Archive for the ‘Author Spotlight’ Category

Bio:

Award winning British author Saskia Walker first dreamed of writing her own stories when she discovered a handful of romance novels stashed away in her school library. An avid reader, she lapped up the fun, the adventures, and the life-affirming emotion of these stories, but always felt dismay when the bedroom door closed the reader out. She vowed that if she ever had the chance to pursue her dream, all the passion would be right there on the page.
Saskia finally began writing seriously in the late 1990s. By that time she’d traveled the world, got herself a BA in Art History, a Masters in Literature and the Visual Arts, and she’d worked in all manner of diverse careers—but the stories in her head simply had to be written.
Her first erotic short story was signed in ’97 and since then she’s had several single title novel and novella publications. Her work has also appeared in over fifty anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica, The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica, and the Black lace Wicked Words series. She writes across genres, but always with the passion right there on the page! Her first full-length novel, DOUBLE DARE, received the Passionate Plume award for the Best Contemporary Erotic Romance of 2006.
Saskia lives in the north of England—close to the beautiful, windswept landscape of the Yorkshire moors—with her real life hero, Mark. Mark supports her work through all its ups and downs, and somehow manages to keep her sane and grounded when fiction threatens to take over.

Website: http://www.saskiawalker.co.uk/

Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/saskiawalkerauthor

Blogspot: http://www.saskiawalker.blogspot.com/

Latest release:
RECKLESS

BLURB:
At the age of twenty-nine, London valuation expert Katrina Hammond is evolving into a stronger, more sexual woman. When she subsequently finds herself at the center of a struggle for power and dominance between two brothers, she welcomes the darkly erotic charge the situation brings.
Katrina’s job is to value a collection of art objects for auction in the Catalonia villa of the Teodoro family, where Sergio Teodoro rules. Sergio is a dominant master who compels her attention. Nicolas, his younger brother – a disinherited artisan – also seeks her out. As Katrina uncovers the subterfuge surrounding the collection, she finds that there is more to Nicolas and Sergio’s battle than meets the eye, and more to her growing allegiances than may be good for her.
Excerpt:

Katrina glanced down into the hallway, where the shadows were far too mobile for her liking, as if the ghosts of the house were about to emerge. Stepping quickly across the half landing, she went upstairs to the wing where the bedrooms were located. Pausing at the end of the corridor she noticed that the wall lights were now switched off, only the occasional ceiling lights every ten feet or so illuminated the corridor, which gave it even more of an air of mystery than the office area.
Except for the sound of crickets outside, all was quiet, but the scent of the night was heavy in the air. The moist plants outside the windows omitted a heady smell, made stronger after the gardener had watered the foliage beneath the windows at sundown. She breathed it in, noticing the aromas of earth and the eucalyptus trees from farther away, mingling in with the scent of the garden. As she watched, the night breeze shifted the curtains at the open windows between the doorways. The long swathes of sheer fabric lifted eerily in time, one after the other, like the tide along the shore. It was a ghostly image and it reminded her of any number of scary movies. This corridor felt even spookier then the rest of the place, as if an unknown presence lurked by.
The curtains lifted again. The skin on her back prickled, and Katrina felt herself becoming aware of all the lives that had been lived here, the people who had walked these corridors in years gone by. It was a beautiful house, but a strange one too—a house full of secrets and ghosts.
She clutched her laptop bag against her chest and tiptoed quietly along the corridor. As she did, she heard a sound. She paused, but other than the movement of the curtains, all was still. She walked on.
A door to her left, at the rear of the house, was ajar. She kept walking, eager to get to her room. As she passed the open door, her footsteps slowed. She could see a large bed and beyond it a desk. Sergio was sitting at the desk, working, but with the door open. Was he waiting to catch her as she walked by? If so, she wasn’t ready for that, not now. Could she creep past unseen? Cautiously, and as stealthily as she could, she moved on. When she reached her door and had her hand on the handle, she glanced back down the corridor to see if Sergio had emerged. Her breath caught in her throat. There was someone standing there in the half-light, but it wasn’t Sergio.
At the end of the landing where she’d been just moments before, stood Nicolas Teodoro. At first glance she thought she was imagining it, that she had conjured forth an image from the shadows to satisfy her desire for him. But no, he really was there.
Dressed entirely in black and still as a statue, he looked like a cat burglar. Is that what he was, a forbidden intruder here? He was watching her intently, his eyes black in the dim light, his unruly hair falling forward. She sensed that he was ready to act. How, to take flight if she raised the alarm? Confusion riddled through her, and that wasn’t all that she was feeling. He looked so darkly sexy and she’d been held in those arms, felt those lips on hers—a forbidden liqueur that she had tasted in a dark street during the festival.
Why was he here, now?
He put his fingers to his lips and at first she thought it was a signal to be quiet, but then he turned those fingers toward her and mouthed a kiss, winking at her. Katrina’s legs felt shaky under her and she gripped the door handle tighter. As if she hadn’t been aroused enough the night before, here he was making a secret connection with her, reminding her of what had happened between them.
Glancing from Nicolas back to the open door halfway between them on the other side of the corridor, she could scarcely breath. If Sergio emerged now, he’d see them both, he might even guess she’d had contact with his disinherited brother, the brother she had been warned about.
Nicolas followed her glance, and then gestured at her, nodding and indicating that she should go into her room. Then he tapped his chest and pointed at her door. Katrina stared at him. He couldn’t be serious? He was going to just walk down there to her, past the open door, past his estranged brother?
No. He stepped quickly to the nearest window on the front side of the house. Signaling again, a master of mime, he indicated to her that he meant to come to her room from the outside of the building.
Her concern ratcheted. The balconies were too far apart, surely? That would be even more dangerous than walking past Sergio’s open doorway. But before she could even react he was climbing out the window, and as she watched his fit rear end disappear through it she couldn’t decide what unsettled her more—that he was risking the climb, or that he would appear in her room at the end of it.
Her legs swayed, she felt suddenly weak. He was scaling the outside of a building aiming for her window. He wasn’t supposed to be there at all, not in the middle of the night, and especially not in her room.
Go in and refuse him, lock the windows to the balcony. Even as she thought it, she knew she had no intention of doing so. She had to know what he was going to say. The way he’d held her in Barcelona and the way he’d touched her, all of it echoed through her senses, and she staggered against the wall as she went inside and closed the door, pressing it closed and holding it that way, as if that would ground her.
The curtains wafted in the breeze and she stared at them, not daring to blink as she watched the moonlight filtering into the room—until she saw a shadow move at the edge of the balcony.
What if her clients found her talking to him, in here, in their home? There was still time to run over there and bar the window before he got inside. But Katrina didn’t want to lock him out, and as she watched the shadow climbing onto her balcony in the moonlight, her heart raced, her body suffused with anticipation.

“Reckless is an erotic, suspenseful novel that leaves the reader on edge.” Shannon, The Romance Studio

“Reckless is a thrilling read.” Cherokee, Coffee Time Romance

Available now from bookstores and online sites such as Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Reckless-Saskia-Walker/dp/0425221385/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1207999090&sr=8-1

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.

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…”

Author Spotlight: Adele Dubois

Intimate Art

Blurb:

Copyright © ADELE DUBOIS, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

When Jack strides into the Special-T café each morning, wearing jeans hot enough to melt glass, the erotic fuel between him and waitress Legs Anderson almost ignites the room. That’s why Legs’ willingness to keep Jack at bay is Hartsville’s most bemusing mystery.

That and the fact that Jack Harris is the only person in town who doesn’t believe the Anderson house is haunted. But Legs believes. And as long as her aunt’s ghost haunts the master bedroom of the house she inherits, Jack can’t spend the night. Ada had an ironclad rule she enforces from the grave — no men allowed. Especially Harris men.

Jack forms a plan involving paint, body stencils and exotic ingenuity to chase Ada’s ghost from the house. Will intimate art help him claim the woman he loves? Or will Ada conjure new surprises?

Buy Link:

http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915321

Excerpt #1:

Copyright © ADELE DUBOIS, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Move in with me, dammit. You’re the most stubborn woman I ever knew.”

“No more stubborn than you, since you keep askin’ the same old question. I have my own place.”

Jack frowned and stabbed his egg yolks, making them run. “Then let me live with you.”

“In my aunt’s house?” Legs asked like he was crazy.

“It’s your house now.”

“I’m trying to fix it up. I have to patch and paint. There’s no room for your stuff.”

“I’ll help you, and then you’ll have plenty of space for me. And my junk.”

“Ada won’t like it. She’ll think it’s immoral.”

“You talk about her like she’s still with us. She’s been gone over a year, sweetheart.” His voice dropped an octave and his brows creased. “Don’t you think she’d give in after all this time?”

Legs wrinkled her nose. “No. She thinks you’re a wanderer.”

Jack tossed down his fork. “I own a sporting goods store for crissake! I go fishing!” He touched her hand when she got close enough and drew little circles around her wrist bone with a fingertip. The preschool teachers from Let’s Explore stifled sighs at the next table. “It’s time to let go, hon. His expression turned earnest. She raised you, I know. But I want to be with you now. It’s time to let me in.”

“Not if that means letting her go. I’m sorry, Jack. I just can’t.”

Jack sighed and returned to his breakfast. “We’ll talk about this again tomorrow.”

It seemed like Jack was the only person in town who didn’t believe the Anderson place was haunted. Or maybe he pretended not to know. Ada had died but still stood like a sentry in the two-story white Victorian where she had raised her niece. And it was clear Legs liked it that way. After her parents died in that car crash, she and her aunt had become almost inseparable. Legs still slept in the spare room she used as a child. The master bedroom belonged to her aunt as far as she was concerned.

Legs couldn’t bring herself to move into Ada’s old room, though she’d hauled out much of the furniture and torn down the old-fashioned curtains. Most of the bigger, fussier antiques in the house had been sold to pay land and inheritance taxes. The rest Legs rearranged to her liking and hoped Ada would approve. But a man moving in? Ada would pitch a fit.

How do I know all this? My name is Cloris. I own the Special T café. Ada was my best friend and I’ve known Legs since before she was born. Her given name is Linda, but I’ve always called her Legs, ’cause she reminds me of a sleek, long-legged colt. The nickname stuck with customers after her first shift at the café.

I hired Legs as my runner around the time Ada got sick. My knees throb and my feet ache with arthritis, though I still manage the restaurant and take orders at the counter. Legs had just graduated college when she came home to nurse Ada. It was nice of her to help me around the café, too, and then stay on after her aunt died. I’m a realist, though– I know our arrangement can’t last much longer. The girl has a business degree to use.

Back at Jack’s table Legs shook her head as if further talk would make no difference. Her ponytail swished between her slim shoulder blades. “I’ll be painting all weekend. You can help if you want, but I make no promises about you moving in. Ever.”

A satisfied smile curved Jack’s lips. He held Legs’s large brown eyes with his deep cobalt blues. “I’ll bring coffee and biscuits. I’ll be there by eight.”

Legs nodded once. “Okay. Guess I could use an extra pair of hands.”

Every other woman in Hartsville would have passed Jack a paintbrush with her teeth if he brought those rugged, strong looking hands to her house. Yet, there was an unspoken, but palatable admiration for Legs the other women seemed to share. They liked that she could handle him–probably better than they could. Legs had an unshakable confidence that earned other women’s respect.

I think Jack liked that about her, too.

*****

Excerpt #2:

An Excerpt From: INTIMATE ART

Copyright © ADELE DUBOIS, 2008All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

“You’re really serious about her haunting the place, aren’t you?” His question was heavy with controlled annoyance.

Legs nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “And she has very strong opinions about what you and I have been doing.”

His smirk told her he couldn’t care less. “Then we don’t need to sneak around anymore, do we? She knows.” He set his coffee cup on the dresser and plunked the Home Depot bag on the floor. “Just because her husband ran out on her doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have a life. I’m not like your miserable drunk of an uncle.”

He shifted his gaze around the room, a frown forming on his handsome, angular face. Glints of gold in his long, thick hair caught the morning light, and Legs sucked in an admiring breath. His hair was combed back from his face and trailed to the center of his neck like rich butterscotch fudge glazed with real vanilla. She almost wanted to take a bite.

The last time they’d made love she’d run her hands through the smooth strands, combing his tight scalp with her fingertips. She’d reveled in the creamy texture while he licked the swell of her breasts and sucked her erect nipples, groaning as his cock strained tight against her naked thigh. The memory of hot skin against skin made her tremble inside. Some of her defenses fell away.

Legs could tell Jack recognized the scent of Ada’s White Diamonds perfume gaining strength in the air by the way he tilted his head as his nostrils flared. His blue eyes flashed defiance. He looked around, shouting at corners. “Do you hear me, Ada? I’m not like he was.”

A cold chill swept through the room. Legs shivered against the draft and looked hard into the air, trying to focus through the dust motes in the early morning sun. If she stared in just the right way, and at just the right angle, she might see glimmers of her aunt. It had happened before.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “I know how to get her out of here. Tough love.”

“What?”

He reached out and pulled her into his arms. The scent of fresh lime soap and musk aftershave filled her senses, dousing the White Diamonds. Arms of sleek steel hugged her to his broad, muscled chest. The smell and feel of him drifted over her like a safe, sensuous blanket.

She pressed her cheek against his shirt and rubbed her face across the nipple that had hardened beneath his black t-shirt. The fullness of her bottom lip clung to the tip and she resisted the primal urge to nip it with her teeth and poke it with her tongue through the fabric.

His voice was gruff. “We’ll fuck her out of here.”

Chris Marie Green on MIDNIGHT REIGN, Vampire Babylon, Book Two

Years and years ago, when I still played with Barbies, Saturday nights were a magical time. They were all about steak dinners with the family around the candlelit table and my dad smoking his cigar in the backyard afterward. Saturday nights were also when IN SEARCH OF… aired on TV, and I remember watching it, enthralled, and oftentimes, scared to death when Leonard Nimoy told us about things like The Loch Ness Monster and Bigfoot.

Of course, I was young, and I freaked out at everything. So when a certain episode abut vampires aired, it left an indelible impression that’s stayed with me until this day.

Long claws, sharp teeth, a woman in bed with a gnarly shadow creeping over her…. I was hooked, and it’s no surprise that I’m writing about vampires now for Ace Books.

In keeping with what scared me when I was younger, my own vampires usually have a mean streak and will do anything to survive. In fact, my first vamp book THE HUNTRESS (for the defunct Bombshell line from Silhouette) featured a tribe of female bloodsuckers, feral and hard to slay. I loved those gals, but the real villain in that story was vampirism itself.

I suppose you could say the same about my Vampire Babylon series, a noir-mystery-fantasy with romantic elements. This particular group survives because of secrecy; among their many gifts, they’re great spies who continually mess with the heroine, Dawn Madison, and her new team of hunters. Every book in the series revolves around a vampire-related mystery, but to me, the horror comes from how far a person might go to capture long-lasting life, youth, and fame.

Here’s a hint of what the first book in the series was about:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkQTdpPunes

But NIGHT RISING, Book One (2/07), concerned more than Jesse Shane’s death. Dawn got sucked into the search for a vampire underground when her dad went missing, and her personal discoveries go hand-in-hand with what she finds out about these vampires—and what her own mother’s death might’ve had to do with them.

As you can see in this next trailer, the second book, MIDNIGHT REIGN (2/5/08), continues Dawn’s search for her dad.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zWENWQPBzHg
There are a lot of twists and turns for you mystery fans. And for those of you who want to follow the relationship between Dawn and The Voice? There’s plenty of that, too, and BREAK OF DAWN, Book Three (out in September) is going to delve into Dawn’s search for who “Jonah” really is!

I hope you stop by my Web site at www.vampirebabylon.com because, among other things, I’m giving away a great prize for the contest. It’s a “museum quality” Giclee print called “Little Blood Sucker,” and it’s signed by the artist, Billy Martinez of Neko.

Isn’t it great? I’ve got one hanging on my own wall.

Thank you for reading, and happy hunting!

Chris Marie Green (AKA Crystal Green) writes full time across the genres. Besides her Vampire Babylon series, she writes for Harlequin Blaze and Silhouette Special Edition. You can visit her other web sites at www.crystal-green.com and www.myspace.com/vampirebablylon.

Bio:

Aurora Black is a self-proclaimed “passionate woman of the world in an ingenue’s clothing,” who made her erotic literary debut in late 2006 with Phaze. She got her start at Literotica, where she learned the basics of the writing trade and gained the confidence she needed to turn professional.

An erotica writer by day and sultry jazz singer at night, Aurora uses her vivid imagination combined with glamorized life experiences as material for her works. Living in exotic Europe has made an everlasting impact on the Detroit-area native, and she writes to express the deepest (and sometimes darkest) parts of her soul along with her great love of the written word. Like her characters, she pursues her dreams with everything she has.

Aurora can be found at her website, “Who Is Aurora Black?” at http://www.whoisaurorablack.com/ and her blog, “Roses on Snow” at http://aurorablack.blogspot.com/

Cover Link for Potent Spirits:

http://a397.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images01/76/m_e4216169619df2513cd8d488d3fd8174.jpg

Buy Link for Potent Spirits:

http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Potent+Spirits+by+Aurora+Black

Potent Spirits Blurb:

The legendary story of “A Christmas Carol” has never been seen like this!

Quiet and shy Vivian Woods is in love with the devastatingly handsome Caleb Blackwell, a sexy fireman who sets her heart ablaze every night in her dreams, but she’s convinced that he doesn’t know she exists. She plans to spend another lonely Christmas at home, with thoughts of her secret love to keep warm.

Someone has other plans.

With the help of three hunky spirits, Vivian takes the most erotic and revealing journey of her life. Their sizzling touches on her skin teach her about the passionate, strong woman she really is inside… and a special someone’s true feelings. ‘Tis the season to make love.

Excerpt #1:

Her lower lip trembled from the lunacy of it all. “What do you want from me?”

His eyes were tender as he held out his hand for her to take.

“All I want is to take away the pain. Come with me.”

She could almost feel her mother’s presence beside her again, encouraging her.

*Go on, honey. Take a chance. Be happy. Live free and open your heart to love.*

Vivian placed a trembling hand in his own, and he gently lifted it to his lips. “You won’t regret this,” he murmured against her shivering skin. She remained silent as he wrapped his arm around her, leading her to the window. “Look outside, Vivian. What do you see?”

Her dark brown eyes darted over the scene below as she licked her dry lips.

“I see other apartment buildings, cars on the busy streets, falling snow.”

The spirit dropped his arm from her shoulders and stepped behind her, his eyes drinking in her beauty. He tenderly stroked her hair as she faced the window. With one hand he brushed away some of her wayward curls, leaning forward to graze his sensual lips against the sensitive nape of her neck.

His breath was warm against her ear, and her eyes fell shut from the sensation.

“Do you know what I see down there? I see people who have purpose in their lives, people who love and are loved in return. I see them racing through the icy wind and snow to get home, back to the warmth of their houses and the company of their loved ones.”

His hands trailed down her sides to cradle her hips, pulling her to him. She could feel him growing hard against her ass, and instinctively she pressed back. He let out a soft grunt, his breathing heavy as he slid his hands beneath her pajama top to cup her breasts. His husky voice seduced her as he resumed speaking.

“I can feel the grief and loneliness that you carry in your breast, Vivian. Such a heavy burden for a woman such as you. I sense that you’ve been burned badly in the past, and as a result you’ve abandoned your dreams and resigned yourself to the life of a hermit. It’s not too late to set things right.”

She reached behind her and traced his powerful thighs with her fingernails, entranced by the cords of muscle that quivered beneath her touch. He gave a wordless murmur of encouragement as his fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of her shirt and slid it off, exposing her breasts to the night’s chill. His calloused hands covered her aching nipples, and she whimpered in pleasure.

Vivian leaned forward and rested her forehead against the frosty glass as her earlier apprehension was replaced by lust for her visitor. Her breath came in pants, fogging the glass even further. With a great deal of effort, she managed to speak.

“I…I don’t usually do this with men I don’t know…”

His laughter was deep and rich as he gently pushed down her pajama bottoms and motioned for her to step out of them. She wore only a pair of lacy panties, but she wasn’t cold. On the contrary, she was downright hot.

The spirit embraced her from behind, his chest flush against her back as he cupped her mound through the thin barrier of lace. “If you must attach a name to me, call me Tobias. That was my name in life.”

She turned her head to the side, her eyes filled with wonder as she regarded her ghostly lover.

“What are your plans for me, Tobias?”

His soulful green eyes flashed in the darkness, his lips close to hers.

“I’ll show you, if you’ll allow me.”

Excerpt #2:

The last message began to play, and the sound of her recorded voice
filled the room. She had forgotten that she called earlier that evening.

“Hi, Caleb. This is Vivian. I was just calling to wish you a Merry
Christmas. So, um, Merry Christmas. Maybe I’ll see you around
sometime. Bye.”

She winced at how she’d sounded, glancing to see Caleb’s reaction.
He stood beside her, staring at the machine as it clicked off. His tawny
eyes softened, and he played the message again as he removed his belt
and unsnapped his jeans.

Behind her, Chris leaned forward and whispered in her ear. She
could feel his erection throbbing against her ass. She imagined his
wicked smile. “Now the fun begins, baby.”

Vivian’s mouth fell open as a half-naked Caleb strode into what
must have been his bedroom. She turned to Chris, who was watching her
with raw lust in his gaze. She felt warm all over from the lethal
combination of his look and the fact that her man was undressing just a
few feet away. And then it dawned on her that she was alone in the
apartment with not one, but two gorgeous men. Oh, the possibilities!

Her answering smile was positively feral. She trailed a hand down
his body and firmly gripped his cock, giving it a few pumps before
releasing it to walk toward the bedroom. “Shall we?”

Bio:

Marty Rayne lives in Florida, enjoying her time as a stay at home mom of twin boys. She is a licensed massage therapist on sabbatical and taking time to learn Sa Bok Do Karate with her children. Between her jobs as wife, mom, grandmother – yes, her older children have already made her a grandmother- and social planner for her family, Marty writes hot, erotic fiction. She likes variety, so she plays in a multitude of genres including fantasy, gay, BDSM, paranormal, and fun contemporary, along with a few ménage trios here and there. There’s no limit to her imagination.

You can find out about Marty and her books at her website: http://www.martyrayne.com/.

Testing Passion excerpts:

http://www.king-cart.com/Phaze/product=Testing+Passion+by+Marty+Rayne

#1- (explicit)

She flicked the whip a couple more times getting the feel of it before finally turning to her guinea pig. She’d thought her actions would finally receive the fearful reaction she was expecting, but when she looked at Damien, her pulse quickened and her panties got a fresh douse of wetness.

Instead of fear, Janet witnessed raw lust burning in his chocolate brown eyes. She never knew eyes could shine so bright that they almost glowed. It was more than his eyes telling her he was excited. Damien was rock hard, his cock standing straight out like a diving board ready to be used. She used the tips of the whip and dragged them across the stiff flesh. His body flinched and a deep growl sounded from his throat.

An unaccustomed feeling of power swarmed over her. She’d not even touched him and already he was excited and ready. Had she ever had this kind of power over a man? Thinking back to the few lovers she’d had, the answer was no. Like Alan, the others hadn’t allowed her the freedom Damien was insisting upon. They hadn’t allowed her complete control and trust. None had looked at her with such fierce hunger. It made her pause.

“I trust you.” The words were spoken so soft she barely heard them over the loud pounding of her heart, but they were enough to spur her into action. He trusted her not to hurt him. Not to let things go too far. They had their safe word. She wasn’t sure she could have that much trust in him if the roles were reversed.

Janet moved so that she stood behind him again, but this time a little to his left. He did not turn his head to watch, merely stared ahead…waiting. She looked at the scrumptious flesh before her and wondered if she could really hit him. Could she slash the leather lashes across the smooth unmarred ass and watch it turn pink?

She wanted to. The urge to watch his body jerk as the leather touched him was strong. That strange feminine power rose inside of her, demanding to show her dominance over this man who could physically overcome her with ease. She had gifts. Gifts born to all females like seduction and feminine wiles.

Raising the hand that held the whip, she swung and let the lashes fall. His body jumped in surprise and let out a quick gasp. Immediately she let another swing fall on his other ass cheek.

“Are they too soft now?” she asked in a trembling voice. She didn’t know if it was from the excitement of having him at her mercy or the sight of his ass muscles contracting in recovery.

“More.” She barely heard him. He cleared his throat and spoke louder, his voice shaky. “I can’t tell yet.”

#2 -

Sitting on the couch she sliced open the tape. Damien came and sat next to her. His jean-clad leg touched her cotton covered one and she swore his heat soaked through to her skin. Turning her focus to the box, she reached out, opening the lid.

“Hmmm. Interesting,” she commented as she began pulling the contents out.

The first item was a twenty-inch whip with many lashes on one end. It looked similar to a cat-o-nine tails whip. The handle was heavier than the other two she’d previously been sent. It was wrapped in leather and it felt good in her hand. Comfortable. The multiple strips that flared from the end were also made of the same sturdy leather encasing the handle. Janet put it aside when she realized Damien was watching her with intense scrutiny.

Reaching back in the box, she pulled out the next item. A bottle of lotion. She quickly read the label and out of habit she opened the top and smelled it. Banana. She liked bananas. The label said that when it is rubbed into the skin it warms. When it’s blown upon, it heats up. She’d seen other brands, but had never tried one.

“They had to adjust the formula,” Damien informed her as she set the bottle next to the whip. “Apparently it burned unpleasantly when it should have just heated.”

Janet laughed. “And you trust me to use that on you?”

He smiled. “Only if you are careful where you apply it, until we know that this formula is right.”

She raised a shaped brow at him. “If you are a good boy.” Where had that come from? Was she actually flirting with him? Well, if she was going to have sex with him, might as well have fun.

The next item was a vibrating anal plug. It was clear and Janet could see the small bullet vibrator encased in the silicone. The shape reminded her of one of those new styled baby bottle nipples. It had several curves, the last one being the widest. It had a suction cup base and the box said that it had four different speeds.

“Still want to do this?” She held the strange shaped plug up for Damien to see.

“I’m not that easy to scare off,” he said with a chuckle.

Putting the plug aside with the others, she took out the next box. The cover advertised an easy and safe way to hogtie your partner. She took out the two straps that formed an X and felt the cool, thick nylon in her fingers. At each end were cuffs made of leather. The two that were smaller were meant for the wrists, while the other two were for the ankles. The cuffs had buckles that were locked in place with small padlocks.

Janet shook her head. Alan would never have agreed to help her with these things. He hadn’t been too keen on the idea of bondage and refused to help her with anything that had to do with being bound and a state of helpless. Sometimes she asked her best friend Carol to come and help her out. Carol, too, was hesitant when it came to bondage, but she allowed Janet to use some of the products, both women clothed of course, and she gave honest opinions about it. Then they would switch positions. However, doing it that way lacked excitement Janet knew these toys could evoke.

Janet found the sensation of being bound exhilarating. As she held the contraption, she briefly wondered what it would feel like being the one in charge. The one watching another bound in such a way that he was vulnerable to all she did.

“Still not scared?”

Damien shook his head. He said nothing, only continued watching her closely.

Janet took the last two small boxes out. They were condoms. One box stated they were supposed to glow in the dark. The other was mint scented. She started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he asked looking confused.

Janet looked at Damien and tried to figure out how to explain what had made her laugh. “I guess I’m just trying to figure out if I’d rather see a glowing dick coming at me or have the scent of mint left on me.”

Until recently, award-winning romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she’s missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation—the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it’s comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs, and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now—writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation.

MIL-7: Knight Dreams

(c)2007 Delilah Devlin, All Rights Reserved

“’Bout time you come home, husband.”

Quentin Albermarle steeled himself against the sudden thrill that quickened his heartbeat and heated his sex. He couldn’t see her yet, but the scent of honeysuckle and mint strengthened. “Don’t call me that, witch!” he spit out.

“Husband,” she enunciated slowly, closer this time. “Husss-band,” she whispered now into his ear.

He forced himself not to flinch away, but already her scents wafted, thinned. He relaxed as she moved silently away. Although his night vision was keen, he couldn’t see her yet and knew she’d used glamour to tantalize and tease him. “We never married,” he said keeping his tone flat, emotionless.

“You called me wife.”

“You played with my affections–tricked me into loving you.”

“So angry still,” she said in her throaty, lilting tones. “So scared.” At last she circled to stand in front of him.

She was as lovely as the night he’d finally broken free of her spell. Nearly his height, her eyes rose only slightly to meet his steady glare. A deep, bottomless brown, her wide-set gaze stared back, unblinking.

Quentin knew her tricks and drew himself back, shifting his glance to look beyond her shoulders, sweeping the shadows of the tiled patio to see whether they were alone.

“All alone, we are,” she said, lifting her hand to trail a long finger along the crest of his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to ask me, hussss-band?”

Quentin drew a deep breath, slowly, trying not to let her see how important his request was to him. A foolish wish, naturally. The witch “saw” everything. Had likely scried his arrival on the island in a bowl of blood-kissed water. “I need your help.”

Her gaze swept sideways and her lips curved in a close-lipped, feline smile. “You know what I will demand, husss-band.”

Knowing the cost might be more than he could bear, Quentin bit out, “What do you want?”

She turned, looking back at him over the shoulder bared by her loose, silk caftan. “Three times…you must bring me satisfaction. You must make me scream with want of you. Then, and only then, will I…consider…helping you save your other woman. The one who lies asleep. The one you fear will waken snarling over your betrayal.”

Quentin closed his eyes briefly. She’s asked the one thing he most feared. Darcy would never forgive him. “Don’t ask me this. I love her.”

“You love her, yet you let them take the one thing she will never forgive you for losing.”

“I couldn’t save it,” he said quickly. Too quickly.

“Perhaps, you did not want to save it. You chose her, over his child.”

“I chose life over inevitable death.”

Her head canted in her odd way, as though listening to whispers. Her gaze narrowed. “Are you so sure the little one is lost?”

“He was pierced by a wolf’s fangs. He’s as good as dead.”

“And yet, you stand here, asking me to save her–when she too, was savaged by a wolf.”

Quentin ground his jaws together, so fierce was his desire to do something–anything–to save her. “She’s strong. So are your powers. It’s the only reason I’m standing here now.”

“You want a chance,” she said softly, moving again, pausing in the shadows beside a potted hyacinth to stroke its petals. “Maybe I can give it to you.” When her gaze sliced back, her eyes glittered, her mouth formed a rigid line. “But first, you must please me. Do you remember how to do that, lover?”

Oh, he remembered. She’d enslaved him, taught him exactly how to ease the ache that accompanied a ravenous appetite for sex. Too many times, she’d left him drunk on the flavours of her arousal. He’d feasted on her feminine flesh countless times–still dreamed of it in his nightmares.

He’d been young, reckless…stupid. Led by his cock and his thirst for adventure.

She’d been elusive, mysterious. Appearing at the edge of Lewis’s estate gardens, then disappearing with the next blink of his eyes, fascinating him with fleeting glimpses of her long, taut body and lovely face.

He’d dreamed of her before they’d actually met. Made love to her in a dream world where every fantasy he’d ever conceived, and many more he’d never thought of, came true under her tutelage.

God, he remembered her taste, the feel of her satiny, oiled skin, the scent of honeysuckle, mint and her womanly musk. “Stop it!”

Her laughter was low and sultry. She stepped fully from the shadows into the moonlight and drew her shift over her head, dropping it to the patio floor.

Naked, her body was everything he’d remembered. Honed, powerful muscle. Sleek curves. Full, luscious breasts, tipped with dark brown nipples, slightly oval. The stems were tight and long as though a lover had already plucked them.

Below, there was one change. Her pussy was waxed, the brown folds plump and glistening.

She trailed a finger between her nether lips and brought it to her mouth, licking it clean like a cat. “Yes, I knew you’d come. I’ve waited. Longed for this. Now, you will taste my devotion, my lust for you.”

Quentin’s whole body tightened in rejection. “Don’t ask this,” he ground out.

“Because she won’t forgive you?”

“Because I won’t ever forgive you if you demand this.”

Her hand speared the air, her fingers fluttering in a beckoning motion that tugged his cock into full erection.

So quickly, he hissed between his clenched teeth.

“You think you have a choice?”

His heartbeats growing leaden inside his chest, he knew he didn’t. His resistance would be overcome, whether by her magick or by his need. To fight her now would only anger her.

And he had to please her. Make her come three times…screaming. He knew how to draw her arousal so tight her whole body would bend in a fierce arch, her fingernails would rake his skin, her pussy would clench around his cock so tight he’d give up his seed, helpless to resist.

This was how it had always been between them.

Fierce. Fucking like animals. Once, long ago, he’d thought he found his soul mate in a dark-skinned woman. Instead he’d surrendered his soul to a demon.

(For more of Knight Dreams please join Delilah’s Newsletter )

Seduced by Darkness
Coming March 2008 from Avon RED
(c) Delilah Devlin, All Rights Reserved

For nearly 800 years, Revenant Nicolas Mountfaucon has dedicated his life to ensuring an immortal monster never walks free. When a terrible storm unleashes the beast, Nicolas’ past rises to haunt him, taunting him with the memory of the death of his bride and the loss of his brother at the hands of the ancient demon known as “The Devourer.” Nicolas turns to the only person who can provide him solace, Born vampire Chessa Tomas, sure she will join the hunt for the evil creature.Only Chessa wants nothing to do with hunting the “Big Bad”—he’s Nic’s and the Ardeal coven’s problem, not hers. She shed her responsibilities as a Born, refusing her seat on the council because she doesn’t trust their leader. She holds their ancient matriarch responsible for the death of her husband and child years ago. However, Nic isn’t easily dismissed—he appeals to the secret side her nature that needs to be dominated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fresh from her shower, Chessa heard the heavy knock and glanced at her clock on the bedside stand. Still an hour before she had to be at work.

Not the super. She’d paid her rent. Besides, he’d fled with the rest of the building’s inhabitants when the Mayor ordered evacuation.

And not her partner seeing whether she wanted to get a cup of coffee before reporting to duty. Her partner wasn’t coming today.

Or ever again.

Curious, she threaded through piles of discarded clothing to her front door and peered through the peephole into a hallway lit only by grayish, pre-dusk light from the landing window. The power had gone out sometime during the night. Just one more annoyance on top of the last hellish twenty-four hours.

A familiar man stood on her threshold. Broad shoulders, long dark hair—her body clenched. “Nic?” What was he doing in the city again so soon? How the hell had he gotten in? She’d heard most of the roads around the city were closed due to flooding.

“Chessa, open the door.”

Something in his voice had her gripping the doorknob tight. Her chest tightened. She didn’t want to know what brought him here.

“Please,” he said, weariness and raw, aching need flavoring the rich timbre of his voice.

Although they’d sated their appetite for sex a few hours ago, Chessa’s body softened instantly, heat tightening her womb. She hated the way her body betrayed her.

They’d said their farewells, she reminded herself. “We had a deal, Nic. You stick to your turf—I’ll stick to mine.”

“Chessa, open the goddamn door.”

The “or else” he left unspoken in his lightly accented voice. She got the message and turned the knob, stepping aside to let him in as she wrapped her towel tightly around her body.

A quick, sweeping glance told her there was trouble. Big, fat vampire trouble. Nicolas looked a mess.

His long black-brown hair hung in damp, curling tendrils around his lean face. His exposed skin was grimy-looking, and he smelled of sewage and sour swamp water.

His hands reached for her.

Without time to sidestep, she found herself smashed against his chest, his strong hands clutching her close.

She leaned back in the circle of his arms and stared into his face. What she saw troubled her. His jaw was clenched tight, and his face was unnaturally pale—even by a vampire’s standards. “What’s happened?”

His throat tightened, but he shook his head and lowered it.

Only she’d just had a shower, and he stunk to high heaven. Besides, she needed space to calm the riot of feelings he aroused. Ones she was still uncomfortable acknowledging even existed. She pressed her palms against his chest to halt him.

She loved Rene. Although he’d chosen to enter a mage’s sanctuary with another Born vampire, Chessa wasn’t over him yet.

Her feelings for Nicolas were strictly carnal—and she needed to get her libido back under control. Unbridled passion had been unleashed by proximity to Natalie Lambert’s coming into season, as only a transforming Born could inspire. That arousal had spilled over onto Chessa and Nicolas—it was the only explanation Chessa would allow for the strength of the desire that even now made her body yearn toward his.

Nicolas’s chest heaved, and his eyes narrowed to feral slits. “Don’t deny me. Not now.”

She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

“Then we’ll shower,” he said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

As always, his first terse words had her melting. “Tell me why you’re here,” she said, searching for a way to put him off while she shored up her fading resistance.

Another shake of his head, this time sharp and violent. “Later,” he ground out.

Then she noted the wildness in his eyes. Something had rattled his cage. Nicolas was never anything but completely in control. Chessa felt the last bit of solid ground crumble beneath her. “All right,” she said softly and held up a hand to ward off a kiss. “But shower first.” He’d have to let her go to follow her.

However, Nicolas wasn’t giving her the space she needed to regroup. He grabbed the top of her towel and ripped it away, then slammed his mouth on hers, backing her toward the bedroom.

Chessa’s bare feet skidded on her wood floor as she dug in her heels, but he swept her along, through her bedroom into the bathroom, all the while punishing her lips with a brutal kiss.

When the edge of the tub brought them up short, he reached behind her and yanked aside the shower curtain. “Turn it on.”

Dumbly, she reached behind her, fumbling to turn the knob, finally sending a spray of water that misted around them before he lifted her above the rim of her tub to set her inside.

Nicolas tore at his clothes, dropping them at his feet, then stepped beside her in the stall, crowding her against the cool tile walls. “Any more objections?” he asked, in his oddly rasping voice.

She shook her head, overwhelmed and mute with rising desire. Her body already strained toward his. Her breasts swelled, her nipples ruching tight and hard. Her legs trembled, and her sex released a trickle of fragrant moisture she couldn’t deny.

His hands reached around her and grasped her bottom, lifting her off her feet, crushing her breasts to his chest, her mons against his the base of his rigid cock.

With his erection pressing into her belly, any objection was obliterated. She flung out her arms and gripped his shoulders, aiding him as he angled her body toward his and thrust his cock between her legs.

Chessa groaned as he slid inside her. “Bastard, we had a deal.”

His response was a flex of his hips to thrust hard inside her, tunneling deep, pressing higher until the strength of his hips and cock had her feet dangling above the porcelain bottom of the tub.

When he’d reached inside her as far as he could, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing away her breath and laid his cheek alongside hers, his chest heaving.

She shivered from arousal so strong it nearly choked her and from fear of whatever had shaken Nicolas to his core. She’d never seen him like this. “What is it? What’s happened?”

His head drew away, and his gaze burned as it slid to her lips. “Later,” he groaned.

Again, the wildness in his gaze and the tension that gripped his broad shoulders and arms as he held her unsettled her. This wasn’t Nicolas with his sardonic quips and ever-watchful gaze. Accustomed of late to him showing up at unexpected times to tempt her, this was different.

He was frightened.

Although tempted to argue, to chide him and try to drive him away, she wound her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and pulled him close, dragging his head down to bury against her shoulder.

If she were honest with herself, she was glad he’d come.

Not that she was ready to be anybody’s rock. She had problems of her own. A life to sort out. One far away from the vampire enclave at Ardeal.

Nicolas was entrenched in that life, but she had broken free decades ago and vowed she’d never go back. Whatever was bothering him now wasn’t her problem.

But she could hold him and let his warmth and strength provide her comfort as well. She had her own needs and a desolate loneliness that had filled her when she’d shut her apartment door hours earlier and realized the only friend she had in the world was lost to her forever.

“Stop thinking,” he growled.

“Just fuck me,” she bit out, meeting his hard gaze with a glare of her own.

Their hips churned against each other in a desperate coupling. Not at all the sexy, teasing pummeling she’d come to expect—that in itself was an indication of his upset. His movements lacked finesse. He gave no thought for her pleasure, which he was always so careful to draw out—torturing her with her own desire.

Instead, his hands gripped her ass hard, pushing her up and down his cock, grinding her back against the cool tiles as he powered into her.

When he came, his eyes squeezed tight, his body grew rigid, and he held his breath for one endless moment. After his pulsing release waned, he dropped his forehead against the tiles. “Get out.”

Surprised at the harshness of his voice, she didn’t question him, just unwound her legs from his waist and slid down his body. She stepped out of the tub to dry herself with a towel while he remained inside, drawing the curtain closed behind him.

She couldn’t think of a thing to say. Despite the steamy air inside the room, she shivered.

Damn. It sure as hell felt like she cared about the fact he’d tossed her out of her own shower.