Charlene Teglia is at it again, with her latest, Satisfaction Guaranteed. I can’t WAIT to get my hands on this one. Oooohh! Here’s a quick blurb:

Welcome to The Capture Agency, a fantasy dating service for dominant men who know what they like and how they like it, and women who can handle limitless pleasure. After being matched with a partner, the male will capture his date and make her a slave to passion. This exclusive service is for couples who aren’t afraid to push the limits, let go of their inhibitions and lose themselves in the fantasy.

Clients include Chase Hunter, the agency’s owner, who decides to break his cardinal rule against dating clients and capture a woman for the first time. Kane Woods, a man of superior size and strength who’s always had to reign in his desires–until now. And Gage Michael, who learns that his ex is using the service…and decides to capture her. Will these couples enjoy a hot romp between the sheets, or will they capture each other’s hearts?

Reviews:
Fallen Angel Reviews Recommended Read
“Hot, hot, hot! There is no other way to describe Satisfaction Guaranteed. Each of these stories has gorgeous, sexy men and women who aren’t afraid to ask for what they want…Charlene Teglia is a fresh voice in the erotica genre, and it will be a pleasure to read subsequent works by this author.”

Romance Junkies Five Blue Ribbons
“Charlene Teglia brings our fantasies of capture and bondage to the forefront with her latest release SATISFACTION GUARANTEED. These three interconnecting stories are told with heart, heat and a whole lot of hope…Ms. Teglia is a talented author who writes in a variety of romance genres and never leaves her readers wanting – expect maybe for her next book. SATISFACTION GUARANTEED is a prime example of what makes her one of my favorites – storylines that seduce both the mind and spirit.”

Just Erotic Romance Reviews, 5 Stars/Heat Level O
“Shiver me timbers, I want my own Kane!”

CK2KwipsandCritiques, 5 Klovers
“Ever have a capture fantasy? Doesn’t matter. You will after reading Charlene Teglia’s newest book, Satisfaction Guaranteed.”

Excerpt:
Copyright 2007 Charlene Teglia
St. Martin’s Press, Feb. 19, 2008
All rights reserved

Hard Match

“I want to see you naked,” Chase said as he set her on her feet, her legs backed up against the four-poster bed. “I want to see all of that creamy skin bare for me and then I’m going to paint designs on your body with that whipped cream, every place I want to lick it off.”

“Works for me,” Rachel said, a smile spreading over her face.

“And while I’m doing that, pretty Rachel, I’m going to have you handcuffed to this bed.”

“Wow.” She gulped as she imagined herself on the bed, naked, helpless, wearing nothing but dots of whipped cream that Chase would swirl his tongue around and lap away until he tasted nothing but her. Her inner muscles tightened and she felt her sex swelling, a hot rush spreading through her as her body readied itself for him.

She wanted his mouth on her, his tongue teasing her nipples, her clit, plunging inside her…A shudder ran through her and Chase gave a low laugh at her telltale reaction.

“Like that idea, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh.” She licked her lips, her mouth feeling dry, heart racing as adrenaline shot through her.

He slapped her ass, the sharp sting taking her by surprise. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a faint sting followed by a rush of blood that puffed her vulva further. Now that was unexpected. Who knew a light spank could actually feel good and make her sex swell? “Get your pants off. The next time I spank you, I want to see a little rosy flush on your bare ass.”

Unbelievably, his words made her react with a liquid rush, her natural lubrication coating her and making her slick for him.

He slid a hand under her thin navy silk sweater, stroking her bare waist beneath it. “I gave you an order, Rachel. Pants off. Or do you need help undressing?”

“Wow.” She bunched her hands into his shirt and took a deep breath. “Give me a minute. I’m standing here with a hot man who has handcuffs and knows how to use them, telling me to get naked. The last time I got naked for anybody, I was having a physical.”

“Been a while?” Chase kissed the corner of her mouth, light, soft, then nipped at her lower lip with the edge of his teeth. The contrast made her shudder with want.

“It’s been so long,” she answered. “And it’s never been like this. I feel—” she broke off, searching for words.

“What do you feel, Rachel? Tell me.” Chase hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her pants and slid them back and forth, caressing the soft skin of her belly.

“Everything. I want to rip my clothes off and rub myself against you. I want anything and everything with you. I feel crazy and needy.”

Rachel fumbled at her button and zipper, opening her pants and sliding them down her hips. The fabric pooled at her feet and she stepped out, kicking herself free. She grasped the bottom of her sweater and yanked it up over her head, pulling her arms out and tossing that, aside, too. Her satin panties clung damply between her legs and her bra felt too constricting. Her breasts felt swollen and achy and she was pretty sure nothing would give her relief but having his hands and his mouth on them.

“Very nice.” He looked down at her new bra, approval plain on his face. “Sexy and classy. Just like you.”

Rachel felt a blush burn her cheeks. “Not very classy. I went to an exclusive dating agency looking for kinky sex.”

“No.” Chase traced the outline of her bra, running his fingers over the curves of her breasts as they rose above the edge of the fabric cups. “You wanted something and you went looking for it. You had needs and you wanted them filled. That doesn’t lessen who you are, Rachel. You’re a beautiful, desirable, accomplished woman and you have every right to want a lover to give you pleasure.”

She shivered as his fingers sang to her nerve endings, making her feel very aware of her skin as a sensory organ. She wanted to feel his touch everywhere.

“I’m going to give you pleasure, Rachel. And you’re going to have to accept it, take it, enjoy it. You don’t have a choice. You’re my captive and you have to give in to me.”

The Perfect Stranger
Sabrina giggled and gripped his biceps with both hands. “Look at the muscles on you. What do you do for a living?”

“Can’t tell you. I’d have to kill you.” Kane’s face gave nothing away, his voice equally bland.

“Huh. Back to Bluebeard’s closet, are we?” Sabrina gave him a measuring look. “I can eliminate things I know you don’t do. You’re not in the military with that hair. You also don’t work in corporate America.”

“Why so curious?” He ran his hands up her back in a slow, massaging stroke that made her go limp. Sabrina collapsed on him again, enjoying the firm pressure along either side of her spinal column.

“I’m a woman. I’m curious.”

“I thought you wanted anonymous sex with a perfect stranger. No last names, no real information about each other, except for what we wanted in bed.” Kane worked his way up and down her back and Sabrina found it very difficult to focus on the conversation. Lassitude spread through her and her body felt heavy after the intensity of her physical response.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about you.” Sabrina nuzzled his chest and planted a random pattern of soft kisses on his bare skin. “Aren’t you curious about me? What I do for a living?”

“You’re a mafia hit woman on vacation. You’ve just finished a job over the border in Canada and you wanted some satisfaction after the action. Killing makes you want to commit a life-affirming act. Sex with a stranger means you don’t risk any complications, anybody getting too close or finding out too much about you. You used the agency as the most efficient means of locating a suitable partner for your exotic tastes.”

His voice was low and lazy as he rubbed her back. Sabrina shook with helpless giggles. When she could finally speak, she said, “Mafia hit woman? Killing makes me want to commit a life-affirming act? Why don’t you sound more concerned about being in bed with a dangerous woman?”

“Well, you’re only dangerous for a fee,” Kane explained. “Nobody’s hired you to hit me, and as long as I satisfy your base urges, I’m in no danger. You’re always law abiding when you’re not on the job. It’s one of the reasons you have no record and you’ve never been caught. You’re smart.”

“I like this explanation.” Sabrina nipped at his pectoral muscle with the sharp edge of her teeth. “I’m dangerous. Don’t mess with me. I know forty ways to kill a man, and a hundred ways to hide the body.”

“I’m bigger than you,” Kane pointed out. “And you’re not done using me to get your kinky thrills, so I’ve got no worries.”

“I like this fictional identity.” She kissed her way up to his throat and scooted higher on his body to kiss his chin. “Makes me feel sexy. You’re pretty good at this game. Maybe you should write a book.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Kane rolled over with her, placing her underneath him again. His chest pressed against her nipples, making them harden in response. “Meanwhile, there’s another game I’m interested in.”

Ex Marks the Spot
Emma let the driver help her out of the limo that had been sent to bring her to the hotel where her captor waited. Everything had been planned by her mystery date, from the location of their rendezvous to how she would arrive and what she should wear. The clothes had been delivered the day before. When Emma had tried them on she’d been sure they wouldn’t fit or would look ridiculous.

Everything had fit. And she didn’t look laughable. She’d stared at herself in the mirror, wondering who this stranger was staring back at her.

A white silk corset that laced tightly in the back and pushed her breasts up, emphasizing her cleavage, was the first item she’d put on. Next came a wisp of a thong in matching white silk, and then sheer thigh high stockings designed to stay up without garters. White shoes with high heels that made her legs look longer and more elegant than she would have thought possible. And over it, a faux fur coat in dark mink that made her pale skin look luminescent and contrasted boldly with her strawberry blond hair.

She looked exotic. She looked, Emma realized, like a very expensive plaything bought for an evening of pleasure. Her round ass was bare against the coat’s silk lining, and the lingerie felt like very fragile protection. The generous curves of her breast, hips and bottom were not so much covered by the garments as put on display. The corset showed much more than cleavage, it left her dark rose aureoles exposed and her nipples barely concealed. And her sex was clearly visible through the thin fabric of the thong.

The man who had chosen this outfit for her to wear wanted to see her body gift-wrapped in a way that was more enticing than full nudity. The thong would provide no protection at all. He could stroke her covered sex with as little impediment as if she was bare to his touch, and it would be easy for him to press a silk-covered finger into her if he chose. He could touch the upper curves of her breasts, lift them free of the corset to see her nipples if he wanted to. He could have her walk around in the privacy of their hotel suite, swaying on high heels, while he watched her bare backside bounce and shimmy.

Given the amount of thought he’d put into the details she knew about, Emma could only wonder what else he had planned for her. That had kept her awake the night before, and inspired more than a few fantasies. Now she was about to find out. The final item she’d been instructed to wear was to be put on after she’d come to the reserved suite. She’d been given a silk blindfold and she was to tie it over her eyes before knocking.

A tremor ran through her at the thought of being seen in her barely dressed state by a man she couldn’t see at all. Although in a way, it was a relief. It made what she was doing less real, made him less real. A fantasy figure.

Emma checked in at the front desk, conscious all the while of her state of undress and certain that somebody suspected. Her nipples made stiff little points against the tight silk of her corset. She was so aware of her body and her almost-nudity that it seemed impossible that everybody around her wasn’t aware of it, too.

She felt herself blushing as she took the card key that would open the room where a man waited for her and walked as fast as she dared in her high heels to the elevator. She breathed a sigh of relief when the doors slid closed, encapsulating her in privacy and solitude, safe from curious or lascivious stares.

When the doors opened on the penthouse floor, Emma tightened her grip on the card, walked to the door and slid the card into the reader slot. The door unlocked with an audible click. She glanced around to make sure she wouldn’t be seen, and tied the blindfold over her eyes. Then she knocked on the door before pushing it open.

Silence greeted her. Emma took a few steps in, feeling her way, then stopped. She’d come in far enough for the door to shut behind her and the sound it made when it closed almost made her jump. She hesitated, not sure if she should wait or come in, half afraid of tripping over something in the unfamiliar setting and in the unaccustomed height of her heels.

She felt a finger brush her cheek and drew in a sharp breath. Her heartbeat sped up and fine tremors ran through her. She felt hands move to the front of her coat and slowly undo the buttons that held it closed, one by one, all the way down. Then she heard the man move behind her. He gripped the coat and slid it off her shoulders, down her arms, then used it to trap her lower arms in the sleeves as he pulled her back against him.

A whisper breathed near her ear. “How lovely.”

A hand came to rest just below her throat, then slid lower to rest on the bare upper curves of her breasts. It was a possessive touch, one full of intent, and Emma swallowed hard as she realized that he could touch or take anything he wanted. And he would.

His hand moved, fingertips gliding along the outline of her corset, almost touching her nipples, then sliding lower to touch her through the silk.

“So hard,” he whispered as he rubbed his palm over one tight bud. Her breasts felt swollen inside the tight silk, and it seemed to enhance the sensation of his hand moving over her breast, stroking lightly over her nipples by turns. Then his hand moved slowly down to cup her belly and Emma almost shuddered. It felt so good to be held, to be touched. And at the same time, it was almost more than she could bear. Her body knew the touch of one man’s hands. Sex and Gage were inextricably entwined in her mind. Would she even know how to respond to another man?

“Wait,” Emma said through stiff lips.

The hand on her belly pressed in, gentle, steady pressure exerted until her body was nestled into his. “Second thoughts?” The low whisper was punctuated by a soft kiss in the hollow below her ear.

Second, third, fourth, fifth, they collided in her brain until she was almost dizzy. Or maybe that was from his breath tickling the nape of her neck, his hand rubbing slow circles over her belly, massaging her into relaxing in his hold. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Emma admitted. “I’ve never…that is, I’ve only…” her voice trailed off into uncertainty.

“You’ve never done anything like this.” A soft whisper, a kiss on the curve of her shoulder that slid over her skin like silk. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I might not be any good,” Emma said baldly. “I might disappoint you.”

“Let me worry about that.” His lips feathered along the line of her neck. “Tonight, you are my captive. I arranged for you to be delivered to me, blindfolded and gift-wrapped. And I have plans for you, lovely Emma. Plans for your pleasure and mine.”

Sounds irresistible. Click to purchase from Amazon.

Charli is giving away a copy of Satisfaction Guaranteed. All you have to do to win is leave a comment on this blog entry. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

I’m thrilled to announce the May 13 release of A PERFECT MATCH from Samhain. This is a story that’s dear to my heart. I started it many years ago and couldn’t figure out exactly how to finish it. I knew I wanted to changes some things…but the core of the story–Mitch and Juliette–remained the same. They have great chemistry for me. I hope you’ll enjoy it too.

Blurb:
Journalist Mitch MacKinnon is giving his all to make the big time and he’s found his ticket in…but first he has to write an exposé on a local dating service and its owner, Juliette Lowell. Her unorthodox methods seem laughable…until they pair him with the sexy-as-hell Juliette. As they begin a series of dates to determine their compatibility, will Mitch have to eat his words and the story that will take him to the top in order to admit that Juliette is his perfect match?

Excerpt (unedited)
Copyright Shelley Bradley LLC

As she passed a row of tables outlining the dance floor, a familiar voice called out, “Juliette.”

Mitch MacKinnon.

She recognized the voice right away by the shiver in her spine. Slowly, she turned. He deserved a Hunk of the Year award for the way he shaped a tuxedo jacket and his drop-dead dimpled smile.

Juliette inhaled, hoping oxygen would revive her suddenly malfunctioning brain. “Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” He rose, eyeing the bared shoulders above her rosy gown intently. “Wow. This morning, I didn’t think you could look much better. What an idiot I was.”

Juliette actually felt heat crawl up her face. “Thank you.”

“Hey, since you look so good, and I’m all dressed up in this penguin suit, how about a dance?”

“Aren’t you with someone?”

“Yeah, but she’s gone to the bathroom.”

He was asking her to dance when his date had only slipped out for a moment? Though he wasn’t making a play for her exactly, asking her to dance when he was here on a date seemed like a really asshole thing to do. “Don’t you think she’ll mind?”

“Nah,” he assured, grinning. “My mother has accepted the fact I have other women in my life since puberty.”

“You’re here with your mother?”

He nodded, his smile faltering. “She moved out here when Dad died. Part of the deal was that I’d escort her to these fancy wing-ding parties.”

So he wasn’t a jerk—at least not totally. “That’s…considerate of you.”

He shrugged. “So how ’bout it?”

Juliette hesitated. Looking at Mitch was unnerving enough, but touching him and letting him touch her when she was wearing a backless dress… None of that seemed wise.

“I really should get back—”

“Oh, come on. Three minutes,” he cajoled, stepping closer. God, he smells fabulous. “I’ll ask you a few questions. It’ll be the second part of our interview.”

She met his dark stare with a quiver. “You’re difficult to turn down.”

“Thanks for not trying too hard.”

Juliette felt his fingertips at her elbow a moment later. His exhalations caressed the tingling skin of her neck. When they reached the perimeter of the dance floor, Mitch turned her into his arms.

His expression devoured her.

Juliette swallowed, unable to tear her gaze away. He slid his hand up the length of her arm and around to her bare back. Tingles danced all over her skin, through her body. Oh, wow! Reaching for her other hand with his, he swayed to the music.

Having Mitch’s strong arms around her felt like an embrace. She responded to it, heard her own breathing roughen in answer to his touch. His scent, teasing, musky, tickled her nose. Every pore opened to bask in his male aura. Every nerve strained toward him.

Deep within, her matchmaking intuition sparked, a gut feeling signaling that Mitch could be special to her.

Impossible. He wasn’t even sure love existed and was more interested in seeing the world than raising a family.

Then why did she feel this…deep curiosity to know Mitch, experience his every facet? Why did she want nothing more than to cast their differences aside and know the taste of his kiss?

“Nice music, huh?” He mocked the band’s selection.

Until he’d mentioned the blaring trumpets, she hadn’t noticed. She sent Mitch a shaky smile. “Fine.”

“Listen, about this morning… My turf is sports, and I’m a little cranky about having to cover “Community Happenings”. I’m sorry.”

Juliette met his gaze. Before she could drown in his dark, smoky eyes, she forced herself to reply, “Does your change of heart mean you believe in my methods now?”

He smiled ruefully. “No. It just means I could have been more polite in my disbelief.”

Not what she wanted to hear, but at least he was honest. Still, his write-up would affect her fledgling business. “Aren’t reporters supposed to be objective?”

“Ah, yes. The ‘impartial observer of life’ theory.” He twirled her around. “I’m an opinionated guy. That’s one reason my beat is sports. You’re supposed to tell it like it is.”

“All right. What would it take to change your mind?”

With a shrug, he answered, “It’s just not the kind of stuff I believe in, you know, astrology and handwriting analysis. But I’m willing to meet the Grahams and see your business from their point of view.”

His hand drifted down her bare back in something dangerously close to a caress. He fit her body closer to his, and Juliette almost lost her reply in the feel of his hard body against her own, in the thundering of her heart.

“I’m glad you’re keeping an open mind,” she squeaked out.

Mitch felt steady, substantial, like a thousand-year-old redwood. She allowed her hand to drift up the sleek, solid curve of his shoulder, her fingers pressing into his firm flesh. In his arms, surrounded by his scent, her imagination was beginning to let loose, complete with visions of she and Mitch in front of a roaring fire, naked and—

“Are you from Santa Clarita?” He spoke in a whisper, hushed as if it belonged among the tangled sheets of lovers. She’d never realized how arousing a man’s voice could be.

Juliette understood now, when her nipples stood up and all but begged for attention.

He laid his cheek against hers. His breath fanned into her ear. Shivers raced across her skin. Juliette knew she ought to pull away, and planned to…in a minute.

“No. Have you lived here long?” she asked, her own voice breathy.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Andrew twirling Kara across the sparsely-populated dance floor. The sight of her almost-fiancé jolted Juliette back to reality.

She and Mitch were dancing too close for acquaintances. With faces touching and mouths inches apart…what would Andrew think? A glance across the ballroom worried her. Andrew laughed with Kara as he glided across the floor with her, seeming oblivious.

Okay, maybe the better question would be, why did being in Mitch’s arms feel so good? Why was she so tempted by him? He really wasn’t her type.

“I’ve only been in Santa Clarita for ten months,” Mitch replied. “Before that, I lived in Vermont, Manhattan and Washington State. I did a brief stint in Birmingham, England.”

Juliette pulled away. “Did you move that much just to see the world?”

“You make it sound as terrible as a disease. Moving is exciting, as long as the job is good. Besides, I wasn’t sorry to leave Vermont or Washington. Too cold and rainy. And let’s face facts, it takes a special kind of person to live in Manhattan. I wasn’t special, I guess.”

“Do you plan on staying here now?” she asked, afraid she already knew his answer.

“Here?” Mitch laughed. “No. I’ve got an outside shot at a job at USA Today. If I get it, I’ll be packing up again.”

“And you’re excited by packing boxes, changing phone numbers, moving to yet someplace else where you know no one?”

“New places and people put adventure in your life.”

Stability clearly wasn’t the name of his game. Why did she find him so interesting when they clearly had so little in common?

“Don’t you ever feel…” she groped for a word, “…ungrounded? Like you don’t have any roots, any place to really call home? When you move away, don’t you ever wonder what kind of happiness you may have left behind?”

The downward slash of his brows and his blank stare gaze shouted confusion. Perfect. He didn’t even understand her question. There was no way he’d be able to give her, or himself, an answer.

“Not really. I mean, there’s a lot of great people I want to meet and a bunch of exciting places I’m dying to see. Why hang around, if you don’t have to?”

She gaped at him, open-mouthed, for a full ten seconds. “Because life is about security and having your friends and loved ones around you. Having someone to share joys and sorrows with. Knowing you’ll be comforted by the warm and familiar as you get older.”

He frowned. “You sound like my mom. Don’t you ever think about all the places you’ll never see trapped in this little town? You ever been to Paris? I have. Lived there for three months right after college. I loved it!”

“That’s what vacations are for,” she bristled.

He rolled his eyes. “You can’t really get to know a city in a week. Life may be about security for you. Me? I want to see and do it all. Growing up in a town so small that watching the grass grow thrilled the locals cured me of ‘stability’. I don’t want to wake up one day, middle-aged and miserable, and lament about all the things I never did, but always wanted to. That’s a waste.”

Juliette stiffened in his arms. This conversation was headed nowhere—fast. Mitch, along with his anti-root attitude, only proved that her matchmaking intuition wasn’t one hundred percent right.

And her gut feeling was wrong in this case. Andrew had to be the perfect man for her.

Why wasn’t her heart convinced of that fact?

As I said, this releases May 13. I just got the cover this morning and I’m thrilled. Hope you all enjoy!

I’ll be giving the winner of this post an eBook of A PERFECT MATCH in the format of their choice once this releases. All you have to do to play is comment on this post. As always, if you’re subscribed to my newsletter, you’re already entered. But to double your chances, post here. To see if you won, be sure to see my March newsletter!

The Hot Line by Cathryn Fox
Release Date: March 4
New American Library
ISBN-10:0451223055
ISBN-13: 978-0451223050
Genre: Contemporary

Burning up inside? Feeling that fire down below? Call The Hot Line… Dial 555-HEAT

It’s The Hot Line, an on-call service that dispatches totally authentic, fully equipped firemen to explore the secret fantasies of women in need. What an irresistible dare for three best friends feeling the heat…

Reporter Sara Jack has the Fever to do a story on The Hot Line. There’s no better man to help with research than Mitch Adams. The solid stud is all pro, but in Sara he’s met a woman willing to fulfill one of his fantasies—if they’re ready to accept what comes next.

The Siren has sounded and shy lingerie designer Jenna Powers is finally ready for a real man to tamp her desires, break through her inhibitions, and show her the naughty side of love. Enter Dean Beckman—again and again.

For sous chef Megan Wagner, a Flash Fire has the sparks to change her life—especially with someone like Brady Wade to put it out. In and out of uniform, he’s driving her wild, but her fear of commitment could drive him away…

Reviews:
TRS, 5 Heart Sweetheart Winner! “All three stories in this anthology were wonderfully written, with plots moving so smoothly and dialogue that was real and entertaining. The author shares the heroes point of view as well as the heroines and that adds so much more depth to the characters. I just couldn’t stop reading this book.

I loved how the central theme was embracing your fantasies and allowing the heroines to take charge of their own satisfaction with a little encouragement from the heroes. The friendships between all the characters added to the richness of the stories and the sensuality level was off the charts! All in all this is an excellent book.” ~ The Romance Studio 5 Hearts

“The Hot Line is a super-sexually charged erotic romance featuring a trio of couples…Fox’s use of simple language and short sentences makes her latest hot-and-heavy tales urgent and effective. As readers experience the lovemaking < both public and private < as well as the pole dancing, spanking and the lingerie fatalities, hearts will race and brows will rise.” ~ RT magazine 4 Stars

“Could anything be hotter than a hunky fireman head over heels in love? Yep. How about THREE hunky firemen head over heels in love?? Cathryn Fox delivers the goods in her novel The Hot Line… This collection of sensual romances revolving around a firehouse in Chicago is just the thing to usher in the warmer months this spring!” ~ Kwips and Kritiques 5 Clovers

Excerpt
copyright Cathryn Fox
If you are under 18, please navigate elsewhere

The shrill of their special phone pulled him from his musings and helped marshal his thoughts. “I got it.” Welcoming the distraction, he jumped to his feet and pushed away from the card table. Without haste, he made his way across the room.

Fuck. Maybe tonight he’d take the call. Although it had been a long time since he’d participated in The Hot Line, perhaps a soft bed and even softer woman would help take the edge off and get his mind off Sara.

When he glanced at the caller ID, his heart raced, his blood pressure soared. Jesus H. Christ. Everything in him reacted to the name displayed in the small glass window. Tension rose in him as his cock urged him to answer the phone, along with the sexual demands of his body.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now?

Despite his rock hard cock screaming at him to pick up that phone and give Sara exactly what she wanted, he took a measured step back, but not far enough that he still couldn’t reach it. If he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. Okay, he wanted to, but he wasn’t going to.

He was not going to pick it up.

No way.

No how.

Walk away, Mitch. Just walk away.

Before he could stop himself, his fingers closed over the receiver and squeezed until his knuckles turned white.

Just then Dean poked his head around the corner. Grinning like the crazy, intuitive son-of-bitch he was, he asked, “You want me to get that?”

The image of Sara with another man curdled his blood. “No,” Mitch growled and ripped the phone from the cradle. He pressed it to his ear and said gruffly, “Hello.”

Sara’s soft sexy voice sounded on the other end. “Mitch?”

“Yeah?”

Foregoing pleasantries and getting right to the point, she said, “My kitty stopped purring. I think it needs to be resuscitated.”

Sweet Mother of God! Mitch slapped his hand to his forehead and drew a steadying breath, working overtime to tamp down his roaring libido.

He failed.

Lust ripped through him like a raging forest fire, making him tremble with pent up need. He growled low in his throat, unable to tame the primal animal rising up inside him, crumbling his resolve to keep his distance. Despite knowing better, he had every intention of breathing life back into her kitty, over and over again, using every means possible, if he had to.

If she expected anything less, she’d called the wrong guy, on the wrong night.

Gee, should I check my kitty? I wonder if there’s a Hot Line in my area… I digress… You can order The Hot Line at Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Cathryn is giving away a copy of The Hot Line. All you have to do to win is leave a comment on this blog entry. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

Happy Friday!

If you didn’t know, Jaci Burton is back with another scorcher!

He’s a Harley-riding ex-thief working undercover for the government. She’s a gun-toting ex-socialite hired to protect a valuable museum exhibit. But in her attempt to stop a heist, she never anticipated having her breath and her heart stolen…

Mac Canfield was the last man Lily West expected to see again, never mind aim her gun at. But here he was, the bad boy who’d broken her heart years ago-still a thief, this time high-jacking a priceless artifact–and it was all she could do to push aside the memories of how it felt to have his perfectly chiseled body next to hers.

Mac was no less shocked to see the beautiful girl-next-door all grown up, threatening to shoot him on the spot. Little did she know she was blowing his cover-and now he had to figure out how to get her out of harm’s way without succumbing to his crazy desire to take her on a hot trip down memory lane.

Unfortunately, Lily has no intention of going anywhere with Mac. Which means he has to resort to kidnapping. Unless, of course, she agrees to let him take her for the kind of ride destined to drive them both unbelievably wild…

Reviews:
Romantic Times BookReviews Magazine – Top Pick! ~ “Burton delivers it all in this hot story – strong characters, an exhilarating plot and scorching sex – and it all moves at a breakneck pace.”

Fresh Fiction ~ “A wild ride is exactly what you’ll get with this steamy romantic caper.”

Romance Junkies ~ “A non-stop thrill-ride from the first page to the last!”

Excerpt
copyright Jaci Burton
If you are under 18, please navigate elsewhere.

He stared at her, not even moving while she advanced on him. And he didn’t say a word. Fine then, she had plenty to say. “For your information, I spent three years on the police force before leaving to become a private investigator. I know how to handle a gun. The one you knocked out of my reach. I could have helped. But, oh no. You had to throw yourself on top of me like some freakin’ superhero and prevent me from grabbing my gun.”

“You were a cop?” His eyes widened.

“That’s not what we’re talking about. We’re discussing your macho show of over protectiveness back there.”

“I was trying to prevent you from being shot.”

“I didn’t need your help.”

Ignoring her outburst, he unzipped his jacket and slowly started peeling it off his shoulders, as if he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to her.

“Are you listening to me at all, Mac? Are you hearing what I’m saying? I am competent, goddamit. I am not some air headed idiot who needed protecting. And where’s the vial?”

Once he had the jacket off, she zeroed in on the dark stain on his arm and a river of blood pouring off the ends of his fingers. Any anger she felt dissipated in a rush of panic and concern.

“Oh. shit. You were shot?” She rushed over and began to pull up his shirt.

“I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t try to stop her.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Bullet just grazed me.”

Her gaze rocketed to his. “Oh, and you’re some kind of psychic doctor, I suppose. How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been shot a few times. I know.”

She shuddered at the thought. “Spare me the details. Let’s get this shirt off.” She drew the shirt over his head, then peeled it gently away from his shoulder, taking special care when she pulled the fabric down his injured arm.

“We need more light.” She looked around the campground, spotting a grey brick building with a single overhead light a short distance away. Bathroom. “Have you got a first aid kit in the bike?”

“Yeah. Left saddlebag.”

She hurried over and fumbled through the bag, found the first aid kit and a flashlight, then pushed him toward the bathroom. The light switch revealed a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully there was a sink and paper towels in there.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing him toward the wooden bench next to the shower.

“Bossy,” he teased, grinning up at her.

Ignoring him, she wet some paper towels, turned on the flashlight and placed it on the edge of the sink so it was pointing toward his arm. She cleaned the wound, wiping away the blood so she could get a look at the injury.

Like he said, it was a graze. Mean looking and about three inches long, but not deep enough to need stitches. He was lucky the bullet had barely scraped the flesh of his arm. She cleaned it, applied pressure until the bleeding stopped and after spreading some antibacterial ointment on it, placed a bandage over the wound.

The hot rush of adrenaline she’d felt after she’d seen the blood dripping down his arm calmed somewhat. She was surprised at the fear she’d felt seeing him bleeding like that, having long ago convinced herself she was immune to ever having feelings for Mac Canfield again. She should have known better than to think he would ever mean less to her. She sighed.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said, pushing her emotions deep as she cleaned everything up and turned to him.

“I could have told you that.” He stood. “But thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mac couldn’t believe the woman standing in front of him. The one who’d faced down a barrage of bullets, hopped on the back of his bike for a quick escape, then yelled at him because he’d prevented her from diving for her own gun.

She sure as hell wasn’t the same Lily West he’d known so many years ago. That girl had been sweet and gentle and fragile. The woman who stood in front of him now looked similar, though obviously more grown up. And a hell of a lot tougher. Curvier too, with low slung jeans hugging her hips, a snug-fitting polo shirt that accentuated fuller breasts and a slender waist. But what was completely unrecognizable was her attitude.

She stared at him, not speaking. Hell, he didn’t know what to say. She licked her lips and he followed the track of her little pink tongue swiping across her full bottom lip.

His gaze went from her mouth to her eyes and the past mingled with the present.

God, she really was here. He moved toward her and she took a step back, stopping when she hit the wall. But her gaze never left his. Even in the darkened bathroom the look she gave him was unmistakable. She was thinking the same thing he was.

Ten years ago. The heat between them. The fact they’d just been shot at a little while ago.

Aw, fuck it. He never was much good at thinking things through. He braced his hands on either side of her head and moved in closer, crowding her.

“Your arm,” she said, looking at the bandage, then back at him.

“Is fine.”

Her lips were still parted and he heard her breathing. Rapid little pants in and out, like she was having trouble catching her breath. But this time she wasn’t pushing at him to let her go…

Since I’ve read this, I can tell you that what happens next is HOT!

Order from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Jaci is giving away an autographed copy of any print book from her backlist. All you have to do to win is leave a comment here. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

Book 1 of the Devils on Horseback series

Nate Marchand grew up as the only son of the town drunk. As a Confederate soldier, he found that order in the chaos was the only thing that kept him sane. Numbers, information, keeping everything in its proper place became second nature. The chaos of the war and its aftermath sent him into a rigid state that he couldn’t seem to overcome.

He and his friends, nicknamed Devils on Horseback, leave behind the aftermath of war to start fresh in the west. Their new business venture flounders and desperation drives them to take whatever work they can.

The Devils are hired to remove the Taggert family from land claimed by Samuel O’Shea, the largest landowner in Grayton, Texas. When he meets Elisa Taggert, his entire world shifts beneath him. Attracted, bewildered, and off-kilter, Nate ignores his conscience in favor of his wallet.

The simple task of removing a woman, a boy, and an old man, along with a small herd of cattle, resembles a Medieval siege. Nate wrestles with what he knows is right with what he must do. Will his love for Elisa overcome his need for survival?

Reviews:
2007 winner of The Romance Studio’s CAPA winner for best historical romance!

Romantic Times Book Reviews – 4 1/2 Stars
“This rugged tale, the first in the Devils on Horseback series, has everything — danger and deception, laughter and love — in generous doses. The action is hot, but the sex is hotter.” ~ Reviewer: Donna M. Brown

The Romance Studio – 5 Hearts
“Beth Williamson has, once again, brought her expertise to the forefront with the first in a new series, Devils on Horseback: Nate. Ms. Williamson does western historicals like few others; stories come alive under her pen (computer keys). Luckily we can look forward to, at least, four more in this series. They will have to surpass even her high standards to equal this book.”~ Reviewer: Brenda Talley

Love Western Romances – 5 Spurs
“Devils on Horseback: Nate is a wonderful book and starto what promises to be a great new series!…With twists and turns that caught me by surprise, Devils on Horseback: Nate was a definite page-turner.” ~ Reviewer: Jennifer

Romance Junkies – 5 Blue Ribbons
“Heavens to Betsey this is a phenomenal story. DEVILS ON HORSEBACK: NATE is one of those old-fashioned romances that just warm a reader heart and soul. Beth Williamson has a true gift of creating such real and gritty characters.” ~ Reviewer: Amanda H.

Fallen Angels Reviews – 5 Angels and Recommended Read
“I was immediately taken in by the Devils on Horseback…Beth Williamson knows how to tell a story, and I can’t wait to read the next installment of the Devils – Jake’s story.” ~ Reviewer: Chris P.

Joyfully Reviewed
“When I am in the mood for an exciting, passion-filled western historical romance, I turn to Beth Williamson. She never fails to capture the emotions of her characters, and her books always grip me from page one and refuse to let go. Devils on Horseback: Nate is this type of novel.” ~ Reviewer: Talia Ricci

Two Lips Reviews – 5 Kisses
“I adored Devils on Horseback: Nate and read this 200+ page book from beginning to end in one sitting. From non-stop action to surprise after surprise, Beth Williamson had my emotions running the gamut.” ~ Reviewer: Kerin

Excerpt
Copyright Beth Williamson
If you are under 18, please navigate elsewhere.

Elisa watched as the man walked toward the stream, knowing it was Nate without even seeing his face. He had a way about him that was recognizable in the moonlight. When he reached the stream, he sighed as he lay back on the grass with his knees up and his arms folded behind his head.

She crept closer, careful not to disturb any of the foliage around her. If Elisa was good at anything, it was being stealthy. She’d had to become a hunter to feed her brother and mother while Da had been off to war. They’d had plenty of meat those two years.

When she was within a few yards, she could see his face quite clearly in the light of the moon. His expression seemed contemplative, almost melancholy. She wondered what he was thinking about—probably how much money he’d make working for O’Shea. Dirty, rotten stinker.

Before he could sense her nearby, she pounced. She pinned his elbows down with her knees, slapped a hand across his mouth as her knife rested comfortably on his throat. The scent of man and of Nate wafted up at her, tickling her nose and her sleeping arousal.

“I see you had a nice visit with that bastard,” she hissed in a whisper. “Did you agree to work for him? Or should I even bother to ask judging from the fried chicken grease on your lips.”

He shook his head, wiggling beneath her, but Elisa was no featherweight. She held him down securely.

“If I lift my hand, will you promise not to yell for your friends?”

Nate’s eyes narrowed but he nodded against her hand. When she lifted it, he growled at her. Growled!

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to figure out what you were doing at O’Shea’s.” No need to lie to the man. They both knew where he’d been that day.

“None of your business. Now get off me and I’ll let you get away.”

She laughed and pressed the knife into his skin a bit more. “I think I have the upper hand here, Johnny Reb.”

“It’s Nate. Or if you prefer, Nathaniel. I’ll even answer to Lieutenant.”

“Oh, I touched on a nerve, did I? I’ll have to remember that.” She pushed down on his elbows, digging them into the hard ground beneath them. “Are you going to tell me what you were doing today?”

“Go to hell.”

“Tsk, tsk. Such language and in front of a lady too.”

Nate jerked his body, almost throwing her off, but Elisa held fast. She nicked his throat, allowing a small drop of blood to well.

“I ain’t playing with you, fancy man. You tell me what I want to know or I cut you deeper.”

Her blood rushed around so fast, it made her heady. The feeling of power over the big man was intoxicating. Arousing.

“You don’t have the heart to do something like that.”

“Don’t doubt it,” she snapped.

Her euphoria pinched by his words, Elisa shifted her knees slightly. That must have been the opportunity he’d been waiting for, because within seconds, their positions were reversed and he pinned her to the ground. The knife landed useless on the ground somewhere behind him.

A rock dug into her back just as his body flattened hers from top to bottom. It was an astounding, startling sensation completely foreign to her. Nate Marchand was no boy. He was a man, all man, with a hard, strong body that had obviously spent a great deal time doing chores. A lot of chores.

“Your turn for listening.” His hot breath coated her face with the sweet smell of pipe tobacco. “You have no right to attack me, cut me or try to force me into anything. No one does, do you hear me?”

The sheer fury in his voice scared her. Someone had warned her that soldiers don’t take kindly to violence, but she’d shrugged it off. Her mistake.

“I don’t answer to you for my actions or my choices. Now when I let you up, you’d best head on home before I turn you over my knee and paddle your ass.”

Elisa didn’t say a word. She was stuck on the image of Nate spanking her.

“Do you hear me?”

This time instead of speaking, Elisa leaned up and captured his lips in a fierce kiss. Her first actually, giving or receiving, and what a kiss it was. His lips were as hard as the rest of him, unyielding to her assault. She let her instincts guide her and softened the pressure until he relented. Then, heaven shone for a moment in the darkness of a Texas forest.

Sweet delicious kiss. One moment anger, the next the world shifted and Elisa understood what it meant to be alive. His tongue laved her lips, a tickle that she answered by opening her mouth. He invaded like a conqueror, sweeping across her teeth, her tongue, the roof of her mouth. She moaned into his mouth as her nipples hardened, as eager and hungry as the rest of her.

Yum!!
This is a print release. Order from Amazon, Barnes & Noble, or My Bookstore and More.

Beth is giving away a copy of Devils on Horseback: Nate. All you have to do to win is leave a comment here. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

A few things have changed. If you’re thinking of attending…better hop on the train quick!

Join Lora and friends for a weekend of fun, fellowship and great food from Friday, September 19th to Sunday, September 21st.

Join authors:

RAW 2008 is an intimate event, limited to 250 attendees, providing plenty of face-to-face time for fans and authors. Once the registration limit is reached, all mailed registrations over that limit will be returned to sender, unopened. Fans are asked to please bring only two or three books outside those purchased at the event.

Each RAW participant includes:

The cost of RAW 2008 is the room rate, transportation if you choose to rent a car, and a $110 registration fee.

Once your registration form and fee is received, you may then register your room at the Pullman Plaza Hotel, in beautiful downtown Huntington and providing free shuttle service from Huntington Tri-State airport to the hotel. Room rates start at $89.

Pullman Plaza Hotel
1001 Third Avenue
Huntington, WV 25701
1-866-613-3611

You will need to reserve your room as soon as possible after February 16th at the hotel to assure you get the accommodations you require. You will pay for your room once you check in.

Register quickly and be a part of an exciting and personal author/reader event.

For more information and the registration forms, visit Lora’s RAW 2008 site. ** Please be sure all registration forms are TYPEWRITTEN so they are legible.

Hope to see you there!

Happy Valentine’s Day!! I’ve been blogging all month about other fabulous authors and their releases. But for this day of love and romance, I thought I’d treat you to a little sneak peek of my upcoming paranormal romance, the first of the Doomsday Brethren series, TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS. The book officially releases on August 26, 2008. I just finished my edits and turned it in yesterday! I’m due to get the finished cover later this week. But here’s the concept, and based on that alone, I love it!

Here’s the blurb:

As soon as Marrok sees Olivia Gray’s dark windswept hair and burning violet eyes, he’s sure he’s known her soft, gentle curves writhing in pleasure beneath his own hard, powerful body an eon ago . . . Morganna! For centuries, towering Marrok, once the mightiest of King Arthur’s warriors, has endured a terrible curse the witch cast upon him when he spurned her.

Olivia shares a mystical and irresistible connection with brooding Marrok. Soon after the sexy warrior appears in her erotic dreams, he abducts her—demanding she uncurse him. Their intense connection is more powerful—and passionate–than either of them has ever known. Olivia may be the key to unlocking the diary that will break Morganna’s hold on his life. But in the wrong hands, the book also holds the power to destroy magickind. As they search for answers, a ruthless wizard returns from exile and builds an army of evil. When he discovers Marrok and Olivia have the book, only a powerful group of magical Brethren—and their love—can save them. . . .

Excerpt
Copyright Shelley Bradley LLC
If you are under 18, please navigate elsewhere.

“With a few strokes of your pen,” Marrok went on, “you condemned me to an eternity with no companionship, no sexual satisfaction, and no end. Open this book and stop it all. Now.”

He truly believed he was immortal—and that she and the book were the keys to his freedom. Dear God, how was she ever going to leave this cottage without being carried out in a body bag and featured on a two-minute segment of the news? Marrok had even made up the words to his own curse, given himself other tortures to endure, and an out clause he claimed he didn’t understand. And he wasn’t going to release her until she freed him from the spell.

He was straightjacket material. She’d never been attracted to nut jobs. So why did she find the man so…sexual? Why was she so attuned to him, so hot and slick for him? Her body quivered at his touch, aching. He actually made her dizzy, as if she’d had a bit too much wine.

Focus! she berated herself. “I swear. I know nothing. I’m not Morganna. Please, let me go.”

His hand curled around the nape of her neck, bringing her close again—so close, she felt him exhale against her lips. She trembled, fearing her words had sent him into violent oblivion. A glance showed her his ferocity, but it wasn’t just fury. His eyes glowed hot with desire, too.

What would it feel like to make love to a man so focused on her alone?

Sick thought. It went with the sick man. She should be concentrating on escape, not Marrok’s sexual prowess. Why was her brain suddenly in her panties?

She had to focus on escape.

Olivia scanned her surroundings for a weapon again, then remembered the mace in her purse. Easing her hand into the bag dangling from her shoulder, she felt the can. As her fingers closed around it, triumph spiked within her. This would bring him to his knees and give her an opportunity to escape this whole Outer Limits scene.

She withdrew it, aimed and sprayed in one fluid motion. But too quick, Marrok ducked, grabbed her arm and whirled her about, bringing her back against his chest again.

Mace dissipated in the air, burning her eyes, as he ripped the can from her grasp. He scanned the label, cursed, and tossed it aside.

“A modern potion, is it? Run out of your own, or have you grown too lazy to make them?”

“I don’t make potions.” She struggled for release against the iron bands of his arms. “I’m not Morganna.”

“Save your bloody lies for someone who believes them.”

His arm tightened about her waist, enveloping her in hard flesh and body heat. Repressing her desire, she stomped the heel of her spiked shoes on his toes. He merely shook the offended foot and swore.

“Let me go!” she cried. “I’m not the woman you want.”

She struggled and writhed against him for release. The solid stone of his body slid across her hypersensitive skin, awakening a fresh burst of want. His arousal, large and heavy, wedged against the small of her back. Olivia’s knees nearly gave way.

“We both know that is untrue,” he spat bitterly. “Thanks to you, I cannot be satisfied by any woman. Would it be different with you, Morganna? Is that the one thing I must discover?”

He thought taking her to bed would uncurse him? Oh, she was doomed.

“Since I’m not Morganna, sex with me would not change your…state. Get that through your head and let me go!” You make-my-knees-melt freak.

Marrok wedged his hard body more tightly against hers. “I think not. Your very own curse says I left you to ache, no matter what you tried. It would be like you to punish me until I returned to give you what you need. Is it that simple?”

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed.

“Since it seems returning to your bed may free me, I will touch you how and where I want. I avoided you for a century, until you…what, died after Merlin banished you from this realm? But no more. I will be on you, around you, inside you—”

“Stop it! I can’t release you from a spell I didn’t cast.”

“After a hard fuck, will you let me loose, Morganna? Surely, you have grown weary of toying with me. Or does it thrill you to know you affect me now more than ever?” He arched his hips, thrusting his steely erection against her.

Fright and liquid heat poured over her. She bit her lip to keep her cry in.

“Have you nothing to say? Or are you too busy gloating because I want you even while I hate you?”

Repeating the fact she was not Morganna would get her nowhere. If she told Marrok his lust frightened her, he’d likely use that against her.

There was another option. Logic rebelled against it…while her body applauded. The plot was hasty—insane—imperative.

He wanted her. Bad. He even talked himself into the thought that having sex with her would free him from his “curse.” Stating the truth was getting her nowhere. Why not use his lust to her advantage?

No reason, except she was contemplating head games with a madman…

I’ll be giving away copy of one of my in print backlist titles and a longer sneak peek of TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS. All you have to do to win is leave a comment here. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

“SEXY DEVIL is hot as hell, with heroes to die for and heroines who are more than their match. For blazingly erotic romance marked by strong, sexy characterization, Sasha White never disappoints!”
— Meljean Brook, author of Demon Moon

No one can resist the spell of a …SEXY DEVIL

Surrender to Sasha White’s sensual world, where red-hot passions simmer—and desires are unleashed with sinfully wicked pleasure…

“The Devil Inside”
Workaholic Caleb Mann used to think blind dates were a waste of time, but when his ex-girlfriend calls him boring in bed, Caleb becomes bent on changing his image fast. And fast is what he gets when he barely knows his date’s name, but he can’t stop fantasizing about replacing the sleek motorcycle between her firm thighs and letting her ride him all night long…

“Devil’s Jewel”
Ex-soldier and psychic hunter Angelo Devlin has seen evil first-hand. He knows how perilous his assignments can be, and he doesn’t welcome outside help, which makes his run-in with Jewel Kattalis all the more infuriating. But instead of sending her away, he wants to grab her, take her, and tease every inch of her beautiful body. This woman may be more dangerous than any mission he’s ever been on before…

More reviews:
“SEXY DEVIL … This book flows along smoothly from one story to another with well written characters that are easy to like with their charismatic ways. The touch of paranormal adds a little more intrigue that goes perfectly with the sizzling hot love scenes that will give you visions of your own!”

— Recommended Read From Fallen Angel Reviews.
“SEXY DEVIL is smart, sassy, and oh so sexy. It’s fast-paced and has intriguing paranormal elements, interwoven with spine-tingling suspense. If you like erotic paranormal romances, you’ll love SEXY DEVIL. Sasha White writes with amazing energy and a “joie de vivre” that engages the reader, and makes it impossible to put her books down. A talented, entertaining author!”-Catherine Spangler, National Bestselling Author of Touched by Fire

Order in print at Chapters.ca * Order in print at Amazon.com * Order in print at Barnes & Noble * Order eBOOK at Fictionwise.com.

Read an EXCERPT.

Sasha will give away a copy of LUSH. All you have to do to win is leave a comment here. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

Mark of the Vampire Queen, the sequel to Vampire Queen’s Servant, was released February 5! If you haven’t read Joey W. Hill yet, she’s amazing. Those waiting on pins and needles for the conclusion to Jacob and Lyssa’s story can find the following blurb and excerpt on Joey’s site. Early reviews are through the roof – 5 stars and a Recommended Pick from Night Owl Romance; 4 ½ stars from Romantic Times, 5 Klovers from CK2S Kwips & Kritiques…

For those who haven’t read VQS, here’s a blurb and an excerpt!

BLURB FROM MARK OF THE VAMPIRE QUEEN
When he becomes Lady Lyssa’s full servant, Jacob crosses the threshold into a darker relationship with her than he’s known before. His time as a vampire hunter certainly hadn’t prepared him to embrace a world where humans are sexual commodities, but he adapted. Now he finds the integrity of his soul challenged as he serves his Mistress’s needs as fully as he services her desires.
The vampire world believes human servants are inferior, a vital source for their varying appetites. Jacob knows a human servant is far more than that. His Mistress needs a warrior, a friend and a lover. A man who will serve her in all ways, even if he has to betray the priceless treasure of her love.

EXCERPT FROM MARK OF THE VAMPIRE QUEEN…
Background – this chapter occurs in the aftermath of an unpleasant encounter with Lyssa’s enemy, the vampire Carnal, and his young human servant, Melinda. No real spoilers here, never fear – we all know Carnal is a lowlife!

Jacob thought he’d be worn out and simply seek oblivion. Instead he took his Mistress again and again, using them both hard. The world might treat the idea with crass vulgarity, but in the darkness, with despair closing in, a man found sacred sanctuary in the wet heat of a woman. His woman.
Exhaustion finally took some of the pain, leaving it vibrating discordantly off of the waves of the last orgasm, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled out only to give him the ability to maneuver his mouth down her throat toward the sweet taste of her nipples, the valley between her breasts. When his hand slid between her thighs, she opened to him, let his fingers slide into the channel he’d already soaked with his fluids and her own. Her breath whispered out in a quiet sigh of pleasure.

Perhaps Carnal should not have spoken so hastily about inferior mortal stamina. Her thoughts drifted through his mind, her pleasure with him spurring his efforts.

And do vampires value stamina in bed over other attributes? When he thrust his cock into her again, her tender tissues took him slowly, her hips tilting up as he slid his arm under her waist, his palm spreading out between her shoulder blades to bring her to his mouth, nip at her sternum. Tease the flesh of her breasts with his beard.

Like size, it’s what they do with it that matters. For the man…or vampire…who doesn’t know what he’s doing, stamina can become never-ending…torment. When she moaned, he relished the sound fiercely, deepening his penetration, knowing as her nails curled into his back and her muscles tightened that he would make her come again. And again. Her climaxes, her screams would drive the memories back, let him fall into a sleep where they could not follow and strangle him.

“What about the man who knows what he’s doing and has stamina?” He nudged into her hair and bit her ear, moving to the tender skin below. Need pulsed like blood hunger beneath the thin veil of his teasing.

She drew his lips insistently back to hers.

“That man I might just have to keep forever.”

He fell into exhausted sleep, still deep inside her. She’d had her arms twined around his shoulders as he rested in the cradle of her thighs, pressing her into the mattress. When he woke that way several hours later, she surprised him further by staving off her dawn slumber with creative use of his morning erection, bringing them both to peak again.

* * * * *

She didn’t shun his company for an indefinite time period as she often had in the past when he’d crossed the arbitrary boundary lines she set between them. It was as if suddenly she intended to give him a collection of pleasant vignettes, like a photo album of good memories shoved between the bad to break them up. It didn’t make the pain of what had happened in her master hall bearable, or even better. Just a crucial step closer to what she’d said to him. We shed our tears and have to go on.

The very next night, she invited him to join her in the study, reading while he channel surfed and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Finding nothing on, he switched to music and retrieved a couple of the X-Men comics he’d picked up on errands. Lying on the carpet on his stomach, he propped his chin on his knuckles and turned the pages, studying the graphics. As he stared at the colorful images, the simple concepts of good and evil playing out among the complexity of human emotion, he remembered Melinda’s harsh death rattle. His lady’s anger, the strike of Carnal’s fist. The silence of the forest, as if every creature sat in judgment of him.

He tuned in to find he’d been staring at the same page for ten minutes. Thinking that looking at her would take his thoughts in a better direction, perhaps to the memories of the most recent night, he found his lady watching him. She pointed to the floor at her feet. Bemused, he scooted over, and she amused him by propping her feet on the small of his back. Kneading him with her toes absently, she continued to read, occasionally moving down to stroke his buttocks in the loose jeans he wore, dipping her toe beneath the waistband.

Before long, she set aside her novel and came down on the floor with him. He explained the comic book’s characters as she lay back on his chest and he held the comic up over them. It was like they were studying the stars in the sky. The soft weight of her body held him to the earth when the lack of gravity threatened to send him spinning into space.

How many had told him she wasn’t his lover or friend? Debra, Lord Richard’s servant, had said it was something unclassifiable, that “lover” was the closest frame of reference, a dangerously erroneous one.

Lyssa would set him back on his heels again, he knew it. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to stop serving her, protecting her. What was between them was a deeper relationship than lover or friend, because it encompassed both of those things and went to a far more intense level.

Debra was wrong. They knew what to call it. Mistress and servant. A “til death do you part” no marriage ever envisioned…

Joey is giving away a copy of Mark of the Vampire Queen OR, if the winner hasn’t read it, a copy of Vampire Queen’s Servant so they can start the story at the beginning!

To win, leave a comment here. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!

Nalini Singh is back with more of those Psy/Changelings! If you’ve been following this sizzling, unique series, you’ve been waiting for this one! Here’s a blurb:

Nalini Singh pulls away another dark layer of sheer desire, revealing passions unknown, in her latest novel about the world of the Psy. A ghost returns from a leopard changeling’s past, making him question everything—even his base animal instincts…

Clay Bennett is a powerful DarkRiver sentinel, but he grew up in the slums with his human mother, never knowing his changeling father. As a young boy without the bonds of Pack, he tried to stifle his animal nature. He failed…and committed the most extreme act of violence, killing a man and losing his best friend, Talin, in the bloody aftermath. Everything good in him died the day he was told that she, too, was dead.

Talin McKade barely survived a childhood drenched in bloodshed and terror. Now a new nightmare is stalking her life–the street children she works to protect are disappearing and turning up dead. Determined to keep them safe, she unlocks the darkest secret in her heart and returns to ask the help of the strongest man she knows…

Clay lost Talin once. He will not let her go again, his hunger to possess her, a clawing need born of the leopard within. As they race to save the innocent, Clay and Talin must face the violent truths of their past…or lose everything that ever mattered.

Reviews
“… paranormal romance at its best…”
~ Publishers Weekly

“…As plot points fall into place, it’s evident that clever, mega-talented Singh has truly spectacular things in store.”
~ Romantic Times (4.5 stars, Top Pick)

“I’m awestruck by the raw intensity of this novel…you aren’t going anywhere before reading Mine to possess from first till last chapter…”
~ Leontine for Realms On Our Bookshelves

Excerpt
Copyright Nalini Singh
If you are under 18, please navigate elsewhere

Talin McKade told herself that twenty-eight-year-old women–especially twenty-eight-year-old women who had seen and survived what she had–did not fear anything as simple as walking across the road and into a bar to pick up a man.

Except, of course, this was no ordinary man. And a bar was the last place she’d expected to find Clay given what she had learned about him in the two weeks since she had first tracked him down. It didn’t bode well that it had taken her that long to screw up the courage to come to him. But she had had to be sure.

What she had discovered was that the Clay she’d known, the tall, angry, powerful boy , had become some kind of a high-ranking enforcer for the dominant leopard pack in San Francisco. DarkRiver was extremely well respected, so Clay’s position spoke of trust and loyalty. The last word stabbed a blade deep into her heart.

Clay had always been loyal to her. Even when she didn’t deserve it. Swallowing, she shoved away the memories, knowing she couldn’t allow them to distract her. The old Clay was gone. This Clay…she didn’t know him. All she knew was that he hadn’t had any run-ins with the law after being released from the juvenile facility where he had been incarcerated at the age of fourteen–for the brutal slaying of one Orrin Henderson.

Talin’s hands clamped down on the steering wheel with white-knuckled force. She could feel blood rising to flood her cheeks as her heart thudded in remembered fear. Parts of Orrin, soft and wet things that should have never been exposed to the air, flecking her as she cowered in the corner while Clay–

No!

She couldn’t think about that, couldn’t go there. It was enough that the nightmare images–full of the thick, cloying smell of raw meat gone bad–haunted her sleep night after night. She would not surrender her daytime hours, too.

Flashing blue and white lights caught her attention as another Enforcement vehicle pulled into the bar’s small front parking lot. That made two armored vehicles and four very well armed cops, but though they had all gotten out, none of the four made any move to enter the bar. Unsure what was going on, she stayed inside her Jeep, parked in the secondary lot on the other side of the wide street.

Sweat trickled down her spine at the sight of the cop cars. Her brain had learned young to associate their presence with violence. Every instinct in her urged her to get the hell out. But she had to wait, to see. If Clay hadn’t changed, if he had grown worse… Uncurling one hand from the wheel, she fisted it against a stomach filled with roiling, twisting despair. He was her last hope.

The bar door flew open at that second, making her heart jump. Two bodies came flying out. To her surprise, the cops simply got out of the way before folding their arms and leveling disapproving frowns at the ejected pair. The two dazed young men staggered to their feet…only to go down again when two more boys landed on top of them.

They were teenagers–eighteen or nineteen, from the looks of it. All were obviously drunk as hell. While the four lay there, probably moaning and wishing for death, another male walked out on his own two feet. He was older and even from this distance, she could feel his fury as he picked up two of the boys and threw them into the open cab of a parked truck, his pure blond hair waving in the early evening breeze.

He said something to the cops that made them relax. One laughed. Having gotten rid of the first two, the blond man grabbed the other two boys by the scruffs of their necks and began to drag them back to the truck, uncaring of the gravel that had to be sandpapering skin off the exposed parts of their bodies.

Talin winced.

Those unfortunate–and likely misbehaving–boys, would feel the bruises and cuts tomorrow, along with sore heads. Then the door banged open again and she forgot everything and everyone but the man framed by the light inside the bar. He had one boy slung over his shoulder and was dragging another in the same way the blond had.

“Clay.” It was a whisper that came out on a dark rush of need, anger, and fear. He’d grown taller, was close to six four. And his body–he had more than fulfilled the promise of raw power that had always been in him. Over that muscular frame, his skin shone a rich, luscious brown with an undertone of gold.

Isla’s blood, Talin thought, the exotic beauty of Clay’s Egyptian mother vivid in her mind even after all these years. Isla’s skin had been smooth black coffee, her eyes bitter chocolate, but she had only contributed half of Clay’s genes.

Talin couldn’t see Clay’s own eyes from this distance, but she knew they were a striking green, the eyes of a jungle cat–an unmistakable legacy from his changeling father. Set off by his skin and pitch-black hair, those eyes had dominated the face of the boy he had been. She had a feeling they still did but in a far different way.

His every move screamed tough male confidence. He didn’t even seem to feel the weight of the two boys as he threw them into the pile already in the back of the truck. She imagined the flex of muscle, of power, and shivered…in absolute, unquenchable fear.

Logic, intellect, sense, it all broke under the unadulterated flow of memory. Blood and flesh, screams that wouldn’t end, the wet, sucking sounds of death. And she knew she couldn’t do this. Because if Clay had scared her as a child, he terrified her now.

Shoving a hand into her mouth she bit back a cry.

That was when he froze, his head jerking up.

Dumping Cory and Jason into the cab, Clay was about to turn to say something to Dorian when he caught an almost-sound on the breeze. His beast went hunting-still, then pounced out with the incredibly fine senses of a leopard, while the man scanned the area with his eyes.

He knew that sound, that female voice. It was that of a dead woman. He didn’t care. He had accepted his madness a long time ago. So now he looked, looked and searched.

For Tally.

There were too many cars in the lot across the wide road, too many places where Talin’s ghost could hide. Good thing he knew how to hunt. He’d taken one step in that direction when Dorian slapped him on the back and stepped into his line of sight. “Ready to hit the road?”

Clay felt a growl building in his throat and the reaction was irrational enough to snap some sanity into his mind. “Cops?” He shifted to regain his view of the opposing lot. “They gonna give us trouble?”

Dorian shook his head, blond hair gleaming in the glow of the streetlights that had begun flicking on as built-in sensors detected the fading light. “They’ll cede authority since it’s only changeling kids involved. They don’t have any right to interfere with internal pack stuff anyway.”

“Who called them?”

“Not Joe.” He named the bar owner–a fellow member of DarkRiver. “He called us , so it must’ve been someone else they messed with. Hell, I’m glad Kit and Cory have worked their little pissing contest out, but I never thought they’d become best-fucking-friends and drive us all insane.”

“If we weren’t having these problems with the Psy Council trying to hurt the pack,” Clay said, “I wouldn’t mind dumping them in jail for the night.”

Dorian grunted in assent. “Joe’ll send through a bill. He knows the pack will cover the damage.”

“And take it out of these six’s hides.” Clay thumped Cory back down when the drunk and confused kid tried to rise. “They’ll be working off their debt till they graduate.”

Dorian grinned. “I seem to recall raising some hell myself in this bar and getting my ass kicked by you.”

Clay scowled at the younger sentinel, though his attention never left the parking area across the road. Nothing moved over there except the dust, but he knew that sometimes, prey hid in plain sight. Playing statue was one way to fool a predator. But Clay was no mindless beast–he was an experienced and blooded DarkRiver sentinel. “You were worse than this lot. Fucking tried to take me out with your ninja shit.”

Dorian said something in response, but Clay missed it as a small Jeep peeled rapidly out of the lot that held his attention. “Kids are yours!” With that, he took off after his escaping quarry on foot.

If he had been human, the chase would’ve been a stupid act. Even for a leopard changeling, it made little sense. He was fast, but not fast enough to keep up with that vehicle if the driver floored it. As she–definitely she –now did.

Instead of swearing in defeat, Clay bared his teeth in a ruthless grin, knowing something the driver didn’t, something that turned his pursuit from stupid to sensible. The leopard might react on instinct, but the human side of Clay’s mind was functioning just fine. As the driver would be discovering right about…now!

The Jeep screeched to a halt, probably avoiding the rubble blocking the road by bare centimeters. The landslide had occurred only forty-five minutes ago. Usually DarkRiver would have already taken care of it, but because another small landslide had occurred in almost the exact same spot two days ago, this one had been left until it–and the affected slope–could be assessed by experts. If she’d been inside the bar, she’d have heard the announcement and known to take a detour.

But she hadn’t been in the bar. She’d been hiding outside.

By the time he reached the spot, the driver was trying to back out. But she kept stalling, her panic causing her to overload the computronics that controlled the vehicle. He could smell the sharp, clean bite of her fear, but it was the oddly familiar yet indefinably wrong scent under the fear mask that had him determined to see her face.

Breathing hard but not truly winded, he came to a stop in the middle of the road behind her, daring her to run him over. Because he wasn’t letting her get away. He didn’t know who the hell she was, but she smelled disturbingly like Tally and he wanted to know why.

Five minutes later, the driver stopped trying to restart the car. Dust settled, revealing the vehicle’s rental plates. The birds started singing again. Still he waited…until, at last, the door slid open and back. A slender leg covered in dark blue denim and a black ankle-length boot touched the ground.

His beast went preternaturally quiet as a hand emerged to close over the door and slide it even farther back. Freckled skin, the barest hint of a tan. A small female form unfolding itself out of the Jeep. Even fully out, she stood with her back to him for several long minutes. He didn’t do anything to force her to turn, didn’t make any aggressive sounds. Instead, he took the chance to drink in the sight of her.

She was unquestionably small, but not fragile, not easily breakable. There was strength in the straight line of her spine, but also a softness that promised a cushion for a hard male body. The woman had curves. Lush, sweet, curves. Her butt filled out the seat of her jeans perfectly, arousing the deeply sexual instincts of both man and cat. He wanted to bite, to shape, to pet.

Clenching his fists, he stayed in place and forced his gaze upward. It would, he thought, be easy to lift her up by the waist so he could kiss her without getting a crick in his neck. And he planned to kiss this woman who smelled like Talin. His beast kept growling that she was his and, right this second, he wasn’t feeling civilized enough to argue. That would come later, after he had discovered the truth about this ghost. Until then, he would drown in the rush of wild sexuality, in the familiar-yet-not scent of her.

Even her hair was that same unusual shade as Talin’s–a deep, tawny gold streaked with chocolate brown. A mane, he’d always called it. Akin to the incredible variations of color in a leopard’s fur, something that outsiders often missed. To a fellow leopard, however, those variations were as obvious as spotlights. As was this woman’s hair. Beautiful. Thick. Unique.

“Talin,” he said softly, surrendering completely to the madness.

Her spine stiffened, but at last, she turned.

And the entire world stopped breathing.

Yum!! To buy this book from Amazon, Barnes & Noble or Borders, simply click on the links.

Nalini is giving away a signed copy of her first Psy/Changeling book, SLAVE TO SENSATION. To To win, leave a comment here. Anyone already subscribed to my newsletter is automatically entered to win, but leaving a comment here doubles your chances! To see if you won, be sure to look in my MARCH newsletter!