for, but little did this shewolf expect to fall for a man of science.

As a werewolf who hires out as a bodyguard, Lexie is paid well to perform dangerous jobs. When she takes on the protection of a science geek for a vampire clan, she doesn’t expect her temporary girlfriend status to come with lots of pleasure. But a geeky human who pushes all her right buttons—and plays her body oh so right—isn’t reason enough for her to break the rules and fall in love.

Everything changes after an incident in the lab, but before she can decide if it’s safe to give him her heart, she has to help him survive.

Warning: Experimenting with a geek at home may cause uncontrollable lust.

http://www.evelanglais.com/excerpt/Geek.htm
Hello all your romance lovers.

I do thank you for stopping by to take a peek at The Geek Job. If you think this story sounds wickedly hot then you should visit my website where you’ll find over two dozen more spicy stories, covers and excerpts. Happy reading  :)

Excerpt

Anthony pushed his glasses back up on his nose as he stepped from the cab that deposited him outside of the hotel housing the conference. He couldn’t believe he’d made it. For the last three years, he’d buried himself in his work at Mr. Thibodeaux’s lab. He’d shown little interest in leaving the property given the fascinating project he worked on, a project he’d reluctantly left to attend this conference, yet, how could he refuse? They’d selected his paper on DNA abnormalities where he’d theorized that a simple twist of a DNA strand could make a person’s condition seem unreal, supernatural even, like Mr. Thibodeaux for example. The man exhibited a fatal allergy to the exposure of UV rays and required vast amounts of iron and blood transfusions to keep his body healthy. In times past, the superstitious masses would have condemned his employer as some unnatural creature, a vampire. Ridiculous, of course. Mr. Thibodeaux suffered from an allergy which came about as a result of some warped DNA strands. A genetic anomaly was the culprit here, not mystical nonsense.

With science, he would prove monsters did not, in fact, exist, and if all went well, he would cure them. Then—

A body jostled him as he stood woolgathering on the pavement; a feminine form whose tantalizing perfume made his salivary glands work overtime. How strange, given both his mind and body knew a woman didn’t provide bodily sustenance.

“I’m awfully sorry for bumping into you like that.” The sultry voice slid around him and, to his mortification, his cock twitched.Surely it hasn’t been that long since I’ve taken care of my bodily needs that my penis would show a sexual interest just from a voice? He’d have to rectify his neglect later in the shower before he embarrassed himself.

Anthony had to look down to see the owner of the voice, his freakish height as always making him stand out, which made her not seeing him so odd. But he forgot all about her clumsy nature when he saw her.

Tall herself, even in the flats she wore, she gazed up at him in surprise. Anthony lost his train of thought, drawn into her soft green eyes flecked with brown. His gaze took in her lustrous brown hair caught up in an untidy chignon, and her proper, yet sensual, attire which consisted of a fitted cream jacket over a crimson blouse tucked into a pencil thin, black skirt. Her smooth, lightly tanned skin provided a perfect contrast to her pink glossed lips.

Humor glinted in her expression and her mouth tilted into a partial smile. Anthony struggled to regain control of himself and blushed as he realized she’d caught him staring. His heart sped up as he strove to find his voice in the face of the most beautiful woman he’d ever encountered. “Uh, no harm done. I guess I shouldn’t have been blocking the sidewalk.”

“No, it’s my fault for not looking where I walked,” she replied, her gaze not wavering from his, sending a shiver racing down his spine.

Her close proximity not only affected his lower regions, it made his pulse race. Anthony knew he needed to escape and regain his composure, then he’d need to figure out why one pretty woman flustered him so. “Um, well, I should get inside and get signed in.” His genius in the lab, as usual, didn’t extend to his banter.

“Are you also here for the conference?” she asked in a low tone that set his body tingling and made the blood in his brain rush elsewhere.

“Uh, yes. I’m actually one of the speakers.” Anthony flushed at his boast.

“Really? How fantastic,” she purred. “I’m here for just one of the speakers. I’m just dying to hear Anthony Sevall talk. I read his paper on DNA and myth and just loved it. He is so brilliant.”

Anthony’s body suffused with heat and he wanted to reply, but his lips refused to move, mostly out of fear he’d say something dorky and scare her off. The confidence he enjoyed among his peers evaporated in the face of his immense attraction to her.

She didn’t seem to notice anything amiss; although, he surely looked like the world’s biggest doofus standing there like a mute.

“I guess I’ll see you around.” She smiled before she turned and strutted off with a wiggle that made Anthony close his eyes, hoping the blood in his penis would return to his brain. Thank science he wore baggy trousers and a long jacket.

He cursed his social ineptness at the prime opportunity, now lost, to introduce himself and ask the gorgeous woman to dinner. In a fantasy world, where he didn’t turn into a stammering schoolboy, he would have swept her off her feet with his witty banter and smarts. He would have wined and dined her, all the while charming her with his intellect. At the end of the repast, she would have come back to his room where he would have worshipped every sun kissed inch of her body while she moaned his name.

Could have, should have. Anthony sighed. He was a researcher not a suave Casanova, and it didn’t take a genius to realize his reality sucked.

* * * *

Lexie checked in at the front desk, her room conveniently situated next to the giant scientist, a string that Frederick had pulled to ensure the ease of her task. As she waited for her room card, she pondered the geek she needed to protect. Turning part way, she could see him through the glass front doors, still standing outside. His dumbstruck expression warmed her.

While Anthony Sevall looked the part of nerdy scientist with his pale complexion, large glasses and untidy hair, his height took her by surprise. Sure the report listed him at seventy-six inches, but for some reason she hadn’t clued in that it would make him tower over her. In her world, geeks were supposed to be short and round shouldered, not freakishly tall next to her five foot nine. And I didn’t pack heels. Expecting a shorter stature, slouching target, she’d packed her flats so as to not appear too imposing. I wonder, if I can order up some heels?

Another surprise was the fact her wolf showed an interest in the human, waking and staying attentive during their conversation. Strange, because her canine side usually waited for blood and violence to rouse itself. She paid it no mind though. Who knew what intrigued her beast. Maybe it had scented the fact her skittish geek was prey—a male red riding hood to her big bad wolf. Lexie bit her lip so as to not snort at that last thought.

About the Author:
Canadian romance writer Eve Langlais is happily married to her very own alpha who’s given her 3 beautiful and noisy children. Living in Bowmanville, Ontario, she is wife, mother, virtual assistant and now author. She discovered only in the past two years a passion to write, especially stories which cross(and sometimes stomp) the line between good and evil.

His Soul To Take

by C.M. Torrens

Publisher:  Dreamspinner Press

Simon has waited centuries for someone like Robert, but their first meeting is intended to be their last: Robert’s time on Earth is up, and it is Simon’s place to take him out of this world and into the next. Instead, Simon makes a split-second decision to save Robert’s life, though he is uncomfortably aware he has only postponed the inevitable.

Robert quickly falls for Simon, but when he notices the way Death seems to follow him around, his curiosity about Simon’s true nature turns to suspicion, all but erasing his memories of the man. Simon must fight to make him remember… and to stop Robert from making a grisly mistake.

Buy It:  Dreamspinner Press | Kindle | Rainbow eBooks | Google eBooks | Diesel ebooks | All Romance ebooks | Kobo | Ebook Pie |

EXCERPT:

DEATH studied the figure lying sprawled across the bed. Sheets tangled around his ankles, shocking white against fine bronze skin. The steady rise and fall of his chest filled the room with the pleasant hum of gentle sleep. Almost musical. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed the pleasant note in others.

A memory rose from the depths of his mind, from a time long past. Like a dream that faded too quickly leaving only vague images and half remembered thoughts. He frowned and moved through the dark room to study the figure in more detail. Short brown hair accented the angles of his jaw, giving life to rather average features on a young, fresh face.

He stepped away, suddenly feeling like a voyeur watching something forbidden.

The young man stirred, stretching in his sleep. Muscles rippled with a grace Death hadn’t expected from a man. A cat-like beauty. Hard abs and skin so smooth, like fine clay.

He pulled his eyes away and shook his head. What was wrong with him? He shouldn’t even be standing here. Not yet. Not today.

Sighing heavily, he slipped from the dark bedroom, through the tiny apartment, and back out into the night air. The crisp scent of spring clung to the city and a light drizzle washed away the scent of cars and exhaust. Glowing streetlights reflected off the wet street leaving the night glittered with light.

How long had he been doing this? He couldn’t remember. Since before cars and streetlamps decorated such massive cities, during a time of horses and wagons, and far from this place. The dream-like memories he had long ago decided to forget.

His mind drifted to the sleeping man and he stopped to look behind him. The lights in the apartment flicked on to cast a yellow glow through plain curtains. Curiosity made him pause. What did the man do at this hour?

He shook his head and continued on his path to the bus stop. He had work to do. No time for wondering. A light drizzle coated his jacket as he stepped under the pavilion to wait for the bus. The pitter-patter of rain gave an uneven beat to the night.

He took a seat on the bench and waited. A bus roared past, oblivious to his presence, and he sighed. Some days he got lucky enough for the bus to stop when it let off passengers. Tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

The sound of footsteps caught his attention, and he turned to see the man from earlier racing from the apartment a few buildings down.

He moved with a steady grace, and every step glided over the wet sidewalk toward him. The light bouncing off the damp street made vivid blue eyes stand out. A bright smile filled his face, a nice contrast to the relaxed sleep Death had seen him in just a short time ago.

“Hi,” the man greeted and glanced around the bus stop.

Death looked behind him to be certain the man was speaking to him.

Surprised, he turned and studied the empty pavilion and still street again. No other person appeared to be in the area.

Death stared at the young man. His heart throbbed, torn between excitement and concern. Few ever saw him. The occasional mad-man or soothsayer, but never someone who seemed so… common. Death tried to avoid staring at him too much, but the task proved difficult. The man was talking to him, looking at him. The realization sent an excited thrill through his stomach.

“I’m Robert. I don’t remember seeing you at this stop before.”

“This is my first time at this particular stop. I’m usually much too busy to enjoy the scenery.”

Tall buildings stretched out along the dark street, spotted with the glow of streetlamps. Sturdy brick walls, glossy under the sheen of spring rains, and the light scent of washed pavement gave a clean feeling to the air.

Robert barked a laugh. “Scenery? You’re in the wrong city.”

“No, I’m in the right one. I’m never wrong about these things.”

“All right then.” Robert grinned.

The sound of the rain grew from a drizzle to a steady downfall as silence filled the space between them. Death wasn’t sure how to keep the conversation going. He ached, desperate for words after so many years of silence. Lost, he bit his lip, trying to think of something to say.

The wind picked up, spraying them with a fine mist. Ah, the weather. He could speak about that. He opened his mouth, but Robert spoke first.

“I think we missed the bus. Shit. I was hoping to get to work early today. Where are you headed?”

He thought a long moment. He knew direction mostly. Had to think about an actual destination. “Cream Dream. A club, yes?”

A sudden excitement rippled over Robert’s face. “The Cream Dream. It’s not too far, if you don’t mind the rain. I’m going there myself. We could walk together.”

Death turned down the street; the line of lights glowed in the distance. Weather didn’t bother him. “All right.”

Stepping out into the rain, they walked in no particular hurry toward the club. A pleasant rush spread through him.

To walk with someone. It seemed strange to do such a thing, but relaxing. Normal.

“I didn’t get your name,” Robert said

Death blinked at the blue-eyed man. He couldn’t remember the last time someone asked him that question. His name… he’d had one at one time. A faint memory stirred but he couldn’t be certain where it came from.

“Simon,” Death said.

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AUTHOR INFO:

C.M. Torrens lives in the Midwest with her wonderful family, two furry canines who think they’re human, and a pet snake who wishes he was human. The warm chaos of her house not only keeps her on her toes, but often reminds her of a zoo at feeding time.
She spends her days torn between chaining her muse to her desk and wanting to beat him for his lack of cooperation when she needs him most. She enjoys the quiet mornings when it’s still dark with a hot cup of coffee and her dogs cuddled at her feet like a giant fuzzy blanket. Those quiet mornings give her time to dwell on the dark worlds and passionate characters drifting in her head.
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