Archive for May, 2008

Knight’s Emerald
Buy Link

www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419916731

BLURB

Astrid Radcliffe avoided her grandmother’s matchmaking attempts for months, but never anticipated the elderly woman’s determination would reach beyond the grave. If Astrid wants to keep her inheritance, the conditions of the will include a priceless emerald, a medieval spell and a handsome artist.

Varis Montgomery never expected to inherit the Knight’s Emerald. He doesn’t want the ring, but he desperately wants Astrid in his life and bed. He doesn’t believe in spells, but the conditions of the will are nothing less than magic.

EXCERPT

Con artists should be shot and Varis Montgomery deserved a bullet.

Swearing out loud, Astrid Radcliffe released her pent-up anger. A deep chuckle caught her off guard. Looking for the source, her gaze scanned the jagged rocks reaching like a long finger dipping into the sea.

Balancing a jean-clad knee against a rock face, Montgomery raised his camera and pointed the lens toward her.

She resisted the urge to flip off her grandmother’s protégé.

A successful commercial photographer, Montgomery strived to be a painter. And thanks to her grandmother’s patronage, his work was beginning to cause a stir in the San Francisco art community.

But the man was nothing more than a slick thief. How much money had he conned from her failing grandmother?

Despite her weak heart Morga Lynfield Radcliffe had a sharp mind and she’d seen beyond the handsome masks of men with velvet tongues pursuing Astrid for her trust fund or those seeking a portion of the dwindling Radcliffe fortune for myriad inventions, investments and charities. So why hadn’t her grandmother looked beyond Montgomery’s chiseled face and green eyes? As Morga had often commented during their conversations, the man should have been in front of the camera not behind it.

Tonight, Astrid would finally learn the extent of the financial damage.

Turning her back to Montgomery and the sea, Astrid looked at the L-shaped three-story house built over a hundred years ago by her enterprising ancestor. Modeled after a seventeenth-century manor house, the foundation was stone, the façade a soft gray, the lines more solid than graceful. Maintaining the place was a constant burden, but Astrid loved her home with every fiber of her being. She’d grown up playing in the central courtyard and never tired of the stunning ocean views. Her gaze focused on the dormer windows poking out of the high-pitched roof. Recently her grandmother had renovated the unused servants quarters into an apartment, the entire third floor all for Montgomery.

Rejecting her grandmother’s attempts at matchmaking, Astrid had not only refused to date the photographer, she’d deliberately avoided him. But avoiding Montgomery didn’t prevent her from thinking about him, dreaming about him, imagining him naked and pondering the size his cock. The thought of him steel hard and deliciously long, the tip silken and burning hot came easily. Mentally, she dropped to her knees.

“Miss Radcliffe.”

Astrid started and turned. Her pulse leaped. Oh crap!

Camera hanging around his neck, Montgomery stood just a few feet away.

“Sorry.” A slight smile curved his lips. “I didn’t mean disturb your thoughts.”

BIO:

Hunter Raines believes the only thing hotter than a stunning man are two gorgeous men together, and she loves to explore that premise through stories that delve into the ecstasy of male-on-male love. She’s the author of short stories, novellas and full-length novels featuring alpha males who can’t keep their hands off each other. She invites you to live the fantasy right along with her at http://www.hunterraines.com/. To reach her directly, email her at hrainesauthor@gmail.com.

LINKS:

Website: http://www.hunterraines.com/

Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Savage_Hunter/join

BLURB:

Having just been evicted for what his landlord calls “immoral and unnatural carnal acts,” Gilrain is forced to move into the first elf-friendly building he finds — even if that means renting a basement apartment that has more in common with a cellar than a penthouse.

Still, a change of scenery is just what Gil needs. He’s still not sure whether what he experienced the previous night was a dream or a real encounter. What he does know is that he woke with bruises, love bites, kiss-swollen lips… and an eviction notice on his door.

But when the first night in his new apartment brings strands of a spectral song drifting from beneath the ground straight into his bedroom, Gil realizes he’ll find no rest here. He recognizes an elf binding when he feels one, but he won’t be taken against his will.

So what will Gil do when he learns he’s the only one who can grant a wounded elf a second chance… or condemn him to everlasting damnation?

BUY LINK:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=902

EXCERPT:

Gil rose on shaky legs and made his way to the only window in the bedroom. Neon-gilded light slid through the open slats in the bamboo blinds and scattered colorful patterns across the hardwood floor. With a grunt, Gil slid the window up.

A cool breeze pushed his long hair back from his face. He leaned into it, breathing in the smell of car exhaust and rotting garbage drifting up from the alley below his apartment.

With a sigh, he returned to bed. This time, he didn’t bother with the sheet. Ethereal tendrils of wind played across his bare chest and drifted among the nest of curls at his groin. The sweat dried on his skin.

He hadn’t had a nightmare. At least… he didn’t think he did. He couldn’t recall even one terrifying or even remotely frightening image. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything about his dream except for the eyes.

Those perfectly normal, beautiful, haunting eyes.

He wished he’d been able to glimpse the face that went with them. Would it have been classically gorgeous, with a sculpted chin and straight nose? No… it would probably have been rugged, boasting a scar across one cheek that stood out in sharp contrast to the normalcy of those eyes.

And what of the man’s hair? Would it have been curly and short? Dark and long, perfect for gripping and yanking?

Gil groaned. Flipping onto his stomach, he buried his face in his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but falling into another stupor would certainly chase the lingering images from his sleep-deprived mind.

His cock bore into the mattress. The urge to hump the bed sheet stole the air from his lungs. He resisted. Barely.

He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, willing sleep to claim him. It would have been easy to slide a hand between his legs, grab his cock, and stroke it until his seed seeped into the mattress.

Too easy.

Just the thought of how good it would feel to stroke his thick erection to climax sent magical energy scattering into the air. Blue sparkles hovered above the bed. The noise of crackling static filled the room. To drown it out, Gil grabbed another pillow and slammed it over his head.

He could reject the sensual pull of the magic. He controlled the energy, not the other way around. Just like he controlled his own carnal desires. In the hundred and twenty-four years he’d lived among humans, he hadn’t once allowed his base impulses to get the better of him. He wasn’t about to start now.

Lust whispered through his veins, reminding him it had been too long since he’d given in to his Helir nature. He’d have to remedy that in a hurry, before the urge grew too compelling to resist.

He still had time, though. He hadn’t spent the first two centuries of his life ignoring the magical fabric that branded him a Helir elf. No. He’d learned to tame it, to wield it, to make it submit to him instead of dominating his every move.

The effort had been worth it. While the rest of his kind loved terrorizing lesser races with sexual magic, Gil had managed to become as close to human as possible without changing his genetic makeup. It had taken more than a century, but he’d proven himself trustworthy time and again.

His accomplishments had won him the right to live among humans. And although ancient prejudices still reared their heads, those who knew him respected his abilities. Some even called him “friend.”

He’d be damned if he’d give all that up for a measly orgasm.

The powerful energy hovering above the bed began to dissipate. The crackling noise dimmed to a hum. Gil released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as the last traces of magic fled through the open window, making a forlorn sound akin to a wail on the way out.

After that, sleep came quickly. Slumber enveloped Gil in a sense of comfort and peace, lulling him with promises of dreamless oblivion.

But that was before the eyes returned. And this time, the rest of the man came with them.

Unseen hands lifted Gil from the bed. He tried to protest, but the words died on his tongue. His surroundings wavered, changing with the speed of rapid strikes of lightning. He floated through hollow air, following a dark specter he couldn’t quite make out.

Newly-familiar brown eyes beckoned to him and he followed, unable to resist the tug of that haunting gaze. He floated through dreamland, guided by an invisible pull toward a man he didn’t know.

He drifted above green meadows, along the ocean’s edge, down the center of a busy L.A. highway, and into landscapes so twisted and alien that he couldn’t name them. Through it all, Gil’s cock pounded with need. It took all the self-control he possessed to keep from reaching down and giving the thick length a frenzied stroke.

At last, the man stopped. They stood at the top of a stony cliff in the deep darkness that came just before dawn. Moonlight cast a silvery sheen over their surroundings, highlighting the bare branches of bushes and thorny plants. Ten feet ahead, the craggy edge of the cliff fell away into nothingness. Wind whipped Gil’s hair around his face and lashed his naked flesh with icy fingertips.

For the first time, Gil had a chance to assess his guide. He was at least a head taller than Gil, and just as naked, with the exception of a black knitted pull-on cap that covered his head and hid his hair. Moonlight caressed a lean, powerful body. A blunt nose, full lips that turned downward slightly, and the jutting slant of a hard jaw completed the breathtaking visage.

“Who are you?” Gil asked when he could find his voice. The words echoed around him, bouncing off the rocks. The cliff and the wind threw them back at him ten times louder. “What do you want?”

The man didn’t answer. Instead, he anchored his hands just above his tapered waist. His groin rocked forward, showing off a long, perfect cock.

Gil swallowed past the lump in his throat. His own erection answered with a throbbing pulse that caused the shaft to twitch. A drop of precum appeared at the tip. The icy breeze caught it and pushed it down across the flushed head, eliciting a violent shiver that spread through Gil’s body.

Unease skittered down his spine as arousal ignited something deep inside him, lighting a flame he’d fought hard to stifle. Magic rose in blue waves. It blossomed in the darkness, a cascade of striking iridescent sparkles against a backdrop of black.

The man moved toward him, one hand outstretched. A flame of powerful magic burst from his palm, then quickly spread up his arm. In the span of a few seconds, it had enveloped his entire body, giving it an otherworldly blue glow.

“You’re Helir,” Gil murmured, taking a step back.

It had been decades since he’d encountered another of his kind. His own magic responded to the sexual energy surging through the other elf. It slid down his skin to burrow deep into his balls. His sac tightened against the base of his shaft, sending another jolt of aching lust through his system.

“What do you want?” Gil asked again, louder this time, grimacing when the echo tinted his words with an unmistakable shade of desperation.

“You.”

There was no inflection in the elf’s tone. No desire or charm or anger. He might have been commenting on the weather for all the emotion in his voice.

“M-me?” Gil cleared his throat. He stood up a little straighter and nudged his shoulders back to bolster his courage. Despite the rush of heat blazing in his cock and addling his mind, he willed reason to override his libido. “Well, you can’t have me.”

The elf laughed, the sound startling in its intensity. It held no humor, no silvery sparkle of amusement. Just a calm, cool finality.

Artistic Musings:Bio and Links:

My real name is Syneca (yes really). I ams the Graphic Services Manager for Jasmine-Jade Enterprises. An artist, videographer and photographer, my work has appeared in national magazines and online magazines, in ads, film and video and on book covers. To date I’ve has created more than 2000 book covers. I write under the pen name, Ciana Stone. Married and with children (grown thank goodness), I live with the love of her life in Florida where I enjoy photography, disc golf, swimming, running, weight training,yoga and the rodeo.

Q&A:

1) When did you know you wanted to be a Graphic Artist?

That’s a good question and I don’t know that I experienced one special moment when I knew I wanted to be in graphic arts. It was more of an evolution. I started as a portrait artist and photographer, moved into fantasy art and graphics as technology provided the tools.

2) How long does it take you to do a (design, book cover, website)?

That depends on a lot of factors. If I have the resources I need (photographs for example) I can create a couple of book covers in a day’s time. If I have to take several (or a dozen) photos and cut them up in order to “Frankenstein” a person together it takes about a day. Websites take far longer for me because I’m not really programming oriented. I can reverse engineer a site much better than start from scratch. Some sites take a couple of days and there’ve been others that took a few months. Like I said, a lot of factors come into play so there’s no set rule on these things.

3) Where do you get your inspiration from?

When it comes to book covers, from the blurb or synopsis of the book. If I know the general description of the main characters then reading the blurb usually inspires an idea. Authors often suggest ideas and if what they suggest sparks something inside my mind’s eye I develop it. For my own person artwork inspiration comes from … the cosmos? I never have figured that one out. I just feel grateful when inspiration hits.

4) Any tips for aspiring Graphic Artists?

Regardless of what branch of the arts you’re in, you have to be in it because you’re passionate about it. Not for how much you can make or whether you can become famous. There are so many talented artists in the world. Far more than there are jobs. And not all jobs in the field are as creative and exciting as taking photos for covers and ads or creating covers and advertisements. I’d suggest that you think long and hard and make sure you have a true passion for it. If you do, then go for it and when life trips you up or knocks you down, just get up and try again.

5) How do you calculate your price for one of your (figures, book covers, websites)?

I don’t do freelance book covers. I’m under exclusive contract with Jasmine Jade Enterprises, the parent company of Ellora’s Cave, Cerridwen Press and The Lotus Circle. If I do a portrait (photography) for someone I charge around 200.00. If it’s a hand-painted portrait the fee is 2500.00. I don’t do websites anymore except for myself because the coding gives me the creeping willies and is way too frustrating. For other graphic and design work I charge 100.00 an hour.

6) What is your favorite (book cover, figure, website) that you’ve created?

I guess my favorite sites are my little art site (http://www.originalsyn.us/) and the one I created for my pen name (http://www.cianastone.com/) . Right now my favorite piece of art is Stairway to Heaven (http://www.originalsyn.us/gallery9.htm). I created this last May when my niece was in hospice on her death bed. It was part of the grieving process, I suppose. I wanted to honor her memory and what she meant to me so I gave her wings and sent her on her way. My favorite book cover? I don’t know that I have a favorite. Each time I create one it’s my favorite – until I do another one.

7) Is there a place other than your website, where we can view your work?

Hmmm, well on the Ellora’s Cave website(http://www.ellorascave.com/) since I have a lot of covers there. And on Cerridwen Press (http://www.cerridwenpress.com/) and The Lotus Circle (http://www.thelotuscircle.com/). I did the site for The Hussies(http://www.thehussies.us/). That’s the site for a group of writers I’ve partnered with to write a series and I created a site and did the art for a really great friend and her new book, Man Overboard by Lara Diamond (http://www.manoverboard.us/). Aside from that, you can see ads I create in Realms of Fantasy magazine.

I know there a few programs that an Artist uses to create their work, such as Daz or Photoshop, what do you use?

I use Photoshop almost exclusively unless I need an effect that I can’t create on my own or with PS. Then I use After Effects, which is really for film, but has some nice effects that can be exported as images.

9) Silly Time, what would a lion, elephant, zebra, penguin and snake look like smooshed together to create one animal and what would you call this new creature?

A mess? Eeek, I’m not sure I even want to imagine something like that. But if such a poor creature existed I suppose it would have to be called a E-zeuinake? Or a mess J

10) Anything you want to say or add? Anything you want to ask me? And for the record, yes I am crazy so you can’t ask that. LOL

Well darn, there went my question. No not really. What I’d like to ask is what you find most attractive on book covers. Do covers with people catch your eye more than those with an abstract scene or a shot of an object or landscape? And also, what’s YOUR favorite cover?

And I’d like to thank you for inviting me to participate. This was a lot of fun

If you are also an author, please include a blurb of your latest work as well as a buy link and excerpt.

My latest release is A Taste for Jazz

Bounty hunter Jazz Boudreaux wouldn’t believe it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. One minute she’s scuffling with a “collar” in California. The next she’s in a Scottish castle, being recruited by an ancient order of Hussy Warriors sworn to use their special powers to rescue the world in times of danger.

Her mission: Keep some geek scientist alive long enough to develop a technology that will save the planet.

Jazz soon discovers Dr. Rockwell Burns is anything but geeky. Delicious, maybe. Dangerous, definitely. Hard and a powerful, like his name. Suddenly, it’s more personal than saving the world. It’s about saving the man she loves.

It’s available at Ellora’s Cave http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915925

Bio

They always say to tell a little about yourself! I was born in Kentucky and have been reading avidly since I was six. At twelve, I discovered how much fun it was to write when I took a book that didn’t end the way it should have ended and I rewrote it and I’ve been writing since then.
About me now… hmm… I’ve been married since I was 19 to my high school sweetheart and we live in the mid-west. Recently, I made the plunge and turned to writing full time, quitting the day job, so I can devote more time to my family- two adorable children who are growing way too fast and my husband who doesn’t see enough of me.

http://shilohwalker.com/

http://shilohwalker.wordpress.com/

Through the Veil
June 3, 2008

Buy link
< http://www.amazon.com/Through-Berkley-Sensation-Shiloh-Walker/dp/0425222470/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1210646956&sr=1-3>

BLURB
Found wandering in a field as a child, Lee Ross was given a name by the state and placed in a foster home–without anyone realizing she wasn’t entirely human. All her life, she’s tried to dismiss the odd dreams that have plagued her, dreams of monsters creeping through the night and a man, fighting demons by her side. But the bruises she wakes up with are all too real to ignoreThen the man from dreams appears in the flesh. His name is Kalen and he insists that her destiny lies in his world, the world of her dreams. To save their people, he must convince Lee to give everything she knows, follow her heart and cross into the Under Realm, even though once she does, she’ll never be able to return.

EXCERPT

Her body ached.

It wasn’t anything new. Although Lee was only twenty eight years old, she already felt ancient. Exhausted even upon awakening, with stiff aching joints, and bruises that seemed to appear out of nowhere.

Lee slowly flexed her muscles and tried to hold together the fragile wisps of the dream. But as always, it faded away, out of reach, out of mind. He faded away.

She didn’t know his face. But each night he came to her. Each night, they found each other again. He would look at her with eyes that made her burn and want and wish and for that brief period of time, she felt whole, complete and that sensation lingered with her as she drifted from sleep into awareness, but the minute she opened her eyes, all memory of her dreams started to fade. All that remained was an ache in her chest, a knot in her throat and a body that felt as though somebody had tried to beat her death.

Today, the ache was worse. The memories were fading fast although she tried to hold onto them. Like smoke, though, they faded away even as she grabbed the notepad by her bed and started to scrawl down what little she remembered. She didn’t look down while she wrote—instead she clenched her eyes tightly shut and focused on him. Even if she couldn’t remember his face, she could remember how he made her feel inside. Focusing on that instead of trying to recall the dream made the words flow easier.

Blood. Screams. Smoke. The cries of the wounded. Ugly snarls and fetid breath. People clamored around her and they had needs that she couldn’t even begin to understand. And him—

Always him. Everything seemed to revolve around him and everything inside of her yearned for him. As much as Lee dreaded closing her eyes and facing the weird dreams that assaulted her while she slept, she yeaned for them as well. Because her dreams led her to him. He would make her laugh, even when the dreams were dark as death. There was a warmth in his presence that filled an empty ache.

But not this past night. There had been distance, anger, and disgust. He’d yelled at her. His fury had been so great even now she felt chilled with it.

She opened her eyes and stared at the notepad in front of her. She hadn’t just written words. She’d sketched out faces of people she’d never met and monsters the likes of which she’d never seen.

She stared at each of the faces she’d drawn, studying their features for something that would trigger her memories again. The notebook was filled with sketches and none of them meant anything to her. All of them set against twisted, scarred landscapes.

Some of them appeared more than others, like the old woman and the two guys. Even on paper, the woman’s smile had a decidedly mischievous bent to it, as though she was laughing and Lee had no idea why. The men were polar opposites, one pale, one dark. One looked like an angel and the other had the devil’s smile. Both of them were enough to make a girl’s heart skip a beat but if the man she dreamed of was one of them, she didn’t know which one he was.
Hunter’s Edge
May 20, 2008
Buy Link

< http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/shiloh-walker >

BLURB

Some love can last a lifetime—their love was destined to last longer.
Angel’s first words to Kel were I’m going to marry you. She was seven at the time. He was eight. And he didn’t laugh when she spoke the words. Best friends as children, lovers as young adults, they had an unexplainable bond. Their future looked set. Until the night they were attacked by a creature that couldn’t exist.

Angel survived the attack—barely. But Kel didn’t. Or at least, nobody thought he did. His body was never found and Angel’s life would never be the same.

The attack might not have killed Kel’s body, but it sure as hell killed his heart. Twelve years later, there’s one part of his former life that he can’t move past. Angel. He can’t let her go, but he can’t have her either. She doesn’t even realize he is still alive.

But when a threat surfaces, Kel’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect Angel. Even if it drives them both to the edge of insanity and back.EXCERPT

Snap out of it, he thought. If she didn’t soon, he was going to have to get her to a hospital. Most of the Hunters received crash courses on emergency first aid and as far as he could tell, she was in shock. She hadn’t been physically hurt—

No. You just pretty much ripped her heart out. Kel didn’t mind feeling guilt. Sometimes it was the only thing he did feel. But the weight of this was too damn heavy, crushing him. Easing her over onto her side, he curled his body around hers and pushed up onto his elbow, staring her profile.

“Do you remember that summer you broke your arm…”

He talked. Seemed like he talked for hours. He might have given it up after the first few minutes, but her body no longer felt so cool against his and her heart rate slowed down, taking on a more regular rhythm. By the time he got to their last summer, she had a faint blush of color to her cheeks and her gaze would flick his way for a minute, then just bounce away.

“That night you moved out of your mom’s place…remember that?”

Her lids lowered over her eyes, shutting him out. Pressing on her shoulder, he guided her onto her back. A soft breath shuddered out of her, but other than that, she made no response. Kel took her hand and twined their fingers. His voice was harsh as he muttered, “I remember it.”

Shit, did he remember. You need to find something else to talk about, man. Fast.

But before he could wrest his attention to something other than that first night they’d made love, her lids lifted, revealing heated, hungry eyes.

“I remember.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “Are memories all I’m ever going to have of you, Kel?”

“Angel…”

She shook her head. “Never mind. That’s answer enough.” She started to wiggle away, but the dog’s weight kept her from moving away too fast. He brushed a hand over her shoulder but she jerked away. “Move it, Rufus.” At the sound of her curt voice, the dog shoved his mammoth weight upright and leaped off the bed.

Kel watched as she headed toward the door, the rational voice of common sense telling him to let her go. Disappear from her life. She’d be better for it.

He didn’t remember leaving the bed. He didn’t remember crossing the room, or barring the doorway. He didn’t even remember reaching for her, but he must have, because she was pressed up against him, his hands gripping her upper arms. She had her palms pressed against his chest, keeping him at bay. He held back but it took a measure of control he wasn’t sure he had.

“Go ahead, Kel. Disappear. I know that’s what you want.” She stared at him, her blue gaze icy and cold. She tried to twist away from him but he wouldn’t let go—couldn’t seem to manage it.

“You think that’s what I want?” he rasped, dipping his head and pressing a kiss to her neck, just below her ear. Her scent was strong there, warm, soft and female and he wanted to lose himself in it. The rapid beat of her heart was a siren’s song and he could almost imagine how she’d taste, could imagine pressing his mouth to her neck, his teeth piercing her silken skin…

Instead of doing it, though, he lifted his head and stared down at her. “Can you really believe, even for a minute, that I’d wouldn’t do anything to have you back in my life?”

His words had little effect—if anything, her gaze became more aloof. She flashed him a hard-edged smile. “Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing. Let me go, Kel. Despite what your nudist friend thinks, I’ll be fine.”

“Nudist… Toronto.” Narrowing his eyes, he studied her face. “You heard him.”

“Yeah, Kel. I heard him—sort of. I took a mental trip but that doesn’t mean I’ve completely taken leave of my senses.”

I only wish I had…maybe life would be easier that way. Insanity sounds a lot easier. That or just plain dead.

Angel never spoke the words aloud. But those words echoed between them. She paled and jerked against his hold as his eyes flew wide. He snarled and wrapped an arm around her waist, locking her against him as she struggled. “Damn it, Kel, let go of me.”

“Not going to happen, babe,” he growled. Reaching up, he fisted a hand in her hair and jerked her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You don’t think like that, Angel. You hear me?”

A sneer curled her lip. How such a derisive expression could be so damned appealing, Kel would never know.

“You can’t tell me how to think, babe.” Her voice was deliberately scathing, deliberately insulting.

His control stretched tight, he tried to let her go. He needed to do just that—get some distance between them before need, love, lust and fear got the better of him.

But his body wasn’t listening to his head’s commands and instead of letting her go, he shifted, turned, pressed her back against the door. Leaning into her, he slid one hand up and rested it over her neck. His thumb lay in the hollow of her neck, feeling the silken softness of her skin, the warmth of life rushing just below.

“I said, don’t,” he muttered as he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to hers.Current Release
Beautiful Girl

Buy Link < http://samhainpublishing.com/authors/shiloh-walker >

BLURB

Sometimes getting to heaven requires a trip through hell.

Twelve years ago, it looked like Del Prescott had it all. The wealthy family, the car, the looks and charm, and the perfect boyfriend. Then, mysteriously, she disappeared to “study abroad.” Now she’s back, and it’s not merely to attend a high school reunion. She’s here to face her demons—and Blake, the man she has never stopped loving.

Blake Mitchell is a changed man, thanks to surviving twelve long years of difficulties that began after Del dropped out of his life. Now she’s back, and she’s nothing like the polished, stylish world traveler he imagined she’d be. There’s a darkness about her, and a grim expression in her eyes that says she’s prepared for fight or flight.

Blake’s concern for her breaks down the walls Del has built around her heart and she finally begins to heal from the abuse she suffered at the hands of her own family. But the betrayal goes

deeper than either of them ever imagined—and it’s about to come back to haunt them.

EXCERPT

Standing by the bar, a beer in one hand and the other jammed deep into his pocket, Blake wondered if maybe he shouldn’t just go on home. He was so tired he ached with it and his eyes were gritty with fatigue.

It had been a shitty day. Junior was still holding his own although the doctors were keeping him sedated to keep him from feeling the pain from his numerous injuries.

So far, no witnesses had stepped up and the only real evidence they had was some paint on the bumper of Junior’s SUV. Now if Blake could just go and check out every black car in the county, he might be able to find who’d run Junior off the road.

“You’re not really here tonight, are you, buddy?”

He looked up at Vance and forced a smile. “Just tired. One hell of a day.”

Vance nodded. “Yeah, I heard you were there with Junior last night. Hope the old guy is going to be okay. You remember back when…” Vance started rambling about one of the many times the two of them had gotten into trouble their senior year and Blake just tuned him out, thinking, again about Del.

“Damn, there you go again.”

Vance’s voice, louder this time, intruded on Blake’s introspective thoughts and Blake winced.

“Sorry, man. My mind is just wandering.”

“Yeah…I noticed…whoa.”

Blake watched as Vance’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. He was staring off over Blake’s shoulder and curious, Blake glanced back, following Vance’s line of sight.

His beer bottle fell from numb hands as he turned to stare at Del. Or at least, he was pretty damn sure it was Del. Her hair, still dark, was scooped up off of her neck and clipped to her head in one of those tousled styles that made a guy think just how easy it would be to send all those gleaming locks tumbling to her shoulders. Her naked shoulders. She was wearing a pale green dress, a dress that Blake knew would match her eyes perfectly. It was off the shoulder, with long sleeves that went all the way to her wrists. The dress skimmed her curves closely and Blake felt his mouth go dry as he stared at those curves with hungry eyes. The skirt fell in soft folds to just above her knee. And her pretty little feet were stuck into a pair of strappy, sparkly heels that did amazing things for her already amazing legs.

“Damn.”

Vance laughed and clapped his hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Yeah, I can see now why you weren’t paying me any attention,” Vance said as Del met his eyes from across the room. A faint smile curved her lips up and she walked towards him.

Blake started over to meet her, but Vance’s hand tightened. Looking back at Vance, he saw a serious look had come over Vance’s face. “Be careful, okay, Blake? She’s had a rough time.”
If it was anybody other than Vance, discussing anybody other than Del, he would have told him to mind his own business. But with Vance, all he did was nod and say, “I know.”

Blake had every intention of being very damn careful because there was no way he could let Del go. Not now.

Although she still had that same hold over him that she’d always had, the woman moving towards him was definitely different. The smile on her lips wasn’t the flirtatious, sexy smile he remembered. It was a cool, confident smile, yet the look in her eyes was almost hesitant.

He closed the distance between them and used the time to try and clear his head. It didn’t work. The need flowing through him had been building inside him for years. This was the girl he’d loved for nearly half his life, the girl he’d wanted more than anything. Seeing her like this just about laid him low.

They came to a stop just shy of touching. “Hey.” He tried to find something funny to say, something that might make that faint, half-smile on her face bloom into a real one. But nothing came to mind except, “Shit, you look amazing.”

Hardly funny or charming, but it must have been good enough for her. Her smile turned self-conscious and she ducked her head shyly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Then she slid her gaze over him and murmured, “You, too. You look damn good, considering the fact that you didn’t sleep more than three or four hours last night.”

She looked back up at him and cocked her head. A couple of long, shiny strands of hair fell loose from the clip, framing her face just so, teasing her neck and shoulders. Blake wanted to tear the clip away, see all that long, dark hair fall around her shoulders and then he wanted to bury his hands in it and kiss her. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t reach for her. She asked, “How’s Beaumont Junior doing?”

“Hanging in there.” He gave her a humorless smile. “Had the pleasure of your mama’s company for a few minutes. She came by to cluck over Beaumont and fulfill her duty as the gracious lady of the manor routine.”

Del grimaced. “That’s my mother. Doesn’t miss an opportunity to put on her pretenses.”

She fidgeted with her dress and unable to stop himself, Blake reached out and caught one of her

hands, lifting it to his lips. “You look gorgeous.”

He kissed her hand, watching her from under the fringe of lashes. A soft blush stained her cheeks pink, her cheeks, her neck…lower. He found himself staring at the neckline of her dress and he tore his gaze away as he realized he was ogling her breasts. He wanted to do more than ogle. He wanted to peel the dress off and lick her all over. Instead, he gestured to the dance floor. “You know, I never got to dance with you at my senior prom. Why don’t you make it up to me now?”

Bio: Mardi Ballou

By day, she’s a mild-mannered language teacher. But after hours, Mardi Ballou’s wild writer persona erupts and entraps her in bondage…to her computer. Release comes only once she achieves her word count goal, at which point the maniacal chocolate monster will give her one sublime piece. And then she can spend time with her hero husband Lee, who gives great massages at strategic times. So Mardi writes what she knows– romances–hot and mainstream–for Ellora’s Cave, Samhain, NCP, Whiskey Creek, and Changeling. Also women’s fiction. Her upcoming releases are the Fangly, My Dear series–Byte Marks, What’s a Ghoul to Do?, and Playing with Matches for Samhain, Long, Slow Ride for Ellora’s Cave Oh, Yum series, Déjà Brew for NCP, and Whatever Maura Wants for Ellora’s Cave Jewel of the Nile series. Check her out at http://www.mardiballou.com/ .

“Long, Slow Ride” by Mardi Ballou, an Oh, Yum Quickie coming from Ellora’s Cave May 14

Blurb:

The wedding reception is boring and depressing for Lori Nelson until she gets asked to dance by the chauffeur. The twenty-something, very hot chauffeur. Lori figures Jeff’s just being polite — until he takes her in his arms and shifts her libido into overdrive.

The moment Jeff meets gorgeous, classy Lori, he falls hard. But much as Lori seems to dig him, she’s hung up on their eleven-year age difference and her own personal baggage.

While Lori is convincing herself that she can handle a one-night stand, Jeff is firing up his limo, prepared to take Lori for the ride of her life.

Buy Link:

http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=MaB

Excerpt:

“Want to dance?”

Surprised, Lori Nelson looked up at the hot young guy holding his hand out to her. Jeff, the only other unattached person at her table at the wedding was doing the polite thing and offering to rescue her from wallflower status. The fact that he was the bride and groom’s chauffeur shouldn’t count against him, right?

“Uh, thanks. That’s really nice of you but not necessary.” Even though the deejay was spinning Aretha’s “RESPECT,” one of her all-time favorites, and she’d been drumming her fingers on the table and wiggling in her chair, she figured she should act her age–at least a decade older than Jeff–and sit it out.

He kinda leered at her. “I want to dance. You sure as hell look like you do. I want to dance with you. End of story.” He half dragged her out of her chair. Okay, so he didn’t have to drag too hard. Aretha was hard to resist. So was Jeff.

A lot taller than her–and buffer–Jeff gave Lori a major workout as they boogied. Luckily, she’d been extra conscientious about getting to the gym since the break-up with Charlie. All the extra kickboxing she’d mentally aimed at his pointed head helped her almost keep up.

The deejay segued from “RESPECT” to “Yesterday.” That was a low blow. The last thing she wanted to think about was all her yesterdays with that low-life scum Charlie. Luckily there was an open bar. Lori thanked Jeff and was about to head there when he drew her back to him. “This one too, pretty lady,” he whispered, giving her goose bumps with the sound of his voice and the expression in his ocean gray eyes.

Heck, one slow dance with him would probably be better than the double vodka that had been Plan A. Besides, she could have her drink after the dance. “Okay.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” he murmured, enveloping her in his very strong arms.

Hmm, up close and personal, Jeff’s body was all hard planes and barely contained energy–emphasis on hard. In moments, his erection made its presence known pressed against her belly. Ah, the pleasures of dancing with a younger man. “How old are you, Jeff?” she whispered in his ear.

“Twenty-five.”

She swallowed hard. He was even younger than she’d thought. “Sure you know what you’re doing? I’m thirty-six.”

“Cool.” He held her even tighter, which she wouldn’t have thought possible. Cool definitely did not describe the way she felt in his arms. A pool of warmth had gathered smack in her groin, spiraling waves of inappropriate but not unwelcome desire from head to toe. Jeff was definitely cute–okay, hot–but he was so not for her. Those spiraling waves had merged into one gigantic tidal burst that threatened to pull her under.

“Yesterday” ended. Without breaking stride, they continued dancing to “When I Fall in Love”. Of course, by this point, it didn’t really matter what the deejay played. Jeff and Lori were locked in their embrace, barely moving and just about oblivious to everyone and everything.

Too bad she couldn’t allow herself to linger in the delicious haze of being with him. She snapped to alert and mentally smacked herself for what she was thinking, trying–not too hard–to break away. Jeff’s crisp citrus scent invited her to lick and then take a bite. The way he held her, she suspected he wouldn’t mind. Heck, he’d probably lick and bite her right back. She shuddered at the prospect of his full, sensuous lips parting so he could take a taste. Her nipples beaded and she leaned into him even harder because the perverse, bad girl side of herself wanted him to feel her reaction. His groan expressed approval. So did his growing erection.

The proximity to his arousal practically had her whimpering with need. So close but, in reality, way beyond reach. Cripes, she was on a public dance floor with her work buddies all around her. They’d gathered for a colleague’s wedding. No matter how much booze had flowed and how dim the lights were, people would notice and talk.

“I hate to say this but,” he rasped in her ear, arching his hips so she knew they were on the same track. “Duty calls. I’ve got to go now. Trust me, I don’t want to leave you.”

So they wouldn’t even get to have the last dance together. She pulled herself into polite, professional mode and cleared her throat. “Nice meeting you, Jeff. Thanks for the dance–er, dances.”

His eyes devoured her. “Uh-uh, this is definitely not good-bye…”

Why zombies?

By Mary Winter

It started off as a joke. I have a couple of really good friends who are zombie crazy, and I thought: “what’s the one thing you never see in a romance novel?” That’s right. Zombies. Of course, a zombie couldn’t be either the hero or the heroine. You can get away with a lot of things in erotic romance, but something that is a walking, rotting corpse, just isn’t romantic or sexy. If it makes you go ick, it doesn’t need to be the heroine (or hero) of a romance novel.

So when I sat down to plot my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project I knew that I wanted to write a romance and I wanted it to have zombies in it. I had the character of Zahra in mind as a zombie slayer, and the more I thought about her, the more I realized what kind of man, or in this case, a half-angel, it would take to stand up to her. The entire mythos kind of fell into place and the novel was born.

So why zombies and angels? The biggest reason is as a nod to my two good friends who have supported me from my days as an aspiring writer through my published days, and now listen to me while I talk about the trials and tribulations of the publishing world. And angels, because I read a book Metal Angel by Nancy Springer and absolutely loved her hero. This fallen angel made the perfect dark, brooding, sexy hero, and while Dashtu isn’t a full angel, he certainly does, well… have his wings.

And probably the biggest reason is that I wanted to have fun. NaNoWriMo is about cranking out 50,000 words in a month. While I’ve certainly done that, and my current writing goals, if I get to them every day, tend to run more toward the 80,000 word range, I wanted to make sure that the story was one that I couldn’t wait to get back to every day. In 2006 it was my polar bears in Bjorn’s Mate. In 2007, it was An Angel’s Blade.

Happy reading!

An Angel’s Blade

By Mary Winter

http://www.marywinter.com/

Release Date: May 15, 2008

http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=702

Loose Id

Genre: post-apocalyptic/near future erotic romance with zombies and angels

BLURB:

A woman teaches a half-angel that the best way to save the world, and himself, is to give into his desires and play with his Blade.

EXCERPT:

Dashtu rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m just one man, Zahra. I worked with someone once, remember? It didn’t end well. I’m too smart to wage a one-person crusade against the Necromancers.”

“Someone has to fight. I’m not giving up.”

“Then you’re going to die. I’m sorry, Zahra. I want to help you. I really do, but I’ve done my time. More than you can know. I remember when the first Necromancers gained power. I remember when the bomb took out most of Washington DC. Amazing what people will do out of greed, isn’t it?” He kept his voice deadpan, his expression undecipherable.

He didn’t look much older than thirty. For him to have seen that — she did some quick mental calculations — made him nearly seventy-five years old. He looked good for being a septuagenarian. “If you saw all of that then you know why we have to fight.”

Dashtu glanced toward the door again. A tall wall of a man strode in. His bald head gleamed in the lantern lights. He wore black from neck to toes, insignia along the right arm of his jacket.

Zahra’s stomach fell. This man worked for the Necromancer controlling the area. She ducked her head.

Dashtu lunged across the table. Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her lips toward his. “Don’t fight me,” he whispered an instant before his mouth closed over hers.

She’d once watched an apartment building catch fire and burn to the ground in less than an hour. The flames igniting inside her eclipsed even the memory of that event. With his left hand, he cupped her cheek, obscuring anyone’s view of her face. She did the same, tangling her fingers in his fine hair. His tongue swiped across her lips and willingly she opened for him. A hungry, needy moan erupted from her and he swallowed it.

Fire and ice. He made the combination possible, the heat radiating from him feeling strong enough to melt the worn, vinyl bench. His scent surrounded her, a mix of sandalwood and cinnamon like the incense her mentor used to burn. The scent of angels, she’d called it, and after getting this close to Dashtu, Zahra knew she was right. Not even the crudely brewed beer she tasted detracted from his allure. His spicy taste filled her mouth and made her tingle all the way to her toes. Her nipples rasped against the leather vest. Between her legs, her leather pants rubbed against her swollen clit.

No one cared about the couple kissing in the corner. Zahra tried to focus on her surroundings. The big man strode through the bar, acting as if he were looking for someone.

Dashtu’s hands didn’t move. He didn’t reach for her breast, didn’t try to caress any more than her face and neck. His tongue plunged into her mouth, a carnal acknowledgement of the attraction between them.

Zahra kissed him back. Stroking his tongue with her own she poured her years of sexual frustration into the kiss. She tucked her knees beneath her, crawling further onto the table. Distantly, she recognized hoots and catcalls coming from somewhere in the bar. She clenched her fingers in his hair, pulling him hard against her. Their teeth clicked together, the slight pain adding to her pleasure.

The need for air parted them, a momentary distraction. Even that tiny parting made her whimper and press her lips to his. Her years of self-enforced celibacy, her hunt for Dashtu, her need to save these people…it all coalesced into this moment of life giving passion. His lips on hers. His hands on her skin. His cock in her body. She wanted it all and she wanted it right now.

He pulled away. “Let’s go.”

“What?” Her mind reeling from the kiss, she turned to look.

“Don’t look.” Cupping her cheek, he turned her to face him. “Just get out of the booth and head out the back door.”

Zahra nodded. She knew her way around Barg’s since she’d often come here to let off a little steam, especially after Spika’s death. “I’ll lead.” She tore off the apron and left it in the booth.

He followed so close his breath tickled the back of her neck. With him so near he swamped her senses. She struggled to listen to snippets of conversation. A woman’s orgasmic scream vibrated through the paper-thin walls. Two men discussed the harvest, or lack thereof, and one boasted he found a way to repair an abandoned car. The other guffawed. Beer flowed into tankards and into mouths. The slick floor made a hasty retreat impossible.

She ducked into one of the alcoves lovers used when there weren’t any rooms available in the back.

“Hurry,” Dashtu growled.

“I’m trying.” She poked her head out of the alcove, saw the big man still sitting at the bar. “This way.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him down the hallway that led to the prostitute’s quarters. Raising her hand in the air, she made a gesture for Barg. The bartender nodded and shoved another drink at the big man.

“What are you doing?” Dashtu stopped in the hall. He glanced at the curtains. Sexual sounds echoed from the rooms, from the slap of leather against bare flesh, to a man’s groan of pleasure. Somewhere, a tenor voice chanted “Yes! Yes!” and squeaking bed springs made an off-tune symphony. She’d often hidden back here where the prostitutes worked, sometimes offering protection to the women. Barg helped her out with the occasional job. She knew she’d be leaving Barg with one hell of a mess. Sorry, man. She shoved open the back door, stepping through a cloud of cigarette smoke.

“You coming?” she snarled over her shoulder at Dashtu, aware that had they been somewhere else the question would have had a different meaning. As if on cue a man gave a long, lingering moan. Zahra grinned.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “Where now?”

Coming Soon:

June 2

The Wrong Woman

by Mary Winter (rerelease of Venus Press title by the same name)

From Noble Romance Publishing

Blurb: Laid off from her accounting job, Annie Gadbaum has to find a new source of income. Tired of the stuffy corporate life and ready to make some big changes, Annie takes a position as a bartender at a nightclub while she figures out what to do. She throws herself into her work, dressing the part and enjoying the party atmosphere more than she ever thought she would.Nightclub owner, Ridge Warrick, longs for a stable relationship with the kind of woman he can bring home to his mother. So why is he so attracted to the fiery-haired Annie? She’s captivated him, but she’s the wrong kind of girl.

Link: http://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=7

Copied from Original email.

Selena
———- message ———-

Hi all – sorry if you see this more than once…trying to hit as many
people as I can…

I’ve got an auction up on ebay to help raise money for the cyclone
victims and I’m trying to get the word out.

Right now, it involves a couple of ARCs, several books, but more have
added, and a GC to Barnes and Noble.

It’s up on ebay thru missionfish-the charity I chose was SAVE THE
CHILDREN since they already have people in the country and have had some
success getting much needed supplies. And they have an excellent rep
for putting their money where their mouth is- 90% of all monies received
go to their programs, which is beyond excellent for a charity.

I know some people feel not doing anything might be best considering the
actions of the junta and hold off waiting until that situation changes,
but I don’t think letting people suffer is a viable option either if
there are ways of getting help in.

From Save the Children’s 5/9 update-

Westport, Conn. (May 9, 2008) — The death toll in Myanmar continues
to rise as a result of Cyclone Nargis and hardships for hundreds of
thousands of survivors left in its wake are increasing. With 500 staff
on the ground, Save the Children has reached 72,000 people, 24,000 of
whom are estimated to be children, through the distribution of food,
water purification tablets, plastic sheeting for shelter and other
needed supplies

And this is part of the reason why I chose them-they already have people
inside the country and they seem to be a trusted by those within the
country, making it easier to get help in.

So far, the auction includes signed books donated by several authors, as
well as a gift card to Barnes and Noble donated by the Brown Literary
Agency-(new items haven’t been added to the auction description yet, but
I’ll have them posted soon)

Anybody interested in bidding on the auction, it can be found here
<http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=270236138496>

<http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=270236138496
<http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=270236138496> >

Authors interested in donating can contact me shilohwalker at gmail.com

Thank you!

Shi
http://shilohwalker.com

I’ve been tagged by fellow CP Author and Fae (lol, inside joke) Lacey Savage.

Rules of the meme:

a. Link to the person who tagged you.
b. Post the rules on your blog.
c. Write six random things about yourself.
d. Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs.
e. Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.
f. Let your tagger know when your entry is up.

So, here goes. Six random things you may not know about me.

1.  I love lavender scented candles.

2. Mangos are my fav fruit.

3. I prefer hardcover to softcover books.

4. My favorite character from Stargate SG-1 besides Jack was Ba’al.

5. I’m fascinated by the idea of life on other planets.
6. My current fav Anime is Death Note.

And you thought you were weird? Ha!

I tag:

Savannah Chase (HA! Told you I’d get you back)

Shara Cooper

Celia Kyle

Michelle Hasker (ducks)

Dawn Montgomery

AJ Hampton
I can’t wait to read your memes! *Selena ducks and hides*

Location, Location, Location!!!

So there’s a big piece of advice a writer often gets when they start out writing, and it’s ‘write what you know’. Why? Probably because it’s more believable and you’re not as likely to screw up your facts. (Hello, that is the BIG reason I’m terrified to write a historical, though I love to read them!)

After my first book, which was kind of a purge of every Harlequin and romance novel combined into one fun, dramatic love story, I decided to sit down and write a book that takes place in Seattle. My home town. And so Dangerous Grounds began to take shape. I plotted the heck out of the story (totally a new thing for me!) and took classes to help with the research. Strippercize (yes there is a stripping scene!) and a class on how to open your own espresso business. I was the only one there actually not interested in going into coffee.

What I noticed when I began to write what I know (Seattle) was that I wanted to share the love for the state I lived in. Washington. I love to travel. To explore and do touristy things–even when I’m at home. And this transferred into my writing. In my Seattle Steam series (Tempting Adam and Dangerous Grounds so far!) you’ll see a theme. Along with a fun plot, I love to take you on a tour of my city through writing. You’ll become a tourist voyeuristically by reading my book. If that makes any sense (and I’m not claiming it does!). In other words, the city and region I live in almost becomes a secondary character.

Personally, when I read a book I enjoy seeing that. I love a writer who can drop me into Dublin Ireland, or New Orleans and make me feel like I’m there. Now I’m not saying I always need the location to play a huge part of the books I read–or even write! Sometimes the story line is big enough that a book could be set anywhere (even the clearance aisle at Target!) and I wouldn’t care.

So how about you? What are your thoughts on how much detail should be included about the location of a story? Does it bother you when the author goes into depth about the city? Or do you put on your tourist hat and eat it up with a spoon? *Grin*

Bio:

Shelli read her first romance novel when she was eleven and fell in love with the genre. It wasn’t until many years later that she decided to pursue writing stories of her own. By then she acknowledged the voices in her head didn’t make her crazy, they made her a writer. Her ideal romance, both to read and write, is one that’ll not only get you a little hot under the collar, but also gives you a good laugh every now and then.

Shelli currently lives in the Pacific Northwest with her young daughter and enjoys serving as President of her local RWA chapter.

Links:

Email: shellistevens@aol.com
Website: http://www.shellistevens.com/
Blog http:http://www.shellistevens.blogspot.com/
Group Blog: http://www.naughty-and-spice.com/
Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShelliStevens/
Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/shellistevens

Latest Release: Blurb:

The man she wants is the one she must deceive.

Seattle Steam Book 2

Christy Wallace may be a respectable Seattle Spanish teacher, but she’s got a sultry side. She lets it come out to play during the summer, when she moonlights as a Salsa dancing instructor.

Sexy, cowboy Adam wants more time with her than just a fleeting cup of coffee, but she makes it clear that if he wants her, he’ll have to sign up for dance class. Amazingly enough, he does. And Christy finds herself falling for a charming country hick with hands as fast as his feet.

Adam’s no hick, though. He’s the owner of Adam’s Apples, the fastest-growing cider business in eastern Washington. To his own surprise, one night with her has him thinking in terms of forever. That is, until he walks into a restaurant for a family lunch—and finds Christy on the arm of his brother.

Is there a logical explanation? Or is something rotten in Seattle?

Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, dirty mechanical bull riding, and the violation of blueberries.

Buy Link:

http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/tempting-adam

BECAUSE YOUR VAMPIRE SAID SOBroken Heart, Oklahoma, Book 3By Michele Bardsley
Divorcee Patsy Donahue is an undead hair stylist whose clientele has dwindled down to human donors and shaggy lycanthropes. Her sixteen-year-old son Wilson is driving her crazy, but not as much as the ghosts who want her to solve their problems. But her biggest problem is named Gabriel Marchand–a gorgeous lycanthrope with dark secrets that could mean the death (no, really) of Patsy.
Nationally bestselling author Michele Bardsley writes novels because it’s much more fun than housework. She lives in Oklahoma with her son, their pets, and a bunch of empty Godiva boxes. Visit her website at http://www.michelebardsley.com/ or drop by the Broken Heart website at http://www.brokenheartok.com/.

Buy Link:

Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0451223861?ie=UTF8&tag=welcometobrok-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0451223861

Barnes and Noble
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Because-Your-Vampire-Said-So/Michele-Bardsley/e/9780451223869/?itm=2

Excerpt:

BECAUSE YOUR VAMPIRE SAID SOBy Michele Bardsley

Chapter 1

“I ain’t a groomin’ service,” I said, wishing I could still smoke Marlboros. Becoming a vampire cured me of most vices. If I couldn’t breathe, I sure as hell couldn’t inhale and exhale cigarette smoke. I wanted a donor who smoked, so I’d get a nice fix every time I had a pint. Unfortunately, the Consortium—which was in charge of our little piece of Oklahoma—didn’t hire donors who abused their bodies. Yet, I hoped for the day I’d find me some nicotine blood.

“You give such good shampoo massages, Patsy,” said Darrius, who was a fine-looking male. He could shape-shift into a big, black wolf, too. In either form, Darrius was hard to resist. He’d talked me more than once into a full-body shampoo.

“I own a salon service for people, not mutts.”

“If you added animal grooming to your offerings,” he said. “You’d make more money.”

“You think so?” I liked money almost as much as I liked cigarettes. I couldn’t smoke anymore, but I could spend money. I hadn’t been jewelry-shopping in a dog’s age. I looked at Darrius and cackled. Dog’s age. Wasn’t I hoot?

His green eyes filled with calculation. He sidled closer to me and draped a muscled arm around my shoulders. Oo-wee, I loved it when handsome men flirted with me. Gave me a thrill, it sure enough did. I was forty-years-old (and would be forever, by God) and not above enjoying the titillation offered by Darrius. Look at him, all cute and wily.

“Oh, all right. But this is the last time.” Of course, that’s what I said every time Darrius and his ornery brother Drake talked me into a wolfie shampoo. Too cute for their own good, both of ‘em. “You know how I feel about watching that shifting bullshit. Go in the back room.”

Darrius took two steps before his cell phone rang. Cursing, he plucked it from the holster on his hip. “Ja?”

After listening a moment, he sighed deeply. He shut the phone and re-inserted it into the case. “I must take a rain check, Liebling. Damian says there is an emergency, but with him, everything is an emergency.”

Damian was the third brother; the oldest, by eleven minutes, of triplets. He was head of the Consortium’s security, and he protected the borders of Broken Heart fiercely. He never asked for a shampoo.

Darrius kissed my cheek then tapped my nose with his forefinger. “I will be back, Patsy. Then you can rub me all over.”

“Promises, promises, stud.”

He grinned widely and turned around. I slapped that tight butt so hard my palm stung. He laughed and sauntered out of the salon. Looking at that fine posterior almost made it worth digging out the wolf hair from my tub.

As Darrius exited, cold air gusted through the door and brought with the promise of snow. Well, what can you do? It was the first week of November, after all. Then again, Oklahoma weather was as fickle as my sister at a half-price shoe sale. Yesterday, the temperature had been a balmy sixty-six degrees.

I turned the sign on the front door to “Closed,” then I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the clean floor. I’d been feeling off-kilter lately. You know that prickly feeling you get when a storm’s coming, but the sky is clear? Whatever-it-was teased the horizon just enough to keep me clutching my umbrella.

My thoughts drifted to Darrius’s suggestion. Grooming services, huh? We had enough lycanthropes around these parts that I could make some extra money as an animal groomer. Business wasn’t exactly brisk thanks to ousting most of the original residents. Anyone who wasn’t a paranormal being or a human donor found themselves elsewhere in a hurry.

I used to have two employees, but they were given new jobs in Tulsa, as part of the Broken Heart citizen resettlement program. My nail girl Linda got re-assigned as an assistant to scientist Dr. Stan Michaels. She was mightily in love with that man, but wouldn’t admit it.

Anyway, Broken Heart wasn’t exactly a hopping town before the undead took over. Less than a year ago, the only thing that had saved my salon from closing had been the strippers from the Barley and Boob Barn, which had been shut down and razed in June. Aw, hell. I missed those girls. They were fun and raunchy and tipped real good.

I was “life-challenged” because of Lorcan O’Halloran. Diseased by the Taint—a nasty illness that only affects vampires—he’d attempted a radical cure. The cure turned him into a two-legged, hairy, stinky beast. He romped around ol’ Broken Heart and killed eleven of us single parents.

Oh, now, don’t worry. He’s back to being a vampire. He married my friend Eva, Broken Heart’s only teacher. She was obviously the forgiving sort, but I still felt uneasy around Lorcan.

The night he attacked me, I’d been outside my shop smoking a cigarette. If I’d known that was the last smoke I was ever gonna have, I would’ve enjoyed it a lot more. Anyway, I died. Wham! Knocked down, knocked out, and snacked on. Next night, I woke up on a steel table in a white room feeling more alive than ever—only to be told I wasn’t. And I figured out real quick that I had gained a few new tricks.

It wasn’t all bad. My crow’s feet, cellulite, age spots, and the ol’ saggies went bye-bye. I had clear, wrinkle-free skin, but no amount of vampifying could rid me of my height, a couple inches shy of six feet, or what my son called “fluffiness.” Eva said I reminded her of a Valkyrie, which was some sort of Viking chick who kicked ass. I liked that description, I’ll tell you.

The Consortium bought my place and gave it to me lock, stock, and barrel, and they paid all bills associated with it and my double-wide, which was twenty feet behind the salon. I didn’t have much to do with the money I made, except abuse my credit card on the Home Shopping Network.

“Good evening, Patricia.”

The man’s voice startled me, but I kept my cool. One thing I’d learned from my ex-husband was that offense was the best defense. “Do you ignore all the signs you read, or just the ones on doors?”

I turned around and leaned on the broom. A man I’d never seen stood inside the doorway, staring at me. And he was built, honey. Mm-hmm. I saw the muscles bulging underneath the crisp white shirt opened at the collar. He also wore a pair of tight black jeans and … I’ll be damned. He had himself a pair of black Prada Croc Sneakers. I liked boots and didn’t wear much else. Wilson had shown me a magazine ad with those Crocs and said he wanted them. Even though our existence was no longer hand-to-mouth, I couldn’t justify buying a pair of shoes that cost twice as much as my mortgage payment.

What was a guy wearing thousand-dollar pair of kicks doing in my shop? Shoot. What did it matter? Most of the paranormal beings running around our fair town were richer than God.

He didn’t seem to mind I was looking him over. As I took his measure, he took mine. His long hair was so white it looked like captured moonbeams. It was drawn into a queue at the back of his neck. If that hair wasn’t enough to make the hairstylist in me slobber, then his golden eyes made the woman in me go mreow. Those mesmerizing amber orbs reminded me of the sunsets I would never see again.

Damn. He was temptation itself. I was a celibate as a nun because of vampires had a hitched-for-hundred-years sex clause. My last marriage lasted eighteen years and that was seventeen years, three-hundred-and-sixty four days longer than it should have. I swore I wouldn’t walk down the aisle ever again, much less fall in love. No, thank you.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“My name’s Gabriel.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. It was more like a I’ll-eat-you-up grin. I shivered all the way to my toes. “Damian sent me. His orders are to secure your beauty shop and to walk you home.”

“Why? Are more Wraiths sneaking around or something?”

Wraiths were vampires who thought they should rule the world, being the superior race. Hah. They’d attacked Broken Heart twice and hadn’t accomplished much more than pissing off the residents.

He shrugged. “I do what the boss tells me.”

I clutched the broom handle, suddenly uneasy. Handsome as he was, I’d never seen him before. Drake and Darrius were always showing up ’round here for one thing or another, but it didn’t make a lick of sense for Damian to send me a guardian.

The man seemed to sense my distress. “You want to call him and ask?” He unclipped his cell phone from his belt and extended it toward me.

I looked at the phone and then at him. If he was willing to let me call Damian and check up on him, then surely he was legit. Yeah, right. I may be blonde, but I ain’t stupid.

“I have him on speed dial.” I dug my phone out my back jean pocket and flipped it open. The only weapons I had were the broom, my vamp skills, and my charming wit—none of which would disarm him.

I hit the button and put the phone to my ear. Damian picked up on the first ring. “Ja?”

“I got a tall drink of water over here who says you sent him.”

“You have a what?”

“You are so cliché-challenged,” I said. “There’s a guy here who wants to hold my hand and walk me home. Did you send him or do I have to whack him with my broom?”

He sighed. “New policy, Patsy. Every Turn-blood has a guardian until … well, I say so. Consider him your new shadow. And do not whack him with anything.”

Damian hung up. He wasn’t much for hellos or good-byes. I put my phone away. “I guess you’re my new best pal. Wanna tell me why?”

“You should ask Damian.”

“Yeah. It’s easier to catch a greased hog than it is to pry information outta that man.”

Gabriel’s lips turned up into an almost grin. Mm-mmm. My stomach did a little mambo. Handsome wasn’t a good enough word to describe him.

All the same, I felt trapped. I didn’t particularly like being bossed around, especially by Consortium puppets. I pretended that him standing there looking all big and powerful and yummy didn’t bother me.

“It makes no never mind to me what you do,” I lied. “I gotta lock up now.”

I finished sweeping up then turned off the lights. I had to bolt the front door, which meant getting awful close to Gabriel. Heat emanated off him, like an invisible fire raged around him. His gaze caught mine; the look in his amber gaze made my stomach jump. Lust zinged through me and he knew it. His lips curved into a feral smile.

I put on my lambskin jacket then headed out the back door. Gabriel followed and leaned against the wall, watching me lock up. As soon as I was done, I whirled around and hurried across the high grass toward my double-wide. I didn’t want the luscious Gabriel within my orbit for too long. I was prone to make bad decisions around men like him.

Behind me, I heard a whoosh, and then I heard Gabriel yell. Whomp. Thud.

Fear spun through me, but I turned around. And screamed.

The massive creature was at least eight feet tall. He had marbled gray skin and completely black eyes. His hairless head gleamed in the moonlight. As he took as step toward me, the ground shook. He grinned at me and revealed double rows of needle-sharp teeth.

I didn’t see my bodyguard anywhere—until I fell ass over teakettle over him. I landed way too close to the monster’s clawed feet.

I scrabbled backwards, right into the unconscious form of Gabriel. Some guardian he turned out to be! I scooted over him, knelt by his head, and shook his shoulders. “Hey, you! Get up now!”

The creature watched me in amusement. Dread snaked through me. Gabriel’s moonshine hair spilled onto the ground. I detected his shallow breathing and the steady beat of his heart.

“Your boyfriend can take a punch,” he said. His voice sounded like thunder. He crossed his huge arms, his expression grim. “Usually that move kills lycans.”

Fear chilled me even more than the frigid air. The storm threatening my horizon was here and damned if I didn’t have my umbrella.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“You.”

Horror kept me wielded to the ground. I couldn’t move. My gaze was glued to the ugly thing bending toward me over Gabriel, who was trapped between us. He enjoyed my terror, the bastard. His curved claws grazed my shoulders as he tried to grab me.

That’s when I remembered I was a vampire.

I swung a right hook at his jaw. Pain jolted down my arm on contact, but the strength of the punch made him stagger back. He looked as shocked as I felt.

The growl surprised us both.

My gaze switched to Gabriel. He was awake, his gold eyes filled with fury. He pushed onto his hands and feet. His body arched, his flesh rippling. I heard the snap of bones and the snick of muscles realigning. His clothes and his expensive shoes shredded and fell to the ground.

His face elongated into a large snout filled with sharp teeth. His long hair flowed down his back and joined with the white fur sprouting over every inch of skin.

Snapping and snarling, the white wolf lunged for the monster.