Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Mistletoe Mambo Release Day and Contest

It's Release Day and I'm giving away a candy arrangement, courtesy of my lovely sister.
Mistletoe Mambo has been released as a stand-alone short for a very reasonable price. 99 cents. I know you've got 99 cents. :-)



Blurb: Only one man dances to the music of Madeline’s heart.

She was aware of the crowd parting to accommodate their slow foxtrot, but she kept her focus on Max. Her knees wobbled so badly, if she ignored the intensity of his gaze she might stumble. He held her closer than necessary. Each glide of his hips brought his erection against her thigh. Surprised, she held her breath. Was it possible the attraction wasn’t one-sided, after all?  
As if sensing her thoughts, he winged a brow. When his hand drifted lower on her hip, her heart thudded harder. Maybe he was flirting with her and merely used their dance as an excuse to hold her. Or perhaps this was wishful thinking on her part. Dancing wasn’t unusual at the Christmas party, but somehow dancing with him, knowing how she felt made the experience more exhilarating. Each brush of his pelvis sent an answering tremor through her body. She wanted more than three or four minutes in his arms. For a brief second, she rested her head on his shoulder. He tapped her right arm and she rotated into a spin. She completed two turns before he clasped her hand and drew her against the heat of his body once again.
She became lost in the depths of his eyes, glimpsing a longing she never noticed before as they circled the dance floor. The strength of his arm clasped her waist. The sure grip of his hand tightened on hers and the smooth texture of his trousers met her skin when he dipped her over his leg. Every nerve ending crackled at the sensual slide of his hard, powerful thigh beneath her bare back. He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat and she forgot to breathe.
He stood her upright and glided them around the well-worn linoleum. Amazement must have shown on her face because he smirked. She followed his lead, too unsettled to do anything else. Did his little kiss mean he was interested, or was that just part of the dance? One more twirl around the floor, and then his steps slowed. Swaying in time to the music, he held her in his arms.
All too soon the song ended and they were forced to bow when thunderous applause cascaded through the room. Madeline pressed her hands to her cheeks while she struggled to catch her breath. She cast a sidelong glance at Max, his hand resting in the small of her back.
“I love dancing with you,” he whispered, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. “The scent of your perfume, the slide of your skin against mine, and when I lift you in my arms all I can think about is the way you would taste.” He squeezed her bottom.



   ************************************************CONTEST ALERT****************************************************

I'm giving away this. Leave a comment for your chance to win. I'll draw the winner on November 7
Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Can the voice of an angel heal a tortured soul?


Annabelle MacIntosh enters a reality singing contest to save her family from their mounting debt. Miles Oliver, celebrity judge and the owner of the biggest record company in the UK, doesn't think she has what it takes. She sings like an angel, but when she performs all he can focus on is the terror in her eyes. It's a look he knows only too well. After the pressure of fame destroyed his wife, Miles swore he'd never let the same thing happen to anyone else. Driven by the guilt he's carried for years, Miles tries everything in his power to make sure Annabelle doesn't succeed, because he doesn't believe she'll survive it.
Annabelle needs that prize money, and she's determined to win it. As she fights to make it through each round of the contest, an attraction begins to develop between the two adversaries. The longer Annabelle remains in the competition, the deeper her attraction grows to the man who's trying to prevent her from reaching her goal. Can she convince Miles she's strong enough to fight the fame monster and win?

Buy Link: Publisher

About the Author:
A lifelong bookworm with an addiction to happily ever afters, Aimée Duffy has read romance for as long as she can remember. After spending years dreaming up her own handsome heroes and feisty heroines, she finally decided to put pen to paper and write.
She lives in Central Scotland, surrounded by family and friends. By day she works in a private firm of lawyers, and by night she considers herself extremely lucky to be writing the books she loves to read and to have the opportunity to share her characters' happy ever afters with readers. In her free time she enjoys hillwalking and handbag shopping.
Aimée loves any excuse for a natter. You can find her at:

What was your inspiration for your novel?


Basically, I served in the military for nine years, then the police for twenty-three years. During that time, I lost count of the incidents I attended or had to deal with where someone’s life was changed forever by the unexpected!
Life is a very fragile thing, and “out of the blue” tragedy can strike when people least expect it, bringing untold calamity and suffering.
Attending those incidents often used to make me think, “What would have happened if we had got here sooner? Or if we had the resources or training to undo all this suffering and damage? What would it be like to have the technology and training to not only anticipate such accidents and disasters, but prevent them happening in the first place?



The one accident that inspired me to actually put my thoughts together into a more coherent form involved the death of a young boy on his way home from school.
Rush hour traffic is hazardous at the best of times. When you add in the factor of a little boy with little appreciation of the dangers involved who is desperate to get home, well…you can guess what happened.
I shan’t describe the horrendous scene. Nor the terrible sobs of the woman driving the vehicle he ran out in front of. She was a mother herself, and her anguish was heart rending, even though there was nothing she could have done to avoid him.
That’s why the opening chapter of Guardian Angels involves a young boy stepping out into the path of a truck. It describes what ALL the Emergency Service personnel there that day wish could have happened if the Guardian Angels had been there to help.
It describes what we ALL yearn to see for the people we serve.
Can you imagine it?

The science fiction of today – is very often the science FACT of tomorrow…IF ONLY…

Andrew P Weston was born in the city of Birmingham, UK and grew up in the towns of Bearwood and Edgbaston, eventually attending Holly Lodge Grammar School for Boy’s where he was School Captain and Head Boy.

He was an active sportsperson for the school, college and a variety of rugby, martial art, swimming and athletics teams throughout the city.

On graduation in 1977 he joined the Royal Marines fulfilling a number of roles both in the UK and abroad.

In 1985 he became a police officer with the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary, and served in a variety of uniformed and plain clothed departments until his retirement in 2008.

Over those years, he wrote and illustrated a selection of private books for his children regarding the life of a tiny kitten, called, “The Adventures of Willy Whiskers”, gained further qualifications in Law and Religious Studies, was an active member of Mensa and continued to be an active sportsperson, providing lessons free of charge to local communities.

An unfortunate accident received on duty meant Andrew had to retire early from the police force, but after moving to the sunny Greek island of Kos to speed up his recuperation, he was at last able to devote time to the “Guardian Concept” he had developed over his years in the military and police.

When not writing, Andrew enjoys Greek dancing and language lessons, being told what to do by his wife, Annette, and hunting shadows in the dark.

Andrew is now contracted to Pagan Writers Press for two books.

“Fairy Tail”, is a dark and gritty paranormal thriller with a twist.

The second book, “Guardian Angels” is the introductory book to the “Guardian Series”, a sci-fi/fantasy epic set in the near future.

Further work on the Guardian Series and a new paranormal series has been completed and will hopefully be presented soon.

Author Links


 Guardian angels
By
Andrew P. Weston
Guardian Angels, book 1
Science Fiction/fantasy
August 31, 2012

In a series of terrifying events, otherworldly beings intervene to save innocent lives. The world community reacts with relief as they realize that angels may in fact exist, and they are diligently protecting us.

But there are those who would seek to stop what they feel is a threat against their livelihoods. How far will some go to battle the Guardians? Is the fairy tale over before it even begins?

Guardian Angels is a powerful and compelling story about the catalyst that has the power to unite society in the hope for a better future. The spark of hope is fragile—can it last?

Buy Link

Excerpt: (Unedited)

Luigi decided to toast himself and his accomplishments again. Finding his glass empty, he rang the bell for a top up, and continued to gloat, firmly believing he was beyond accountability.

When the door to the study opened a few minutes later and Gianni, the housekeeper, came in with his favorite Black Pearl Louis XIII cognac on a silver tray, he insisted the old servant stay with him and drink to his success. “Come, Gianni, stay, celebrate with me. Good times should be shared with trusted friends.”

The gesture wasn’t missed by Gianni. At fifty-five thousand dollars a bottle, the cognac was one of the most expensive in the world, and he quickly poured a generous helping into two glasses. As he handed one to his boss, he paused momentarily to savor the bouquet of the blended flowers, fruits, spices, and the deep amber color of the aromatic liquid. “You’re looking particularly pleased with yourself today, young Sir. Good news?”

“It’s the very best of news, Gianni, and one that appears to be maturing with age.” He replied without looking away from the screens.

The old housekeeper tossed down his drink in one and shuffled to stand deferentially behind his employer. He listened as yet more reports of the suffering caused by the missile detonations were announced. “That mess doesn’t look like there’s much to be happy about, Sir. Surely that doesn’t please you, does it?”

“Aah, Gianni, sometimes, when you need to make a point, you have to catch your enemy’s attention,” Luigi replied. “You have to ensure they not only respect you, but fear you. I’m pleased because I’ve done just that. Wouldn’t you agree, my old friend?”
When no reply was forthcoming, Luigi naturally assumed the old housekeeper must have been unable to hear his question. Turning in his seat, he felt a peculiar throbbing, tingling sensation in his teeth and sinuses. “I said ‘wouldn’t you agr . . . .’”
Luigi’s voice choked off in his throat as he caught sight of Gianni’s eyes. The distinctive, familiar, lazy old eyes of his long-time employee seemed to be undergoing some kind of metamorphosis. Gone was the semi-vacant, un-focused faraway look he always seemed to display as he pottered about. Instead, Luigi was looking into the hardest, most piercing eyes he had ever seen, eyes that seemed to glow with an inner furnace to match the cold look of rage chiseled onto his face.
The shock made him drop his glass onto the carpet, spilling about three thousand dollars worth of the deep amber nectar. 

Transfixed he watched as Gianni’s body straightened, grew, and bulked out. As the years fell away from his face, he realized without a doubt that he was going to fully shoulder the burdens his choices had wrought.

Before him stood his own personal living nightmare made flesh, dressed from head to toe in black. Instantly he felt the fire rising within him, straining for release.
The Guardian stepped forward, making the barest of gestures with his finger as he did so, and Luigi found himself lifted into the air by some unseen force. He was held motionless, helpless as a puppet awaiting the commands of his master.

Nodding at the screens, the Guardian spoke. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Andrew, Guardian Lord of Shadow Operations. Did you seriously think you’d get away with something like this?”

Luigi stared defiantly back, fighting to overcome his shock at the Guardian’s presence, and surprised at the lack of access to his ability. “Do what you want, asshole, at least the world sees you as the frauds I knew you were!” he hissed.

“Do what I want? I’d love to, but unfortunately my boss won’t let me.”
Luigi stared impotently back at his nemesis as he strolled closer. Once he was standing in front of him, the Shadow Lord said, “As for exposing us as frauds? Well, I really don’t know why you would think that. We never said or intimated we could be everywhere at once. The world’s a sad enough place as it is without you adding to it. All we are doing is trying to help people avoid as much heartbreak as possible.”
Andrew pointed to the repeat bulletins on the screens. “So, once the world finds out that all this was the deliberate act of some sick and twisted psycho who didn’t care how many suffered, just so long as he could score some points, how do you think they’ll react to you, Luigi?”

The point struck home. Luigi struggled in an attempt to slap the Guardian across the face, to do something to help vent the building fury inside him. 

Helpless, he continued stewing as the Guardian moved so close he was able to whisper in his ear. “And when they find out about your abilities, can you even begin to imagine how they’ll react to that? You worthless, spineless, pathetic little man. I really wish they’d let me play with you before we throw you to the wolves.”

“Fuck off, asshole, you don’t scare me.”

“Scare you?” Andrew smiled wickedly. “Oh no, Luigi, that’s not my job. That’s hers!”
The Guardian gestured behind Luigi at the same moment he let go with his telekinesis. Although Luigi only dropped about a foot, he crumpled to the floor, becoming acutely aware that the strange throbbing in his teeth was even more pronounced than before.

Turning, Luigi was met with a vision of such barely contained power and fury that he immediately soiled his pants.

Andrew squatted beside him. “Allow me to introduce you to the head of our investigations branch. This is Victoria, our Lord Inquisitor, and she’s very pleased to meet you after all the suffering you’ve caused.”

Victoria stood in front of the TV screens, wreathed in a visible static discharge that blew the circuits of all the electrical equipment in the office and made the hairs on Luigi’s arms and head stand on end. Her eyes, so similar to those of the Shadow Lord, intensified in luminosity and turned from grey to white hot. Luigi shielded his eyes and cowered on the floor in his own excrement.

What a fool I am. He thought.

In reply to his thoughts, the Shadow Lord said, “Yes Luigi, what a murderous, cowardly fool of a man you are. I think the whole world will agree when they find out, eh?”


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Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Mistletoe Mambo-Soon to be Re-Released

Happy Wednesday. Tomorrow, October 25 I'm at TRS for a release party. I hope you'll stop in and say hello. Friday is the appearance in Flint, Michigan at Kettering University's Arts and Authors Fair from noon to 6p on Friday and 10-3 on Saturday.

In the meantime I have a book releasing October 30. You may have read, you may not. It's the first interracial romance I ever penned. Mistletoe Mambo.


Blurb: Only one man dances to the music of Madeline’s heart.



She was aware of the crowd parting to accommodate their slow foxtrot, but she kept her focus on Max. Her knees wobbled so badly, if she ignored the intensity of his gaze she might stumble. He held her closer than necessary. Each glide of his hips brought his erection against her thigh. Surprised, she held her breath. Was it possible the attraction wasn’t one-sided, after all?  
As if sensing her thoughts, he winged a brow. When his hand drifted lower on her hip, her heart thudded harder. Maybe he was flirting with her and merely used their dance as an excuse to hold her. Or perhaps this was wishful thinking on her part. Dancing wasn’t unusual at the Christmas party, but somehow dancing with him, knowing how she felt made the experience more exhilarating. Each brush of his pelvis sent an answering tremor through her body. She wanted more than three or four minutes in his arms. For a brief second, she rested her head on his shoulder. He tapped her right arm and she rotated into a spin. She completed two turns before he clasped her hand and drew her against the heat of his body once again.
She became lost in the depths of his eyes, glimpsing a longing she never noticed before as they circled the dance floor. The strength of his arm clasped her waist. The sure grip of his hand tightened on hers and the smooth texture of his trousers met her skin when he dipped her over his leg. Every nerve ending crackled at the sensual slide of his hard, powerful thigh beneath her bare back. He pressed his lips to the hollow of her throat and she forgot to breathe.
He stood her upright and glided them around the well-worn linoleum. Amazement must have shown on her face because he smirked. She followed his lead, too unsettled to do anything else. Did his little kiss mean he was interested, or was that just part of the dance? One more twirl around the floor, and then his steps slowed. Swaying in time to the music, he held her in his arms.
All too soon the song ended and they were forced to bow when thunderous applause cascaded through the room. Madeline pressed her hands to her cheeks while she struggled to catch her breath. She cast a sidelong glance at Max, his hand resting in the small of her back.
“I love dancing with you,” he whispered, leading her to the edge of the dance floor. “The scent of your perfume, the slide of your skin against mine, and when I lift you in my arms all I can think about is the way you would taste.” He squeezed her bottom.

Until next time, Indulge Your Inner Romantic

Monday, October 22, 2012

Book Spotlight-Double Vision by Cassandra Carr

Everything Red knew about relationships is called into question when the young hockey player has a surprising threesome with his teammate Fredrik and Fredrik’s girlfriend, Liz. The more they’re together, the more their outside lives--and emotions--become entangled. Then the unthinkable happens and all three must take a hard look at what they want.



Buy links:
Siren Bookstrand
Amazon.com - print

Friday, October 19, 2012

Blood Rage and a Contest with Tory Michaels


First, let me say thanks so much for having me here today, Lynn. I appreciate the chance to meet you and your readers!
1-Tell the readers a little about yourself.
I am a mother of three (twin toddler girls and a 6 y/o boy), wife and writer. I’ve enjoyed writing since I was really young (don’t most authors?) and it helped keep me (relatively) sane during the darkest days of my somewhat misspent youth. 
I work as a legal assistant/paralegal at a small corporate law firm (and yes, that is as boring as it sounds, buuuut I like my boss, which is a plus and it pays well).  We all live in Jacksonville, FL and I have to say, of the places I’ve lived in my life (ranging from central California and Washington to SW Florida), it’s my favorite. 
2-As an author, do you take time to read? If so, what do you like to read and who is/are your favorite author/s?
Absolutely. Not quite as much over the past month as I’d like, because I was finishing up a book, but I have a goal on Goodreads of 350 books. At one point, I was about 10 books ahead of the page to complete that. Now I’m about 10 books behind. 
I love historical romance, along with select urban fantasy and paranormal romance. I’m a big fan of Christina Dodd, Christine Feehan, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Kim Harrison, Alyssa Day and Keri Arthur. For historicals, I love Lydia Dare, Tessa Dare and Julia Quinn (among others).
3-How do you stay motivated when the Muse is uncooperative?
Sadly, I don’t always. I go sulk for a while and considering throwing in the towel. But I always come back. Just a couple of weeks ago, I was on the verge of pitching out an almost completed WIP (Prophecy of Blood, the 3rd Dream-Walker War book) because I couldn’t get one scene written. Literally, the book was done except that one scene. I didn’t, I grumbled for a week and finally, Monday morning buckled down, wrote it and submitted the book to the publisher.
4-If you could go anywhere in the world on a romantic getaway, what would you do and where would you go?
Somewhere without the kids. Really, that’s all it would take for me to be content on a romantic getaway. Although, if there’s a beach front condo, that wouldn’t hurt.
5-What is the hardest thing for you to write?
Sex scenes. Or anything with heavy emotion. I’m great with sarcasm and quips. If I get to blow up the world, I love it! But doing big-time serious, romance moments is incredibly hard. 
6-If you could live the life of one of your characters who would you be?
Considering what I just did to them at the end of Prophecy, I’m not sure I’d want to be any of them at the moment. But, if I had to choose, it would probably be Christine Javert, heroine of Blood-Mage Rising and Prophecy of Blood. She can kick butt, swear like a sailor, use magic, and has an incredible sexy (albeit sociopathic) man.
7-The tag line on my blog is ‘Indulge Your Inner Romantic.’ What do you do to indulge?
God, I’m boring. I go to Starbucks, without the kids, and just drink coffee for hours.
Though, I will admit, we have a great bathtub in the house and it’s pure heaven when I can just fill it up, settle in and read for an hour in there. Nothing like a bath to relax a girl.

Blood Rage
The Dream-Walker War, Book 1
Evernight Publishing
Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy
2/8/12
Blurb:
For eighty years since the Great Awakening, humans and non-humans have lived in relative peace together. The peace is threatened when three bodies turn up less than a mile from the Bureau of Non-Human Affairs in Tampa, all bearing the signature of vampires who once terrorized Europe.

The Bureau’s chief liaison to the vampires, Dara MacKechnie, learns that the Tampa victims are not alone when her ex-lover, and head of the vampire’s Great Council, Anthony Caldwell comes calling.

The pair discovers the lie that separated them two centuries ago only banked their passion, not extinguished it. Dara must decide whether she can trust Anthony with her heart a second time as they try to head off the war that threatens all they hold dear.

Excerpt:
Instinct helped her draw back before she took more than she should. Dara sucked in air, trying to wipe away the addictive taste of him even while she absorbed the new details about his true nature.
    “Good lord,” she said against his throat. “Wow doesn’t seem quite adequate.” The exchange was bliss itself, but ultimately left her unfulfilled. Her body throbbed with it, and she felt the same need in him, rock-hard desire pressing up against her core through their clothes. Dara shifted, trying to alleviate the pressure trapped between her thighs.
    Anthony’s arm around her waist tightened, holding her still. He groaned, teeth grinding together. “I suggest, my pet, you stop moving if you wish me to remain a gentleman. There’s a reason exchanges take place during sex.” 
    Her mouth fell open. Chris had mentioned something of that nature on more than one occasion.In for a penny, in for a pound, Dara reasoned. It would be better than walking away right then, knowing they wanted the same thing. Maybe a second night would quench the lust, and she could let go of the need, the hunger for him he created just by breathing.
    She shifted, straddling his lap to settle more firmly against the erection that bulged in his jeans and wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt reckless right then. A second night wouldn’t hurt anyone or anything. Dara found the notion liberating. “Do you really want me to stay still, Tony?” 
    His dark eyes glittered with familiar intensity as he clutched her hips. His mouth curled up at one corner. “Don’t call me that.”
    “What?” She leaned forward and nuzzled the side of his neck, just above the tiny marks from where she had bitten him, and reached for the button on his jeans. “I don’t know. I rather like it. Sarah might be onto something with that. Tony Caldwell, man about town. Maybe I can convince you to like it.”
    Anthony groaned as she slid the zipper down, shifting back on the couch. “Unlikely, but you can always try to convince me. What do you propose to do?”
    Dara trailed her fingers just inside the waistband of his pants, toying with the firm flesh there. “I have an idea or two. It might be easier if you took your pants off though.”
    “Are you going to reciprocate?” He set her own her feet before standing, towering over her.
    She grinned up at him, easing the pants over his narrow hips until she could cup the rampant erection he sported. “Wasn’t planning on it quite yet.”
    He shucked the pants off the rest of the way, kicking them to one side. A heartbeat later, his shirt joined the heap on the floor. Dara leaned back to admire the gorgeous sight he made, standing there totally nude. Oh, to have her camera, take a picture to remember this night for the rest of her existence, long after they moved on. Broad shoulders, chiseled abs leading down to his waist, with only a faint sprinkling of body hair.
    She slowly circled him, trailing her fingertips over his middle, watching with delight as goosebumps rose in their wake.
****
    Anthony held up his hands, watching her as she paused in front of him, clearly debating her course of action. It was a bit of a role reversal, as he was well-used to having her naked while heremained clothed. But he was inclined to give her her head and see where she led. “Now what?”
    “Sit.” In that effort, she rested her hands, silky smooth and warm, on his chest to urge him down.
    Yes, he liked this more decisive, assertive woman. He cherished the memory of her innocence and enthusiasm, but he found it quite alluring, a woman who knew what she wanted. And clearly she wanted something beyond the obvious. He settled back on the couch, arms spread along the back. If he didn’t, he’d reach for her and end this now. Control, Anthony, control.
    His breath caught in his throat when she dropped to her knees between his legs and took him in her hands, stroked along his length. His world narrowed to just the two of them, everything not her fading rapidly as he thought only of the soft hands caressing him, something he’d long feared might never happen again. Anthony groaned. “You’re going to kill me, woman.”
    A tiny, teasing smile crossed her face. “La petite mort, yes. That’s certainly the idea,” she said, cupping his balls. Warm breath tickled the length of him as she spoke.
    His hands clenched into fists. He wouldn’t be able to take much of this, or he’d thoroughly disgrace himself by coming too soon. When she took him in her mouth, his eyes crossed. Gods, yes. If Odin himself popped in and offered to take him off to Valhalla, he would turn the god down in a heartbeat, just to stay like this. It’d been so long.
****
    Dara allowed herself a satisfied mental smile at his raspy growl and swirled her tongue around his cock, continuing to caress him. He’d never let her get away with calling him Tony, but it’d been an excellent segue to this.
    Her eyes closed as his fingers speared into her hair, massaging her scalp even as he slowed her pace.
    “Such a talented mouth, pet,” he said, tugging strands free from the braid trailing down her back. “I’ve miss this so damned much.”
    The words echoed round and round her head, and she hummed with satisfaction, drawing another long, tortured groan from him. And then voices from the past exploded from her subconscious, rough hands pulling at her. Such a good little pet. Dara choked.
    “No!” She fell back, scrabbling away on the floor. Voices pressed in on her, upper-crust British accents, laughter, and pain. The newly recovered memories dug their claws in, and she buried her face in her knees, trying to force them back.

Blood Rage Buy Links

Blood-Mage Rising
The Dream-Walker War, Book 2
Evernight Publishing
Urban Fantasy/Paranormal Romance
4/12/12
Blurb:
In the eighty years since the Great Awakening, humans and non-humans have lived side by side, relatively at peace.  In an attack that leaves his wife dead, Jordan MacNaught is caught up in the start of a war meant to turn the other races against the vampires. He knows beyond a doubt the vampires of yesteryear are not involved in the attacks. They're all dead, except for him.


     Jordan asks for Chris Javert's help in hunting those who murdered his wife. She's no stranger to hunting vampires. After all, she nearly destroyed Jordan when she ended the reign of his Aristocrats in Europe two hundred years ago
.
Excerpt:
Despite the disturbing turn to her daydream, the shower centered her. It certainly ended her bout of the hornies. When she exited the frosted glass enclosure into the steam and gardenia-scented room, Chris could face the world, and Jordan, again. Cool marble tile provided a sharp contrast against the balmy miasma blanketing her. She needed to get dressed and back to work.
“It’s about time you got out,” Jordan said as he materialized, seated on the edge of the counter between the sink bowls. His legs dangled over the edge.
“Son of a—” Chris yelped and leaped for her towel.
He blinked slowly, warning, and she just caught herself before the last word slipped out. The last time she called him a son of a bitch, he buried her alive for disparaging his mother. For some reason, he objected to the pejorative, even though rumor had it he’d killed his mother at some point. She clutched at her towel like a shield.
“What are you doing in here?”
“To quote a certain someone, I should think that it’s fairly obvious. I wanted to talk to you.” He flashed a smile, fangs just barely showing, and leaned his weight back on his palms. “You know, Chrissy, if you’d just given me a bit longer, you wouldn’t have had to resort to alternative methods.”
She might be claustrophobic, but right then she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole. Dear God. Her reflection turned a nice, brilliant, beet red, and she looked around for her bathrobe, finally finding it slung over the door that separated the toilet from the main portion of the room. “Mother of Lorminstra, you perverted jackanapes!”
Jordan blinked again, the picture of innocence. “I am the perverted one? Which one of us just masturbated in the shower?”
This absolutely can’t be happening. Please let this be a continuation of the weird-ass dream. Chris snatched her robe down and yanked it on, surreptitiously pinching her side in the process. Pain flared and dissipated. Unfortunately, the bathroom invasion continued unabated.Damn, no dream. She belted the flimsy scrap of silk, not feeling much more secure than with the towel. “You could have waited five minutes.”
“I did. Then, when you still didn’t emerge, I thought I’d wait in here.”
Since the universe didn’t see fit to rescue her by sending a great bolt of lightning or a tsunami to kill her, she needed to brazen the situation out. And had her shower really taken that long? Good lord.
“What was so important you couldn’t wait? And while there’d better not be a next time, next time let me know you’re there. I could have finished...ah, I could have gotten, ah, ….”
There really wasn’t a good way to end that statement, and she floundered. He didn’t seem inclined to rescue her either, judging by his grin. Asshole. The recently departed headache began to squeeze her temples again.
“I wouldn’t have enjoyed it half as much if I had interrupted, unless I joined in.”
“Well, why didn’t you?” In her brief glimpse before she bent at the waist and flipped her hair over her head to begin toweling it dry, she got good visual confirmation that he definitely enjoyed the view. Must have been in mist form to see much, given the frosted glass that surrounded the shower.
“And get my clothes wet? Don’t be absurd.”
“A normal person would join me.” She wrung her hair out with more force than strictly necessary. “Now, explain what was so important you felt the need to become a Peeping Jordan, and then get out!”
“I think you need to have another go in the shower, if you’re still this waspish.”
Anthony would thank her if she killed him.
“I’ll make this brief. You’re fond of gambling, aren’t you?”
“What of it?” She continued to rub viciously with the towel, not sure she followed him yet. “I’m fond of lots of things.”
“Earlier, you propositioned me.”
Chris choked. “I did no such thing!”
“Then what would you call it?”
“Losing my mind.”
Jordan chuckled. From her upside down position, she saw his legs stop swinging as he leaned forward. “I propose a bet. Just to make our time a little more interesting, although I doubt it will beat what I just saw.”
She purposely ignored the latter half of his statement. Finished with her scalp she moved on to the longer portion of her hair.
“If you win, I will walk the straight and narrow for, hmmm. Two decades should be impetus enough, even for you. While not admitting to having done anything that might get me in trouble under your country’s Rights and Responsibilities Act, I promise not to indulge in any of my more exotic entertainments for that period. No murder, no torture, nothing of that nature.” Her eyes widened, and she stood, towel held loosely in her right hand. “I thought that might garner your exclusive attention.”
Mouth dry, she swallowed hard. For that offer, he wanted something big in return. “And if I lose?”
“I get your blood. More specifically, we forge a blood-bond.”
No chance in hell.
Though she wanted to say the words, she didn’t. If she rejected him out of hand without a good reason, he might wonder. Vampires commonly shared blood. It wasn’t safe for her to do, since most people would feel obligated to turn her over to the Circle for execution if they figured out what she was.
She couldn’t dismiss the possibility he’d offered the bet to see how desperate she was to avoid sharing blood. In that case, she should say yes and win, no matter the cost.
“Quite the stakes. What’s the bet?”

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Author Bio

Originally from the Sacramento Valley, Tory packed up and moved all the way to Southwest Florida in 2004 with her husband (a Florida native) under the premise that ‘hurricanes almost never hit that part of the state.’ That year, 4 blasted the area. 4 more came the following year, and her husband blames her for bringing the hurricanes. She now resides in Jacksonville and is relieved that, thus far, no more hurricanes have followed her around.

She began writing in kindergarten when a turnip wished to be human and, other than a hiatus shortly after getting married, has never stopped. Her love of vampires began somewhere in junior high, and combining the two loves didn’t take long. She loves music, considers herself a ‘book slut’ whose reading habits would break her family financially if given free reign, and is (usually) delighted to be a mommy of twin Shrimpettes and a Shrimp.

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Thursday, October 18, 2012

Taking it Too Far-Review

Just what you need before Halloween, a little time to scare yourself silly.

I'm a fan of Sonia Hightower. She creates some of the most amazing stories and characters. This was by far one of the best Halloween stories I've read this year.

This story left me questioning what was real and what was imagined. It was freaky, crazy, good and sent chills tickling up and down my spine. Remember A Nightmare on Elm Street? Mix in a little Freddy Kruger and a bit of erotic and you've got a sexy read that's hard to put down.



It's Halloween, and Vivian is looking forward to a sexy romp with her husband of eight years. The kids are tucked in bed, the bedroom door is locked, the candy's put away, and Vivian is ready and willing…but Kenny's Halloween costume is a bit creepy, and he may be taking it too far..
Will the night end in horror, or will a new day show that it was all a dream…a bad dream?

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