I’m going to be out of pocket over the next few days doing some family things, BUT I didn’t want to leave you without something fun. And in preparation for family stuff, I cleaned out the closet in my office and found goodies I’m going to pass along to you: Books!

One lucky winner will receive copies of the following the following:

ENEMY LOVER – Karin Harlow
NO ONE HEARD HER SCREAM – Jordan Dane
THE TYCOON’S SECRET AFFAIR – Maya Banks
EVE OF DARKNESS – S.J. Day
LION’S HEAT – Lora Leigh
RELEASE – Beth Kery
AND
Winner’s choice of an ARC of either FOUR PLAY (which includes my erotic novella “Her Fantasy Men”) or HAUNTED BY YOUR TOUCH (which includes my Doomsday Brethren novella “Mated”).

To play, read the first chapter of “Her Fantasy Men” and “Mated” (both short!), then tell me which one you’re looking forward to and why. You have until Saturday, August 14. I’ll post a winner shortly thereafter.

Speaking of winners, the winner of Friday’s post is…Julie D. Drop me your street address via the contact form on my website, and I’ll send you your promised goodies.

One last word…if you’d like to talk to me on a real-time chat, I usually visit with author Kris Cook on Wednesdays at 9pm Eastern for lots of fun chatter about books and whatever else interests us. It’s free, and the people are awesome. Kris’s guest this week is erotic romance author Tymber Dalton. Hope you can join us!

Happy Friday, everyone! I’m going to try on most Fridays to tell you about a new (or new to me) book that I think might be of interest to you. I know I read the first book in this series when it released and always wondered what happened to the heroine’s sister and the hero’s brother. I ran into sweet, bubbly Bella in Orlando at the RWA convention last week, and we started talking about this series. I’m finally happy to say that she’s answered my question. If you didn’t read the previous book in this series, no worries. You’ll have no trouble sliding down into this steamy read without it. Enjoy!

*     ~     *     ~     *     ~     *
Thanks so much to Shayla for having me as a guest on her blog! I can’t wait to meet everyone.

Five years ago, I wrote a book called TAKE ME. Ever since then, the lovely women who’ve read it have sent me emails, all asking the same thing: “When are you going to write Luke and Janica’s story?” This spring, I finally had the chance to write LOVE ME, and give two characters that I’ve never been able to forget their very own happily ever after.

LOVE ME
by Bella Andre
Kindle
Print (via Amazon)
Non-US/non-Kindle users

It’s been five years since Lily Ellis and Travis Carson got married and fell in love in TAKE ME….now it’s finally time for Janica Ellis and Luke Carson to get their very own happy ending.

If there’s one thing that Janica Ellis is absolutely certain of, it’s that she and Luke Carson are totally wrong for each other. She’s a wild, artistic and outspoken fashion designer. He’s a type A, workaholic trauma surgeon (who just happens to be sizzling hot and her brother-in-law!). But Janica is about to be proven wrong when opposites attract…in the sexiest possible way.

After a life-changing night in the ER, Luke is desperate for escape – and relief from his personal demons. For five years he has fought his attraction to his sister-in-law, but when he’s pushed too far, he can’t fight it another second. He needs her. Desperately. He’s spent his whole life doing the right thing. For one night, he’s going to follow desire instead. Straight into Janica’s arms.

Janica can’t believe Luke is finally at her front door…and that he’s kissing her like he’s been waiting his whole life to touch her. But even as their sensual connection deepens with every touch of skin on skin – and the man she always thought was such a good boy turns out to be sinfully, toe-curlingly bad between the sheets – Janica soon realizes she wants more than Luke’s body. She wants his heart too. But what will Luke do when one night of extreme passion turns into an all or nothing proposition?

Excerpt
copyright Bella Andre, 2010

Janica couldn’t get enough of Luke.

She could feel the warmth of his skin beneath his clothes as her hands roamed down his back, then back up and across his broad, muscular shoulders, but it wasn’t good enough. She wanted to know the feel of him beneath her fingertips.

Skin on skin.

Let the love begin.

Oh yeah.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this, so utterly consumed by a man, so frantic to get him naked, to feast her eyes and hands and mouth on every inch of his body. Sex had always been at the top of her favorite-things list, but this desire-this total, all-encompassing need-was something else entirely.

So different, in fact, that as she yanked his T-shirt out of his pants and broke their kiss long enough to pull it up over his head, she started freaking out a little bit.

Because with his torso bared before her, with all of that hard heat at her disposal to caress and run her tongue across, she wanted so many things so powerfully all at once that instead of being able to do any of them she found herself paralyzed.

Pressing her hands flat against his chest, she could feel the beating of his heart against her palms. A hard, fast pounding that mirrored her own heartbeat.

So many years she’d dreamed of this moment, so many years she’d thought it would never come, and now that it had, she felt almost frightened.

She lifted her eyes to his at the exact moment that her heart said, I love you.

No.

She stumbled back from Luke, or tried to, but his arms were faster than she was.

She hadn’t read love in his eyes at any point so far tonight, only lust. Pure lust. And now he was saying, “Yes or no?” in a low voice that rumbled through her entire body like a sensual earthquake.

Oh god. It couldn’t be true.

She couldn’t be in love with Luke.

Of all the stupid things to feel for him, love was definitely the stupidest.

She swallowed hard, made herself locate her voice, which felt like it had dropped way down deep into her toes.

“To what question?”

“Tonight. This. You and me.”

Ah, now she got it. He was asking her if she could forget about who they were. About their past. About how this could thoroughly complicate their future. He was asking her to make a choice between risking everything she was for this one night…or running scared from it.

She hadn’t been afraid of anything for a very long time. So why, she wondered helplessly, was she afraid now?

And why had her brain actually thrown the word love into the mix?

His hands were warm on the small of her back, just above the curve of her ass. The heat of his bare chest radiated out to her as she stood in his arms. A bone-deep longing to shut her eyes and lay her head against him while he held her close hit her hard.

God, what was wrong with her tonight? Here she was on the verge of getting everything she’d ever wanted and instead of grabbing Luke with both hands, dragging him to her bedroom, and having her dirty way with him, she was freaking out.

“Yes or no?” he repeated.

She tried to say yes, but all she could get out was, “You already know the answer.”

He shook his head, just as she’d known he would. He wasn’t the kind of man you could fool. He was too smart. Too quick.

“I want to hear you say it, Janica. I need to hear you say it.”

His need rocked through her. She couldn’t say no to him. Just as she couldn’t say no to herself, to her own desperate need.

She licked her lips. Opened her mouth. Finally whispered, “Yes.”

That one small word was all it took for him to take over.

*     ~     *     ~     *     ~     *
Yum! For some Friday fun, let’s have a little contest. Comment here about the blog. I’ll choose a random winner on Saturday at 9am (central) to receive a copy of Janice Maynard’s MATING GAME and some other goodies I picked up at the convention. I might even throw in a signed Shayla Black book. Who knows…? Comment here by Saturday morning if you want to play.

Today is it, the reveal of the grand prize winner of an iPod Touch. Thank you, everyone, who stopped by, commented, supported us and the authors we featured, talked about all the exciting books, Facebooked, Tweeted, and otherwise virally spread our widget around the Web. The turnout was great, and we were tickled to see so many of you here, day after day, cheering all the authors on. There were lots of winners along the way, and for those of you who received prizes, I hope you’re enjoying them. We hope everyone stops by again and lets us know what you’re doing and what you’re reading!

Tracy and I had loads of fun sharing our recent titles with you. As an FYI, here’s a list of our remaining titles for 2010:
Tracy Wolff/Tessa Adams-
July – Dark Embers, NAL
July – Beginning with Their Baby, Harlequin
December – Unguarded, Harlequin

Shayla Black
October – “Her Fantasy Men” – FOUR PLAY anthology, Berkley
November – ENTICE ME AT TWILIGHT (Doomsday Brethren 4), Pocket Books
November – “Mated” (a Doomsday Brethren novella) – HAUNTED BY YOUR TOUCH anthology, Pocket Books

And without further ado, our grand prize winner is…JEN X!!! Confetti all around! Contact Tracy Wolff for instructions on receiving your new iPod Touch.

I’ll have more fun and excitement here soon. Looking forward to seeing you here again!

From Tracy: Today, Tease Me hits the shelves and I am soooooo excited. It feels like I’ve been waiting for this book to come out forever :-) Thanks, everyone, for following along with Shayla’s and my contest for the last 52 days– I had a lot of fun and hope you guys did, too. Don’t forget to stop by tomorrow and check to see who won the iPod Touch. Remember every comment made throughout the contest gives you one entry into the drawing for the grand prize, so comment away today. And check out my brand new website! It should be up and running sometime this afternoon. I’ve got a contest going on over there, as well.

TEASE ME
NAL Heat
Available Today!
ISBN: 978-0451229250
Buy: Amazon | Borders

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:
“Hey, Lacey, wait up!” Lacey turned, surprised to see Sandra barreling through the crowds toward them, her boyfriend, Tony, behind her.

“Hey, Sandra,” she said as her friend approached.

“I thought that was you. We’ve been trailing you two for three blocks.” Sandra turned her baby blues on Byron and batted them for all she was worth. “And who is this?

“This is Byron Hawthorne—he’s my neighbor from across the courtyard.”

“How nice to meet you. I’ve been trying to set Lacey up with a guy for months, but she keeps refusing. Now I know why.”

“Come on, Sandra.” Tony weaved a hand through hers, pulling her closer to his side. “Leave the poor guy alone—he’s not used to you yet.”

Lacey shot him a grateful look before asking, “So, what have you been to?”

“We’re about to check out that new club, Voodoo Heaven. It’s supposed to be fabulous.” Sandra paused. “Why don’t you two come along?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. We were just heading home.”

“Come on—we’ve still got a couple of hours before things slow down. Let’s go dance.”

She glanced questioningly at Byron, who nodded amiably. “Sure. If you want to dance, let’s go.”

It’s not that she wanted to dance so much as she wanted to wipe the feel of the strip club from her brain and body. Part of her wanted to head home, climb in the shower and have crazy, mad sex with Byron under the pounding spray. But another part of her didn’t want to bring the bone-deep stink of that club back to her apartment. She wanted to put a little time and distance between her home and the images she’d just seen.

As they slipped into the noisy club, Sandra grabbed her arm. “Why don’t you guys go get some drinks? Lacey and I are going to go dance.”

“Already?” she asked as Sandra pulled her toward the tightly packed dance floor.

“Is there a better time?”

The new Beyoncé mix started just as they hit the floor, and Sandra laughed. “Come on! I love this song!”

As they danced to the song and then another, Lacey found herself laughing right alongside her friend. But Sandra was like that—fun, happy, with an enthusiasm that was completely infectious.

By the time Byron caught up to her three songs later, Lacey was drenched with sweat and feeling much better about life in general. “Dance with me?” he murmured against her ear as his arms circled her waist from behind.

“Sure.” She started to turn toward him, but he held her in place—his chest against her back, his erect cock nestling against the curve of her ass.

As if on command, the music turned slow and dreamy, and Lacey let her body relax against the hardness of his. He splayed his right hand across her abdomen, to keep her hips flush against his, and cupped her right breast with his left hand. His thumb glanced over her nipple—once, twice, then again and again.

Her nipple pebbled tightly under his attentions, her pussy growing damp as he pulled her ass more firmly against his cock and began to move. She’d never danced this way before—her body pressed against his from shoulder to thigh, but facing outward.

She liked it. Liked the freedom it gave her to look out over everyone; liked even more the feeling of being trapped against him as people danced all around them. They were in a hugely public place, but completely shielded by the crush of bodies on the dance floor.

Relaxing her neck, she let her head loll on Byron’s shoulders as she arched her back so that her breast fit more completely in his hand. The music was loud, so she didn’t hear his groan, but she felt it in the vibration of his chest against her back and the whisper of his breath past her ear.

She felt her own breath catch, felt desire humming through her bloodstream as she rubbed her ass against him. He was hot and hard and felt so good it was all she could do not to beg him to take her right there. To fuck her in the middle of the throbbing crowd, and to hell with public-decency laws.

His hand tightened on her breast, his fingers squeezing her nipple until she gasped—proof that he was as affected by what they were doing as she was. She whimpered at the pressure, and liquid pooled between her thighs.

“Byron.”

It was a whisper, but somehow he heard her. Pressing his mouth to her ear, he said, “Do you want to get out of here?”

She nodded, even as she prayed that her shaky legs would carry her that far. He must have read her mind—or maybe he was just as anxious as she was—because he said, “I’ll go flag down a cab.”

“I’ll go tell Sandra we’re cutting out, and meet you out front.”

He turned her around until she faced him, took her mouth in a brief but bruising kiss that had her fingers tangling in his shirt as her knees buckled. “We’ve got a table against the back wall. Don’t be long.”

“Believe me, I won’t.”

She watched him walk away, his broad shoulders cutting a swath through the gyrating bodies as he headed for the door. He was eventually swallowed by the crowd, so she started making her way in the direction he’d pointed. She’d made it off the dance floor and halfway across the room when she felt a hand grab her elbow.

Expecting it to be Sandra, she turned around with a smile—and found herself looking at a guy who made Grave Digger look like a friendly, neighborhood Smurf.

“Hey, let go!” She spoke loudly, but when he made no move to show he understood her, she tried to yank her arm away. His grip tightened to the point of pain.

A ripple of unease went through her, though she told herself she was being ridiculous. What could he do to her in such a crowded place? The thought might have comforted her more if she and Byron hadn’t just engaged in some heavy petting without drawing anyone’s notice.

“I mean it. Stop it.” She yanked harder, but his grip still didn’t budge.

“Leave me alone!” She raised her voice to a yell, but the current song was heavy on the bass, extremely popular and extra-loud. Nobody paid any attention to her.

The man started propelling her toward the back door of the club, his long legs eating up the ground as he dragged her in his wake.

“Help!” She screamed it now, but he’d made his move at the right time. The area around them was dark and nearly deserted as people flocked toward the dance floor to groove to the song.

She tried to dig her heels into the carpet, but the guy was huge and any resistance she put up was barely noticed. As they passed close to a table, she grabbed on to a chair. Surely someone would notice a huge guy towing a woman towing a chair and screaming.

But he simply shook his head and grabbed her other arm so hard that her fingers went numb and the chair clattered harmlessly to the ground.

“Look, lady.” He let go of one arm and leaned down until he was close enough for her to hear him. “If you’re going to cause trouble, I’ll just knock you out and carry you out of here. Everyone’ll think you passed out.”

His words exacerbated her fear, and pure instinct made her go for his eyes. Curling the fingers of her free hand into rigid claws, she slashed at whatever portion of his face she could get at.

She didn’t know who this guy was or what he planned on doing with her, but there was no way she was leaving this club with him without kicking up the mother of all protests.

“Fuck!” For one brief second his grip loosened as he tried to protect his eyes, and she yanked herself free. Without looking back, she ran for the dance floor and relative safety. This time, when a hand grabbed her from behind, she screamed her head off even as she started swinging.

“Get away from me!” she screamed, kicking out at the bastard. Smiling when she caught him in the shins. Glancing up, she nearly sagged in relief as she saw Byron barreling toward them.

“You bitch.” His fist came up and headed for her jaw, and she braced herself.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Byron roared, putting himself in front of her and taking on the jaw the punch meant for her.

***

For today’s prize, Tracy is giving away signed copies of her entire erotic backlist– Full Exposure, Naughty Bits and Tie Me Down. So comment away for a chance to win.

Yesterday’s winner was…Dyockman. Congratulations!

Today’s guest is the wonderful Lauren Dane. I visited her neck of the woods late last summer, and we had a fabulous dinner together. She’s great fun to be around. I’ve also had the opportunity to read this book and really enjoyed it. Sexy, emotional, and with a laid-back Seattle vibe that’s really hip and fun. Enjoy!

COMING UNDONE
Berkley Heat
Available Now
ISBN: 978-0425232705
Buy: Amazon

KEEPING IT TOGETHER

Brody Brown has always been responsible for others. After his parents’ death, he gave up a promising artistic career to care for his younger brother and sister. Now, with his siblings grown, Brody owns his own business, has a nice house, makes a nice living, and for the first time in years he’s on his own.

Elise Sorenson has come to Seattle with her young daughter to find peace. After years as a world-famous ballerina—(and just as many years in a marriage-gone-bad)—she’s looking for neither love nor attention. But she finds both in the handsome, honest man who befriends her with no strings attached.

More than friends, Brody and Elise discover in each other what they need—wild, physical passion without commitment. But it’ll take a shadow from Elise’s past to make them look beyond what they need—to what they truly desire.

Excerpt:

Chapter One

Even at the close of the day, the sun was enough to make the ride home from work totally perfect. He took the scenic route, settled onto the seat of the Harley he’d splurged on the summer before at Ben’s urging. Best impulse buy ever.

The joy of it was enough to bring him the long way home, down surface streets, a bit south and then back north again. He leaned back, the weight of his body balanced just so. The warmth on his thighs, against his back, eased him away from work and into leisure. The light of the often absent sun after the darkness of winter gave him an easy mood. Happy. Satisfied. The thrum of the engine vibrated, humming into his bones.

Late spring in Seattle and people began to emerge from their squall jackets and endless layers. The city came alive with color as flowers burst from ground that had been barren for months; the trees exploded with leaves and blossoms.

Other than early autumn, this was his favorite time of the year. He loved the glimpses of feminine skin as women started going bare-legged again when they wore skirts; loved the emergence of cleavage. He liked winter for all the vibrant, tight sweaters. But in spring and summer, women went softer, showed skin, wore dresses and floated around in his vision. All these things made every day a fine day in his life.

He’d go home, drink a few beers and sit on his back deck to watch the sunset. Maybe he’d even order a pizza if he could be bothered to get up and deal with the front door. Having made his mind up, he stopped in at the grocery store to pick up some hard lemonade for his sister, Erin, in case she showed up. Knowing his siblings, he expected one or both to roll in and demand food, so he liked to have the things they enjoyed on hand.

The slow ride down his street enabled him to catch all the activity on that early evening. People did yard work and washed cars and boats. He hoped they were all using that special soap to do their washing, or Mrs. Cardini, accompanied by her dog, would storm over and yell at them for being irresponsible with the environment.

The woman was in her nineties, and she ruled the entire block—both sides. She and her dog—one of the ugliest things he’d ever seen and always decked out in some special dog outfit—would make their way up one side of the street and down the other, doling out advice and lectures as she saw fit.

He grinned when he pulled into the driveway and keyed the bike off, only to hear her lecturing his immediate neighbor to the right about the shabby state of his trash cans. Grabbing the groceries from his side bag, he waved quickly and headed to his door before she got to him. God knew he had to be responsible for some kind of violation or other.

Once inside, he kicked off his boots, hung his jacket up, put the groceries away and turned the stereo on. It was fully time to get his leisure on, and his deck and the sunset beckoned. He cracked open a beer and shuffled out toward his favorite spot to unwind.

Brody arched his back, stretching himself as he reclined in the big, comfy Adirondack chair. He’d had a lot of clients that day in his tattoo shop, and he was getting old. Old enough and been tattooing long enough that his body reminded him at the end of each day.

The sky burned soft and bright in shades of blue, purple and bright, nearly neon orange as the sun set. He relaxed into his chair and tipped his bottle back, letting the cold beer ease his day and his back strain. His eyes drifted closed as he simply let the twilight settle in.

“Thought we’d find you back here.”

Raven. A friend who used to be more way back when. While there’d been times on and off since they’d ended up in bed during her visits, they’d kept their relationship to just friends. Despite her quirks, she’d become a part of his extended family. He knew her in ways she’d never allow others. He wished she would soften a bit, let someone in. But it was her way and he respected that.

“Got enough for me?”

And his sister, Erin.

He smiled, his eyes still closed; for a few moments he held in his mind the vision of the cotton candy clouds bathed in an explosion of color. He’d known not to expect solace for very long. It was rare when he didn’t see one of his siblings at least once a day. He liked that he was a touchstone for them both. They certainly were for him.

“You know where the fridge is.”

He listened to the happy sound of his sister and Raven chattering away in his kitchen and making their way back out to his deck.

“Why are you here?” he asked, opening his eyes and looking to his sister.

Erin dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Thanks for the lemonade. Am I so transparent?”

“I knew I’d be seeing you one night this week, so I wanted to be sure you had lemonade to drink.”

Her teasing smile softened. “You’re a big, huge marshmallow. I won’t tell anyone, but just know that I know. As for why I’m here, I wanted to see you. Duh. Todd says hey. Ben may be over in a while. I ordered pizza. Meatball, green pepper and mushroom, so don’t get that face.”

All that without an extra breath. Brody had always been amazed by his baby sister’s boldness, the way she took life on. Still, a man had standards when it came to pizza. “Pagliacci?”

She snorted. “Where else?”

He nodded, approving her choice. “Don’t tell anyone I said so, but you’re made of awesome.” Today her hair was fire-engine red with yellow streaks. On any other woman it would have looked ridiculous, but on Erin it worked.

She laughed and kissed him again before sitting next to him; squeezing into the space he gladly shared.
Totally and utterly content. His life was good. His business was solid, profits were up, enough that he could take fewer clients himself and actually have a day off every week. His house was finally where he wanted it. His sister was happy with her unconventional life and two totally devoted men, and his brother was on tour and had just celebrated yet another record going triple platinum.

“Your garden is nicer than mine.” Erin began to prattle on about her day, and he thought about smoking a cigarette, just half even, but then reconsidered. Raven would complain and Erin would give him that sigh of hers. Yeah, it was bad for him, but a man needed a few vices.

Instead, he listened to two of his favorite women talk and occasionally grunted or responded. All the while, he drank his beer and half-listened to Kings of Leon as they floated through the air from the stereo in the house. Not a bad way to spend the evening.

Forty-five minutes later, the pizza arrived, so Brody let himself be lured inside by the scent and his growling belly.

He stood for a moment, looking around. His dining room table was large enough for twelve—more if he put the leaf in. Even though his siblings were out on their own, Brody enjoyed that his was the place they sought when they needed to reconnect. His couches were comfortable and worn. The media center was state-of-the-art, because while his brother and sister made the music, they weren’t the
only ones who loved listening to it. A big flat-screen plasma hung in his television room downstairs, where he could play on the Wii or the Xbox, and he’d recently picked up a very fine pool table at a
garage sale.

In truth, his wilder days had passed and he found he’d rather hang at home in comfort than at a club. If he needed a woman, he could find several with a few calls. If he needed company, the same applied.

Brody enjoyed that most people saw the broad shoulders, the tattoos and the wary eyes, and thought him a rough-and-tumble bad boy. In reality, he liked to watch movies and eat popcorn with his baby sister. One of these days he’d bounce nieces and nephews on his knee and teach them bad habits.

“You’re pretty mellow tonight,” Erin said as she slid a plate laden with pie toward him.

“I have it good. Why not be mellow? Pretty women to my left and right, good music, good beer and good friends.” He tipped his beer toward Ben, who’d wandered in a few minutes before, not so miraculously, when the pizza had shown.

She smiled. “Good. By the way, I thought of a new tat I want you to do.”

“Whatever you say, baby girl.” He shrugged, happy to do it.

He’d done all her inkwork and trusted it would continue that way. Raven handled the piercings and that was fine by him. But Erin’s tats were special, like she was, and Brody wanted to be sure no one he considered inferior ever did work on her.

The predictable argument broke out between Erin and Raven about why Brody should do it instead of Raven, while Ben and Brody looked on before returning to their dinner.

Ben rolled his eyes at the exchange and looked back to Brody. “We need to go for a ride on Sunday. You up for it? The weather should be good. I thought a trip out to the Olympics? We can stop and eat some crab before we turn around.”

Brody respected the man who cared so much about his sister. The guy was good people, and he’d come along at a time in Erin’s life when it would have been a hell of a lot easier to run in the other direction. That went a long way in Brody’s book.

Sunny weekend with bikes and friends? “Yeah, that sounds damned good.”

***

Today’s prize is a signed copy of COMING UNDONE, so comment here for a chance to win.

Yesterday’s winner was…Sindy. Contact me with your street address to claim your prize!

Happy Easter! This morning, we’re featuring Joey W. Hill, whose books I first read at Ellora’s Cave. NATURAL LAW is still a fan favorite wherever you go. Her vampire books for Berkley also seem to have garnered a lot of fans, and she’s incredibly talented, so I’m sure you’re in for a wonderful treat. Joey is also very down to earth and great fun to talk to…but when you read her books, you know behind that sweet face is a naughty mind. LOL!

BELOVED VAMPIRE
Berkley HEAT
Available now
ISBN: 978-0425227954
Buy: Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Mason has lived in the Sahara desert for almost 300 years, grieving for a lost love and guarding her tomb. When the tomb is breached, his bloodlust is stirred to raging by the thought of someone disturbing her sanctuary. What he finds is Jessica, a fugitive from his own world. Jessica was the forced second-mark servant of a cruel vampire master. Through an unexpected turn of events, she was able to kill him when he tried to give her the final mark, which would have made her his full servant, bound to him even in death. Because the third marking was not complete, it left her alive…barely.

Drawn by the historic legend of the tomb, not knowing how it intertwines with the vampire world she is seeking to avoid, Jessica’s only desire is to die there, with her hand on the sarcophagus of the woman who’d had an unyielding faith in love. Instead, she finds her desire to live forcibly re-awakened by the vampire who refuses to let her give up. She clings to her hatred, but the more Mason struggles with her, the more determined he is to help her believe in love again. The only catch is he might have to do the same. But can he offer up his heart to another extraordinary woman if he already gave it away centuries ago?

Excerpt:

The Sahara had once been green. Lush, a verdant land supporting civilizations. Then the earth’s orbit changed, the sun came a little closer, and the land altered, becoming a desert that swallowed armies. It had happened three or four thousand years ago, barely a blink in the nine billion year life of Earth, but in that blink, Heaven and Hell had switched places. Had it been cosmic boredom, a need for a different perspective? Life giver, life taker.

Jessica wondered which face the Sahara preferred. Since she’d come here to die, it was a point of interest. Barely two years ago, her body had been vigorous and fertile as well. Now it, too, was a barren skeleton that repelled most sensible life forms. She felt almost at home here.

As the largest desert in the world, this was a place one could walk for days—if one had the constitution of a camel—and see no other human life. But the history of the area was still mapped on this wasteland, if one had trained eyes. Though she’d had to study it primarily from within the walls of her prison, she’d done little else of importance in the past months but study her final destination.

She didn’t really count killing Lord Raithe as important. The vampire who’d forced her to be his servant for over five years, and the reason she was dying now, was relatively nothing in the scheme of things. Creatures lived, creatures died, and their bones became sand like this. They all walked over the remains of their ancestors. At least he’d never torment anyone again. That mattered, though in truth, she’d been sick for so long now, she couldn’t even recall why that had been as important as it had once seemed.

In contrast, Farida had remained significant to her. In the midst of a life so horrible Jess often thought she’d already died and somehow deserved Hell—though she couldn’t recall her crime—Farida had given her a spark of light. It had amazed Jess, discovering the body’s desire to live was stronger than anything, even despair. Maybe that was why she’d connected with a woman who had chosen love and then lost everything.

From the very first moment Jess opened the ancient binding and discovered the written memories of the sheikh’s daughter who had lived over three hundred years ago, a bond had formed between them. Farida had spoken in her memoir passionately, vibrantly, of a love worth any torment.

Between being on the run as a fugitive and hoping she had the strength to keep going the next day, Jess had read her words. Hiding in dank places that only society’s forgotten frequented, often there was nothing else to break her thoughts, except the trickling background of an internal hourglass, the sands of her life running out. Her cells were being subsumed in that flow of sand, as if she were becoming part of a place like Farida’s Sahara. But she was okay with that. There were those who believed that the Sahara would return to greenness, that the cycles of climate change would evolve again, the sun getting less hot and the rains increasing. A different way of life would return.

After Jess killed Raithe, Farida’s journal and the diamonds were the only things worth her life to slip back into his house and retrieve. Maybe even then, in her subconscious, she’d realized where she was going to go and what she was going to do with the short remainder of her life. It was no more fantastic than what her life had been for the past five years. And no one would look for her in the Middle East.

When she’d arrived in the Sahara, she realized that those who wrote of it as a desolate place, devoid of life, didn’t know it. There was life here. Not just in the few peoples and creatures that called it home, but in the ghosts that whispered, finding voice through the movement of the sand, a haunting noise like blowing across the top of a soda bottle. She knew what that sounded like, for she’d done it as a teenager, clustered with her friends on the curb outside the Quik-Stop with soda and Cheetoes, eying the boys that came in after school. Boys who eyed them right back.

God, that was a long time ago. She held those memories to her occasionally like a favorite doll, even as she knew the act was closer to that of a mother holding a dead baby.

The three men she’d paid to accompany her this far thought her a madwoman, of course. But she’d paid them enough to indulge her, and there was nothing to lose, no liability. Take a crazy, dying woman out to a remote part of the desert that wasn’t on any map, and she’d eventually tire of her fantasy of finding the marker for a dead woman’s grave or die. They’d be rich men, either way. She’d shown them the jewels, what would be theirs if they helped her. She thanked whatever capricious Deity watched over fools that she’d had the foresight to take the gems while everyone was still out looking for her. Raithe had had a hoard to rival a dragon’s, so they’d never be missed.

Now, as she rolled the comfort of familiar thoughts through her head, a reminder of where she’d been, where she was going, she looked over the endless stretch of dunes. The breathtaking artistry of the wind upon them rivaled the greatest sculptors of the ages, and the sun collaborated, providing a different view with each degree it descended. But even that beauty couldn’t distract her from the fact night was drawing close. God, she hated darkness. But she fingered the compass in her pocket, reassuring herself. The stars would help her find Farida tonight at last.

Reading the words of that diary made her feel as if she were in Farida’s silken tent, where they cuddled on the pillows as girlfriends, pressed forehead to forehead. In the darkest time of night, Farida whispered in her ear. She’d told Jessica that, while everything in life could be taken away by uncontrollable forces, there was always a choice left. Something overlooked, if one did not let fear overwhelm desire.

Farida’s choice had been an incomparable man. Jessica’s would be where she wanted to die. Closing her eyes, Jessica remembered her favorite diary entry, about the night Farida had met Lord Mason…

# 

I was behind the screen when Prince Haytham entered the tent to speak with my father. My father valued my counsel and often allowed me to do this, perhaps because he knew how very restless I became in a woman’s world. Why does Allah create dreams and appetites, the desire to live free and fierce as a man does, if those things are to be denied a woman’s soul? I have often wondered this.

Then I saw the man with the prince. Those longings, banked always against my responsibilities as my father’s daughter, exploded inside me like the brightness of stars, such that they couldn’t be contained. I bit down so hard on my lip I drew blood, though I knew I must fly, sing, dance…all for him.

He had to be a djinn spun from the desert sand, for never has a man been so beautifully made. Face carved with the sculpted beauty of the dunes, but smooth as watered stone, as if a goddess had created him and then lovingly stroked him, over and over.

When they sat for coffee, he removed his robes, showing he wore the brown riding trousers and white shirt of a European. He lounged back on the pillows, a graceful animal. Though he smiled and listened in that relaxed way of men as coffee was prepared, he reminded me of a desert tiger, for his hair was burnished copper, an animal’s pelt. He had it scraped back from his face, so every magnificent plane was emphasized. My fingers wanted to feel that fall of straight silk, tied back from his shoulders.

His eyes were true amber, like the tiger as well, an almost unnatural brilliance to them, as if he carried the fire of the desert within him. A djinn, as I have said. I heard Prince Haytham say later that he suspected Lord Mason was a British spy, for during the time he stayed with us, he was always gone by dawn, and returned at nightfall. He also spoke our language as well as a native, and his accent was not as precisely bitten off as other Englishmen who have met our camp.

The prince said Lord Mason’s purpose was nothing that concerned us, though I imagined him stepping out of view of our camp and dissolving into a tornado of sand, a desert devil spinning across the dunes. He had too much energy to contain in the body of a mortal man. I imagined that he returned to us at night only when his need to exercise his powers was temporarily sated.

But I need to leave off my fancies and go back to that first time I saw him. As I bit down on my lip and tasted my blood, I must have made a sound despite my efforts, for he looked at me, found me behind the screen. Those tiger’s eyes flickered. I saw his nostrils flare, as if he had my scent, knew every shameful thing I wanted. A passing moment, over in a blink. He shifted his attention away, not disrespecting my father by staring at a woman of his house.

But when he raised his hand to perform the salaam, I drew in another unsteady breath, thinking how those hands would feel on my flesh, compelling my surrender, my obedience, my devotion and love throughout eternity. I knew then. From that very first second, Fate tied a gentle but unbreakable tether around my throat and handed the lead to him. I would follow him, no matter what our end would be.

***

Leave your comment here to win a copy of BELOVED VAMPIRE (or other backlist book of your choice) from Joey W. Hill. Remember, Tuesday is the last day we’re taking entries for the grand prize, and Ipod Touch. All you have to do for a chance to win is comment…

Yesterday’s winner was…Casey. Please contact Tracy Wolff to claim your prize. Congratulations!

From Red Garnier: This month, I’m thrilled to celebrate the release of my first romantic suspense story, a steamy little novella called Reckless and Yours which is included in the MEN OF DANGER anthology along with sizzling stories from the talented Lora Leigh, Alexis Grant, and Lorie O’Clare!

Romantic Times BOOKreviews pointed Reckless and Yours as one of the ‘standouts’ and said these ‘Four hot and suspenseful stories make for a good read’!

I really hope you’ll enjoy cuddling up to these sexy tales bursting with love, passion, and danger.

MEN OF DANGER
St. Martin’s Press
Release: April 27
ISBN: 978-0312576363
Pre-order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble

Blurb:

 There is no future without facing your past…

A lifetime ago, Paige Avery left town after witnessing the murder of her father: and she doesn’t remember a thing. Now she returns after her mother’s funeral, oblivious to the fact that her life is in danger – until someone breaks into her house. Rattled by the destruction of the home where she grew up, Paige comes face to face with the stranger who has haunted her dreams.

Zachary Rivers may look like a felon, but what he really is is a cop: a very determined, very handsome cop, who stares at her with eyes that say I will protect you.

Paige may not fully remember what happened between them seven years ago, but she knows she responds to him like she’s never responded to any man.

Desperately trying to stay alive, and fighting against a raging passion that threatens to consume her, Paige has to look into her past to get on with her future. And while some things are better left forgotten, others are impossible to forget . . .

Excerpt:

Prologue

Paige.

Her name was Paige.

So sleepy. She could not open her eyes. Her arms felt as though a building sat on top of them, and an insect-like sensation crawled up her legs under the sheets.

But the sounds… The rhythm was strangely soothing, like a lullaby. A nice, sweet lullaby. Keeping company in the quiet.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Mrs. Avery! They said Paige was in a trauma and we had to come—”

“Ohmigod, we’re so sorry about the judge! But what happened? What’s wrong with her—”

“Shhh! Francine, can’t you see she’s sleeping?”

A voice rose above the others—ringing with maturity, authority, “Girls! Please. You can’t all be in here at once! Out in the hall please.”

Again quiet.

Sleep called to her, drew her deeper into its spell even as she fought for consciousness. She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted…she wanted…she didn’t know what she wanted. Maybe she wanted to die.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

A knock came. “Mrs. Avery, I’d like a word with your daughter.”

Mrs. Avery. Poor Mrs. Avery was everywhere. Doctors called her name. Nurses. People. Friends. I’m so sorry, we heard, this is awful…

Mrs. Avery’s voice was tired now. Was she angry? She sounded strained and far away, shuffling to the door. “Officer, this is not a good time…”

The voices faded into the hall, still audible to some degree.

“…shock…head trauma…doesn’t remember…”

They were talking about her. Weren’t they? But she did remember. Didn’t she?

Her name was Paige.

Her mother said to pack. They would leave soon. No one would bother them again. But Father…Father was…

“…accident…autopsy…funeral…”

Father was dead?

Paige heard more murmurs out in the hall before she sensed the presence in the room. She could hardly believe the sneer in his words the instant they registered.

“I hear Daddy’s dead.”

Her nostrils flared at the pungent scent coming off his body. He leaned over her. The bed creaked with the weight of his arms, and a tendril of fear took hold in the pit of her belly. He thrust his next words into her ear, words that chilled down to the marrow of her bones.

“Remember what I told you, hmm? Be a good, good girl, Paige, and stay very, very quiet. If you dare open your mouth I swear to God I’m going to break your boyfriend into tiny little pieces. And then I’m going to break you.”

A sound welled in the back of her throat, a cry for help, but it died when he squeezed her upper arm hard enough to cut off her blood supply. He released her. “Good girl. Don’t forget.”

She tossed her head and moaned. Mother. Seconds passed, minutes. Hours?

He was gone—and she did not want to lie here. Felt restless. She needed to do something. Something important. Something she should run to, far and fast and hard, but her stupid legs—

“Paige?”

The voice. It struck her like lightning. She fell utterly still, stiller than still. Her lungs froze in her chest and her ears strained for more of that hoarse, male rasp. First she heard footsteps.

Her body tensed at each of the five that brought the speaker closer, and her mind went blank while she frantically waited to listen. Her world narrowed down to that one whisper he uttered—

“Paige, it’s me.”

Me.

Unexpectedly, as though this voice was all she needed to set loose a well of emotion, her lips began to tremble. A hot fat tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

A second followed down her cheek, and the moment a flat, callused thumb gently began to swipe it, she impulsively turned her face into that hand. She ached to weep into it. Let “me“ catch all her tears.

She began to sob in earnest, and a second hand engulfed her left cheek. She heard a gruff, “fuck,” while he furiously tried to wipe the tears away. He seemed as desperate to stop them as she ached to set them free. “Oh, fuck.” Long fingers spread open to hold her, heels of his palms cradling her jaw. His hands shook.

She willed her eyes to open but they stung. Her lashes felt stuck together with Super Glue and she hated that they would not obey her mind. A sound full of distress and frustration burst from her lips. He tilted her head back a fraction and his warm, ragged breath misted across her forehead. Soft dry lips brushed across one closed eyelid, then the other. “Shhhh. I’m here.”

When the hot, moist flick of his tongue lapped the tears from the corner of one eye, her stomach exploded with emotion. The breath shuddered out of her.

His mouth trailed down the other cheek while he rained kisses on her.

A powerful tremor shook her body; that same shudder seemed to run through him too. His hands tightened reflexively on her face and he lowered his head, grazing the shell of her ear with his lips, whispering, “I’ll make it better. Whatever it takes, anything I need to—”

Her mother’s voice sliced through the room like an ice pick.

“Take your hands off her.”

A feeble protest tore out of her as she tossed her head in negation. No. But the hands slowly, hesitantly, left her. She could no longer smell the sun on his skin, the masculine aroma of sand and trees clinging to his clothing; instead the scent of medicine and plastic prevailed.

“I ask you to get out now.”

Her heart thundered in her breast. She could not move. She could not scream. Could not say, No no no. Don’t go, don’t go.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!

“You’re distressing her, leave now!”

His footsteps echoed on the tile floor. Leaving. Leaving now. And she could not do anything but lie there, afraid, in the darkness, with his fleeting touch imprinted somewhere deep and lonely inside her.

Her name was Paige. 

***

Comment here to win a copy of  MEN OF DANGER signed by Red Garnier.

Yesterday’s winner was…Gabby.

Today’s guest is the wonderful Karin Tabke, who will be giving away a copy of her novel, Master of Surrender. It is the first in the Blood Sword Legacy series.

Eight mercenary knights, each of them base born, each of them bound by unspeakable torture in a Saracen prison, each of them branded with the mark of the sword for life. Each of their destinies marked by a woman.‘Twas whispered along the Marches the demon knights who rode upon black horses donned in black mail wielding black swords would slay any man, woman or child who dared look upon them. ‘Twas whispered their loyalty was only to the other and no man could split them asunder, nor was there enough gold or silver in the kingdom to buy their oath. ‘Twas well known each of them was touched not by the hand of God but by Lucifer himself.

‘Twas also whispered, but only by the bravest of souls, that each Blood Sword was destined to find only one woman in all of Christendom who would bear him and only him sons, and until that one woman was found, he would battle and ravage the land… …but the darkest secret whispered was that there was one among them whose violent craving for the one woman he could not have would be the spark that would set an entire region on fire, and nearly bring down a kingdom, with the aftermath to be felt for the next thousand years.

Having survived the great battle of Hereford, Stefan de Valrey lies naked in the wood at a pond’s edge where he has bathed away the battle stench, tended his grave wounds and ponders his next move. For the Normans were slaughtered by the combined forces of the mad Saxon Earl Edric and his Welsh allies King Rhiwallon and Bleddyn. His brother Blood Swords have been captured by the Welsh kings and, Stefan will do anything to see to their safe release. Anything.

Stefan grabbed his sword and rolled over, prepared to do battle, but instead found nothing. Had he dreamt the low sensual laugh? He heard it again, closer now. His blood warmed as he conjured up a face and body to go with such an exotic sound. He hurried to Apollo as fast as his damaged leg would allow, and pushed the huge horse back farther into the thick wood.

He warned him to silence, knowing the horse would stand still until given the command to move. Stefan turned and made his way back to the edge of the thick copse of foliage he hid behind. For long moments he stood, wondering for the second time if he had dreamt the voice. The light sound of footsteps crunching along the rocky path to the secluded pond heralded a visitor. He crouched, wincing at the pull of skin and muscle on his damaged thigh, and rethought his position. As he made to adjust, he stopped all movement.

“Jane, hurry, I must get out of these mud-caked rags!” called a melodic female voice in Welsh.

Stefan crouched lower. Not moving a single muscle, he watched as a wood nymph danced into view. His eyes widened. She was tall, slender, and, as his gaze raked her body, buxom. He smiled. She was undressing in a most uninhibited manner as she hurried toward the inviting pool. And, he could see why. Her emerald-colored gown was covered in mud on one side, as was her long sunburst-colored hair. When she yanked the kirtle from her body, he held his breath.

The soft linen of the chemise beneath molded against her full curves in the soft breeze. “I cannot believe I fell from my horse!”

“You have become too arrogant, milady,” an old woman said, hobbling into the clearing holding a cloth bundle. “’Tis time someone brought you down a peg.”

A noblewoman? A Welsh noblewoman? He grinned wider, and silently thanked Rhys and Wulfson for their tutelage of the language. He would repay them handsomely when next they met. The eager lady did not wait for her maid to help her undress further. She sat upon the stone he had himself just lain upon and unlaced her soft leather boots, untied her garters, then rolled down short white chauses. His body tightened when she stood and pulled the chemise from her body. Heat filled him as he slowly stood, unable to turn away, indeed, could he have.

Transfixed, he took in every sensual inch of her body. She was tall for a woman and majestically golden. Golden hair, golden skin. Her breasts were full and rose high upon her chest. His hands opened and closed, wanting to feel the soft firmness of them beneath his fingertips. He envisioned his large calloused fingers gently brushing across a pink nipple, feeling it come alive beneath his touch. His cock filled as his eyes traveled down her flat belly to her rounded hips and to the blush-colored triangle between her thighs. He hissed out a low breath. She was breathtaking, and at that moment, Stefan knew what it meant to want something so badly that he would give his right arm to possess it.

His cock lengthened at the spectacular sight, and had she been alone, he would have been so bold as to show himself, Adam to her Eve. He wanted to join with her and mate.

“You are shameful!” Jane scolded. “What if there are bandits in the wood?”

“Keep watch, Jane, I will be but a few minutes. We have been riding hard for days. The dirt of the road clings to me and you know I have not bathed since we departed Dinefwr.”

Dinefwr? ‘Twas where Prince Hylcon resided. This he knew, for the Dinefwr-Castile bloodline was amongst the finest; not only in all of Christendom, but even the Saracens of the Holy Land traveled to Dinefwr to breed their mares to Hylcon’s stallions.

Intrigued, he watched the lady gingerly stick a toe into the cool water. She gasped in a breath at the chill, when she did her breasts rose higher, as did he. He smiled despite the pain it caused him, as she slowly glided into the pool. Her golden skin puckered and her blush-colored nipples tightened.

“Go, Jane, and leave me. Go down the path and make sure that letch Dag keeps his distance.”

The errant lady slid the rest of her long body into the cool, clear water, gasping at the coolness. Stefan squirmed where he stood, the tension between his thighs overriding the tension of his wounds.The servant set her bundle down on the rock and untied it, then spread out clothes and a long linen towel.

“Here are your clothes, you will have to dry yourself. I cannot guard the path and dress you at the same time. Do not dally, milady, we must be back on the road.”

The lady splashed water at her maid and scoffed. “Dag has lost his way, and because of it, we have lost time. I fear we will never get to Yorkshire.”

“He is not the most intelligent of men,” Jane admitted, then, reluctantly, the old woman moved back down the path they had come. Stefan knelt on the soft loamy ground and watched captivated, as the wood nymph swam in the small pool, and as he had done, she grabbed a hunk of springy moss from beneath a fern.

When she stood and the clear water sluiced down her breasts to her belly, glistening like pearls under the sunlight, Stefan stifled a groan.She reached over to the bundle and grabbed a bar of soap, and when she lathered it, he held his breath. Her slender hands smeared it across her breasts and down her belly to her thighs. She tilted her head back, her back arched, those luscious breasts pointed to the sun. Her hands slid across her body with brazen familiarity. He wanted to touch her so. She had no modesty, and he could tell just from the way she touched herself she would be an adventurous lover. She sank deeper into the pool, allowing the water to carry the lather away. When she completely submerged and shot up, her body glistening in the sun, Stefan slowly stood and took a step closer. She put the soap to her hair and vigorously washed it. She went under again, and this time when she erupted from the water, like Venus herself, the erotic image was too much for Stefan. He groaned.

She gasped, and turned crossing her arms over her chest. “Who goes there?”Stefan grinned, ignoring the pain it cost him. How badly he wanted to show himself, and how badly he wanted to lose himself in all of that gold and honey, he could not measure, but even had he the time for a dalliance, he doubted he possessed the strength.

‘Twas a shame, for it had been months since his last woman, and none could he recall as comely as this one frolicking in the water before him. He was just about to move deeper into the wood when he heard another voice. A man’s voice.“Would you like some company, Princess?”Princess? Stefan’s interest suddenly went from his cock to his head. A Welsh princess? Mayhap Hylcon’s daughter?

“Dag! How dare you trespass! Turn your back and return to the others!” she commanded.Stefan eyed the intruder as he emerged from the path into the clearing. Nearly as tall as Thorin, bald, but sporting a full blond beard, hard narrowed eyes, and dressed in the manner of a Norseman complete with battle ax.

A Viking. What was a Viking doing with a Welsh princess in the middle of battle-fatigued Mercia? She had mentioned Yorkshire. An area, despite Hardrada’s defeat last year, still heavily populated with Norse. “I cannot do as you command, Princess Arianrhod. As you have so thoroughly done to my uncle, so too you haunt my every waking thought.” He continued stalking her, as a fox would a plump hen.

“Stop now, Dag! Stop before you do something we will both regret,” she warned, and, though she tried to keep her voice strong and sure, Stefan heard the fear in it.

Dag laughed as if every day he plucked an unwilling maid from the water, and continued his slow, deliberate pursuit. “I will have no regrets. I want you as I have never wanted anything in my life. I will have you.”

The princess backed up to the rock she had undressed on and grabbed the linen from where the maid had set it. She started to stand, to wrap it around her but thought better of exposing herself to the unwanted intruder. Instead, she dragged it into the water, soaking it, then wrapped it around her body.

Stefan shook his head. ‘Twould only weigh her down and show off every curve. She dragged herself from the water on the side of the pond closest to where he hid. He swallowed hard at the display. As forethought, she was a vision, to be sure, in the thin wet cloth. It clung to her full curves, and despite the position she found herself in, the princess’s royal nipples were hard and strained mightily against the cloth.

Slowly, Stefan moved closer to the edge of the foliage that shielded him. And, as was his instinct when trouble brewed, he reached for his sword where it lay on the ground beside him. The Viking nimbly hopped from the shore to one rock, then another, then to the one the princess stood upon. She opened her mouth to scream, but the Viking was quick; he grasped her, slapping his hand across her mouth.

The little hellion bit him and punched him with her fists. The damp linen clung to her between them, but now it covered less than it had a moment ago.Stefan’s impulse was to defend the lady’s honor, but too much was at stake for him to show himself.

***

Comment here for the chance to win a copy of MASTER OF SURRENDER, Blood Sword Legacy #1.

The year is 1066. William, bastard Duke of Normandy, has claimed the English throne by right of conquest. To quell the Saxon unrest, William sends out his most trusted knights to secure the land. One of those knights is his cousin, Sir Rohan de Luc, known far and wide for his bloody deeds as The Black Sword. . .

Today, I’m featuring one of my buddies and an author whose books I always enjoy. She’s an incredible writer and a great cheerleader when you need it. I highly recommend her books!

TOUCH OF SEDUCTION, Primal Instincts series
HQN
Release date: March 30
ISBN: 978-0373774487
Buy: Amazon

A beautiful woman he must never possess.
A primal hunger that must be fed. . .

Sold into slavery as a child to a cruel taskmaster, tiger-shifter Aiden Shrader trusts no one. Not even his own kind. Yet as a member of the Watchmen—the organization of shape-shifters who keep watch over the ancient nonhuman races—Aiden is fiercely protective of the helpless. Never more so than when he’s asked to guard a little girl with witches’ blood—and her beautiful human aunt. A woman who arouses all of Aiden’s primal urges. . . urges he must resist.

To small-town schoolteacher Olivia Harcourt, the massive tiger-shifter with the glowing amber eyes is as much a dark mystery as the enemy stalking her. Yet Aiden is her only hope of surviving. Until their intense passion unleashes her own inner tigress with a ferocity that will make the evil Casus rue the day they messed with her family. . . and will take Aiden by seductive surprise.

CHAPTER ONE

Lennox, Kentucky
Friday night

Someone smelled good. No, better than good. Someone smelled downright sinful. And as the warm, womanly, mouthwatering scent filled his head, Aiden Shrader began thinking that his current assignment was an even bigger mistake than he’d thought it would be. After all, he was standing on a human female’s doorstep at nine o’clock at night, ready to tell her that she was now under his protection, for God only knew how long, whether she liked it or not. And he was probably going to have to toss in the fact that he wasn’t just an armed, bad-ass-looking bodyguard set on keeping her and her three-year-old niece alive, but a shape-shifter, as well. One who could take the form of a massive, deadly predator. An actual tiger-shifter, to be precise.

Oh yeah, he thought, pushing his windblown hair back with one tattooed hand, while the bitter December night twined itself around his long body like a cold, clinging lover. There isn’t a chance in hell that little tidbit is going to go down well.

Aiden and his colleagues didn’t know how much Olivia Harcourt’s stepsisters had told her about the world of preternatural creatures who lived hidden among humanity, the various races collectively referred to as “the ancient clans.” And since they also didn’t know how much she might have been told about the Watchmen—the organization of shape-shifters that Aiden belonged to, whose job it was to watch over the remaining clansmen—there was a good chance the chick was probably going to run screaming, hell-bent for leather, the instant he laid things out for her. She might even run the second she set eyes on him. Not that he’d blame her, if she was the skittish type. At nearly six and a half feet, packed with long, solid muscle and sporting a multitude of tattoos and shaggy hair that he hadn’t bothered to cut in months, Aiden was used to sending some women running for cover. They either loved what they saw or didn’t stick around long enough to discover if the “bad boy” was really as wicked as he looked.

The simple fact was that some women had a taste for danger…and some didn’t. Aiden had never cared much, one way or another, seeing as how his interest in the female gender remained purely physical—his inner animal far easier to control when he kept it sated. The only rules he lived by were that he never messed around with a woman unless she understood exactly how much he was willing to offer, that she was built to handle a hard ride and that she didn’t touch the darker, more primal aspects of his nature. 

Of the three, that last rule was by far the most important, and now he had to face the unsavory realization that someone in that goddamn house smelled good enough to arouse the dangerous, possessive hungers of his beast…and he was going to be so screwed because of it.

Aiden half prayed the mouthwatering scent didn’t belong to the Harcourt woman, but doubted he would be that lucky. Pulling his hand down his face, he stifled a frustrated snarl and figured he might as well stop stalling and get on with it. As the wind stretched a dark, ominous string of clouds across the hazy glow of the moon, he lifted his right hand and banged his fist against the front door of the brick two-story. While he waited impatiently for someone to answer, he silently cursed the fact that he needed to get laid, in a bad way, while doing his best to convince himself that he was only reacting to that scent because he’d been forced to live like a monk for too many weeks. He wasn’t the type of man to go without, his primal instincts constantly driving his sexual hungers to an urgent, aggressive level, but it was bloody hard to pick up women in the middle of a war. He’d been so busy in the past month, most nights he just collapsed into bed and didn’t move until it was time to get up and start all over again the next day.

Not that the Merrick and the Watchmen were making a lot of progress. Though the Merrick were one of the most powerful of the ancient clans, their bloodline had been dormant for centuries, until the recent return of the Casus and the beginnings of the war. A vile race of immortal creatures who’d been imprisoned over a thousand years ago for their crimes against humanity and the other clans, the Casus had somehow begun escaping from Meridian—the metaphysical holding ground that served as their prison—and returning to this world. The first had returned at the end of the summer, with more and more following in recent months. They were now hunting down the Merrick, one by one, exacting a bloodthirsty revenge against their ancient enemy.

As a result of the Casus’s return, the Merrick blood within the original clan’s descendants was awakening, and some Merrick, like the Buchanans, were now waging a fight against the monsters, along with the help of the Watchmen. Ian Buchanan had actually been the first Merrick to be awakened, and thanks to Ian’s sister, Saige, it was the Buchanans and Shrader’s Watchmen unit who were conducting the search for the Dark Markers. As the only known weapons that could destroy a Casus’s soul and send it to hell, the Markers were invaluable in their fight against the Casus. The mysterious crosses had been hidden across Europe and the Americas in order to keep them from falling into the wrong hands, and Aiden and his friends were doing everything they could to track them down. But it wasn’t enough. Despite the fact that they’d now managed to find five of the hidden Markers, giving up only one to the enemy, their side was losing the war—and Aiden wasn’t a man who liked to lose. He’d spent too many years under the thumb of his enemies when he was younger. Now, at the age of thirty-four, he was a man who liked to fight hard and come out on top, no matter what it took to get there. He’d been working his ass off to make sure that he and his friends were going to end this conflict as the victors, and he wanted to be out in the field, continuing the fight. Not acting as a goddamn babysitter.

Around him, the night was strangely silent but for the rustling of the leaves in the trees, the other four houses in the cul-de-sac already dark, though strands of Christmas lights continued to flicker around two of them. Just as he raised his hand to knock for a second time, he heard the back door open and close. It barely made a sound—just a soft brushing of the mechanisms clicking into place—but it was enough for his sensitive hearing to pick up. Cocking his head to the side, he listened as someone quickly made their way down a set of steps, their gait uneven, as if they were carrying something heavy on one side of their body.

With his left hand braced on the porch’s wooden railing, Aiden vaulted over the top, landing with a soft thud in the damp grass on the side of the house. His mouth watered when he drew in a deeper take of that warm, rich scent as it rode the wintry breeze, stroking his senses like a physical touch. The predatory beast within him stretched into a fuller awareness, its graveled voice rumbling from deep within, vibrating through his body like a shock wave.

Stalk. Cover. Take.

Cursing under his breath with a bitter surge of frustration, Aiden wondered why things just kept getting crappier for him, rather than better, since this was the last damn thing that he needed. One would think that fighting on the “good” side against a sadistic, merciless evil would earn him some karma points from at least one freaking entity in the universe, but his luck just kept slipping deeper into shit.

Then again, he mused, scraping his rough palm against the bristled surface of his jaw as he moved silently through the shadows, maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised. Aiden knew, firsthand, that the good didn’t always come out on top. And if they did, it usually took a hell of a lot of time and pain to get there.

Coming around the corner of the house, he stepped into the backyard…and instantly caught sight of the woman, his exceptional night vision enabling him to clearly make out her form in the darkness. He could see that she wasn’t overly tall for a female, probably no more than five-five, her shoulders narrow, graceful hands struggling to control a bulky piece of luggage. She looked as though she was in a hurry as she hefted the suitcase into the trunk of a small compact, then slammed it closed. She also looked nervous as hell, her hands visibly shaking as she seemed to take a moment to listen to the night. Did she know that trouble was on its way, then? Know that the ones who’d killed Monica Harcourt, her eldest stepsister, and kidnapped the youngest one were now after the little girl she was protecting? Is that why she’d left her home to stay here, at the house of a friend who’d gone out of town?

If so, it’d been a foolish move on her part, because the house couldn’t have been in a worse location. It sat at the far end of a quiet country neighborhood in a sprawling cul-de-sac, surrounded by woods, the only access road providing the perfect place for an ambush. Aiden had spent the past week about a hundred miles south of Lennox, searching for the fifth Dark Marker along with fellow Watchman Kellan Scott and their human colleague, Noah Winston. They’d found the Marker that morning, and would have already been on their way back to Colorado with it, where the compound they called home was located in the Rocky Mountains, if it weren’t for the unexpected phone call that had brought them to Lennox instead. Aiden now carried the ornate cross in his back pocket, and Kellan and Noah were patrolling the woods, on the lookout for the Casus. Monica Harcourt’s ghost had been in contact with them, warning that the bastards were coming for her daughter, and Aiden knew better than to underestimate them. If he’d managed to find Olivia Harcourt and her niece at this remote location, the Casus would, as well.

As if she suddenly sensed his presence, the woman turned, caught sight of him at the corner of the house, then immediately started to run. Without thinking about which direction she was headed, simply reacting to the fact that she was running from him, Aiden found himself sprinting across the grassy backyard and taking her down. She started to cry out, but the sharp sound was cut off as they landed heavily on the cold ground, momentarily knocking the wind out of them both.

Soft. That was the first word that came to mind as he lay heavily against her, his chest to her back. Sweet was the second. He usually went for his women a little sturdier than this one, so that he didn’t have to worry about hurting them when he let go, but he couldn’t deny that he liked the feeling of her lush, feminine little body trapped beneath him.

Without thinking it through, acting purely on animal instinct, Aiden lowered his head and nuzzled the warm, tender patch of skin just behind her right ear. The heavy silk of her red hair tickled his nose, the sleek strands smelling of flowers and spring and things that were too damn tender for his world. His long frame began to shake, something thick and hot rushing through his body, as if a biting, visceral craving unlike anything he’d ever experienced had been injected directly into his veins, poisoning his reason.

A rough noise vibrated in the back of his throat, and he jerked from shock when he realized he was actually purring.

Bad, he silently snarled, and he stilled, not even breathing, while a deeper, more guttural voice chanted “Keep her” within the darkness of his mind.

No, he growled, shaking his head so hard that his long hair flew around his shoulders. No way. Not possible, the rational, human part of his mind argued, while the rest of him went into total meltdown, coming undone, something dark and possessive clawing against his insides, demanding its freedom.

Need her. Naked. Now.

He was, to put it bluntly, completely screwed, and as his body crushed hers against the ground, two thoughts fired simultaneously through Aiden’s brain, obliterating everything else. The first was that she felt better than any other woman he’d ever had beneath him, even if she was a human. The second was that he needed to get the hell away from her, before he ended up making the biggest mistake of his life.

This second idea was completely borne from the first, and the first had so many tangled layers to it, it was difficult to find his way through them all. He’d known she smelled good, but now that he was so close to her, the effect was staggering, like some mouthwatering cross between the dangerously forbidden and the comforting warmth of home. Illicit, and yet, strangely familiar, as if it was a part of him. Despite the differences in their heights, she fit against him in a way that just seemed right, and there was something painfully erotic about the soft, gasping sound of her breathing…the way she squirmed to get free.

Just calm down, he thought, struggling to hold himself together. And while you’re at it, get a friggin’ grip.

All right. Okay. He could do this, damn it. He just had to think it through. Wrap his mind around it. There had to be a reasonable explanation for his reaction, because human females did not call to his beast this way. That was why he slept with them—for the sheer fact that they did not affect him…that they were safe. If someone had asked him to explain why he liked to bed down with the things he most hated, that would have been the answer right there—the fact that he remained completely untouched by the humans he had sex with. For the most part, he still considered humanity to be nothing more than a cesspool of greed, filth and perversion, aside from the select few he now considered his friends. And yet, even though he loathed their species, he never hurt the human females that he slept with. Never allowed that darker side of his nature its freedom.

You’re just in a bad way. It’s been too long for you. That’s all it is, he silently argued, forcing his locked muscles to move, and he managed to lift away just enough that the woman could roll over beneath him. Then everything went to hell, because the instant Olivia Harcourt was on her back, she stared directly up into his narrowed, no doubt “changing” eyes, and the only thing Aiden could manage to say was, “Shit.” A red, steamy haze instantly filled his vision, and his cock went so hard he was half-afraid he would go off right there, inside his friggin’ jeans. She might have been on the delicate side, but her breasts were incredible, cushioned against his chest, her nipples hard beneath the fabric of her sweater. Her soft, glossy lips were moving, no doubt cursing him to hell and back, but he couldn’t hear her words over the roar in his ears. Through the dizzying, deafening storm of hunger, Aiden watched, helplessly, as he stretched her arms above her head and pinned her wrists against the cold ground with his left hand, the aggressive action so at odds with the way his right thumb tenderly stroked the fragile edge of her jaw.

It didn’t matter how hard he tried, he simply couldn’t stop staring down at the strange little human, completely mesmerized by the things he could see…and even more so by the things he could sense.

The heat blooming beneath the pale, pearl-like luster of her skin.

The provocative rush of blood pounding through her veins.

The heady rise of desire as it softened her body.

Then she exhaled a sharp, shivery breath, the scent of her mouth filling his head, and Aiden realized he’d made a fatal error. A serious miscalculation. He’d thought she smelled good on the outside, but it was nothing compared to her scent on the inside, the sweetness of her inner secrets breaking him down. He could only imagine how perfect it would smell when her warm juices were slipping from her sex like honey, pooling like melted sunshine between her thighs. They would be mouthwatering—hot and slick and exquisite—and in that instant the man faded to the background of his mind…and the animal took over.

One second he was poised above her, and the next thing Aiden knew, he’d taken her mouth, thrusting his tongue deep, tasting her completely, the kiss just shy of violent as he sought out that rich burn of flavor. A devastating burst of pleasure poured through his muscles and his limbs, scorching every inch of his body, inside and out…the painful, gnawing need so much worse than it’d been before.

She smelled deliciously ripe…and somehow tasted even better. Though he knew it was madness, the feral part of his soul was roaring that he needed to mount her, penetrate her, and fill her up with a hot, thick surge of come before she could get away. He growled low in his throat, wondering where that strange urge was coming from, compelling him to do the unthinkable as he pushed himself between her thighs in a hard, aggressive movement. He’d never willingly spilled himself inside any woman, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

A chilling shadow from his past crept through him, but he mentally shoved it away, fighting against that slick, nauseating pull. Never. He would never go down that path again. Which meant that he needed to get away from Olivia Harcourt…and stay away. Now. The sooner the better, for both their sakes.

If he could just get her and the kid out of there, he could take them to a motel. Then he could switch up, to hell with the promise he’d made his friends back in Colorado, and hand her over to Kellan. Let the wolf deal with her, while he protected them from a distance.

Struggling to find the presence of mind to break away from her, Aiden became painfully aware of the fact that he was grinding against her now, thrusting his hardened cock against the warm, tender notch between her thighs. Even as he fought to hold back the release of his claws and fangs, his fingers and gums burning with the need to change, he was eating his way into her mouth, unable to stop. His beast had hijacked his body and he was helpless in the face of its primitive demands. Once he’d started kissing her, he was lost. And God help him, it felt as if she was actually kissing him back, her small tongue rubbing against his, her sweet breaths filling his mouth as he shifted his head from one side to the other, searching for a deeper angle…a way to get even more of those pansy-soft lips and the sleek, lush warmth that lay within.

It completely unnerved him, how lost he was to the act, considering he’d never been all that interested in losing himself in the taste of a woman’s mouth before. After all, there were always more interesting things a female could be doing with her lips and her tongue. And for some strange reason, Aiden had always viewed a kiss as something a little too intimate for the kind of affairs he had with women.

But he was kissing the hell out of the little human trapped beneath his body and the cold, hard ground, and he never wanted to stop. He was also dangerously close to taking her right there, and he could not let that happen, for too many reasons to count.

She’s one of them, you idiot. A friggin’ human. Do you even know what you’re doing?

With a deep, bitter snarl, Aiden finally managed to pull away from the drugging depths of pleasure, breaking the contact of his mouth against hers. But Christ, it wasn’t easy. Breathing hard, his heavy chest rising and falling beneath his black T-shirt, he forced himself to change the position of their bodies, pinning her hips between his rigid thighs. With that done, he wiped the back of his wrist over his damp mouth as he struggled to calm his thundering heart rate.

“Who are y-you?” she stammered. “G-get off me!”

For some reason he couldn’t understand, Aiden found that stutter of hers completely charming. It probably made him nine different kinds of insane, but watching the way her mouth trembled when she got stuck on a word just made him want to kiss her again.

“Are you deaf?” she cried out in a shrill voice. “I said to g-get off!”

He kept her wrists pinned against the weak blades of winter grass, and did his best to ignore the devastating effect of her struggling body beneath him. “Just take a deep breath and calm down,” he choked out. “I’m a good guy, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.”

Her eyes went wide with disbelief. “Yeah, r-right. What kind of moron do you think I am?”

Even in the frosty, moon-drenched darkness, Aiden could see her clearly, though he knew he remained mostly in shadow to her human vision. Her unusual violet eyes were bright with shock, her mouth swollen from the hard aggression of his kiss…the pink, full lips glossy and smooth, tempting him to take them again. The rational part of his brain knew that her individual features weren’t the most beautiful he’d ever seen—that they were more cute and fey-like than exotically sculpted—and yet, he was completely mesmerized by them. She was undoubtedly pretty, but he couldn’t stop staring with rapt absorption, as if he were gazing down at the most exquisite, provocative female ever created.

Clearing his throat, he somehow managed to say, “Seriously. I mean you no harm,” then immediately winced, thinking he sounded like some geeked-out alien trying to reassure the panicked earthlings that he came in peace. What in God’s name was wrong with him?

“How do I know that?”

“Because if I wanted to hurt you,” he countered in a graveled tone he was determined to keep even and calm, “I’d have already done it.”

A bitter laugh spilled from her lips. “And that’s supposed to make me t-trust you?”

“I don’t give a shit if you trust me or not. But you’d better do what I tell you if you want to make it through this alive, because the bad guys probably aren’t far behind me.”

“What do you want from me?” She forced each word through her gritted teeth. “Why are you here?”

She continued to pull at her trapped hands, but Aiden wasn’t ready to let them go, knowing she would only try to strike out at him and end up hurting herself. “I’m someone who was sent here to keep you alive.”

“That’s not p-possible.” Her stammering words suddenly trailed off, the look of rising horror on her pale face tearing at him like claws. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? You son-of-a-bitch. Monica said they could look human. You’re one of the bastards who killed my sisters!”

“I’m not a bloody Casus,” he growled, scowling down at her.

“Right! And I’m just meant to b-believe you?”

“Well, if I was, you could bet your sweet little ass that I wouldn’t have been knocking on your front door. And I wouldn’t be taking the time to talk to you, either,” he finished in a guttural snarl, his own temper beginning to get the better of him.

She calmed a little at his words, sinking her teeth into that full lower lip that Aiden knew was going to play front and center in his dreams, obviously thinking over what he’d said. Then she took a deep breath, slowly exhaled…and finally stopped fighting his hold. “If you’re not one of the monsters,” she questioned in a soft, hesitant voice, “then just who in God’s name are you?” 

***

Rhyannon’s prize is autographed copies of the first three books in the Primal Instincts series. Comment here to win!

Yesterday’s winner is… Incident. Congrats! Please contact Tracy to claim your prize!

J.K. Beck, who is the new alter ego for USA Today bestselling author Julie Kenner, is with us today! Her new trilogy sounds absolutely fascinating and I hope you enjoy your sneak peak at it.