Tracy is going to be with us again today, talking about her work in progress…

Hi everyone! I know we’ve had a series of super hot excerpts by really great authors, but I thought I’d take today to shake things up a little bit. As I mentioned a few days ago, I’m finishing up my first young adult book, Rip Tide (which I think is going to be retitled Tempest by my editor) so I pretty much have mermaids on the brain. It’s due on Monday, and I’m having a lot of fun writing it, so I thought I’d post an excerpt from it today. I’m really anxious to hear what you think, so leave a comment to be entered to win a bath set from Bath and Body Works. Happy Saturday!

Blurb:

Torn between what is and what should be, sixteen year old Tempest Maguire must decide just how far she’s willing to go to defy her destiny. Add in her love/hate relationship with the ocean, her completely inappropriate crush on the new guy on the beach and an ancient underwater feud only she can stop, is it any wonder that these days she can barely stay on her surfboard? But with the fate of half the Pacific Ocean resting on her head, can Tempest get beyond her feelings of betrayal to fight the battle she was born to win?

Tempest is Coronado High School’s surfing girl extraordinaire and queen of the too-cool-to-be-popular crowd. But she’s got a secret– one that’s becoming harder and harder to hide the closer she gets to her seventeenth birthday. The daughter of a mermaid and a famous surfer, she’s been drawn to the ocean her entire life– even as she resents its powerful pull over her. Years before, her mother chose the Pacific over her husband and children, something Tempest has never forgiven her– or the water– for. But now, as the shadow of her seventeenth birthday hangs over her head, she knows that she must make a choice– to embrace the gift of her mother and become mermaid or turn her back on the small window of opportunity and remain human forever. In her mind, there’s never been a choice—she’s human all the way. But as her birthday approaches, she begins to realize how little choice she might have in the matter …

Excerpt:

His question hung in the air between us, a loaded gun ready to go off. Suddenly I wasn’t sure I wanted the answers.

I wasn’t sure of anything.

In less than two weeks my entire life had turned upside down, until normal was a world away and every day was just a little more messed up than the one that had come before it.

I stared at Kai and he looked so normal, so calm, so composed in the shadowy moonlight that for a second I doubted what I knew. Away from the water’s frightening and alluring grip, I couldn’t be certain I hadn’t imagined the last few, panic-filled minutes. And yet, it had to have happened. Right? Otherwise I was just going nuts, a thought I couldn’t bear to contemplate on top of everything else.

She wants you.

Kai’s words echoed in my head. Don’t give in to her. She wants you.

No, I hadn’t imagined anything—not six years ago and not now. Something had been in that water and Kai knew exactly what it was. “Don’t give into what?” I demanded.

Kai’s eyes grew wary, his face more closed off than it had ever been. “Let it go, Tempest.”

“Don’t do that.” The words were loud, disjointed, but I couldn’t help that. Violent shudders had begun wracking my body, making me teeth clatter together and my body jerk.

“Something was trying to drag me under. I know you felt it, too.”

He came forward, wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into the shelter of his arms. He was big and broad and hot—an electric blanket wrapped around me, his warmth seeping through the cold that had invaded every part of me. A small section of my brain wondered how he could feel so hot when the water and air were both frigid, but most of me was just grateful for the heat. For the comfort.

But how could that be? I barely knew Kai, wasn’t even sure that I wanted to know him.

“The ocean around here is pretty unpredictable at night. The undertow—“

“I said, don’t!” I shoved away from him, though it cost me. Devoid of his warmth, I suddenly felt twice as cold, twice as bereft.

“I’ve been swimming in this ocean since I was a little girl. I know it better than anything else, and that was not an undertow.”

“So what was it then?”

“That’s what I’m asking you! You come here, all dark and mysterious, acting like you have all the answers. But you won’t tell me anything. I’m not an idiot, you know.”

“I never said you were.”

“Give me a break. You tried to convince me that what I felt out there was just the ocean.”

“It’s happened to you before.”

His words cleaved through the air between us, reminding me of what I’d come out here to forget. I wanted to whine that he wasn’t being fair, but figured that would make me sound like the idiot I’d just sworn I wasn’t. Or even worse, a baby. Besides, he was right. I had nearly bought it—”

“Hey, wait a minute. How do you know about that? I met you after I nearly drowned that day.”

His eyebrows drew together and he was silent for a long time, as if searching for a believable answer. Finally, when the tension between us was as taut as a circus high wire, he muttered, “Mark must have told–”

“Stop lying to me!” I started down the beach, away from him.

“Tempest, wait!”

I ignored him, kept walking. I was too furious to listen—or to pay any attention to where I was going.

“Stop!” I heard his footsteps pounding up the beach behind me, but was totally unprepared for the hand that wrapped around my wrist and jerked me to a standstill.

My temper flared even more brightly as I struggled to free my arm from his inexorable, but strangely painless grip. “You’re going to want to let go of me.”

“You’re going in the wrong direction.” He cast an uneasy glance down the beach. “Let me walk you home.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I’m glad, because that’s not the relationship I want with you.”

For long seconds I couldn’t think, my heart suddenly beating so fast I thought it just might take flight. I told myself it was stupid to get so worked up over those words—especially since I was still so angry that I wanted to lay him out on the cold, water-logged beach. But the warning didn’t work. Hearing him admit that the strange spark between us wasn’t all from my side did something to me.

I tried to take a breath, to swallow, but the inside of my mouth felt like I’d been sucking on cotton and a barbell had taken up residence in my stomach. Finally, somehow, I forced myself to ask, “What kind of relationship do you want?”

His black eyes were reproachful as he bent until his face was only inches from mine. “Come on, Tempest. I don’t want to play those games with you.”

The barbell grew heavier as my stomach clenched, but everything else about my body felt light, as if I would float away at any second. In the tension of the moment, and the closeness of his body to mine, I forgot about the strange force in the water. Forgot about my birthday. Forgot, even, about Mark.

“So what do you want?” I whispered.

His hands came up and tenderly cupped my face. And then he was so close I could feel the feathering of those impossibly long eyelashes against my cheek. My heart beat even faster and there was a roaring in my ears that had nothing to do with the ocean and everything to do with the riot of emotions twisting within me.

“You,” he breathed and the word brushed against my parted lips. I sucked it inside me with my next inhalation, held it there in my mouth, in my lungs, as I waited for him to close the scant distance between his mouth and mine.

But he didn’t move, didn’t bridge that last inch that separated us. As I stood there waiting– trembling with anticipation and need and curiosity—it suddenly occurred to me that Kai wanted me to kiss him. He, too, was waiting.

I kept my eyes open as I melted into him, letting my hands slide up his bare arms to circle his neck. And then I did it, leaned forward that scant inch and brushed my lips against his own.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze—the wind, the rain, my heart. Even the ocean with its never-ending cycle of waves seemed to hold its breath as it watched us.

It obviously wasn’t my first kiss, but it was so different than anything I’d ever experienced that it might as well have been.

Kai’s hands slid from my face into my hair, his fingers fisting in my wet curls as he kissed me again and again. Emotions rioted through me—joy, need, fear, confusion—so many that I could barely process them as his mouth moved against mine. All I knew was that I was warm, hot even, and that kissing him was like swallowing the sun.

Remember, let Tracy know what you think of her first venture into YA. You’ll be entered to win a bath set from Bath and Body Works! Just comment here.

Yesterday’s winner was…Sharon. Contact me, and I will send your eBook to you!

Now that DELICIOUS has released, I’ve been asked a lot, “What’s next?”

In the Wicked Lover’s series, of which DELICIOUS is a part, the next title, SURRENDER TO ME, will hit bookshelves next March. This one is all about Hunter Edgington! And yes, for those who have asked, I’m hoping to plan something wonderful soon for Tyler, but you’ll see him again soon.

The next release on my schedule (and something I’m super excited about is an anthology called FOUR PLAY with Maya Banks.

“Her Fantasy Men”
FOUR PLAY anthology
Publisher: Berkley HEAT
Genre: Erotic Romance/ménage a quarte
ISBN: 978-0425236697
Release Date: October 5, 2010
Pre-order: Amazon

Two all-new novellas of erotic games between the best of friends…

Kelsey Rena is an enigma. She’s a girly-girl who’s wild for football, craves action movies, and loves knocking back a cold beer with her three best friends–all male. She’s a puzzle, too, when it comes to sex. Here are three hot guys always ready and within reach and she’s never seemed interested. So who is the lucky mystery man satisfying the girl of their secret dreams? The three pals plan to find out. And when they do, they’ll see a side of Kelsey they’ve only dared to fantasize about.

First sneak peek EVER Excerpt:
“Anything?” Jeremy asked as soon as he shut the door.

“Nah, man. She’s in her own world.” One that didn’t include them. Tucker resisted the urge to curse.

“What do you think she wants in a man?” Rhys asked.

“If I were an expert, I wouldn’t be telling you. I’d be dating her myself.”

Jeremy nodded. “She doesn’t seem to care about money. God knows, I tried that route.”

“Nope.” Tucker grabbed another beer, then headed for the garage, motioning the others to join him. “She’s more than comfortable with her ability to make her own money.”

“She’s also not impressed by anything with a fast engine. I tried that, too,” Jeremy confessed.

“Hey, I mowed my lawn shirtless for a month, then struck up conversations with her, hoping she’d look. Her gaze stayed glued above my neck.”

Rhys was a fireman and spent nearly all his downtime pumping iron. If Kels was going to be wowed by some guy’s body, it would be Rhys’s.

Tucker retrieved the cooler, then opened the freezer in her garage, and started dumping in bags of ice. The others joined in.

“I’ve been her confidante, her shoulder to cry on, her prom date when hers dumped her at the last minute… None of that did me any good either.”

“You knew David. What was he like?” Jeremy spoke in low tones. Always. Yet his voice carried the snap of subtle demand.

“Easy going. Big sense of humor. Kind of a wandering spirit.”

“That leaves me out,” Jeremy brooded as he began to toss in beers, wine coolers, water, and soft drinks into the cooler.

“But her boyfriend prior to that was successful guy who owned a few jewelry stores. Flashy dresser. Of course, he was an asshole, too. I don’t think she would put you in that mold or you wouldn’t be here,” he told Jeremy, then wondered why he was trying to make the competition feel better.

Truth was, he liked both Jeremy and Rhys. And it felt good to finally be talking about the elephant in the room.

They finished icing down the drinks in relative quiet, but Tucker’s brain was working overtime. A glance at Jeremy—whose brain never stopped—proved Kelsey’s boss was lost in his own ruminations, too.

Until he spoke. “Would all of you agree that we’d rather see Kelsey happy with one of us than some bastard who might mistreat her?”

Tucker hesitated, glanced at Rhys. Finally, they both nodded. Yeah, he’d hate like hell to let her go, but if he couldn’t have her, he’d at least be happier knowing that she was with someone who wanted her, had genuine feelings for her, would take care of her.

“Me, too,” Jeremy offered. “I think Tucker is right, gentlemen. What we need is a plan.”

“Plan?”

Tucker laughed at Rhys’s confusion. The firefighter was a great guy…but Rhys and a plan combined as well as gasoline and margarita mix.

“We’ve got to find out what’s in her head.” And her heart, Tucker decided. But they had to start small. Forever and ever amen, picket fence, and two point two kids was a lofty place to begin. First, they had to know what she wanted in a date, in a lover. Who, if anyone, was on her mind.

“How?” Jeremy asked, getting right to the heart of the problem as usual. “Does she keep a diary.”

“Not that I know of…but it’s not as if Kels tells me everything.” Tucker shrugged, lamenting that fact.

“She might have a journal. God knows she’s capable of writing more than a grocery list,” Rhys drawled.

“Kels is a bit private. I’m not sure she’d write her feelings down.”

“Maybe because she is private, she’d be more likely she’d pour her feelings out on paper than to another human being.” Jeremy pinned his gaze on Tucker. “Or does she have some really close girlfriend I don’t know about?”

“No. To her, most women like shopping and gossip and those Gray’s Anatomy type shows, which she hates.”

Rhys frowned. “Yeah. Not Kelsey’s style.”

“So now what?” Tucker ran his hand through his unruly hair.

“Could you have one of those best friend heart-to-hearts?”

“Yeah.” Rhys warmed to the subject. “See if she’ll spill.”

“Tried that. She blushed and said that talking to me about her fantasies and her ultimate man was crossing the friend line. I told her it was because I was seeking a girlfriend and wanted her advice. She was sure that her wants wouldn’t necessarily match anyone else’s and ended the conversation.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly. There must be some way to trip her up or persuade her into a tell-all mood so we can learn what she wants and who she has feelings for,” Jeremy murmured.

“Get her drunk?”

Tucker reached over and swatted Rhys on the head. “No, you idiot. Something that won’t have her puking or give her a headache. You know Kels doesn’t handle her liquor well. I’d rather try something less sneaky.”

When Tucker reached down to lift one half of the enormous cooler by a handle, Rhys lifted the other. “I would too, brother, but the up and up isn’t working.”

Jeremy held the garage door open. “He’s right.”

“What are you suggesting?” Tucker asked. “Seducing her?”

“Tried that.” Jeremy sighed as they traversed the house, cooler in hand. “She sidestepped me, then set me up on a blind date with a Barbie who had an equally plastic personality.”

“I tried, too.” Rhys lowered the cooler by the back door, then glanced out at Kelsey, who stood in the shade, face raised to the sky, eyes closed, basking in the sun. “She giggled and started making jokes about firemen who think with their hose.”

“I can’t seduce her,” Tucker admitted. “First, I’m not a ladies’ man, and second, I’d lose her. She thinks of me as someone she can rely on—”

“Which is why you’re stuck in the friend zone, dude,” Rhys chastised. “You’ve never tried to make her see you as a man?”

“I kissed her once.”

“Yeah?” That got Rhys’s attention.

“But we were thirteen, and her comment afterward was that Josh Smith kissed better.”

Rhys doubled over with laughter. Even single-minded Jeremy cracked a smile.

“What we need is evidence.”

Golden brow raised, Rhys glared at Jeremy. “Spoken like an attorney.”

“I am one; sue me.” The attorney smiled, and something about his eyes demonstrated to Tucker why the guy billed out at two grand an hour. Suddenly, he shot Rhys a cunning stare.

“You firemen have interesting ways of gaining access to a house, right?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Yes, with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.”

“I have a key, guys,” Tucker offered.

“Give it to him,” Jeremy snapped. “I’m going to call Kelsey after the party, make up some emergency. You,” he stared at Rhys, “are going to sneak in. Look around that monster closet of hers, her home office. See if she keeps a journal or mementos or has written anything personal on her laptop. Check her correspondence, her voicemails. Scroll through her recent calls and see if she’s reached out to anyone.”

“I don’t know, dude… What if she catches me?”

Jeremy’s stare lost what little levity it had. He looked as if he was resisting grabbing Rhys by the shirt and shaking some sense into him. “Be careful, and she won’t. Just get us some information or we’ll all be stuck in this hell indefinitely.”

Rhys sighed. “Fuck.”

“Call both of us as soon as you’ve finished your reconnaissance.” Jeremy directed. “Then collectively we’ll decide the best course of action, regardless of what you find, agreed?”

“Count me in.”

Tucker hesitated. He didn’t like spying on Kels. He didn’t like lying to her or invading her privacy…but he also didn’t like being cut off from the woman he adored. He hadn’t made any progress with her since that chaste tweener kiss. Fifteen years later, maybe it was time to try something new.

Hoping like hell he didn’t regret this, he handed Rhys Kelsey’s house key.

***

Today’s winner will receive an eBook of Dangerous Boys and Their Toy. Comment there for a chance to win and be entered into the grand prize drawing of an iPod Touch.

Yesterday’s winner was…Chelsea B! Please send me your street address so I can help arrange delivery of your prize with Lucy.

Here’s a message from today’s guest, the wonderful Lucy Monroe: For all of the readers who asked and emailed about this book. Your enthusiasm for this world and desire to read the next story blessed me so much. Hearing from you helped me to keep working on it even when so many other things were vying for my attention. And I thank you! I sincerely hope Talorc and Abigail’s story is worth the wait. It was a very special story for me to write and one that I hope connects with all your hearts!~ Hugs and blessings

Moon Craving
Children of the Moon Book 2
Feb 2010
Berkley Sensation
ISBN-13: 978-0425233047
Buy: Barnes & Noble

If it were up to him, Talorc—laird of the Sinclair clan and leader of his werewolf pack— would never marry. But when the king orders that Talorc wed an Englishwoman, the lone wolf is shocked to find his mate in the strong-willed Abigail. And after an intensely climactic wedding night, the two fiercely independent souls sense an unbreakable bond…

Deaf since childhood, Abigail hopes to keep her affliction from Talorc as long as possible. And for his part, he has no intention of telling her about being a werewolf. But when Abigail learns that the husband she’s begun to love has deceived her, it will take all of his warrior’s strength—and his wolf’s cunning—to win his wife back. And Talorc will have to face his biggest challenge yet: the vulnerability of a man in love…

Excerpt:

CHAPTER ONE

“Is it war then?” The grizzled old Scott, Osgard, asked his laird.

Barr, second in command to their powerful leader, frowned. “On our own king?”

The temptation to say yes was great. Talorc, Laird of the Sinclair clan and alpha to his Chrechte pack, had to clamp his jaw tight to keep the word from coming out. It would serve David right. Talorc had no doubt that if he ordered them to, his clan would go to war against the king still disputed as ruler over all Scotland by many Highlanders.

In the Highlands, at least, first loyalty still went to clan leader, not the king. Where would that leave the “civilized” king then?

But the man raised by Normans in that hellhole to their south, was a friend. Despite the Sassenach influence, Talorc respected King David, when few men earned that honor.

“Was it not enough he sent you one English bride, that he now sends you another?” Osgard asked, his aged voice still strong enough to express his fury.

“He has no plans to send this one,” Barr said.

As if Talorc didn’t already know the details of the damn message. “No, he expects me to travel to England to wed this woman.”

“’Tis an outrage,” Osgard growled.

Barr nodded. “An offense you canna take lightly.”

“According to the messenger, ‘twas both King David and England’s king who took offense you did not marry the first Englishwoman,” Guaire, Talorc’s seneschal, quietly inserted, earning himself a sulfuric glare from Osgard.

The old man who had stood in Talorc’s father’s stead as advisor since his death, deliberately turned so Guaire was no longer in his line of sight. “Some might care about offense to the Sassenach king, but there are those of us that know better than to trust the English. Especially one who seeks to be wife to our laird.”

“I am concerned about neither king’s displeasure, but merely point out that they were offended first and that might explain our own king’s unpleasant request.” Guaire stood his ground, but it was clear the young soldier was bothered by Osgard’s comment.

Osgard harrumphed and Barr kept his own council, but Talorc nodded.

“No doubt. I had no intention of marrying the Englishwoman Emily and ‘tis clear my overlord realized that after the fact.”

“You did not go to war when the Balmoral took and kept her,” Barr said.

“A Chrechte does not go to war over the loss of a Sassenach,” Osgard spit out, disgust lacing every word.

Guaire frowned. “The Balmoral would.”

Osgard spun to face the younger warrior and would have knocked him to the ground but another warrior’s hand stayed him. The big, battle scarred Chrechte stared impassively at the old man. As big as Talorc’s second in command, Barr’s twin, Niall, could intimidate without effort. His hard features were made more imposing by the scars that marred the left side of his face.

Killing a Chrechte was no easy task, but Niall had almost died in the same battle that had claimed his older brother Sean, Talorc’s former first in command and brother-in-law.

Osgard flinched, even though no threat had been spoken from the massive warrior.

Talorc had to bite back amusement. Little intimidated the old Scot, but Niall did it without effort. In fact, besides himself, the only other member of the Sinclair clan that did not tremble in Niall’s presence was his twin, Barr.

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Guaire stared with wide eyes at Niall and Osgard.

“I see you decided to join us,” Barr said to his twin.

“I heard a messenger from the king had arrived.”

“You heard correctly,” Talorc replied.

“What did he want this time?” Niall asked, as if demands from Scotland’s monarch came frequently.

“You can release my arm,” Osgard groused.

“You will not hit the boy.”

“He insulted our laird,” Osgard said.

“I am not a boy,” Guaire said at the same time and then when he realized what Osgard had said, he puffed up with offense. “I did no such thing.”

Niall released Osgard’s arm, but stepped between the old man and the young red-headed warrior. “Our Guaire would no more insult our laird than betray him.”

“He said our leader was not as strong as the Balmoral.”

“I didn’t!” Guaire’s face flushed with his own fury.

Niall looked inquiringly at Talorc. “Were you offended, laird?”

“Nay.”

“There. See?” Guaire crossed his arms, edging away from Niall toward Barr.

The lines around Niall’s mouth tightened, but he said nothing at the telling action.

Guaire said, “I merely referred to the fact that the Balmoral had found benefit in his English wife and our laird could as well. After all, she is Emily’s sister.”

Aye, the Balmoral had found a mate to his wolf in the English human.

She had recently given birth to their first child. A daughter. Talorc actually felt pleasure for them, though he could not imagine why. The Balmoral was a pain in the ass. But a strong Chrechte warrior all the same.

“Our laird will not be stepping foot onto English soil to be wed,”

Osgard said with pure conviction.

“Nay, I won’t.” Talorc turned to Guaire. “You will write a message to the king for me.”

“Yes, laird.”

“Tell him I will wed the Sassenach as requested, but will do so on the soil of our homeland. I will travel south through MacDonald land, they are our allies.”

“Yes, laird. Anything else?”

“I will accept the land bordering the Donegal clan that has been in dispute these years past and the other dowry items he offered to provide, but will require an additional twenty drums of mead and twenty shields, twenty helmets, ten swords and ten poleaxes in payment for taking the English bride.”

“What need have we of shields and helmets?” Osgard asked, though it was clear he approved Talorc requiring a bigger dowry of his king to marry the Sassenach.

“Not all our warriors are Chrechte,” Talorc reminded his aged advisor.

Some, indeed the majority of their clan, were human. They did not have the power of the wolf to protect them in battle, or the ability to change into the beast.

Only the Chrechte had those abilities and their dual nature was a closely guarded secret. Though they made no secret of the truth they saw themselves as superior warriors.

Human treachery could undermine Chrechte strength though. MacAlpin’s betrayal of the Chrechte people was still fresh in most of their minds, though it had taken place in the last century. Other wounds were more fresh, like the treachery of Talorc’s stepmother, the human Tamara. She had betrayed his father and the entire Sinclair clan. Her machinations had resulted in many deaths, both human and Chrechte alike, Talorc’s father and brother among them.

The fact that she had brought about her own death as well did not assuage Talorc’s fury or his grief.

‘Twas not a thing Talorc was likely to forget. Ever.

He could almost pity the human Englishwoman chosen as his bride because of it.

***

Lucy will be giving away a signed copy of Moon Craving and goody bag. Just comment here for your chance to win!

Yesterday’s winner was Cecile. Contact Tracy to claim your prize!

Good morning! Here’s a note from Tracy about her upcoming release!

Today, I’m thrilled to bring you another excerpt from my April 2010 release, Tease Me, a book that Romantic Times called a “darkly dangerous tale that transports readers into a world of sensual delight. Wolff ramps up the sexual tension and provides a titillating read. The irresistible attraction between the characters is tangible, and well-written sex scenes will not disappoint. A suspenseful plot pulls you in, and the vibrant characters and arousing descriptions keep the pages turning.” They also gave it 4 ½ stars and Top Pick for the month of April, so I’m very, very excited. Plus, yesterday, I got my very first author copy of Tease Me in the mail, so I thought I would use the contest today to give it away. Comment below for a chance to win the very first copy of Tease Me that anyone has laid hands on …

TEASE ME
Release date: April 6
ISBN:
Buy: Barnes & Noble

Blurb:
The “edgy and erotic” (Shannon McKenna, New York Times bestselling author of Tasting Fear) author of Tie Me Down and Full Exposure offers another steamy novel of sex, lies, and sultry games.

Burned once too often, true crime writer Lacey Richards has sworn off love. Instead, she explores her deepest desires through her anonymous- and very provocative-blog. Anonymous, that is, until her dark and ultrasexy neighbor discovers her dirty secret.

Stockbrocker-turned-carpenter Byron Hawthorne gave up life in the fast lane, hoping to start over in a new city. When he learns his alluring neighbor is the one writing the sizzling blog that keeps him up all night, he can’t resist offering to fulfill her fantasies in the flesh. But Byron isn’t the only man provoked by Lacey’s writing. Now Lacey doesn’t know who she can trust-and who she can dare to tease.

Excerpt:
“Do you want a drink?”

“Oh, sure, sorry.” He shook his head, made an effort to concentrate. “Do you have a beer?”

“Of course.” She bent to open the small bar fridge, and her yoga pants stretched taut over her sweetly rounded ass. It took all his restraint not to drop to his knees behind her and take her right there. God knew, all the work he’d done in the kitchen to calm himself down had been totally undone in the two minutes since he’d been in the room with her.

“I’ve got Purple Haze, Strawberry Harvest and Red Ale.”

He stared at her incredulously, wondering if he’d heard right. “Are those beers or song titles?”

She laughed. “Beers. Whenever I move to a new place, I like to try out the local breweries. These are all from Abita, and they’re really good.”

Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to play along, he tried his damnedest not to look doubtful. One or two sips wasn’t going to kill him, after all. “Okay. Which one is your favorite?”

“I like them all, but I guess it depends what you want. Are you in the mood for raspberries or strawberries?”

He didn’t have to think twice, as a picture of her raspberry-colored nipples flashed before his eyes. “Raspberries.”

“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.” She tossed him a beer with a purple label, and he shook his head while twisting off the top.

“I don’t know about this, Lacey. No self-respecting beer has a purple label.”

“This one does. It used to be available only at Mardi Gras—hence the name and the color—but it got to be so popular that they brew it all year round now.”

He stared at the bottle doubtfully for another minute before taking a swig, and was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly it went down. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“You don’t have to sound so surprised.” She led him over to the couch, then gestured for him to sit. “Are you sure you’d rather stay in tonight?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a trick question?”

She laughed. “Good answer.”

“So, you move around a lot?”

She cocked her head to the side, somehow managing to look like an inquisitive little cat—one he wanted to do nothing more with than to pull her into his lap and pet. But she obviously wanted to call the shots tonight, and he was intrigued enough to follow where she led. For a while anyway.

“Is that what you want to do with the evening?” she asked. “Play 20 Questions?” Her voice was low and inviting and took the sting out of the question.

“Actually, I’ve got a better idea.” God knew, he had a few of them. But tearing her clothes off before the first glass of wine—for the second time in as many days—seemed more than a little rude.

“And that is?” She took a sip of her wine and then shot him a smile that had his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans.

He studied her for a few seconds, running his eyes over her clothes and jewelry. “I call it nine questions.”

“Nine?” She raised an eyebrow. “That’s a fairly random number.”

“Not really. It’s the number of items you’re wearing—if you don’t go commando, I mean. It also”—he glanced down at himself—“happens to be the exact number of items I’m wearing as well.”

“Well, isn’t that convenient?” She pursed her lips into an inviting O.

Had he thought his dick was hard before? As he watched her lick her lips, the blood rushed from his head so fast that for a minute, he was afraid he might pass out.

And wouldn’t that just be a kick in the ass, particularly on what promised to be one of the most erotic nights of his life?

“Am I correct in assuming that there’s a fee for every question asked?”

“You are, indeed. One item per question.”

“Are any subjects off -limits?”

He smiled then. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it. If we come to it.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Lust raked through him with vicious claws, had him clenching his fists and struggling for air as their gazes met—and held. She was so sexy, so interesting, so goddamn perfect for him that he couldn’t help wondering if she’d slip away the second he dropped his guard, or woke up—whichever the case might be.

“So, do we have a deal?” She sat watching him, waiting, an air of expectation around her that he would do anything to uphold.

“We do,” he murmured.

“Excellent.” She held a smooth palm out her him to shake, and he laughed before pulling her into the circle of his arms.

“Sorry, baby. But there’s only one way to cement deals like this.”

“Oh yeah? And what is that?”

“I think you already know.” With that cryptic pronouncement, he swept down and stole a kiss from the woman he had already decided he wanted to make his.

Lacey’s lips were warm and firm, and so tempting that Byron almost decided to forget the whole thing. But he was determined to learn more about his wary lover before he once again tumbled her onto the nearest available surface. The game seemed like the perfect way to do just that and to keep things light, as she demanded.

Lacey lost herself in Byron’s kiss, despite the skitter of unease working its way up her back. Why did he always have to ask questions? Why was he always trying to learn more about her?

A part of her told her to run in the other direction. It would be so much harder to keep Byron at arm’s length—to keep herself from caring about him—if she learned more about him. If she shared herself with him.

But she didn’t want to run, not when being with him was more exciting than anything she could remember. Not when he seemed to want to see the real her, not some figment of his own imagination.

Why she cared so much, she didn’t know. But she did, and it was incredibly stupid all the way around. If all she wanted from Byron was a good time, why did it matter if she knew what his favorite color was? Or what had made him move to New Orleans. Or if he was an only child.

It didn’t matter. Of course it didn’t. And yet—

Byron broke off the kiss with just the right amount of reluctance, and she took a minute to give her spinning head a chance to focus. It was ridiculous, really, how crazy this man made her. Crazy and mixed-up and so aroused that half the time when she was around him, she didn’t know which way was up.

Like now. She’d planned on sending him away, on telling him she couldn’t see him anymore. Instead, she’d invited him in and started playing with him. Teasing him.

Of course, she was the one getting all hot and bothered. If they didn’t get started on his question game pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to remember her own name, let alone any other pertinent information.

“So, who goes first?” Byron’s voice was warm and his eyes hot as he watched her closely. He looked as out of control as she felt, and for the third time in as many minutes, she thought about just taking him to bed and saying to hell with the rest. But he’d started this thing, and she was determined to see it through—even if it killed her. No way was she chickening out.

“You do—it was your idea, after all.” She settled back on the couch and took a long sip of wine, hoping that it would bring her down a notch. Or three. God knew she needed it.

“All right, then. I’d still like an answer to the question that started this whole thing.” At her blank look, he continued, “You said that you like to check out the local flavor wherever you live. Do you move around a lot?”

“I do. I like to see different parts of the country—and the world. My feet get itchy if I stay in one place too long.”

“Where else have you lived?”

“That’s two questions—and I don’t see the payment for the first yet.”

“I thought this was just a friendly game between friends.” His voice was warm and intimate and had her seeing stars by the second syllable; she was so dazzled that she almost acquiesced. But the small gleam of triumph lurking in the back of his eyes gave him away. He was as competitive as she was—and played just as dirty. The thought shouldn’t be such a turn-on, but it was.

Determined to stay on top, she said sweetly, “Of course it’s friendly. Or it will be as soon as you take off your shoes.”

Lacey nearly laughed at the disgruntled look on his face, but when he sat back on the sofa and slipped off both of his tennis shoes, she knew she was in trouble. She’d never paid much attention to men’s feet one way or the other, but one look at Byron’s feet—still encased in socks—and her heartbeat was already speeding up. Maybe it was the implication that very soon the rest of his clothes would follow. Maybe it was the thought of having him naked for her viewing pleasure. And maybe it was just that she was completely, around-the-bend crazy. Tonight certainly wasn’t the first time she’d had the thought in the past few days.

“Okay,” he murmured, after drawing her attention to his discarded second shoe. “I did my part. What’s the answer to the second question?”

“As an adult, I’ve lived in San Francisco, New York, Chicago, Paris, Phoenix, Boston, Milan and now New Orleans.”

His eyes widened at her list, but all he said was, “Which one did you like best?”

“Wow, three questions in one turn. You’re a lot easier than I thought you were going to be.” She raised an eyebrow and gestured to his pants. “What’s coming off next?”

He laughed. “Never mind. I’ll save my questions for something I can’t find out in casual conversation.”

“That might be a good idea.”

“All right, then. It’s your turn.” He leaned against the sofa, arms spread over the back as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Only the sudden wariness that flickered briefly in his eyes told a different tale. It made her want to start out easy when she knew she should be going for the jugular—at least if she wanted to win their little game.

Deciding on a compromise, she asked, “What’s a New York guy like yourself doing living in the Big Easy?”

“How’d you know I was from New York? I don’t have an accent.” He looked more than a little startled.

“It’s the attitude, the way you hold your body. You’ve got New York written all over you. After you live there for a while, it’s easy to recognize the signs.”

“I guess so.” But he still looked surprised, and less than pleased.

The investigator in her knew there was a story there and wanted to dig, but the woman didn’t want to alienate him—or to take the fun out of the game. Not yet anyway. To distract them both, she reached down and pulled off a sock, twirling it above her head for a few second before letting it fly.

She watched as it landed on the potted palm she kept next to the balcony, then turned back to Byron with a grin. Her diversion must have worked, because the disgruntled look had been replaced with amused appreciation.

“Your turn,” she said. “And just to show you what a generous person I am, I won’t charge you for the question you just asked.”

“I didn’t—” He broke off, chagrined. “I didn’t realize ‘How’d you know’ counted.”

“They all count. Rules are rules, after all.”

“So you’re not a rule breaker?”

She paused, considering his question for a minute. “I never used to be.”

“And now?”

“Now I think I’m learning to unbend a little bit. God knows I’m breaking all the rules sitting here with you.” 

***

Yesterday’s winner was Gayle O. Contact me with your mailing address, and I’ll pass it onto Sylvia so she can send your prize to you.

Don’t forget to comment for today’s prize, an advance copy of TEASE ME!

Welcome today’s guest, the wonderful and talented Sylvia Day! I’m super excited to have her here to talk about some of her upcoming titles!

PRIDE AND PASSION
Kensington Brava
ISBN: 978-0758231727
Buy: Borders

Wealth has its dangers…
There are disadvantages to being an heiress, as Eliza Martin knows well. Fortune hunters flock to her, acquaintances lie and pander, and lately, someone is engineering “accidents” to propel her to the altar. But Eliza will not be bullied, and she will get to the bottom of this plot. All she needs is a man to infiltrate her assemblage of suitors and find the culprit. Someone not easily noticed; a proficient dancer, quiet, and even-tempered.

…so do certain men
Thief-taker Jasper Bond is entirely too large, too handsome, and too dangerous. Who would believe that an intellectual like Eliza would be seduced by a man of action? But the combination of her stubbornness and the mystery makes the case one Jasper can’t resist. Client satisfaction is a point of pride and it’s his pleasure to prove he’s just the man she needs after all…

“The undisputed mistress of tender, erotic romance.” -Teresa Medeiros

***

EXCERPT 

Eliza’s tone changed, became more clipped and direct. “There are nine positions in the German waltz. However, we must start with a rule: this precise distance between us should always be maintained.”

“You are too far away,” Jasper complained, shooting a pointed glance down at the floor between them.

“Stuff. The waltz is the only dance in which pairs are set apart from the assemblage and focused on each another. There is no way to be more intimate.”

“Without a bed.”

Eliza bit back an indulgent smile. Certainly she shouldn’t encourage his roguish tendencies, but she adored them. He was unlike any man she knew—wicked in all the best ways.

“Pay attention,” she said sternly. “Your feet should be turned outward when stepping—” she demonstrated “—and the lift of your leg should be pronounced.”

Although he continued to make provocative statements, Eliza remained focused. She walked him carefully through the steps. At first, he seemed almost afraid to move. When she pointed it out, he groused, “Damned if I’ll trample you.”

But he soon learned to appreciate her responsiveness. He became more confident and sure-footed. The steps became more natural, his arm movements done with more flourish. She praised him when his form was perfect, and teased him when it wasn’t.

As time passed and they continued their exertions, the scent of his skin filled the air between them. The advance and retreat of the steps became foreplay to her. The twisting movements limbered her, while the too-brief moments of proximity began to titillate her senses. His powerful shoulder flexed beneath her hand, reminding her of how delicious he was when naked and passionate and aroused. Her breathing quickened.

Jasper watched her with an enigmatic smile. “I like this.”

“The dance?”

“The way you follow my lead. The feel of your body moving in just the way I want, with only the slightest urging.”

“You like being in control.”

Jasper paused mid-cross step. Their faces were turned toward one another, their lips only inches apart. “And you like me in control.”

“Perhaps—” she lowered her gaze to his lips, “—being out of control is my aim.”

His hand tightened on her waist. “Are you propositioning me, Miss Martin?”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Anything you want.”

He sidestepped, so that their bodies were aligned. Face to face. Jasper was such a large, strong man. She felt so delicate when she was with him, yet never overpowered.

“You know what I want,” she whispered, blushing.

“A kiss?” He gently pulled a pin from her hair. “An embrace?”

“More.”

“How much more?”

She bit her lower lip.

Jasper caught her chin. “Shyness has no place between us.”

“I do not want to be… overbold.”

“Sweetheart.” His tone was soft and warm. “Can you be unaware of how I relish your esteem and desire? Have I not told you how deeply they please me and how much satisfaction I derive from them?”

“As if I am the only woman to admire you,” Eliza said wryly.

“You are the only woman whose admiration has value to me.”

“Why?” she challenged. “There is nothing special about me. Whatever pleasing traits I possess are better represented by other females.”

“Not in the combination with which you are blessed.” His hand drifted from her jaw line and closed around her breast. He studied her reaction as his thumb circled a highly sensitive nipple. “I love that you are beautiful and clever and carry a constant desire for me. You could not be more perfect.”

Her body responded instantly to his expert touch—her nipples tightened into aching points and the flesh between her legs throbbed with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he coaxed, anchoring her with a hand at her hip. With two fingers, he rolled and tugged the erect point of her breast, the pressure too light to offer any relief.

She felt pliable and wanton. Intoxicated. They had been alone for an hour, only inches apart; his body had been in motion the entire time. Watching him move was a seduction in and of itself. She couldn’t keep herself from wanting him. Her infatuation was far too great to be moderated.

“I want you naked,” she breathed.

A soft rumbling came from his chest, sounding suspiciously like a purr. “Why?”

Her hands moved of their own volition, catching the lapels of his jacket. “Take this off.”

A wicked smile made her toes curl. He shrugged out of the expensive jacket and let it fall to the floor. “Better?”

“Not nearly.” She caressed his arms through his shirtsleeves. Looking behind him at the mirror on the opposite wall, she drank in the view of his buttocks and thighs. The sight, smell, and feel of him were all aphrodisiacs to her.

He glanced over his shoulder. “You surprise me in all the best ways. Should I hang a mirror above my bed?”

“Jasper…” A shiver of mortified delight moved through her. “I would never be able to look.”

“I think you will not be able to look away. Shall we prove it?”

*** 

Yesterday’s winner was…Bridget. Congratulations! Contact Tracy Wolff to claim your prize.

Today’s prize: autographed copies of ASK FOR IT and THE STRANGER I MARRIED. Comment here for a chance to win!

BONUS BLURB – Sylvia has just sold a new paranormal romance series to NAL Signet Eclipse! You can read the announcement of Sylvia’s new sale here: http://www.murdershewrites.com/2010/03/08/news-new-sale-new-series/

SPRING EQUINOX
Samhain Publishing
ISBN: 978-1605049359
Download eBook: My Bookstore & More

Once upon a time, two young lovers vowed to reunite…

Celestial Seductions, Book 1

After a bitter divorce, Isabel Asher returns to Isla de Margarita to find the only man she’s ever truly loved. Twelve years ago, on her eighteenth birthday, they made a pact to meet…if they both were free. Now she waits, wondering if Rafael Cruz will be her every fantasy come to life…or just a foolish dream.

Rafael never forgot their summer of love all those years ago. Since then, no other woman has measured up to the memory of Isabel in his arms. Their chemistry is still stunning, the sex is sizzling. The power of their memories is overwhelming. Yet it’s too soon to tell if she wants to be with him as much as he wants her.

As her time on the island grows short, their sensual play heats up, and includes a night with Rafael’s best friend. But they must decide if their passionate reunion is simply a celebration of the past…or a new beginning for lasting love.

***

I love writing e-books! It allows me more freedom to explore new and different ideas than my New York books generally do (although my editor at Spice has given me a lot of free rein and I’m thrilled about it-but the first of those books won’t be out until next year). Meanwhile, writing for Samhain is always a good time. I’ve been given the opportunity to write vampires, futuristic, post-apocalyptic, and a lot of contemporary erotic romance with a little dirt thrown in-fun!

My latest e-book release, SPRING EQUINOX, has a nice little twist. Yes, it’s romance, but there’s also this other guy who drops in to spice things up. I love to write about ménage that really works, that makes the characters question their perception of sex and love, and ends in a way that makes everyone happy. In this story, Isabel and Rafael, each others’ first loves, are reunited after many years apart, so it’s pure romance-and chemistry-from the moment they see each other again. Then there’s Rafael’s best friend, Carlos…and Isabel can’t resist. Two sexy men, a tropical island, a little wine…what more does a girl need? You’ll have to read the book to find out how it all turns out. You can buy it now at Samhain, (on the MBAM site), and it should be available in the next few days through Amazon and Fictionwise.

Excerpt from Spring Equinox:
He laid her on the bed carefully, as though she were something precious. And even though she was still quivering with the power of her orgasm, she wanted to feel him inside her, needed him to fill her with his beautiful, hard cock.

She slid her hands over his body while he held himself over her, loving every hard ridge and plane of his muscular form, the feel of his silky dark skin beneath her searching hands. Then he was kissing her again. Yes, that was what she needed, to feel his mouth on hers, to taste her own musky sea-scent on his lips.

When she reached for his cock he pulled away.

“Not yet, querida. I want to make you come again.”

She laughed, breathless. “I don’t think I can. Not like that, anyway.”

“We shall see.” There was that wicked gleam in his eyes again. “Here, turn over, onto your belly.”

It never occurred to her to argue with him, she simply did it.

“Now, up on your hands and knees. Yes, that’s it, so you are wide open to me.”

She felt wide open, exposed, but gloriously so.

“Now close your eyes, and focus on my voice, my touch.”

She did as he asked, trembling all over already with the anticipation of what he might do to her. But wanting to do as he asked, for him to do whatever he wanted.

She felt the feather-soft touch of his fingertips first, brushing over the lips of her swollen sex. She was soaked again instantly. He continued the gentle stroking for what felt like an eternity, over her lips, over the tip of her clit. Each motion sent a thrill of desire rushing through her. She needed to come again. It was even better somehow that she couldn’t see him, didn’t know exactly what to expect.

His tongue took her by surprise. He pushed it right into her, into her tight, waiting hole. Her pussy clenched. He pulled back when she moaned aloud.

Suddenly, his face was right next to her ear, and he was whispering, “Do you ever use toys, Isabella?”

“Toys?” Her breath was a ragged pant in her ears.

“Sex toys, querida.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me.” She could barely get the words out.

He was gone for a moment. The bed shifted beneath her as he came to sit on it again. She heard him open a drawer in the night table next to the bed, the sound of foil tearing, then a soft buzzing.

“I’ve made it safe for you. Get ready, Isabella.”

She took in a breath, waited. Her pussy was on fire, needing to be filled. She didn’t know what he was going to do.

Something touched her, something hard and unfamiliar, grazing her pussy lips. Without thinking about it she spread her legs wider.

“Ah yes, I love to see you do that, to open yourself for me.”

He moved the tip of the vibrator over her pussy, teasing her. A shiver of sensation reverberated through her. She could feel it in her limbs, in her nipples. When he moved it up a little higher, touching it to her clit, she moaned, surged toward the buzzing instrument, her hips arcing.

A small chuckle from him. “Try to hold still, Isabella. I’ll make it good for you.”

She tried. But as he teased her clit with the vibrator, pleasure shimmered through her, building moment by moment, and she couldn’t keep still. Despite her squirming he never let the toy lose contact. And he never did more than tease her with it, not letting her come. The pressure built. Her sex was soaking wet, until her juices slid like a slow teardrop down the inside of one thigh.

She felt his fingers at her hole, massaging her pussy lips, teasing at her entrance.

“Rafael…oh…”

“You are so wet, querida. So wet, and I can see your pussy, soft and pink. You’re driving me insane. I want to put my mouth on you again. I want to push my tongue inside you. To suck on you until you come into my mouth.”

“Ah God.” Just hearing him say these things sent brilliant flickers of pleasure through her system, hot and electric.

“Yes…” His voice was a low, sensual whisper. “I love to watch you, to see you respond. You are too beautiful like this. I need to fuck you, querida. Soon.”

He slid the tip of the vibrator inside her, and she gasped. Just the tip, just enough for the vibration to send tremors of sensation through her pussy, through her entire system. She bit her lip, trying to get a grasp on the intensity of it. She took in a deep breath, moved back against the hard toy, wanting to impale herself on it. The vibration inside of her was even sharper than before.

“I’m going to come, Rafael.”

“Yes, come for me. I want to watch your beautiful pussy while you come.”

He slid the toy in farther, filling her up, then angling it until it hit her g-spot.

“Ah God, Rafael!”

The climax ripped through her like a storm, wild and reckless. Wave after wave of pleasure roared through her, sharp and stinging. Her pussy clenched hard as she called his name, over and over.

She was still shaking when he pulled the toy from her body. She went down immediately onto her stomach, unable to hold herself up any longer.

He bent over her and blazed a trail of kisses down her spine. Her skin was incredibly sensitive, each kiss was like a tiny orgasm, searing through her system.

How was it possible that she still needed more? She craved him, needed to feel his thick cock inside her. Even after two mind-blowing orgasms, she still needed to feel him in her body.
As though reading her mind once more, he gently turned her over onto her back.

“I can’t wait any longer.” He scattered kisses over her breasts, her stomach, murmuring, “Your skin tastes like sugar cane. I could kiss you all night long. But now I need to fuck you, my Isabella.”

* * *

To help Tracy and me celebrate, Eden is giving away a copy of her latest print release, THE BEAUTY OF SURRENDER! Here’s the blurb:
Shibari…The ancient art of erotic restraint…Its finely-knotted ropes are a turn-on, a sexual experience…and for some, an absolute necessity…

Serving the Master: Desmond and Ava At a San Francisco sex club called Pinnacle, Ava Gregory seeks something she cannot quite describe. But of one thing she is certain: the moments when feels her most beautiful and complete are when she is tightly restrained in the Shibari ropes. At Pinnacle, she’s paired with a master: Desmond Hale, who thrives on control… But something surprising happens when Desmond binds Ava’s willing body and takes her to the edge of ecstasy. And now, the two are taking their relationship out of the shadows of the club, sharing secrets unleashed and bodies unbound…

Soothing the Beast: Marina and JamesAn art dealer and Shibari master, Marina has never hesitated to dominate anyone. Until she meets James, a dark, gorgeous, towering journalist who’s survived horrors around the world. James confesses that submission is the only way to clear his troubled mind, but Marina is instantly overwhelmed by his strength and magnetism. To share the pleasures of bondage, something must change between them. When it does, it will come with an explosion of unexpected pleasure—and a relationship that neither could have ever have imagined…

* * *

For a chance to win a copy of The Beauty of Surrender, comment here.

Yesterday’s winner was…Carol L! I’ll be sending your email address to Mary Wine today. Congratulations.

Happy Monday, everyone!

Sorry to be late today. Computer problems continue. Hoping to resolve them soon. Without further ado, enjoy today’s feature by Mary Wine (who is, hands down, one of the most sublime costume designers EVER–and a pretty nifty person too)!

IN THE WARRIOR’S BED
Kensington Brava
ISBN: 978-0758234650
Buy: Amazon

In this irresistible follow-up to her captivating debut, In Bed With a Stranger, Mary Wine revisits the McJames clan–their loves, their battles, their conquests…

Cullen McJames will not have his honor sullied, certainly not by his clan’s nemesis Laird Erik McQuade. So when McQuade tells the Court of Scotland that Cullen has stolen his daughter’s virtue, Cullen steals the daughter instead.

Since his brother wed a fetching lass, Cullen’s been thinking he too needs a wife. A marriage could end the constant war between the clans. And looking on Bronwyn McQuade but once has put her in his dreams for a week…

But Bronwyn won’t go quietly. She won’t be punished for what she did not do. Nor is she eager to live among the resentful veterans of McQuade wars. And however brave and beautiful a man Cullen may be, he has much to learn about a woman’s fighting spirit. But as Bronwyn will discover, he has much to teach her as well.

Excerpt-
He was, too. It stunned her, such caring from a man her father called enemy. There was honest sincerity in his eyes and it made him far more attractive than she’d already decided he was. It was so tempting to sink into that feeling and allow it to wrap around her. But how did she trust this man who had hauled her away from her family? She was his prize, nothing more.

“I won’t marry ye.” It was the only threat she held. His eyes narrowed when her words hit him.

“Then ye’ll watch our first child be baptized a bastard.”

Bronwyn gasped. She reached out before her stunned mind started working again, her hand delivering a sharp slap to his arrogant face. The sound was startling in the quiet room, but Cullen grinned at her, sending her temper into a full blaze again.

“That is a mean-hearted thing to say to a woman. It’s the mother that is called slut when a babe is born out of marriage.”

“Is that so?” His expression was guarded.

“It is.”

“And yet I am the one saying that we should marry now, afore our child is conceived.” He paused, running his eyes down her length to pause on her flat belly. “If ye refuse me, ye’ll have no one save yerself to blame when the gossips call ye a scarlet woman.”

Her eyes narrowed. The man was far too cunning, but she refused to be trapped by his scheme. “I am no planning on having yer child. Why do ye think I refused to tell ye my name? I am no interested in ye. Not a bit.” She propped her hands on her hips, making a stand that she couldn’t truly back up. If the man was of the mind to force himself on her, there was little she might do to stop him. A twinge of something that felt like disappointment pierced her heart. She didn’t want to think of Cullen as a man who would rape her.

Which was ridiculous. The man had kidnapped her. She had no reason to think highly of him. Better to expect the worst; it would hurt less that way.

“No a bit?” His lips twitched, rising into another grin that annoyed her. “Well now, it seems to me that ye were blushing back on that hillside. Just like ye are now.”

She covered her cheeks with her hands and they were hot. “It is nae more than my temper.”

“’Tis much more.”

He reached out in a motion so fast she stumbled trying to avoid his hand. She straightened up against the wall, any further retreat impossible, and his arms plenty long enough to span the distance between their bodies. His hand pushed her loose, flowing chemise flush against her body. But he did it with absolute control. There was no bite of his superior strength, only perfectly applied pressure. He cupped one breast, his thumb gliding across the hard point of her nipple.

“If ye are nae interested, why is yer nipple hard?”

His opposite hand pressed flat against the wall behind her, caging her between his arms. The knowledge that he could handle her more roughly held her in place to preserve the small distance he granted her. She stiffened as his thumb rubbed her nipple. Never once had she believed that so small a touch, so tiny a contact between two people, might spark such a torrent of sensation. It flooded her, shaking her with its intensity.

“I am cold, ye daft man. Ye stole me in my chemise.”

And she was a liar, god forgive her.

“I’ve noticed that, fair Bronwyn. ‘Tis the truth that I’ve enjoyed the sight of ye.” His lips formed a sensuous expression that was sinfully carnal. “It kept me alert all night long knowing how bare ye were beneath that McJames kilt.”

“Exactly the sort of thing a blackard would say. Have ye no decency?” She sounded too desperate for her taste but she was running short on reasons to deny him. Her life at Red Stone was nothing so wonderful. A ragged breath shook her, warm delight flowing through her. It was for sure that no man wearing her father’s colors had ever made her blush.

“I’m not the one refusing to wed. I believe most would say that I’m behaving correctly by insisting that we go to church and marry. Before temptation gets the better of us both.”

He chuckled, leaning closer. She felt the brush of his breath against her lips now and her mouth went dry. His lower lip quivered in anticipation, her gaze lowering to his mouth as she wondered what his kiss would be like.

“It will be my pleasure to help ye warm up.” His voice was husky and dark with promise. His thumb moved once more across the top of her nipple. The hand on the wall moved, capturing the back of her head, his fingers threading through the strands of her unbound hair. Her hands sprang up between them, pushing against the hard wall of his chest.

He took her mouth, sealing her gasp inside. He tasted her lower lip with the tip of his tongue before invading her mouth. The hand on the back of her head held her in place while he tilted his to the side so that their lips met. She jerked in his embrace, out of sheer surprise. There were too many signals rushing through her, too many sensations to understand. When her back left the wall, his hand slid smoothly around her body. Her skin hummed with enjoyment, everywhere he held her. Beneath her hands, she felt the steady beat of his heart. Her fingertips joined her lips in discovering a bounty of pleasurable sensations that she’d never experienced before. His lips pressed hers open, demanding a deeper intimacy while he pulled her up against his body. Heat flared through her. She twisted, attempting to understand why she liked his kiss so much. Her body urged her to return it, move her mouth in unison, to taste him.

A soft moan got past their joined lips.

She was leaning back against the wall again a moment later. Cullen’s hands pressed flat on either side of her head, imprisoning her without touching her. A dangerous look flickered in his eyes, one that reminded her of a predator that needed only one move from her to trigger the instinct to pounce.

But he was breathing as hard as she was. She placed a hand on his chest before thinking about it, acting on the impulse. Her fingertips pressing against his warm skin and feeling the hard beat of his heart.

His blue eyes captured her gaze, locking and searching her eyes for a long time. Her heart slowed down from its frantic pace, but not all the way to normal. Excitement still pulsed through her, triggered by the scent of his skin.

She liked it…the way he smelled. Shocking, mysterious, and slightly overwhelming, but there was no denying that she found it attractive. The flare of hunger in his gaze mesmerized her. Her pride enjoyed knowing that she aroused him.

“Will ye marry me, Bronwyn McQuade?”

His voice was husky and rough. It tempted her with that edginess because the part of her that had lamented never having a husband, wanted to say yes.

But she refused to be another blow in a feud. It would be nothing but a way to strike at her sire, and her father would use it as an excuse to shed blood.

Possibly Cullen’s blood.

Pain nipped at her heart. The frustration of her entire life ripping and tearing at her conscience. There were no good choices, only ones that would hurt others.

“Ye have stolen me, and that is no way to begin a marriage.”

He snarled softly at her, his fingers curling. But she refused to take back her words. 

***

Today, Mary will gave away TWO copies of her books (to lucky, random U.S. residents), so comment here for your chance to win one.

Yesterday’s winner was jacabur1. Hope you enjoy your prize. Send Tracy Wolff your snail mail address, and she’ll hook you up with a prize. Congrats!

THE BLONDE SAMURAI
Harlequin Spice
ISBN: 978-0373605408
BUY: Barnes & Noble

Spring 1873:

I arrived in Japan a virgin bride, heartsick and anxious beyond measure. Yet I embraced this perplexing world with my soul laid bare after uncovering an erotic, intoxicating power I hardly knew that I, Katie O’Roarke, possessed.

Japan was a world away from my tedious Western existence, a welcome distraction from my recent marriage to a cold and cruel husband. But when James attacked me in a drunken rage, I could tolerate it no longer…. I had no choice but to escape into the surrounding hills. I awoke in the arms of Akira, a young Samurai, and it was he who took me to Shintaro, the head of the powerful Samurai clan.

At first distrustful, Shintaro came to me every day for a fortnight until my need for him made my heart race at the very sound of his feet upon the wooden floor. He taught me the way of the Samurai—loyalty, honor, self-respect—and the erotic possibilities of inner beauty unleashed. It is his touch that shatters my virginal reserve, evoking danger and physical pleasures that linger beyond our fervent encounters. But James means to find me, to make me pay for his humiliation. I can no longer hide amongst the orange blossoms as rebellions rage, and as my own secret continues to grow….

Intro to Excerpt:
 
As my heroine, Lady Carlton née Katie O’Roarke, writes in her memoir, The Blonde Samurai: “Yet the first man I took to my bed after my wedding night was not my husband—or yours—but one of the most mysterious, elusive and enigmatic men in all Japan. A samurai.

“His name was Shintaro.”

Here is an EXCERPT of that encounter:
 
“We drank sake in small porcelain cups, me filling his cup, then him filling mine, both of us interacting in a rich, sensuous and cerebral ritual that was but a prelude to what happened next. I pray you will forgive me for the lack of words between us—we barely spoke, our need for each other so evident in our eyes. Intense longing swelled within me, but we didn’t kiss, since such playfulness was considered the tool of the courtesan.

“I sipped the warm rice wine, relaxing as he stroked me with a rare degree of concentration and sensitivity to my needs, taking time to play with my nipples, a moment so sensuous I thought I could never put a cup to my lips again without his fingers pinching my brown buds. Rolling his thumbs over my hard peaks then pulling on them, making me squirm, and manipulating them with the same care I would later discover he showed toward testing the sharpness of his blade.

“I remained still when he massaged my earlobes then my breasts with an oil I recognized as jasmine, its lightness and delicate fragrance luring my senses with a promise yet to come. He rubbed it between my legs and around my throbbing pussy lips, delighting in teasing me, then he poured oil into my cupped palm, indicating I should drip oil on the head of his cock.

“I nodded then carefully rubbed it on the sensitive underside, then he pulled me closer, whispering to me. I followed where his eyes told me to go on his broad chest, his thighs, his cock, our bodies heating up as we teased each other, emitting sweat scented with a veiled fragrance.

“The air dragged heavy with our body heat, his mood softening, mine becoming feverish. Throats parched, I poured more sake for him and he brought it to his lips, watching me. He drank greedily, the wine drizzling down the sides of his mouth, then he eyed me across the cup, waiting for me to drink the wine he poured for me. Teasing, wanting, I, too, drank quickly, eager to see what would happen next, when he surprised me by snapping open a large gold fan. Playful, laughing, fanning himself as samurai do in a society where the art of being cool is genderless.

“I leaned in closer, offering my breasts for his touch. His eyes widened, then he rubbed my nipples with the fan, stinging them in a pleasant manner. I threw my head back, moaning, enjoying the sensation, wanting more. Giddy from the effects of the sake, I grabbed his fan and danced around him, slapping it across my buttocks, then rippling it over my pussy and teasing him mercilessly until he could bear no more. Speaking to me in a firm tone, he bade me lie down upon the silky white futon while he placed a pillow covered with shimmering gold silk under my head, its coolness soothing my flaming cheeks.

“The real pleasure came when he parted my thighs and leaned over me, taking his time to observe me with a quality about him that transcended warrior and Occidental, but with a poetic sensitivity of the man himself. I jumped when he pulled on the light-colored hair on my pubic mound as if he were tugging on the strings of a lute, grinning at finding them so fine and silky yet wiry. I smiled back, then a daring idea came to me, inspired by a song I’d read about in the native works translated for me.

“Without shyness, I plucked three hairs from my pussy and presented them to him as a souvenir. He laughed and I felt privileged to see a rare glimpse of emotion when his eyes softened, then he took my pubic hairs and wrapped them in a piece of red silk before sliding his fingers into me. It sets my teeth on edge as I write, thinking about his fingers probing me and though he found me tight, his touch intimate, he didn’t stop, but kept going, exploring without trepidation… ”

***

Today’s winner will receive a copy of The BLONDE SAMURAI. Comment here for a chance to win!

Yesterday’s winner of VELVET HAVEN is…Robin K. I’ll send your email address to Sophie so she can coordinate delivery of your prize with you.

If you’re in Arlington, TX today, I’m signing books at the Borders at Arlington Highalnds with Tracy Wolff form 2 to 4.

Sorry to be late today, y’all. I put this up once this morning and thought all was fine. I’ve been having problems with my browser and couldn’t get my blog to work properly. All seems to be well now. I hope. Fingers crossed… Without further ado, here’s today’s guest, the lovley Sophie Renwick!

***

I remember looking around in fascinated horror. The rookery where my brothers and I and all the other town kids played looked like something out of a fairy tale—a dark, disturbed tale, but a fairy tale none the less.

Even at eight I knew I wanted to be a writer, and that day, as I looked around me, at the ice and trees, listening to the wind howl through the woods, I knew what I would one day want to write about.

So when my editor approached me about doing a paranormal series that was ‘fresh’, I looked out my kitchen window and thought, ‘hmmmm, what can I write about?’ Then, the strangest thing began to happen. It began to snow. Soft at first, but then the November sky darkened, and the snow began to come down, and the wind started its low moan through the field at the back of our house. And in the middle of the field is a crown forest, and above the trees which were naked, a few ravens circled the tops, and inspiration struck.

Instantly I was transported back to that rookery of my childhood. To not only that winter’s day where the woods were ice covered, but to the springs and summers when we would run and play and pretend that we were hiding from the faeries that lived amongst the trees. I recall one summer day, crouched down between two big maples, my little brother beside me, breathing heavy from running. “Do you believe?” he asked. And I remember looking down into his little freckled face (mine was even more so) and said, “Yes. I believe in faeries. And I believe they live in these woods.”

That memory, combined with the snowstorm outside my own window was the inspiration for my paranormal world of Annwyn. Bran, the hero of Velvet Haven (Book One of the Immortals of Annwyn) is a Night Sidhe and a King. He is a fairy. And he shifts into a raven. And his home is the woods, and his magic comes from the elements and the stars, and he’s everything that my eight year old heart would have loved to come across all those long days ago, in that rookery.

VELVET HAVEN: Immortals of Annwyn (book 1)
New American Library
ISBN: 978-0451229182
Buy: Amazon

Hidden from mortals for all eternity, Annwyn, the Otherworld, is home to shapeshifters, wraiths and dragons. But in a nightclub called Velvet Haven, desire brings humans and immortals together…

Built atop the mystic passageway to Annwyn, the gothic nightclub Velvet Haven has seen its share of lost souls—both mortal and immortal. It is here that Bran, the shapeshifter king of the Sidhe, searches for his brother, who is ensnared by a centuries-old curse. When a vision foretells his own death, he knows his time to find Carden is running out.

For help he must turn to Mairi, a mortal woman with an unusual aura. Bran has never liked humans, other than using their sexual pleasure to restore his magic energy. But with Mairi everything is different. Her lush curves and teasing caresses enflame him like no Sidhe has ever done. He has no idea that the woman he’s falling for holds the key to his destruction – or his salvation.

Excerpt (Intended for adults 18 years or older)

Jumping, the two of them whirled around, only to find themselves looking up at a giant. A beautiful, golden giant with eyes that shimmered in the strobe lights. His beauty was beyond anything Mairi had ever seen. And his body…her gaze slid over the tight black T-shirt that showcased his pecs and arms, she’d never seen a body like his.

There was something inhuman about him, he was that drop-dead gorgeous.

He smiled, a slow sensual grin that was almost hypnotic. “Welcome to Velvet Haven. We’ve been expecting you.”

“We’ve?” Mairi glanced back at the DJ who was still playing music.

The man grinned and moved to the left, revealing the most dangerous, sexiest man Mairi had ever laid eyes on. When he looked at her, her entire body jolted and images flooded her brain as he walked—no, stalked—slowly towards her. He was dark, brooding, intense; reminding Mairi of a black thundercloud. Menacing, yet strangely fascinating. Capable of a powerful storm, yet hauntingly beautiful.

There was a fierce tempest brewing inside him. Mairi could feel it, a strange energy radiating off of him. Her body lit up like a nuclear power plant and her breasts suddenly grew heavy as she studied his self-assured steps. She was aroused, and her arm tingled where the feather had landed on her. Blinking, she fought the visuals that suddenly clouded her thoughts, but they were all she could see now as they slammed into her as her dream from only a few hours before came back to haunt her.

A drop, in the shape of a tear, trickled between the shoulders of a tattooed back. Sweat. She inhaled the scent of man as she watched the crystal fluid run between the rippling muscles that quivered and strained.

 He was naked, back ripped and sculpted; arms thick and defined, spread out at his sides. His face was covered by black hair that was long and damp, clinging to his brow. His ass was hard—sculpted—the smooth skin stretched taut over contoured muscles. His thighs were thick, powerful, possessing stamina and sheer strength.

His was a body made to master a woman’s.

Straddling his hips, she licked away the rivulet of sweat, tasting salt and arousal as she traced the sword tattooed along his spine with the tip of her tongue. A blast of heat wrapped around her despite the dampness between them. He arched, trying to connect once again with her tongue. Beneath her, she felt his ass flex, rising up hard between her thighs to nestle between the folds of her sex.

He moaned as the heat from her core swamped his skin, coating him with her own arousal.

Tormenting him more, she dragged her nipples along his back, scraping the pointed tips over his skin as her tongue flicked up his spine in teasing, insinuating lashes. He was shackled, his wrists in black manacles, his fingers curled into fists. On his left hand he wore a ring that bore an oval stone, the color of fire. With her lips and teeth she pulled it from his finger, allowing him to feel her mouth wrapped around his finger. She sucked it, teasing him, giving him a glimpse of what she could do with her lips and tongue.

“I am your slave,” he said in a voice intoxicated with lust.

Never more did she realize the truth of his words than now. Never had she seen him so aroused, so eager for her. But she wanted him hotter. Harder. She wanted him begging.

Sitting up, she placed his ring on her index finger and admired the glow of the stone. It felt warm on her finger, the remnants of his heat, the hint of power contained within the gem.

Reminding her that she had left him aching, he strained beneath her, rocking against her sex. She was wet. She let him feel that wetness before she reached behind her—between his thighs. He groaned and shifted, the manacles straining with his immense strength.

“You are too impatient,” she whispered in his ear.

“I would feel you now,” he growled, a sound that made her shiver in desire, and the slightest bit of fear.

“All right.” Reaching between his thighs, she teased him until he lifted his hips from the bed. He wanted her to reach for his cock. Instead, she reached for something just as hard.

Lifting the sword in the air, she brought it down, but he turned his head and looked up at her, his strange, haunting eyes glaring at her through strands of damp, black hair.

“After all this?” he murmured, “after everything we’ve done, you would betray me now?”

“Mairi?” Rowan whispered, pulling her out of the memory as the man stalked closer and closer to them.

“What is it?”

“I…I,” she turned to her friend. Biting her lip, she tried to stay strong, tried to tell herself it was just some stupid dream. She was overtired that was all there was to it. “I had the dream again. This afternoon.”

“Was it like all the others?”

Mairi shook her head. No, this one had been different.

“Was it the same guy?”

“Yes.”

“Was it…” Rowan glanced up the man with the long hair. “Is it him? Is that why you’re remembering the dream now?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s not the same guy. How could it be?” she asked, looking at her friend with horror.

“Then tell me what’s got you shaking, Mairi.”

“The guy,” Mairi murmured, swallowing hard as she looked at the man who was slowly coming to her. “The one in my dream. I…I… killed him.” 

***

Today’s winner will receive a signed copy of VELVET HAVEN. Just comment here to register to win.

Yesterday’s winner is…Joder. Please contact Tracy Wolff with your snail mail address to collect your prize.

Happy Friday!