ENTICE ME AT TWILIGHT
Publisher: Pocket Books
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance
ISBN: 978-1439166772
Release Date: October 26, 2010
Pre-Order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Borders
Books-A-Million | Simon & Schuster | Indie Bound | Overstock

In national bestselling author Shayla Black’s electrifying new novel, the Doomsday Brethren fight their mortal enemy for the newest weapon in a bloody magical war: the only woman a magical warrior shouldn’t claim…and the one he can’t resist.

Dangerously handsome Simon Northam, Duke of Hurstgrove, and his uptight barrister brother hardly get along, but crashing Mason’s wedding and stealing his fiancée take sibling rivalry to a new level. Duke’s family knows nothing of his magical prowess or the Doomsday Brethren, so how can he explain that mankind’s fate lies with the beautiful, tenacious bride he longs to seduce for himself?

Felicia is an Untouchable, a rare human whose presence disables magic—even the impenetrable forces surrounding Morganna le Fay’s tomb. The evil witch’s malicious powers could propel nefarious wizard Mathias to ultimate world domination . . . if he can resurrect her. To conceal herself, Felicia must heed her simmering desires to mate with Duke, but he risks binding his life—and sanity—to a lover whose loyalty may be forever torn. He faces a terrible choice: betray his brother for ultimate survival . . . or lose the woman who tempts him beyond control.

Excerpt

The next few minutes passed in tense silence until, finally, Duke pulled off the motorway at the only bit of civilization visible. A few scattered cottages, looking as old as the tiny village itself, squatted on a dark, narrow road. At the end, nestled in trees, a plain mid-century house appeared, only visible because his headlights reflected off the front windows.

As he steered the convertible closer, he noted a faint air of lonesomeness. He pulled up in the drive and turned to Felicia. “Wait here.”

He hopped out of the car and sprinted to the little cottage door. A few envelopes bulged out of the mail slot. A peek through the window revealed newspapers littering the floor. No one had been home for days.

Praying the inhabitants were away for the holiday, Duke returned to the car, then followed the drive around the back of the house. He cut the lights and the engine.

“Who lives here?” she asked, frowning.

No idea. “A friend. Let’s go.”

Felicia grabbed his arm as he began to climb out of the car. “You’re lying.”

How could she know that? “We’ll only be here a few hours. Come on.”

“We can’t just barge into someone’s home!”

“This is life or death. We haven’t time to be polite.”

She dug in her heels. “We’re staying in separate rooms, yes?”

It would be wiser for his self-control, but… Duke shook his head. “I’ll do my utmost to respect your privacy. But I can’t let this…man get his hands on you, Felicia. I won’t risk you. ‘Depraved’ is too kind a word to describe him.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “All right.”

Her acceptance of the situation relieved him and made him a bit proud. She was smart and practical…and driving him mad with lust.

At he walked around to help her out of the car, he murmured, “Stay close to me.”

Felicia exited, shivering as she scanned their surroundings. He slung an arm around her and drew her against his side.

Bristling, she backed away. “I’m perfectly fine. There’s no one about.”

“You’d be surprised by the things that go bump in the night.” He smiled grimly at her. “Besides, you’re freezing. Let’s go.”

The moment they stepped away from the car, the January wind whipped through them anew. She shivered in the delicate lace of her wedding dress and crossed her arms, huddling into herself to keep warm.

Stubborn woman. Duke shrugged out of his coat.

“Oh, no. You don’t—”

Felicia didn’t even finish her protest before he settled his dinner jacket over her shoulders. Almost instantly, she sank deep into the warmth of the coat.

“Warmer?”

Felicia buried her hands in the lapels and inhaled deeply. Duke was already hard, but his erection turned painful.

Cheeks red, she lifted her face from the garment and nodded. “T—thank you.”

At the door, Duke hesitated. If Felicia weren’t with him, he’d simply wave a hand and let his magic open the door. He couldn’t send her two hundred meters away now. Too dangerous. So in addition to kidnapping, less than four hours later, he’d be adding breaking and entering to his criminal repertoire. Wouldn’t Mum be proud?

He reared back to elbow out a little pane of glass above the handle when Felicia tapped his shoulder. She held the key in her hand.

“Where did you find that?”

She gestured to her feet. “Flower pot. I keep my spare there as well.”

Very smart. Duke grabbed the key and stepped forward to open the door for Felicia.

They stepped into the cozy little house with its neutral colors and masculine touches. Duke closed the door behind her and locked it. Just in case, he tried to magically secure the door…but nothing. Damn. He’d have to keep her close and take other precautions.

He passed her on the narrow stairwell, his body brushing hers at the chest, and thighs. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. All right, it was an excuse to touch her. The yearning to press her bare flesh against him and unleash his need for her pounded him again, growing dangerously with every moment they were together. Only thoughts of Mason and Mathias enabled him to release her and trek down the hall.

Duke opened the first door. A slightly musty scent drifted out, as if no one had slept here recently. He flipped on the nearby lamp. The room was stark, masculine, minimal, and very small. The owner had squeezed an armoire, a wooden bench, and one narrow tester bed into the room.

It was going to be a long night.

Biting back a curse, Duke ushered Felicia into the bedroom. He took another glance at the little bed. His gut tightened. “Would you like the shower first?”

“If you don’t mind…”

Duke gestured to the adjacent room, and she edged past him, flipped on the light to reveal glossy black tiles lining a stark white shower, then turned. His gaze locked with hers, squeezing the air from his lungs, until she closed the door between them.

Letting out a breath, Duke tore off his shoes, coat, tie, and shirt. He’d rather strip down and ease this aching erection, but Felicia was forbidden, and wanking off to thoughts of her would not be helpful, he knew from experience. Besides, he must stay focused on her safety.

Lifting the dark wooden blinds, he looked outside at the night around him, alert for any signs of menace. He couldn’t see a damn thing beyond the trees, but Mathias must be out there searching, waiting for him to fuck up and expose Felicia to danger.

Suddenly, Felicia opened the bathroom door and peeked out, her face hesitant. “Can you help me? I hate to ask…”

“Anything,” he vowed, crossing the room to her.

She bit her lip. “My dress…”

Then turned her back to him. A row of small satin buttons secured the lace gown from her neck to her waist—twenty of them, at least. And she wanted him to unfasten them? Unwrap her like a package?

A fresh wave of desire swamped him, nearly overwhelming. Dear God, how could he touch those buttons—her skin—and not take more?

Felicia cast a nervous glance over her shoulder again, moving the thick tumble of golden curls that had fallen from her twist out of his way.

Duke did his best to school his face and soothe her as he closed the distance between them. His heart revved, his palms turned damp. He wanted her so badly, he could hardly walk right.

She’s not yours.

With shaking hands, he reached for the first button at the creamy flesh of her neck, just below the wispy curls rioting near her hairline. Another button, then a second, a third…revealing the line of her spine and the softest skin. With each button, Duke exposed more and more of her, and his greedy gaze ate up every inch. The dress fell away, baring the delicate slopes of her shoulders, her upper back, the hint of her small waist.

His breathing turned ragged. As close as he was, Felicia couldn’t possibly fail to notice.

Two buttons left. He reached for the first, and couldn’t resist caressing one fingertip down her spine. She shuddered and looked back, wide-eyed, pupils dilated. She bit her plump bottom lip between her teeth, her breathing sounding harsh in the silence.

Dear God, she was aroused.

Grabbing the last button, he twisted it, sliding it free of its mooring. He had to get away from her before he did something they’d both regret.

The dress sagged forward, and she caught it—but not until it fell from her bare shoulders and slid toward her hips, revealing a bit of the white lacy knickers he yearned to rip from her body.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“You’re welcome.” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Walk away!

But he stood, rooted. Staring.

Felicia retreated—until her back hit the portal. With one hand, she grabbed the edge of the door. To steady herself? To shut it? With the other, she clutched her dress to her breasts. Duke still saw the shadow between them, pale, plump, tempting…

His gaze jerked up to her face. She stared back.

The lust thickening his blood nearly knocked him over, and Duke gripped the door jamb above her head for support. In forty-three years, he’d never felt anything like this.

This was totally unfamiliar and beyond his control.

Duke shuffled closer. Her body heat grabbed him across the mere ribbon of space between them. He leaned in, tilted his head, his gaze zeroed in on her lips, thoughts of tasting her storming through his head.

He was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

“Stop me,” he murmured.

Felicia stared, breathless, silent.

Heart revving, Duke inched closer, enough to see the little line bisecting that lush lower lip and smell the peppermint of the holiday candy he’d given her in the car. “Felicia, stop me.”

But she swayed closer, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hand left the door and latched onto his bare shoulder. Her touch jolted his system, a lightning rod charging through him. Thought stopped, desire flared.

Yes, he was going to hell, but he’d go with her sweet taste on his tongue.

* * *

On that same day, I will release “Mated” in a totally new anthology with New York Times bestselling author Jeaneine Frost and fellow Texas author Sharie Kohler.

“Mated”
HAUNTED BY YOUR TOUCH
Publisher: Pocket Books
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance
ISBN: 978-1439166765
Release Date: October 26, 2010
Pre-order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Borders
Books-A-Million | Simon & Schuster | Indie Bound | Overstock

In the shadowy world of Shayla Black’s Doomsday Brethren, magical warrior Raiden vows to protect his woman and their unborn youngling from evil—and deliver her safely to another man. But once he’s saved her, can he let her go?

Excerpt

A moment later, they stood outside a neo-modern office building. Built in the 1960s and topping about five stories, the concrete structure had been carved with magical runes between each tier of white-draped windows. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“It looks abandoned.” Eerily so, in fact.

He frowned, grabbing Tabitha’s hand tighter. “Indeed. Bram said the Council ministries no longer use this building. Apparently, it’s been the source of human speculation, particularly the meaning of the runes.”

“I recognize some of the symbols. Magic, mastery, truth, Fate. Death.”

Raiden shrugged, his wide shoulders looking almost menacing in a dark trench. “We don’t have time to decipher it now. I have an uneasy feeling. Let’s move quickly. I don’t want you out in the open where you’re vulnerable to Mathias or any eyes he might have watching.”

“He likely has no idea where I am.”

He hustled her under the building’s portico, deep in shadow, and pinned her with a glare. “Do you really think it would take Mathias very long to figure out that your father had a daughter he hadn’t managed to kill in the attack? And that the daughter carried my child? Once he pieces all the information together, he’s going to be but a breath behind us.”

Dear God, she’d never thought of that before, but her father would have recorded her own birth. There would be no mating listed in The Peers and People of Magickind because she’d never mated. The fact that she carried Raiden’s child wouldn’t be listed until the youngling’s birth, but even so, a wizard with Mathias’s cunning and resources could find that information. After all, he hadn’t managed to outwit most of the Council and stay a step ahead of the Doomsday Brethren by being a half-wit.

“Fuck.” Raiden ran a hand through his long, pale hair. “And once he starts pursuing us, I know where he’ll look first. We can’t go back to your house. Or mine.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll tell Ronan to warn my father away until this is settled. He won’t be happy, but if we can find what we’re looking for now, then I can set all back to rights soon.”

“Meaning your father can go home, and you can wash your hands of me by dumping me on Sean Blackbourne’s doorstep?”

His face tightened, darkened. Raiden’s temper wasn’t a small thing, and she wondered if she’d crossed some line.

He cursed and turned away. “That would be for the best.”

“For whom?” she challenged, furious to the bone with his oblique answers. “It would certainly be easiest for you. Then you could rid yourself of me, guilt-free and—”

Raiden grabbed her and pulled her close. “Listen to me. I have tried every way I know to spare you more heartache. I was a bastard to you, yes. I seduced you with every intention of walking out the door. I don’t mate. I am my father’s son.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Tabitha shook her head.

“I’m trying to do the right thing now. Instead of seducing you again, I’m warning you away. Which do you think I’d rather do?” He raised a golden brow, his hot gaze wandering down her body.

* * *

Haven’t tried the Doomsday Brethren series yet? Read my free novella about Raiden’s twin Ronan here. Want a chance to win MORE Doomsday Brethren? For a chance to win a signed copy of each of the first three books in the series, leave a comment about either of the excerpts, and I’ll enter you in the drawing. Winners for this contest and the Back-of-the-Closet Bonanza will be announced on Friday. Promise!

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!

*     ~     *     ~     *     ~     *
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.

First off, for fans of my Wicked Lovers series, I sold more of these books to Berkley. BELONG TO ME will feature Logan Edgington. It’s scheduled to release October 2011. The following March, Tyler’s book will release. It’s the last book in this series (unless something changes in my head). BUT I will also release two other erotic titles in 2012. For all of you who asked, I will write about Blade and Lucia, the unresolved couple in my previous novel, STRIP SEARCH. This novella will appear in an (as yet untitled) anthology with Sylvia Day and Shiloh Walker. Last, in fall of 2012, I’ll be releasing a book I have wanted to write for YEARS. I won’t say more now, but I fell in love with this premise immediately and I love these two characters together. I’m excited to finally have this one on my schedule.

I recently received the cover for the next book in my Wicked Lovers series, SURRENDER TO ME. I think it’s absolutely gorgeous, and am so thrilled! It’s truly perfect for depicting the relationship I see in my head between Hunter Edgington and his heroine, the spicy but reluctant Katalina Munoz. The writing itself is going well on this book, and I should be wrapped up in a few weeks. To say that Hunter is intense is a HUGE understatement.

The FOUR PLAY anthology with Maya Banks hits shelves (and eBook readers) on October 5. My story is titled “Her Fantasy Men” and I am very happy with the way this turned out. Writing an emotionally fulfilling relationship between one woman and three men was something I’d never tried before…but wanted to. This vehicle was the perfect for me to try writing a “moresome.” It was so much fun, I’m hoping to do it again as my schedule permits.

On the Doomsday Brethren front, I’m thrilled to have two titles out this fall. “Mated” from the HAUNTED BY YOUR TOUCH anthology shows a whole side to playboy twin Raiden Wolvesey that I never saw coming–but that I really love him for. On the same day, ENTICE ME AT TWILIGHT will hit shelves. Duke turned out to be a truly sigh-worthy hero, in my opinion. He’s the epitome of devotion. There’s also lots of forward movement in the overall plot and some of the steamy subplots, like the Lucan-Anka-Shock triangle.

Speaking of that trio of star-crossed lovers, book 5 in the Doomsday Brethren series, EMBRACE ME AT DAWN, focuses on them. Because it’s critical for me to get their emotions right and provide a conclusion to this situation that the series’ readers will welcome, I’ve elected to give myself extra time to write this book. As such, it will now release February 2012. I regret the 15 month gap between books 4 and 5, but feel strongly that this is for the benefit of the overall series.

That’s the last of my updates–for now. Stay tuned for excerpts, reviews and contests coming your way. I hope you all are having a wonderful summer!

SCENT OF PERSUASION
Sensory Ops, Book 2
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Release date: Today!
Download: My Bookstore and More

It’s been a long time coming, but SCENT OF PERSUASION, Nikki Duncan’s Sensory Ops Book 2, is finally here!

Actress Kami Evans is tackling the biggest role of her life—as an escort. There’s definitely something going on in Madame V’s mansion, but Kami has to prove herself trustworthy before she can dig deeper and prove her stepbrother didn’t commit suicide.

Her first assignment: seduce a CEO and, oddly, steal his hair brush. He’s everything she avoids in a man: suave, sexy, suited. She plays her role all the way to the bedroom…and finds it stunningly difficult to walk away.

Breck Lawson’s undercover assignment, posing as a replacement CEO, is yielding zero clues as to why his friend tried to kill himself—until Kami comes on the scene. She’s everything he likes in a woman: safe, sexy, temporary. She also arouses him just by walking into a room, a sure sign it’s time to push her away.

Then he connects the dots she unwittingly shares, and realizes their investigations are linked by delicate strands of DNA. Keeping her near isn’t wise, but he has to know her secrets and keep her safe.

Unless they trust each other and come clean, those dots could lead to death for both of them…

WARNING: This title contains love found in the last place expected, call girls, disco sticks, Monkees karaoke, steamy sex and a conspiracy to murder through the need for sex.

Excerpt:

This is a necessity. This is not promiscuous. This is not immoral or degrading.

Kamille Evans swiped her tongue across her scarlet-fever-red-painted lips and tucked the thick, coordinated streak of hair behind her ear. She’d gotten used to long hair, but the shoulder-length, tapered cut Madame V had forced on her actually suited her face better. Studying herself in the elevator’s black, glossy wall, Kami took a deep breath, rolled her shoulders back and straightened the most amazing red gown she’d ever slipped on.

Seduction.

The silk slithered and shimmered with every move. She turned and studied the back—or rather her back, as the dress had only two crisscrossing straps that were barely thicker than strands of thread.

Repulsion rippled beneath the dress, coating her skin in shame. Telling herself she hadn’t stepped onto a degrading path was a lie. Staring at her misshapen reflection, she shook her head.

Madame V would filet her, but she could send someone else to play date-the-CEO. Donning an elegant dress and using a soft word like escort detracted nothing from reality. She was whoring herself for truths that might not be found.

Reaching out, she pushed the button for the lobby. The twisted chain decorating her neck distorted and became a strangling rope. Her eyes bulged. Breaths gurgled in her throat as she clawed free of the golden noose. The shiny walls closed in. Shrinking. Suffocating.

The elevator doors slid open.

Gasping in untainted air, she stumbled into the glamorous lobby decorated in more black marble and varying shades of cream.

No! Turning back, unable to move forward to the assignment, she reached for the doors as they whisked shut with a dismembering finality.

Behind the double glass doors separating upper management’s inner sanctum from mundane comings and goings, a handsome man a few inches shorter than her stood from behind the mahogany assistant’s desk. He quirked an urbanely waxed brow and waited, judging her as below his station.

It was the same judgment she’d seen on the faces of the cops who’d worked Channing’s crime scene. The cops who’d negated her claims that he’d been murdered.

Demeaning methods aside, her brother deserved justice. Resolve wove through the hollow spaces of her spine.

Glancing heavenward, she sent up a silent prayer. If you’re real, find me a way out of this with my soul intact.

Reassured she’d made the right choice, that she was on the right course for achieving her goals, she crossed the sumptuous foyer. Her stilettos struck the marble floor with decisiveness.

Huge photographed landscapes printed in black and white and hung in simple black frames added a welcoming warmth she hadn’t anticipated, while making it evident that powerful people made powerful deals where she now stood.

The depravity behind the purpose of her visit in the lushness surrounding her reminded her of Julia Roberts walking through that glorious lobby she hadn’t belonged in. Kami no longer belonged in this moneyed world, but she would not fidget.

This night is no different from the thousand others. Well, except my reason for being here. The staff at Elegant Entertainment knew how to perfectly wrap the merchandise.

Tonight, she was the merchandise.

Buy it Now!

Visit Nikki at her online homes:
www.SensoryOps.com – NEW with FREEBIES!
www.NikkiDuncan.com
www.NikkiDuncan.com/blog
www.Twitter.com/NDuncanWriter

Looks great, Nikki! I know I’ve been absent for a while, but I’m hoping to be back soon and I WILL have some great news for you. Stay tuned…

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!

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!

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.”

***

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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.

***

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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. 

***

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