Posts Tagged ‘Guest Blogging’

Cougar Challenge Week: Samantha Kane

Hi! My name is Monica Allen and I’d like to thank Selena for letting me guest blog today. **waving at Selena**

Your browser may not support display of this image. Today I’m interviewing Samantha Kane. Sam writes erotic romance for Ellora’s Cave. She’s got an historical series called Brothers In Arms, about veterans of the Peninsular War, as well as a WWII and a science fiction romance. But what I really want to talk to her about is her new contemporary story, Play It Again, Sam, part of the new multi-author series Cougar Challenge. You see, that book is about ME. Yep, that’s right. It’s about my very own personal cougar romance.

Let’s start at the beginning, which was RomantiCon, Ellora’s Cave’s recent convention. I met a group of ladies there, standing at the bar ogling the gorgeous EC cover models, and we bonded. And one of the things we bonded over was our love of younger men. Let’s face it, they’re sexy as hell, have stamina out the ying yang, and are just plain fun to look at. Especially without their clothes. (See examples below.)

Together we started a blog called Tempt The Cougar. I know, isn’t that a great name? And we like to post eye candy and lament the lack of younger men, and romance in Your browser may not support display of this image. general, in our lives. Well, we used to do that. Until I challenged all of my friends, myself included, to go out there and find a younger man to fulfill our fantasies. Having issued the challenge, I felt it was my duty to get the ball rolling. So with a vague, and in hindsight not very good plan, I set out to find a younger man. Not the man of my dreams, just a likely prospect for some incredibly hot sex. Guess what? I found that and more!! LOL

So I posted about my adventures at Tempt The Cougar and the very next day I heard from none other than Samantha Kane. Wanting to know if she could write my story. Was she kidding?! Needless to say I jumped on that idea. Not just because the whole story is funny, and extremely sexy, but because I wanted other women my age, (I’m 38 by the way), to know that there is life after divorce, or at 40 (I’m close enough to count.)

Your browser may not support display of this image. Sam:  Um, hello? I thought this was supposed to be an interview about me.

Monica: Well, I had to give them some background, didn’t I? They have no flipping clue who I am, after all.

Sam: Okaaayyy. So, first question?

Monica:   How old are you?

Sam:  What? **thunks head on desk** I have that posted right on my website, you know. I’m forty-two.

Monica:  Oh, man. What was that like, the dreaded 4-0?

Sam:  No biggee. Seriously. I was like, so what, I’m forty. Big deal. I didn’t feel any Your browser may not support display of this image. different than I did at 39. But then I hit forty-one. And suddenly I was IN MY FORTIES. That was the tough one.

Monica:  So that’s when you became obsessed with younger men?

Sam:  I what? Wait a minute! You’re the one with a younger boyfriend, not me. My husband of thirteen years is 10 months older than I am. Not that I don’t find some younger men attractive, but I’ve always been a sucker for weathered and experienced. I’ll still take Bruce Willis and Jimmy Buffett over any younger man out there.

Monica:  Wow. You don’t get out much, do you?

Sam:  Excuse me?

Monica:  I mean, as soon as I walked into that bar and saw Sam I felt like I’d been hit smack right between the eyes by a wall of gorgeous. Hot, blond, young, built, with a world-class ass. You don’t see that on your average geezer.

Sam:  You are so incredibly shallow I’m embarrassed for you.

Monica:  Right back at ya. But seriously, I was tongue-tied. And then he introduced himself and we talked for hours and I realized he was more than just an incredibly hot guy. He has the total package, you know? Funny, sweet, good-looking, smart, and holy mackerel is he a master of the bedroom arts. Whew!

Sam:  You are completely unfamiliar with the notion of TMI, aren’t you?

Monica:  You know, Sam, for an erotic romance writer you’re pretty white bread. Tell us about that.

Sam:  Well, I grew up in the mid-west, the youngest of four kids. I had your typical, fairytale, white bread, wholesome upbringing. My parents are still wringing their hands over what went wrong. 😉  I was always breaking tradition and ignoring boundaries, and when I began writing romance I naturally gravitated toward erotic romance. But you’re right. I am a little bit conservative for an erotic romance writer. Which may sound kind of funny, since I’ve written mostly ménage up to this point.

Monica:  Um, Sam, in case you’ve forgotten, my story is a ménage, too.

Your browser may not support display of this image. Sam:  Well, yes it is Monica. Although, Sam and Josh do not have a physical relationship, which makes your story slightly different from my Brothers In Arms, for instance, which is m/m/f. Sam and Josh were hotter than the sidewalk in July when they took you to bed and fulfilled your fantasies, however. You are one very lucky woman.

Monica:  And don’t I know it! But it was always Sam for me, from the very start. Josh is an absolute sweetie, and he’s Sam’s best friend, but we never clicked on an emotional level.

Sam:  I hope I got that across in your book, Monica. Did you know that your friends from the blog are going to have their stories published by EC, too? I told some of my writer friends about you guys, and they wanted to tell all your stories.  As a matter of fact, Edie’s story is coming on November 11, and it was written by Lynne Connolly. Other stories will be coming from writers Dalton Diaz, Desiree Holt, Mari Carr, Mari Freeman and Ciana Stone.

Monica:  OMG! That’s fabulous. You know, when we met we were all at different Your browser may not support display of this image. crossroads in our life, although we didn’t know it. The blog and our friendship really helped us all go out and start living again. You know the old cliché, forty isn’t fatal.

Sam:  LOL  No, it isn’t. You know my last child and my first book were both born when I was 39. My forties so far have been the best decade of my adult life. I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

Monica:  What a great way to end the interview!! I hope I didn’t take over. But, to make amends for my blabber mouth, I’m going to decorate this interview with some of my favorite pictures from Sam’s blog and website. (Most of these guys are all younger. I’m just sayin’. She may deny it, but we all know she loves younger men as much as we do.) And an excerpt from her book. I picked a hot one. This is one of my favorite memories. Enjoy!

Monica Allen has always been attracted to younger men. She even married one. But after the divorce, she thought she was through with them for good. Then she meets a group of ladies at RomantiCon, and they form a blog celebrating younger men, Tempt the Cougar.

After another lonely Friday night, Monica challenges her friends to each find a younger man to make their fantasies come true. She doesn’t have to marry him—been there, done that, threw away the t-shirt. But for a night of hot sex? Hell yes.

But Sam Lincoln refuses to be just a fantasy. He’s a graduate student with a yen for older women and he may have just found the one to make his own fantasies come true. With a little help from his roommate Josh, Sam fulfills Monica’s deepest desires. Can he convince this sexy cougar to give him a chance at happily ever after?

It didn’t take long to get undressed. Monica sighed with regret at how little attention was paid to her new black, cougar lingerie in comparison to how much it cost. All Josh and Sam seemed to care about was getting her naked. Okay, maybe that wasn’t so bad. As Sam crawled toward her on the bed with a determined glint in his eye, she was actually sure that was pretty darn good.

“Mine,” Sam said in a voice that defied anyone to argue with him. Monica gulped. She had absolutely no intention of arguing. She was so his. So totally, absolutely, embarrassingly his that she was a little worried. This was all for fun, right? She shook off her unease. It was part of the game. She was into what they were playing. She’d had no idea at the bar that Sam would be like this. That he’d be so dominant when it came to sex. Or that Josh apparently had a submissive streak.

She smiled at Sam like a cat at the canary. “Yours,” she said, adding slyly, “first.”

“Yes,” Josh murmured triumphantly from his corner of the bed. He smiled back at Monica.

Sam watched the exchange. Without saying a word he reached out and pressed his hand against her cunt, one finger gliding through the moisture there. Monica moaned and clutched the sheets as her hips bucked into his touch. Sam just rubbed that finger on her until they could all hear how wet she was. “For me,” he said.

Monica couldn’t deny it. “For you,” she gasped.

Sam’s smile was predatory and made Monica shiver with desire. God, she had no idea she’d like a man like this so much—a take-charge, take-no-prisoners, fuck-you-blind kind of man. She felt her feminist side blush guiltily as her slutty side rolled around in her submission like a cat in catnip.

Sam pushed his finger inside her and Monica met the breach with a thrust of her hips, driving him deeper. Her back arched. “Oh, that feels so good,” she purred. “It’s been so long since I’ve had something that doesn’t run on batteries in there.”

Josh laughed and moved closer to them as Sam lay down next her, draping his leg over one of hers, preventing her from spreading her legs wider. “Keep them close,” he whispered. “It makes you tighter.”

She clenched on his finger inside her. “Mmm,” he murmured nuzzling from her ear to her mouth. “Yeah, Blue Eyes, just like that.”

He kissed her then. It was a good thing, because she’d been about to demand that he kiss her. All right, she admitted to herself, beg him. She’d been about to beg him to kiss her. And it was worth begging for. He ate at her mouth as if it were a delicacy. She’d never had anyone kiss her like that, as if her taste, texture, everything was the most delectable thing they’d ever had. She just about melted into the bed when he tenderly licked the corners of her mouth. It was crazy, but for some reason it made her weak and wild at the same time. As if he knew how much she liked it, he did it again.

And that was it. That was why she liked this game so much. Because it was all about her. All about what she wanted, what she liked, what she needed. Sam was attuned to every nuance of her reactions, somehow anticipating what she’d need before she even realized it. He hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d said that watching her live out her fantasies was his fantasy, not if his actions were to be believed. She could tell he liked ordering them around. But so far all that he’d asked had been for her pleasure. Oh, yes, she liked this game a lot.

He was fucking her so deliciously with that finger. She fucked it back, fucked him back, the anticipation of fucking his cock burning her up inside. Suddenly she felt fuller, a pinch of stretch and it burned a little. She broke the kiss on an indrawn breath, one knee pulling up as the other remained trapped under Sam’s leg.

Sam’s fingers stopped moving in her and he just lay there pressing them inside. He’d added another, that was what she’d felt. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his mouth still so close to hers she felt the words on her lips.

She nodded. “I…it just surprised me a bit.”

He began to move his fingers again. It felt good again, the burn gone. “You’re tight, sweet thing. How long has it been?”

She bit her lip as he thrust a little harder, a little deeper.

“Answer me.” His voice had gone all deep and sharp again. She shivered, anticipation and arousal building.

“Over a year. Since before he left.” She hated to admit that. Hated to admit that no one had wanted to fuck her for over a year.

“He was a moron.” That was Josh.

Monica huffed out a laugh. “His new wife doesn’t think so.” She turned to look at Josh and smiled. “But you’re right. He is a moron. Because he never, ever made me feel like this.”

“That’s all I want,” Sam growled into her neck, “to make you feel like this. Better than this.” His fingers drove into her again and she moaned as her back arched again. “Good?” he rasped in her ear.

“So good,” she said in a voice that sounded suspiciously like she might cry. But only because it felt so good. So amazing.

“Don’t ever waste your time on morons, again, Monica,” Josh told her, leaning down and kissing her shoulder. “Not when we can make you feel so good.”

playitagainsam_msrOut Now at Ellora’s Cave!

Urban Fantasy Week: Jennifer Rardin

Urban Fantasy Week

What a great idea this is!? With vamps, weres, and zombies flying around the Internet like viral videos, I wish we could all dress up like our favorite monsters and drink bubbling hot chocolate out of honest-to-goodness cauldrons while we do this deal.? Hang on, lemme get my fangs?

And no, that?s not the reason some form of the word ?bite? appears in every title of the books in the Jaz Parks series.? Nothing fake about the canines on my vampires.? Especially my hero, a nearly three hundred-year-old Rom (that?s the don?t-punch-me word for gypsy) named Vayl, who?s decided the only way he can tolerate his own company in the 21st century is to blend.? Rub shoulders with humans, even work with them day-to-day as if he doesn?t constantly crave their rich, red blood.? How?s he pull it off?

That?s part of what you learn as you move through the series with him and his partner, Jaz.? Yeah, they?ve got a bigger agenda.? As assassins for the CIA?? Huge.

In my latest book,?Bite Marks, the goal is as monumental as ever.? Eliminate the person who wants to destroy NASA?s Australian based eye-to-the-sky?without knowing his or her identity.? Or why the gnomes who?ve orchestrated the whole event don?t recognize the shaman yanking their puppet strings.

I?ll tell you this about Vayl.? If somebody had been jerking him around, he?d have frozen those strings like icicles and turned the marionette master into an ice sculpture.? Because he?s cool like that.? Until he lays his smoldering green eyes on you and then it?s all hot breath and whispered promises from dusk until dawn.? Wanna meet him?? Here?s your chance!

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Another One Bites the Dust

Biting the Bullet

Bitten to Death

One More Bite

Bite Marks?officially releasing October 29, 2009


Jennifer Rardin,
Author of the Jaz Parks Series

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http://reluctantadults.blogspot.com/

Urban Fantasy Week: Shirin Dubbin

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Paranormal Gets Real

Shirin Dubbin 10/17/09

I’m sitting on a flight pondering what makes the paranormal feel real. Which is tough ’cause my whole body itches like the dickens. Wait! Before you run screaming with visions of internet communicable disease allow me to explain. Twenty-four hours ago I stood on a gorgeous Tybee Island beach and bore witness as my good friend married her big ole teddy bear of a honey.

Such a beautiful wedding. Such vicious bugs.

We were swarmed by biting gnats who left my skin scored with dozens of itchy red bumps, in places as varied as my right armpit (strapless dresses) and lower left buttock (and here I thought ‘kiss my ass’ was just a figure of speech.) Things got so bad the writer in me began to envision the bugs were zombies sent to infect the bridal party?[Ow. Swat. Smack. Smile for the camera] by a vengeful undead queen?named?ooh I know, Faye Tality, who was once in love with the Groom. Heh. Can’t you see it?

    [cue melodramatic music] Four bridesmaids sway down the beach in tea length gowns of silk taffeta; though every step is punctuated with stinging they demurely use bouquets and shoulder shrugs to displace the swarm’s vicious attack. White sand stretches before them and the sky is full of cotton candy clouds. The maid-of-honor nods at the guests. A smile plays across her perfectly glossed mouth. The moment would be perfect if she didn’t have gnats up her skirt nibbling on her ‘cookies.’ Oh well, the show must go on.
    The Bride appears, resplendent in a one-shoulder column of handmade lace, the sash at her waist chosen to match her maids. The Groom’s heart stops. Then begins again in a happy rush.
    The make-up artist has painted the Bride’s face in the manner of an Egyptian Queen and she will not break the illusion no matter how many gnats get trapped between the lace and the underskirt of her gown, ?Ow.? Swat. Smile for the camera.
    The Groom extends a hand to his bride. She stops short, a puzzled look on her face. Her lips part. He waits. Entranced.
    ?Uungh,? she says, ?Brainnnzzz.?
    Her eyes glow bright red before she shambles past the Groom, leaps and wraps her entire body around the good Reverend. Pandemonium breaks out as wedding guest go running, pell-mell, down the beach only to be picked off by voracious bridesmaids. The Bride smiles then bites into the Reverend’s head like an apple. The only thing that saves him is the metal plate in his skull–a souvenir from his days at war?

Could you see it? As much as I’d like to take credit and tell you it’s because I’m a great writer. It’s not. It’s because most of that story is true, or because you’ve been there in some capacity. You’ve attended a wedding or have been a bridesmaid. Maybe bugs have attacked you or perhaps birds. Or you’ve been so bored you found yourself hoping a gathering of people would be attacked by zombies (you know, just to spice things up a bit.) Either way you can relate.

It is the marriage of real and fantasy that makes paranormal fiction work. When the author imbues a story with elements the reader can identify with, or has experienced, it makes the fantasy elements all the more real. That’s especially true of Urban Fantasy where metropolitan grit meets fae glamour and I believe it is what makes the sub-genre so popular.

I first realized this after the release of my book, Keeper of the Way. Every time I learn someone has read it I get excited and end up asking what part they liked best. To my surprise most folks chose a scene I’d think least likely to show up on a list of faves. While riding in a limousine my main character, Nia’Mora, is confronted by her parents. She will sooner or later experience The Twinning, her race’s method of choosing a mate, and they want her to face facts. The scene is simple, depicting a woman as she struggles to reconcile her parents’ wishes with her own:

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Excerpt from Keeper of the Way

    ?Nii,? Tul’Leah said in an infamous ‘this is disappointing but I’m sure we can correct it’ Mama tone. ?Why do you persist in wearing those sunglasses both sun and moonrise??

    Nia’Mora sighed and slipped the sunglasses off her face. She couldn’t be angry. It was a reasonable question. Her spring-green eyes found her mother’s lavender ones. ?Mima, I need a little more time. I don’t want to be bound yet. I don’t?I don’t know. I’m just not ready for a bond-mate.?

    Her father, Ramender, harrumphed, the sound so comical Nii and her mother burst out laughing.

    Truth was, she knew exactly why she didn’t want a mate. Only she couldn’t say it out loud. Deep-rooted fear held her back. Fear that once her mate got into her head–knew her more intimately than one could know their own flesh–he would denounce her as the biggest freak ever; refuse to live with her; spin her around and boot her right out the front door. That would destroy her.

    She shuddered. A visceral memory of the male in the dry cleaners suddenly rode her body the way she wished she could ride him. Each of her pleasure points pulsed with need. The precautions she’d taken not to meet his gaze hadn’t spared her receiving psychic impressions of his power and prowess. Closing her eyes, she forced him out of her head in sections. He didn’t go easily. Something in the masculine scent, the sense of comfort, and the need he evoked within her lingered at the periphery of her consciousness, as if some part of him had taken root there. This could get tricky. Hopefully she’d never see him again.

    So what if her fears were irrational? She had been the weird one her entire life–born with the very human ability of foresight. Elves didn’t deal in premonition. As immortals, they believed in the now and relished the lessons of the past. Her sense of humor added to her Aftermath Cleaner skills made popularity possible. Foresight would have nixed it. Not that it ever made her lonely or an outcast. She had loads of friends who loved her to bits, but even those closest had a hard time figuring her out. She was an odd bird. Like a dodo amongst phoenix. Phoenixes? Either way?

    ?Sunray.? Her father’s voice drew her gaze. He looked the part of a Bollywood hero, his raw silk sherwani tunic switching from maroon to blue each time the Jaguar passed beneath a streetlight. The Indian-style suit fit him like a dream.

    Strange, at almost two centuries, her father was considered a youngster among their people. The years didn’t age the Amaranthine. It refined them. Her mother was over six hundred summers but would give any thirty-year-old mortal woman fits.

    ?Sunray, the path you take to avert your destiny will lead you to it,? her father continued. ?Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes. When your bond-mate shows up, those sunshades won’t make a pixie’s shrug of difference.?

Though Nia’Mora is an elf and over 88 years-old many people could identify. One reader, Nicole, said if a kick-ass heroine like Nii dealt with the same day-to-day trails she did maybe she could be a fabulous leading lady too. Very cool.

This revelation stuck with me and I began to notice the everyday life details my favorite authors build into their stories. Allergies, taste in music, candy addictions combined with golem mechanics, boys raised in cemeteries or reformed gangster vampires.

As I finish revisions on my latest book, codenamed Dreams, I’ve kept this in mind. In the excerpt below I worked to give the griffons similar qualities to a family pet, named the bar inside a library after a well-known book (I know but I’m weird), and invoke thunderstorm imagery. It is my hope details like these make my brand of Paranormal Urban Fantasy Romance all more real for you–but you’ll have to let me know.

Stop by and visit me on my web site http://fan-fatale.com/

And if you’d like, and I hope you would, pick up a copy of Keeper of the Way

Amazon (link: http://www.amazon.com/Keeper-Of-The-Way/dp/B002HJV4Y8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1255399635&sr=1-1)

Red Rose Publishing? (link: http://redrosepublishing.com/bookstore/product_info.php?cPath=23_70&products_id=447)

Fictionwise (link:?http://www.fictionwise.com/ebooks/b93868/Keeper-of-the-Way/Shirin-Dubbin/?si=0)

Excerpt from my upcoming WIP, Dreams:

    The end of that thought brought him to stop at the stones steps leading into the big ass library in question. The Libros Arcanum, every library in existence or had ever existed–all and none simultaneously. The pair of griffons standing guard sprang to life and bounded circles around Keoni. Their heads dipped beneath his hands and lifted forcing him to pet them. The Hawaiian patted their feathered heads and furred flanks heartily. One jumped up and laid its front paws on his shoulders.
    ?Easy,? he said grinning at their antics and impatiently swishing tales. He knew what they wanted and materialized the comic books from memory. Flipping one to each, he chuckled as the pair gulped their treats down in single snaps of their beaks?
    Keoni left the griffons behind and took the steps two at a time. Before he reached the top the studded bronze doors swung open in anticipation of his arrival. He stared into the nothingness. Churning clouds of raw Dreaming flickered before him, internally lit by bursts of lightening. You had to know where you were going when dealing with the Libros Arcanum. Otherwise you’d step off the stone entry, drop into unformed imagination and never stop falling.
    ?For Whom the Tale Tolls,? he told the library and it leapt to his request. The clouds became modular and began to fold and flip into new shapes. Its movements reminded Keoni of a grid that decided to become a cube and then, just as suddenly, the interior of a bar.
    With the basic structure of the library’s pub in place the lines softened into the curving backs of chairs and archways. Iridescent building blocks took on wood tones and grain or thinned into glass. The hum of bar patrons rose as they faded into view and solidified.
    ?What’s up big man? You’re late,? Jay said leaning back into one of the square leather couches and throwing his feet up on the matching ottoman.
    Keoni flopped down into the armchair near his reclining friend, ?I’m never late, always right on time.?

Excerpts of Keeper of the Way and Dreams copyright ? 2009 Shirin Dubbin. All Rights Reserved.

Urban Fantasy Week: Cat Marsters

Urban fantasy.? I guess I started getting hooked, as so many others did, with Buffy.? Ah, Buffy.? With your shiny hair and your high kicks and your one-liners and your really, really hot boyfriends (I just typed boyfiends then. Go figure).? It was the boyfriends that did it for me.? Those sizzling encounters, where even a conversation felt like foreplay.? And everything was forbidden, because of course our Buffy had a habit of falling for the very creatures she was supposed to be slaying.

Would it have sizzled so much if Buffy’s beaux had been human?? If she’d been an ordinary high school girl?? If Sunnydale hadn’t been on the Hellmouth?? Of course not.? And while I’ll take David Boreanaz and James Marsters in any guise, I had to say the fangs did add a layer of hotness.

Always seems to come back to vampires, doesn’t it?? My first ever published story was about vampires (She Who Dares, now part of the Sundown Inc. collection from Changeling).? I’ve written about werewolves too?and werecats, and fae, and incubi, and sirens, and elves, and demons, and…where was I?? Oh yeah.? Vampires.? The beginning of everything else.

The thing is that vampires are so seductive, so predatory, so sexual.? Think about it: the metaphors of penetration, of arousal, of submission.? Where does a vampire bite you?? It’s no coincidence that it’s on your neck, your wrist, and if you’re really lucky, your groin.? Pulse points are erogenous zones.? Vampires are powerful, both mentally and physically, they’re beautiful and elegant, and if their lives are so long then just think about their stamina…

But they’re not the only ones.? We love our vampire romances, and the hotter the better.? But what about werewolves?? A slightly different fantasy, this one of a bestial lover.? An animal in bed.? Running wild, howling at the moon.? But still not human.? The same can be said of elves, fae and all the other urban fantasy creatures we love so much.? The elegant, powerful and terrifying creatures of the otherworld.? They’re not like ordinary men (or women).? A romance with them would never be normal, mundane or boring.? Vampires don’t come home tired from work, or nag you to do the laundry, or leave toenail clippings in the bath.

But with urban fantasy you’ve got one important detail.? There might be sirens and vampires and weres, oh my, but they’re in the real world, a world of cars and phones and computers.? The world we live in.? Buffy Summers fought demons and shagged vampires, but she also had to do her homework, pass her exams, get a job, pay the rent.? Just like the rest of us.? She lived in the real world…with vampires.

I guess that’s what I love about urban fantasy.? I know it doesn’t exist…but I can allow myself to believe it could.
Latest release: Sundown Investigations collection

Buy link:?http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1234

Excerpt:?http://www.changelingpress.com/content.php?utype=note&uid=3857

You’ve never seen this side of New York City before…

Faeries and vampires have been at war for centuries, but in Manhattan an East Side Story plays out as renegade vampire Maria and Unseelie seer Ruarc clash in a blaze of passion.

Fifteen years ago in Australia, a young shapeshifter named Daisy lost her heart to an Alpha werewolf. Now Adam is back in her life and uncovering all her secrets, but can she ever accept his love again?

Lucky always thought she had a normal life — well, as normal as can be in the fashion industry. But when an incubus and his evil twin start haunting her dreams in the hottest way, she begins to wonder what’s hidden in her own past.

Kat thought her dancing career was over when she was bitten by a wild cat on safari in Africa. But every full moon her shape changes, and a terrifying shifter is on her trail. She takes solace in the arms of the gorgeous Wolfe, but now that the mating fever is on her, will he be enough to satisfy her, or will she need to take more than one shifter to her bed?

Sundown Investigations, where we take personal care of all your needs.

This collection contains the previously released novellas in the Sundown Investigations series:?East Side Story,?Drive Me Daisy,?Get Lucky, and?Here Kitty Kitty.

Cat’s upcoming release is Empire: Dawn Rising, out Nov 19.

Website:?http://www.catmarsters.com

Blog:?http://www.etaknosnhoj.blogspot.com

Facebook:?http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=521725685#/pages/Kate-JohnsonCat-Marsters/24183756175

Twitter:?http://www.twitter.com/etaknosnhoj

Urban Fantasy Week: Mina Carter

Urban Fantasy. It conjures up all sorts of possibilities and, you know, when I started to write I had no clue I would end up writing it. Of course I had no clue I would end up writing erotic romance either. I was firmly convinced that I was going to write fantasy. Traditional ‘tolkien’ type stuff. Ugh, talk about beating your head against a brick wall. I have half a manuscript still gathering dust that never got anywhere near finished nor will it in it’s current form.

But then, back then pretty much all I read was traditional fantasy. Then wandering around the bookstore I strayed into uncharted areas. You know, the ones marked up ‘here be dragons’ and I found Urban Fantasy. Oh my, was it a revealation! Urban Fantasy led to Paranormal Romance and I was in heaven!

I’d always chafed against fantasy storylines you see, searching out the stories with romances in them and hoarding them like a magpie. I’d play the ‘what if’ game with characters I particuarly liked, matching them up with each other in storylines in my head to make entirely new stories. No, no sidling away there…yes, you at the back, I can see you. There’s a lock on the door, no escape 😉

Where was I? Oh yes…reading fantasy I wanted more. I wanted the strong characters AND I wanted romance. Picky bunny ain’t I? So when I started writing again, that’s what I went for. I’ve been told I write with a dark humour and a particuarly british slant on things. I don’t know about that, I’m just me. I try not to be too sarcastic or swear too much, although my over-riding ambition is to just once get the phrase the ‘dog’s) bollocks’ (http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/dog%27s%20bollocks.html into a story without an editor squeaking at me.

I like strong hero’s and the women strong enough to tame them. My favourite type to write is probably a bad boy just waiting for the right woman and I have a thing about unconventional character types. I’ve written vampires but I’ll always gravitate to those more unused paranormal types, particuarly in my Moonlight & Magic series. Gargoyles like Knuckles (Sunlight & Slavery -?http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1163) who on the outside was rough, gruff and mean but inside he was just a big teddy bear.

Tiny, however, is different. A demon prince on the run he ends up in all sorts of trouble when he meets paranormal bounty hunter Cassia…

***

Tiny scanned the queue waiting to get in and the passersby in the street. A cold night, it seemed all the colder for a demon-born like Tiny. Shuddering, he hunched into the turned-up collar of his thick jacket. His gaze swept the road. A rush of jealousy — sharp and immediate — rose as the vampires circled like sharks waiting for a meal. If any of them wore a coat, it was for effect rather than any need for warmth. They didn’t feel the cold.

“Bastards,” he muttered under his breath and wondered if he could crawl inside his jacket completely. Tiny hated being cold with a passion. But then, for any creature born and bred in the warmth of one of the seven hells, cold was pure torture. The fog put a layer of moisture in the air that coated everything, the dampness penetrating deep into Tiny’s bones. He was never going to be warm again — no doubt a punishment for running away from his duties.

Shivering again, he muttered another curse about the weather as a bunch of vamps having a little t?te-?-t?te on the corner opposite caught his attention. He ignored his discomfort as the little group whispering between themselves didn’t break up as he’d expected. Tiny flicked a glance at Misty, who had calmed down the group she had approached. The line moved quickly now.

Feeling his gaze on her, she lifted her head, silent communication passing between the partners for a second before Tiny turned his attention back to the vamps. Misty would keep an eye on the line and call in backup if needed, whilst he dealt with the circling predators intent on picking off the weakest of the human herd.

He didn’t move for a moment, just leaned against the wall, his eyes sharp and alert. Vamps were predictable creatures most of the time, but occasionally one would get a kick in their gallop and try to make a play for someone in the queue, a decision which ended with them having a little chat in a side alley with Tiny or one of his colleagues. There was a running book on how high they could get vamp blood and snot on the brickwork.

However vamps weren’t normally pack animals and they didn’t hunt together. This little group seemed to have missed that particular memo. Tiny’s eyes narrowed as two of the group sauntered across the road and engaged a trio of young women in conversation. Human women, of course; they wouldn’t bother with any of the paranormals in the line.

The third was slower to approach, piling on the vampire “glamour” as he did. The vampires moved in a slick routine, separating the women, who were easy marks. They herded the last girl toward an alley, the arm of her new “friend” wrapped around her shoulders. The tall demon sighed. Vampire charm was hypnotic and she was getting it full force, her head back against the vamp’s shoulder as he gazed deep into her eyes.

“Great, just what I need tonight. A fucking synchronized vampire feeding squad.” Pushing off from the wall, he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he readied himself for action. There was going to be blood and snot on the walls again. Perhaps with three vamps to play with he’d beat Knuckles’ record…

His lips compressed as yet another vamp moved to follow the others into the alley. What was this, an all you can eat until the meal drops dead buffet? He turned, angling his walk to intercept the new player as his heavy boots crunched over the road. Then he got a good look at the newcomer and his step faltered.

She was gorgeous. She was a vampire, but she was gorgeous.

Tiny’s eyes widened in surprise as his brain tried to reconcile the two words in one sentence, even as his body reacted. She was average height… the perfect height to wrap into his arms, slide his hand into her hair and tilt her lips up…

Tiny snapped out of his reverie, his eyes narrowing as he clamped down on the reaction of his body to a fine piece of female ass and forced himself to study her.

She didn’t seem the “type” to be a vampire was the first thing to hit him after the immediate “I want” reaction. Vampires, especially the ones who hovered around Moonlight & Magic, played up to the stereotype: pale skin, dark hair, dark clothing… Goths with attitude, or Lestat knock-offs.

This one could have been the poster-girl for the wholesome, all-American, girl next door type. Not blonde, but in the light cast by the street lights, he could see her hair wasn’t the midnight black most vamps preferred, either. Instead, it contained a waterfall of autumn colors.

She had a tan, as well — not at all the norm for a vamp. When even a small dose of direct UV turned you into crispy critter, tanning was a high risk option. Fake tan, unless his instincts were fooling him.

Were they? Was she something other than a vampire?

For the first time in a couple of hundred years Tiny found himself holding back. He’d always been a player, watching his back and ready for action of any sort — although in the demon courts the more pleasurable kind always came with a price — but this was the first time he’d doubted his instincts.

Face set, he watched the vamp chick head into the alleyway after the couple and tried to ignore the seductive sway of her hips. He noticed anyway; his body had completely different ideas about the matter, his cock already at half mast in his pants. Damn vampires, messing with a guy’s head. He glared at a couple of humans who cut in front of him, then walked into the alley.

Whatever Tiny had expected from tonight, it wasn’t for the problem to be solved before it became a problem. As he entered the alley, he expected to find the vampires fang-deep in the girl’s throat — or other appendage of choice. He expected to have to deal with them in short order whilst trying not to get the human killed. His hand was already reaching for one of the stakes along his ribcage when the woman’s cool voice drifted on the night air to him.

“Okay, honey-bun, we can do this the easy way or the hard way… No, now that was just unpleasant, wasn’t it? No need for language like that at all, especially in front of a lady… Oh really? How about we don’t and say we did…”

Tiny had barely a second to react as the human was thrust into his arms with a “Here, hold this,” before all hell broke loose.

(Deception & Desire -?http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1239)

***

Most of my men are hard-edged and opinionated but they all have one thing in common, they need the love of a good, strong woman. They need passion and yes, they need romance, even though they’ll argue that they just want lots of hot sex. For me the trick is bringing that out of them and making the sparks fly in a believable way. I agree with the other guest bloggers on the emotional content. It has to be real, it has to be believeable and yes, romantic. For me anyway 🙂

Mina Carter

Website: http://mina-carter.com/

Email: mina@mina-carter.com

Blog: http://sulati.livejournal.com/

Deviant Art: http://raven3071.deviantart.com/

My Space: http://www.myspace.com/corsetsbyraven


Guest Blogging: Cherise Sinclair

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Hi all!? This is a blurb and excerpt from Club Shadowlands, the first in the Masters of the Shadowlands series.?The next?will be out April 7th.

CLUB SHADOWLANDS by Cherise Sinclair (excerpt rated PG-13, book rated hot)

Genre: BDSM Full-figured Heroine ???Length: Novel ??Out now from Loose Id
Blurb —
Her car disabled during a tropical storm, Jessica Randall discovers the isolated house where she’s sheltering is a private bondage club. At first shocked, she soon becomes aroused watching the interactions between the Doms and their subs. But she’s a professional woman–an accountant–and surely isn’t a submissive . . . is she?

Master Z hasn’t been so attracted to a woman in years. But the little sub who has wandered into his club intrigues him. She’s intelligent. Reserved. Conservative. After he discovers her interest in BDSM, he can’t resist tying her up and unleashing the passion she hides within.

Publisher’s Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play/intercourse, strong BDSM theme and content (including/not limited to bondage, caning, restraints, spanking, etc), exhibitionism, voyeurism.

*******************************************************************************************

Excerpt —

Jessica Randall scrambled out of the water-filled ditch, her heart hammering. Frigid rain slashed through the dark night, drenching her face and clothing. Gasping for breath, she knelt in the mud, surprised to have made it to the bank in one piece. She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered. Alligators loved to hang out in Florida ditches. A few moments more and she could have been… She stifled the thought with a shudder.

Hands shaking, she scrubbed the water off her face and pushed to her feet.

As her fear diminished, she peered through the darkness and could barely see her car. Poor little Taurus, nose down with water roiling around the hood.

“I’ll be back for you. Don’t worry,” she promised, feeling like she was abandoning her baby.

Once on the narrow country road, she pushed her tangled hair out of her face and looked each way. Darkness and darkness. Dammit, why couldn’t she have an accident right in someone’s front yard? But no, the nearest house was probably the one she’d passed about a mile back. She headed that way, stopping to glare at the pool of water where her car had aquaplaned right off the road. The armadillo, of course, was long gone. At least she hadn’t hit it.

Head lowered, she trudged down the blacktop toward the house, getting wetter and wetter. Hopefully she wouldn’t trip on something in the darkness. Breaking her leg would be the final straw in a day that had been a disaster from start to finish.

Number one mistake: meeting at a halfway point for their first date when the man lived miles and miles outside of Tampa.

He sure hadn’t been worth the trip. She’d have found more excitement auditing business accounts. Then again, he hadn’t appeared all that impressed with her either. She grimaced. She’d recognized the look in his eyes, the one that said he really wanted tall and slim, an Angelina Jolie type woman, no matter that her posted picture portrayed her quite accurately: a pint-size Marilyn Monroe.

So far, she’d have to say finding a guy through the Internet rated right up there with back-country shortcuts, her second mistake of the day.

Aunt Eunice always swore things happened in threes. So would braking for an armadillo be considered her third mistake, or was there another disaster lurking in her near future?

She shivered as the wind howled through the palmettos and plastered her drenched clothing against her chilled body. Couldn’t stop now. Doggedly, she set one foot in front of the other, her waterlogged shoes squishing with every step.

An eternity later, she spotted a glimmer of light. Relief rushed through her when she reached a driveway studded with hanging lights. Surely whoever lived here would let her wait out the storm. She walked through the ornate iron gates, up the palm-lined drive past landscaped lawns, until finally she reached a three-story stone mansion. Black wrought iron lanterns illumined the entry.

“Nice place,” she muttered. And a little intimidating. She glanced down at herself to check the damage. Mud and rain streaked her tailored slacks and white button-down shirt, hardly a suitable image for a conservative accountant. She looked more like something even a cat would refuse to drag in.

Shivering hard, she brushed at the dirt and grimaced as it only streaked worse. She stared up at the huge oak doors guarding the entrance. A small doorbell in the shape of a dragon glowed on the side panel, and she pushed it.

Seconds later, the doors opened. A man, oversized and ugly as a battle-scarred Rottweiler, looked down at her. “I’m sorry, miss, you’re too late. The doors are locked.”

What the heck did that mean?

“P-please,” she said, stuttering with the cold. “My car’s in a ditch, and I’m soaked, and I need a place to dry out and call for help.” But did she really want to go inside with this scary-looking guy? Then she shivered so hard her teeth clattered together, and her mind was made up. “Can I come in? Please?”

He scowled at her, his big-boned face brutish in the yellow entry light. “I’ll have to ask Master Z. Wait here.” And the bastard shut the door, leaving her in the cold and dark.

Jessica wrapped her arms around herself, standing miserably, and finally the door opened again. Again the brute. “Okay, come on in.”

Relief brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, oh, thank you.” Stepping around him before he could change his mind, she barreled into a small entry room and slammed into a solid body. “Oomph,” she huffed.

Firm hands gripped her shoulders. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and looked up. And up. The guy was big, a good six feet, his shoulders wide enough to block the room beyond.

He chuckled, his hands gentling their grasp on her arms. “She’s freezing, Ben. Molly left some clothing in the blue room; send one of the subs.”

“Okay, boss.” The brute??? Ben??? disappeared.

“What is your name?” Her new host’s voice was deep, dark as the night outside.

“Jessica.” She stepped back from his grip to get a better look at her savior. Smooth black hair, silvering at the temples, just touching his collar. Dark gray eyes with laugh lines at the corners. A lean, hard face with the shadow of a beard adding a hint of roughness. He wore tailored black slacks and a black silk shirt that outlined hard muscles underneath. If Ben was a Rottweiler, this guy was a jaguar, sleek and deadly.

“I’m sorry to have bothered???” she started.

Ben reappeared with a handful of golden clothing that he thrust at her. “Here you go.”

She took the garments, holding them out to keep from getting the fabric wet. “Thank you.”

A faint smile creased the manager’s cheek. “Your gratitude is premature, I fear. This is a private club.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Now what was she going to do?

“You have two choices. You may sit out here in the entryway with Ben until the storm passes. The forecast stated the winds and rain would die down around six or so in the morning, and you won’t get a tow truck out on these country roads until then. Or you may sign papers and join the party for the night.”

She looked around. The entry was a tiny room with a desk and one chair. Not heated. Ben gave her a dour look.

Sign something? She frowned. Then again, in this lawsuit-happy world, every place made a person sign releases, even to visit a fitness center. So she could sit here all night. Or…be with happy people and be warm. No-brainer. “I’d love to join the party.”

“So impetuous,” the manager murmured. “Ben, give her the paperwork. Once she signs??? or not??? she may use the dressing room to dry off and change.”

“Yes, sir.” Ben rummaged in a file box on the desk, pulled out some papers.

The manager tilted his head at Jessica. “I will see you later then.”

Ben shoved three pages of papers at her and a pen. “Read the rules. Sign at the bottom.” He scowled at her. “I’ll get you a towel.”

She started reading. Rules of the Shadowlands.

“Shadowlands. That’s an unusual na???” she said, looking up. Both men had disappeared. Huh. She returned to reading, trying to focus her eyes. Such tiny print. Still, she never signed anything without reading it.

Doors will open at

Water pooled around her feet. Her teeth chattered so hard she had to clench her jaw. There was a dress code. Something about cleaning the equipment after use. Halfway down the second page, her eyes started blurring. Damn it all. This was just a club, after all; it wasn’t like she was signing mortgage papers.

Turning to the last page, she scrawled her name.

When Ben returned, he checked the papers for her signature, handed her a towel, and showed her into an opulent restroom off the entry. Glass-doored stalls along one side faced a mirrored wall with sinks and counters.

She glanced in the mirror and winced: short, pudgy woman, straggly blonde hair, pale complexion now blue with cold. Surprising that they’d even let her in the door. Dropping the borrowed clothing on the marble counter, she kicked her shoes off and tried to unbutton her shirt. Her hands were numb, shaking uncontrollably, and time after time, the buttons slipped from her stiff fingers. She couldn’t even get her slacks off, and she was shuddering so hard her bones hurt.

“Dammit,” she muttered and tried again.

The door opened. “Jessica, are you???” The manager. “No, you are obviously not all right.” He stepped inside, a dark figure wavering in her blurry vision.

“Permit me.” Without waiting for her answer, he stripped her out of her clothes as one would a two-year-old, even peeling off her sodden bra and panties. His hands were hot, almost burning, against her chilled skin.

She was naked. As the thought percolated through her numb brain, she jerked away and grabbed at the dry clothing. His hand intercepted hers.

“No, pet.” He plucked something from her hair, opening his hand to show muddy leaves. “First a shower.”

He wrapped a hard arm around her waist and moved her into one of the glass-fronted stalls behind where she’d been standing. With his free hand, he turned on the water, and heavenly warm steam billowed up. He adjusted the temperature.

“In you go,” he ordered. A hand on her bottom, he nudged her into the shower.

The water felt scalding hot against her frigid skin, and she gasped, then sighed as the heat began to penetrate. After a minute, she realized the door of the stall was open. Arms crossed, the man leaned against the door frame, watching her with a slight smile on his lean face.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, turning so her back was to him. “I can manage by myself.”

“No, you obviously cannot,” he said evenly. “Wash the mud out of your hair. The left dispenser has shampoo.”

Mud in her hair. She’d totally forgotten; maybe she did need a keeper. After using the vanilla-scented shampoo, she let the water sluice through her hair. Brown water and twigs swirled down the drain. The water finally ran clear.

“Very good.” The water shut off. Blocking the door, he rolled up his sleeves, displaying corded, muscular arms. She had the unhappy feeling he was going to keep helping her, and any protest would be ignored. He’d taken charge as easily as if she’d been one of the puppies at the shelter where she volunteered.

“Out with you now.” When her legs wobbled, he tucked a hand around her upper arm, holding her up with disconcerting ease. The cooler air hit her body, and her shivering started again.

After blotting her hair, he grasped her chin and tipped her face up to the light. She gazed up at his darkly tanned face, trying to summon up enough energy to pull her face away.

“No bruises. I think you were lucky.” Taking the towel, he dried off her arms and hands, rubbing briskly until he appeared satisfied with the pink color. Then he did her back and shoulders. When he reached her breasts, she pushed at his hand. “I can do that.”

He ignored her like she would a buzzing fly, his attentions gentle but thorough, even to lifting each breast and drying underneath.

When he toweled off her butt, she wanted to hide. If there was any part of her that should be covered, it was her hips. Overweight. Jiggly. He didn’t seem to notice.

Then he knelt and ordered, “Spread your legs.”

—–

Buy link:?? http://www.loose-id.net/prod-Club_Shadowlands-867.aspx

Cherise Sinclair

CLUB SHADOWLANDS? Loose Id / out now

www.cherisesinclair.com

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Hi all!? This is a blurb and excerpt from Dark Citadel, the second in the Masters of the Shadowlands series. It’s due out April 7th, and Loose Id just?sent me a contract for the third, so I’m totally thrilled. ? Wahooo!!!

Dark Citadel by Cherise Sinclair (excerpt rated PG-13, book rated hot)

Genre: BDSM Full-figured Heroine??? Length: Novel?? =======================================================================================================================

— Blurb —

The Shadowlands is once again offering 3 evening classes of BDSM for Beginners.

After Kari breaks up with her date during Beginner’s Night at a private fetish club, she’s given the option to continue with an experienced dominant. Despite her fantasies about BDSM, the inexperienced schoolteacher plans to simply observe. But under the unyielding hands of Master Dan, she not only participates, but gives him everything he asks for. There is nothing she can hide from him. Not her passion…or her love.

Still mourning his wife, Master Dan avoids getting involved with women and he never takes a sub twice. But this modest little beginner is such a sweetie, one night is far from enough.? As he plumbs her responses, taking her ever deeper into the world of BDSM, the gentle submissive begins to show him how barren his life has become.

During their three nights together, Kari will learn to submit…will the Master learn to love?

=============================================================================================

— Excerpt —

Chapter One

The massive stone building loomed over the extensive grounds like a forbidding castle in some gothic novel. Club Shadowlands. Kari Wagner shook her head at the intimidating sight, at the thought of what the evening might hold.

Beginner’s lessons at a private BDSM club. She’d gone insane. Really. Her mind had rotted completely away. Teaching high school, that’s what had caused her lapse in sanity. All those teenagers…

Her date, Brian — or Buck, as he liked to be called — grabbed Kari’s arm and pulled her through the front door. She slipped a little, and his grip hardened. “Damn, you’re slow.”

In the small entry room, a huge security guard stood behind a table, looking so ogre-like he was almost cute. “Good evening, sir. Miss.”

“Good evening.” Kari closed her mouth before she called him Shrek.

He held out his hand. “Papers, please?”

As Buck handed over the doctor’s certificates and money, Kari eased her arm away. She’d been attracted to his authoritative personality — so different from the usual men she dated — but he’d never been rough before. Then again, he didn’t know how to do this domination stuff anymore than she did.

The guard finished looking at the papers and handed them off to another man before saying, “I’ll take your jacket, sir. And miss? Please leave your shoes with me now.”

“My shoes?” After a glance at the guy to see if he was serious — he was — Kari slipped off her orange sneakers.

The guard patiently kept his hand outstretched until she handed over her Tigger-decorated socks also. A little snort of laughter escaped him. “Thank you, miss.”

Buck’s pale brows drew together at the sight of the socks. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Kari glanced down at her ankle-length denim dress. “Sorry. It was parent-teacher day, and my last set of parents arrived a half hour late. I didn’t have time to go home and change.”

“Honestly, Kari, you dress like a five-year-old.” He straightened the lapels of his black suit.

“Well, I used to teach kindergarten after all.” She laughed. “But my high-school students like my clothes too.” Besides, even if she’d had time to change, what would she have worn to a BDSM club? Some weird lacy corset thing? Surely they’d dated long enough for him to know her better than that.

“Well, folks, have a pleasant evening.” Smiling, the guard pointed them toward a door on the right wall.

Wait a minute. Kari frowned at her bare feet then looked at the man. “Excuse me, but why is Buck allowed to keep his shoes on?”

The guard blinked. “Did I make a mistake? Which one of you is the Dom or Domme?”

“I am.” Buck gave her a disgusted look. “Just be quiet, Kari. Don’t talk at all.”

She bit back her first response — and the second — and settled for a nod. Buck might look like Prince Charming — tall, slim, blond — but his manners needed a little work. Still, she should give him a break. If he wasn’t Mr. Perfect Dominating Man, she wasn’t exactly a ten on the Gorgeous Submissive Woman scale, right? In fact, considering her conservative upbringing, this whole evening was probably doomed to failure.

Before they reached the door, Buck yanked her to his side, his fingers digging into her skin. “There will be other Doms here and other beginners. Remember you’re with me. Don’t talk to anyone else. Don’t look at anyone else.”

“Got it. Now let go of me.” With an exasperated sigh, she pried his hand from her arm, then followed him into a large office with lush, dark brown carpeting and creamy white walls. An antique desk and office equipment took up the far side of the room. In the right corner, several big men and two women, all dressed in gold-trimmed leather clothing, eyed her and Buck before returning to quiet conversation.

The center of the room held a sitting area occupied by two men. One was a tall, broad-shouldered man with silvering dark hair wearing European-tailored black slacks and a black silk shirt. His dark gray eyes had focused on her and Buck the minute they walked through the door. Now, he tilted his head toward the couch across from him.

“That’s got to be Master Z,” Buck hissed as they crossed the room. “All this is his. You watch your mouth and don’t speak unless I give you permission.”

She did exactly that, closing her mouth over her impulse to tell him where to go. He meant well, and she wasn’t going to leave before she found out more about this bondage stuff and why it excited her so much.

In black leathers, the other man looked downright dangerous: hard-faced with an equally hard body, open vest stretching over broad shoulders. Black hair slightly curling to the nape of his neck, potent brown eyes, the shadow of a beard along a stern jaw. If Buck was the golden prince, this man was the dark one.

When the men rose, Kari froze, feeling like a mouse confronted by lions. Mouth dry, she managed to move forward and smile.

“Buck,” the gray-eyed one said in a smooth deep voice. “Welcome to the Shadowlands. I am Master Z.” He shook hands with Buck and then Kari. His warm hand engulfed her cold fingers as he studied her for a moment. “Welcome, Kari.”

She opened her mouth, remembered not to speak, and smiled instead.

Master Z nodded to the other man. “This is Master Dan.”

The man nodded, shook hands with Buck, and then took Kari’s hand, his grip much gentler than she’d expected. When she looked up, his dark brown eyes trapped hers. He didn’t leer or do anything other than look at her, yet she felt a flush rise into her face. She pulled her hand back and looked down. She could still feel his penetrating gaze.

“Please be seated,” Master Z said. He waited for everyone to sit, then resumed his seat. He tapped the coffee table where their medical records and questionnaires were spread. “Your papers are in order. You’re both free of any disease.”

He glanced at her and Buck. “The rules of the Shadowlands are simple. Don’t touch anything or anyone that doesn’t belong to you without permission. Do not interfere in someone else’s scene. The equipment is here for your use, and after your introductory class tonight, there are private rooms upstairs, also for your use.” He nodded to the men in the corner. “Dungeon monitors — DMs — supervise activities and are available to answer questions or even to help as needed. Watch for the gold trim or an orange badge.”

His gaze turned to Kari. “Here at the Shadowlands, use the term “Master” for those in authority over you: me, the DMs, and possibly, your Dom. When in doubt, address any Dom as Sir or Ma’am.”

“I understand. Thank you,” she said without thinking and winced at Buck’s glare.

Dan Sawyer half-listened to Master Z while he sized up the two people who would be in his charge. The bland-faced man with pale blond hair and blue eyes. About five-eleven and a lanky one-seventy in a black suit. He had a narrow mouth with more frown lines than laugh lines and checked his date frequently as if afraid she’d disappear.

The woman wasn’t beautiful, but compellingly pretty. Mid-twenties. Wide blue eyes and hair the rich brown color of Guinness. A soft pink mouth bracketed by faint lines, showing she knew how to laugh and did it often. She was little, about five-four, and definitely not slender. Her long dress couldn’t conceal her very lush curves despite being buttoned right up to the top.

Interesting choice of attire for the club. Was she modest? Probably. He studied the way she’d pulled her hair into a tight French braid. Modest and conservative. Huh.

He rubbed his chin and studied her further. Had she wanted to be in a BDSM club, or had her date dragged her? Maybe he had, considering the way she was rubbing her arm.

Shaking his head, Dan leaned back in his chair. Looked like this couple would bear watching.

She’d be a pleasure to watch. To see tremble. To see helpless need in those big eyes. To see…

=======================================================================================================================

DARK CITADEL?? Loose Id / April 7, 2009

Buy link: http://www.loose-id.com/prod-Masters_of_the_Shadowlands__Dark_Citadel-923.aspx

www.CheriseSinclair.com
Dominant Males, Sizzling Tales

CLUB SHADOWLANDS Loose Id / Out now

For the Love of Readers- Gemma Halliday

For the Love of Readers

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If there is one thing that any writer loves, it?s her readers. Without readers, we?d be nothing.

Last summer I did a series of library talks, and during one of these I had the pleasure of meeting a super sweet, sixteen-year-old reader named Katy. She said she and her mother, Elizabeth, had read all my books and were huge fans. I liked her immediately. 🙂 Katy is an aspiring author and illustrator, and even brought me the cutest laminated drawing of Maddie, the main character in my High Heels books! Isn?t she adorable?

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Since then, I?ve seen a few more of Katy?s drawings, and she is incredibly talented! I?m seriously jealous, nothing I?ve ever drawn is half as cool as her stuff. Here?s a poster she did for a contest at the local library (She won!):

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And here?s a drawing she did a couple weeks ago when she and her mom were forced to sleep in their car:

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Yep, you read that right ? Katy and her mom are homeless. They were evicted from their apartment just before Christmas and have been living in hotel rooms (when they?ve been lucky) or their car (when they?ve not been so lucky) since then. Katy has been blogging about life on the streets, and you can read all about how this incredibly sweet mother and daughter ended up in this situation here:

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As Katy states on her blog, “Homelessness has many faces. And sometimes it happens to have a computer.” Both Katy and her mother seem to have very positive outlooks, but it?s clear they?re in some real trouble.

Which is where we come in. I?ve teamed up with Haven Rich at Romantic Inks to put together an auction to help get Katy and her mom back on their feet. We?ve got tons of great stuff up for bid including agent and published author manuscript critiques, website design services, tarot readings, artwork, jewelry, handmade quilts, collectibles, toys, gift baskets, and tons and tons of autographed books.

I?m personally auctioning off the chance to name a character in my next book, SCANDAL SHEET, after the person of the winner?s choice. And my fabulous editor, Leah Hultenschmidt at Dorchester Publishing, is auctioning a 1/2 hour phone call to pitch or ask her anything about publishing! How cool is that?!
The auction will run January 19-26th. To see all the items up for bid, just got to: www.romanticinks.com/auction

So, feel free to blog about the auction, tell your friends, spread the word, and come bid generously on a ton of really great stuff to help out two really wonderful people!

Gemma Halliday

Guest Blogger: Emily Bryan

Blurb: Daisy Drake will do anything to help Lucian Beaumont restore his family’s lost fortune. Even if she has to masquerade as a French courtesan in order to fool him into accepting her help. But how far must she go to prove she’s Blanch La Tour, “woman of pleasure?” She’s about to find out.

Buy Link: http://www.amazon.com/Vexing-Viscount-Leisure-Historical-Romance/dp/0843961341/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1230484073&sr=1-1

Excerpt: Vexing the Viscount

“Nanette will be bringing a bite of supper for us soon,” Daisy informed him. “I do hope you have an appetite.”

“That, mademoiselle, is not in doubt.”

Lucian’s rakish grin told her food was the last thing on his mind. She opened the deck of cards and executed a perfect shuffle. Holding the cards felt safe, as though the fifty-two thin pieces of paper were somehow shields.

“You would perhaps enjoy a game while we wait?” she asked.

“Only if it’s a game of chance,” he said.

“And what will you wager?” Daisy wondered. If his financial state was as bad as she thought, gambling was not the wisest course.

“Right now, you and I are partners in my search for the Roman treasure, split in half when we find it,” he said. “For each hand I lose, one percent more of the money we find will be yours.”

“Ah! And if I lose, that one percent shifts to you,” Daisy guessed.

“No.” A slow smile spread across his face. “I’ll take my winnings now in satin.”

“How do you mean?” she asked, thankful he couldn’t see her puzzled frown behind the half-mask.

Lucian reached forward and gave the top ribbon on her camisole a tug. The knot gave and her bodice sagged open enough to bare the meeting place of her breasts above her pounding heart.

“Do we have a wager?” he asked. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose?”

A true fille de joie wouldn’t be able to resist such a naughty game.

“Ah! Monsieur le Vicomte, either way, I win.” Daisy shuffled the cards with more bravado than she felt and dealt the hand.

She lost the first round and with resignation, started to untie the next ribbon.

“No, no,” he said. “Allow me.”

Very slowly, he pulled the end of the bow and Daisy felt her supportive camisole give a bit. More of her breasts spilled out. Still not as much as he’d already seen that first night at the masquerade, but enough that the heat of his gaze made her skin flush rosily.

And between her legs, her folds began to ache. She shifted on her seat, but nothing eased the throbbing.

Before he drew his hand back, he pushed the edges of the satin camisole aside, brushing her exposed skin with his fingertips as he did so. Now her nipples were scarcely covered. In fact, if the hard little points weren’t holding up the fabric, she’d be bared already.

Another lost hand, or even a deep breath, and . . .

“There,” he said. “Much better. No point in unfastening that contraption if the blasted thing stays in place.”

“We did not wager on touching. Merely on satin,” Daisy reminded him.

“Perhaps we should amend the wager then,” he said. “When I win, I may touch whatever I see.”

Lucian drew his knuckles softly over the swell of her breast. A jolt of heat lightning streaked to her belly and stayed to simmer in an ever tightening circle of warmth.

“Then we should adjust the wager the other way as well,” she said. “How shall you feel if I lay claim to your breeches buttons with each hand that falls my way?”

He chuckled. “Ah! Mademoiselle La Tour, either way, I win.”

***

Thanks for having me on your site, Selena! I’m thrilled to be able to offer a FREE copy of Vexing the Viscount to one of your readers who posts a comment or question. Be sure to check back tomorrow. I’ll post the name of the winner in the comments section.????????????? Good luck!

Emily