Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Meet Shayla Black's DOOMSDAY BRETHREN

Every day over on Facebook, probably the world's most popular social site, an amazing and creative energy is being shared with thousands of avid and devoted followers. NY Times Best-selling author Shayla Black was approached recently by role-players, those often brilliant actors who bring to life the favourite and much-loved characters from popular fiction. Some authors are actively against what the players do, but some of the smarter ones, like Ms. Black, recognize that when it's done properly, role-play can be a godsend to an author. The Doomsday Brethren is blessed by some of the best role-players active on Facebook, and the stories they tell hold their readers enthralled on a daily basis. The pages boast well over a thousand followers, and that number grows every day.

One of the most poignant of the love stories that form the backbone of Ms. Black's series, is one that involves three strong and passionate characters. This week, one of the players created a beautiful video, it's posted here. So, take a moment and enjoy the video, and then drop over to your Facebook page and see what magic is taking place on the group pages! Enjoy....

"New and improved love triangle for Lucan MacTavish-Doomsday Brethren, Anka MacTavish-Doomsday Brethren, and Shock Doomsday-Brethren. Lots more images added and more of the story is told!"

You can join the Doomsday Brethren Group HERE





Tuesday, May 17, 2011

GUEST: Marion Webb-De Sisto


Final Retribution: Book Three of the Angelic Chronicles

Does love really conquer all? Can even evil be overthrown by the need to love and be loved? This final book of the Fantasy trilogy explores the ultimate retribution of the archangel, who fell from grace and became the Devil. Will he win the love of the beautiful Angel Manah and be restored to his former glory, or is he ruined for all of eternity?

If you, the reader, enjoy a tale of adventure, romance and trickery, then Final Retribution should keep you happily engrossed. Archangel Samael may be the anti hero of this story, but we all love a villain, who is handsome, charismatic and skilled in the art of romance. Such a character can tempt even the most virtuous of us.


Excerpt:

Samael’s hand moved up to her hair and removed the comb. As her long tresses draped around her shoulders, he informed, “I have no desire to further discuss the Source. Instead, let me show you how pleased I am to have you back here with me.” He tilted her chin, brought his face close to hers and thought-whispered, “Do you know how to kiss, Angel Manah?”

Now, pure panic took hold of Manah. Angels had told her about the different ways in which humans expressed affection, and she had seen Toa and Belu kiss. Therefore, she knew it was an intimate action. The seraph squirmed away from the archangel, pushing against his arms and wings, trying desperately to get off his lap. “Let me go, Lord Samael! I know how humans kiss and I do not want you to do that to me.”

He kept a tight hold on her with one hand while he cradled her head with the other. As his face drew close, Samael declared, “But I wish to kiss you, my little angel.” He slightly tilted his head and his lips touched hers. At first she could barely feel any contact, and then suddenly there was probing pressure. Manah wanted to fight against this unfamiliar intimacy, but as it continued she became a part of it. She pressed her mouth against his and was consumed by waves of unleashed emotion. Her lips parted, as did his, and she felt his tongue exploring the contours of her mouth. The angel’s consciousness screamed at her to stop, but she had never before felt so blissful. Manah was trapped by the closeness they were sharing.

The ardent kiss continued on until the archangel finally lifted his mouth from hers and, looking steadily into her eyes, he remarked, “That was even more pleasurable than I could have imagined. I believe I have awakened a passion within you, little angel. We are well-suited to be companions.”

Suddenly, a full realization of what had just happened filled Manah’s thoughts. She had revealed her inner desire for this evil archangel. He now knew she felt drawn to him and it could prove disastrous. She must try to convince him that what she had offered was not genuine, but was instead a result of some form of sorcery by him. Manah almost thought-screamed, “Let me go! You have beguiled me with your archangelic magic. I cannot imagine anything more repulsive than kissing such an evil being. You must have cast an enchantment upon me.”

Author Marion Webb-De Sisto
Fiction - Adventure and Romance with a Devilish Twist.
Non-Fiction - Helpful Information on Crystals, Crystal Skulls, Healing and the Spirit World.

Website - www.marionwebb-desisto.com
Blog - http://marionwebb-desisto.blogspot.com/
Amazon Author Page - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Marion-Webb-De-Sisto/e/B002A06PMK/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
FaceBook - http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=671911733#!/pages/Marion-Webb-De-Sisto-Author/121238787930802
AuthorsDen - http://www.authorsden.com/marionwebbdesisto
Alternative-Read - http://www.alternative-read.com/aamarionwebbdesisto.htm
AuthorIsland - http://www.authorisland.com/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=748&Itemid=602





Friday, May 13, 2011

NEW RELEASE: Erotic thriller

DANCING IN THE SHADOWS
An erotic thriller
by Denysé Bridger
Price: $0.99
BUY IT HERE

Blurb:

Zach Tyler has been a freelance operative with the Agency for a long time. He's worked with Nicola Paris's father often, and respects him completely. But, there is something about Nicola that's gotten under Zach's skin, and past a lifetime's worth of defenses that were needed to protect him and keep away those he might care too much about from being caught by his dangerous life. But, an unexpected night of passion brings a lot of truths to the surface, and he can no longer deny how much he loves Nicki, or how much she loves him. As their passion explodes in a frenzy of desire, little does he know that the real danger is not from his work, but from the shadow that watches them... and her desire for Tyler might take away the most precious thing in his life now...

Excerpt:

Zach drew her head away from his shoulder and smiled into the huge blue eyes. His gaze drifted over smooth, contoured features, admiring with new perceptiveness the striking beauty in Nicola’s face. His look dropped to the slightly parted lips that had haunted him so frequently during the past few days, and he leaned closer to cover Nicola’s mouth with his.

The contact was electric and Zach melted into the caress, his tongue slipping between Nicola’s lips to taste again the tantalizing warmth of her mouth. Nicola met the thrust of Zach’s tongue with hers and drew him deeper into the kiss as she shifted closer to him and molded her body to his. Long minutes later, they broke the kiss with a gasp and Zach looked into the softened blue eyes and smiled.

“Are you sure about this, Nicola?” Every part of him longed to ignore the query, but he truly needed to know that she was certain of exactly what they were contemplating with this change in their long friendship. Zach was already extremely conscious of how badly he wanted to be with her again, but he wasn’t willing to risk regrets on Nicola’s part. He knew in his heart that he was already bound to her, and that he wanted nothing more at that moment than to make this a true beginning for them. But, only if it was what Nicola wanted, too.

Nicola couldn’t trust her voice, her head was spinning with the combination of confusion and excitement. The intense kiss had reawakened the hungry passion she’d felt nights ago, and she was left shaking with the desire she felt for more of the intoxicating contact. She drew in a quivering breath and very slowly nodded, her eyes locked with Zach’s.

“Why?” Why are you pushing this? A tiny voice in Tyler’s head whispered. He heard the answer, as well, but shied away from it just then. The hesitation was voiced before he could think to stop it.

“Because I love you.” Nicola closed her eyes once the words were out, as surprised at having said them as Zach appeared to be at hearing them. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time, Zach. I just never knew anything like this could happen with us.” His hand under her chin made her eyes open again to meet Zach’s dark gaze.

“I love you, too, Nicki,” he whispered. He was almost surprised by how very sincerely he felt and meant the words, then it disappeared in the glow of happiness he read in her smile. His arm was still around her shoulders and he led her to a secluded, dark area of the park.

“Zach, where are we going?”

He laughed at the tiny quiver in her voice, part excitement, and part apprehension.

“Don’t you trust me, baby?”

“I don’t know if I should.”

“You shouldn’t,” he assured her, very seriously.



BUY IT HERE



Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Step into HELL - London - Circa 1892

The Devane Files
Book One: OUT OF HELL
Available from: Liquid Silver Books
Read More HERE


London 1892


Whitechapel was disturbingly quiet as newly appointed Inspector, Michael Charles Devane walked the streets in contemplative solitude. His eyes missed nothing as he strolled, absorbed with the turmoil inside his head, yet acutely aware of all that was around him. It was instinctive, like so much else about his nature. His promotion had come at a difficult time in his career, his friend and mentor, Chief Inspector Fred Abberline had only retired weeks earlier, and Michael frequently wondered if it was Abberline’s influence that had tipped the scales in his favor when it came time for his Superintendent to consider this promotion. His career before Abberline’s friendship had certainly not indicated he would rise in the ranks to this level. He shivered against the sudden chill of memory, drawn inexorably back to the evening a few years ago when he had been recruited into Abberline’s elite H Division unit of investigators hunting the notorious killer who would become known as Jack The Ripper.

Devane had been a mediocre police officer, but several small cases that had baffled other investigators had been solved by his unorthodox and admittedly questionable methods. Like Fred Abberline, Michael Devane knew the district intimately, and he spent long periods of time actually living in Whitechapel. The locals trusted him. The prostitutes had laughingly befriended him in the first years of his adult life, and subsequently, the early days of his career with the police force. He had contacts that even Abberline didn’t have access to, and the then Inspector in charge of the ground forces, wanted Michael on his team. Strings had been pulled, and his transfer had been made in the space of days. If he’d known then what the events of the coming months would bring to his life, Devane might have chosen a more peaceful method for destruction of his mind, his emotional balance, and his life in general.

Mist curled around his feet; the thick, cottony clouds of fog that were uniquely London clinging to his pants with cloying wetness. His footsteps, lost in the swirl of sickly white on the cobble-stoned ground, sounded vaguely muffled. He pulled the collar of his overcoat a little higher and glanced around. There were still people brave enough to walk the streets, but fear lingered behind the boldness of the gazes that met his stare, then slid away too quickly. He shuddered as he spotted The Ten Bells tavern, and the chill of the night sank deeper into his being. Almost four years since the Ripper murders, but it might have been yesterday to many. It felt like yesterday to him. Every time there was a particularly messy murder, it was attributed to the infamous Ripper; and there had been several that did, indeed, look like the madman’s work. After all, the police had never caught the notorious Jack the Ripper. Had they? A great number of people blamed Chief Inspector Fred Abberline. Others were not so specific and targeted anybody who was even remotely associated with the nightmarish case. Few people knew the truth. It would always be that way, too, he knew, truth being subjective, and loyalties as eternally ambiguous as the evidence. Conspiracy theories had abounded at the time of the killings, and many more had been formulated and put forth since those grisly days in the latter half of 1888.

Devane’s sergeant, David Goodwin, chided him often for his penchant for inviting death, whether it was walking the Whitechapel streets, or caught in the limbo dream-world created by his continued use of opium. ‘Chasing the dragon’, as Goodwin, (and a few others), noted with his worry-tainted contempt of the practice. Devane knew the bursts of anger were born in concern, and he frequently ignored what another police inspector would have disciplined in his “junior”. That irony never ceased to bring a flicker of wry amusement to the younger man’s handsome features, and it did so now; Devane felt the telltale twitch of movement at his mouth--just beyond his conscious control.

A hand touched his arm, tugged less than gently, and he turned to look into the lascivious smile of a local whore. He saw a multitude of things in her pale eyes as they looked at each other, among them was the ever-present fear. Her gaze dropped for an instant as she took stock of him, a potential customer. His expression remained passive, and when her head rose to meet his stare a second time, she was apologetic.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir,” she mumbled, and ran off before he could utter a word.

Inspector Devane was not typical of her customary clientele, in any way. He was young, exceptionally handsome, and dressed like a gentleman. His eyes were dark, intelligent, and if anyone peered too closely, the shadows of perpetual pain and deeply-rooted loss would become visible. Few people were permitted that privilege, of course.

Devane continued his interrupted walk, and eventually the worn sign of Mitre Street caught his attention. Again, the icy breath of past death caressed his insides. Just beyond the Street was Mitre Square and the ghost of Catharine Eddowes, Jack The Ripper’s fourth victim. He turned away, unwilling to go further in that direction. Abberline had been quick to see the value of his gift of near-clairvoyant insight, and had quickly given him the rare opportunity to be among his men on the streets. It had been a mixed blessing, indeed. He’d gained invaluable experience working with Abberline’s team, but the horrors he’d seen had never quite faded safely into vague oblivion.

The Ripper had been haunting him anew recently. Devane’s dream-vision had once again been filled with gore and terror. Not entirely unique in his experience, but the horror of the attacks, and the violence in the residue that remained with him throughout the day, was vividly reminiscent of the Ripper murders that had occurred over a period of several months. He knew that it was not the work of Jack The Ripper, yet something was drawing him back into that macabre nightmare world that had cost him a piece of his soul, as well as his faltering marriage, and then threatened his very sanity in ways about which he tried to avoid thinking.

His footsteps quickened slightly, and it took only a single heartbeat for him to recognize the reason for it; behind him, the sound of a carriage approaching, moving fast and with purpose. Pulling his thoughts inward, cloaking himself in cultivated control, Devane turned to face the nearing vehicle. Repressing his annoyance, he went to join Goodwin when the sergeant’s broad face appeared in the window and he beckoned.

“Good-evening, sir,” Goodwin said quietly, once Devane was seated next to him and he’d told the driver to continue onward to their destination.

“What is it this time, Sergeant?” Devane enquired, gazing outward, seeing nothing.

Goodwin winced at the resignation in the younger man’s strong, quiet voice. He didn’t really know what to say to Devane a great deal of the time now. Goodwin had worked with Devane for a number of years, and they’d become friends. But, things had changed after the Ripper case. Not in overt ways, but the more subtle undercurrents had shifted into a murky grey area where he was no longer always certain of Devane’s dark genius. Fred Abberline had hinted it might happen, but Goodwin hadn’t believed it; he’d known Devane for such a long time, and his faith had been unshakable, until that terrible case. And, this new one was going to put more pressure on a personality that was fraught with edginess on the best of days.

“Sergeant Goodwin?”

Goodwin started visibly and tried to look away from the intensity of Devane’s expectant gaze. It was impossible. It always had been.

“There’s been a murder,” he imparted cautiously. Devane released him by turning to look out the window again, drinking in the night and its secrets.

“What of it?”

“It was messy, Inspector. They’re already whispering about The Ripper being back at work. Though that makes little enough sense in this case, since the victim is a man, not a Whitechapel bang-tail.”

Devane closed his eyes and leaned back in the safe confines of the jostling carriage. He was suddenly drifting into lethargy, tired beyond weariness. His head fell back and a hiss of breath escaped from between clenched teeth. Before he could hold back the images, blood spattered his mind’s eye and held him in the semi-consciousness of familiar dream-scapes. A scream, deafening yet soundless, split the silence inside his head. He turned, and a graceful, eerily beautiful arc of liquid fire sprayed upward, glistening drops of crimson life held suspended against the stark glow of gaslights. A sliver of silver glimmered, vanished, then returned again, covered in scarlet gloss. Then the screaming amplified and enveloped him for timeless seconds, until it slowly pulsed to a soft, steady heartbeat. Through the haze of red, a face tried to take form, and failed. Devane inwardly twisted away, eager to escape the marred beauty that pleaded with his tortured soul...

“Inspector?”

Goodwin’s concerned shout penetrated the fog, and banished the siren and her song. Devane nodded, opened his eyes, and peered out to look at the pale grandeur of a Kensington townhouse. Two uniformed constables flanked the massive double doors that were the entrance to the place, and Devane knew Goodwin would have two others positioned at the rear of the house as well. As he descended the steps and felt solid ground under his feet again, his equilibrium reasserted itself. Goodwin waited until he led the way, and they approached the house in resolute silence.

Before they had reached the landing at the top of the stairs, the huge doors swung open and an immaculately dressed, somber butler awaited them. They presented an incongruous pair, and the butler’s flickering gaze did a quick inventory of the two policeman. Goodwin was a big man, half a head taller than his companion, and twice his bulk. He was older, with a friendly, broad face that was deceptive about its owner’s perceptiveness. Sharp eyes belied the illusion of a cheerful bear of a man, and his stance was faintly protective as he stood next to the smaller man. Goodwin’s clothes were less stylishly cut and less expensive, as well. But, there was no denying his imposing presence.

“This is Inspector Devane, Mr. Carstaires,” Goodwin said, apparently having already met the typically haughty servant.

The Inspector was a slender man, dressed in a deep midnight blue suit and pristine white shirt with black tie, the knot very slightly askew. He was pale, features fine and angular, very striking in quiet demeanor and possessed of a forceful personality that wasn’t evident until you met his startlingly dark eyes. He wasn’t six feet tall, yet this was the stronger and more dangerous of the two men, the butler realized instantly. Whatever Devane lacked in physical strength was more than compensated for by his quick, agile mind.

“Lady Bradshaw is waiting for you in the Library. The family physician has been sent for,” he added in explanation. “I will inform you upon his arrival.”

“I’ll need to see the body and the crime site first,” Devane inserted quietly. “Then the family.”

Carstaires digested the request, nodded slowly, then changed the direction they’d been going in and stopped at the foot of the long, curving staircase that dominated the huge foyer of the house.

“I believe Sergeant Goodwin can show you which room,” the butler said with a faintly questioning look at Goodwin. The sergeant smiled and nodded, and the expression turned to a soft chuckle as he indicated the stairs.

“Shall we, sir?”




The Devane Files: Book One - OUT OF HELL
Available from: Liquid Silver Books
Read More HERE



The Devane Files: Book Two - AN UNSPOKEN BETRAYAL
Available from: Liquid Silver Books
Read More HERE





Monday, April 11, 2011

My Rehvenge

Once in awhile we encounter characters who speak to some part of our souls. It doesn't always make sense, and sometimes there is no conscious recognition. For me, while reading the exceptional Black Dagger Brotherhood books by J.R. Ward, I encountered one of those unforgettable and remarkable fictions who came to life and breathed inside my imagination and heart, too. I thought about what it would be like to stand a few feet away and look for the first time on him, to...


Behold, My Rehvenge
© Denysé Bridger
10th April, 2011

She watched him, eyes caressing with a combination of hunger and adoration, her heartbeat tapping like the staccato rhythm of stiletto heels on a sidewalk. She suspected he could hear the erratic pulse of her life, but he didn’t move, not even to glance in her direction. She leaned on the doorframe, permitted her dreams to venture forth and speak within her mind. He was a remarkable male, handsome like so many of his kind, but also different from them. In this one power and passion seethed just below the surface, contained by the force of his will, and a need to remain apart. All of the knowledge she should not have began to coalesce and make itself known inside her, and with each new piece of the puzzle her heart became his possession.

Despite the warning that told her this was not a male to be casually examined, she continued to process the influx of responses that were lighting a trail of fire along the course of her veins. That she wanted him was of little consequence, that was a given, or she wouldn’t have been there at all. The complexity of his presence was a drug, an addiction pleading to be fed. He could have owned her soul without expending more effort than it took to gaze at her, but he chose to stand back and allow her the freedom to choose her dreams, and control the destiny she would live because of it.

The air around them was a living thing, warm, sinuous, caressing heightened senses with promises and threats that were equally alluring. With him, a thing as simple as a kiss would be layered in mysteries that required answers drawn from the soul. And he would know how to extract what he wanted, from her mind, her body, and the heart that now beat in steady reply to his.

He finally turned to look at her, and she shuddered at the impact of his eyes. Amethyst gemstones, but beyond the brilliance of his intellect there was fire and fury. A flame that burned inside him, searing all it touched, purging the ugliness of lies, leaving only the naked truth to be gazed upon. In those brief, life-spanning moments, he saw all there was to know in her, and in the next heartbeats it was judged and understood.

He leaned back in his chair for a moment, his jewelled gaze speculative. After a minute he rose and walked toward her. Each step that brought him closer made her feel as though a blanket was being wrapped around her, enveloping her in warmth that was rapidly becoming heated desire. He stopped, just short of touching her, and the corners of his mouth curved upward, a whisper of smile reaching his eyes.

“Why are you here?”

His voice poured over her senses, the richly timbered bass textured with seduction and curiosity. She straightened and still had to look up at him, but words were lost in the tide of longing that was crashing over her in battering waves. She stared at him, entranced by everything about him. He touched her cheek, a breath of contact, and she felt the quiver of response tingle to the core of her being. Surprise flickered in his eyes, followed by satisfaction. She knew, in that single moment he had read it all... claimed what was already his, and made the choice to keep it.

He bent to touch her forehead to his, and smiled.

“Why are you here?”

She opened her mouth and he claimed her lips, the slow stroke of his tongue gaining entrance as she sighed into his touch. Inside her head, the world became a rush of sensual fireworks, her body as alive and captivated as her mind had been moments before. All that existed was the madness he lit inside her, the hunger to be consumed by him. And, in spite of the paradox, with the promise of his possession came the certainty that Fate had just righted a lifetime of wrongs.

When he drew back endless moments later, she smiled up at him, trembling against him.

“Behold, my Rehvenge...”

His smile dazzled her, and the warm ring of his laughter fell over her like summer rain, washing away the past terrors of her world, cleansing a life and a heart, making them worthy of him... worthy of love itself.



Disclaimer: The character of Rehvenge Rempoon is the sole property of J.R. Ward - the use of his name here is in no way intended to infringe upon copyrights held by Ms. Ward, nor does it pretend to have her endorsement. It is a fan fiction created with respect and admiration.




Friday, April 01, 2011

Shayla Black - The Doomsday Brethren

Exciting news for fans from New York Times Best-seller Shayla Black!

For anyone who isn’t familiar with her, Shayla Black (aka Shelley Bradley) is the New York Times bestselling author of nearly 30 sizzling contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and historical romances for multiple print and electronic publishers. She lives in Texas with her husband, munchkin, and one very spoiled cat. In her "free" time, she enjoys reality TV, reading and listening to an eclectic blend of music.

Shayla has won or placed in over a dozen writing contests, including Passionate Ink's Passionate Plume, Colorado Romance Writers Award of Excellence, and the National Reader's Choice Awards. Romantic Times has awarded her Top Picks, a KISS Hero Award and a nomination for Best Erotic Romance.

A writing risk-taker, Shayla enjoys tackling writing challenges with every book.

Recently, Black did something that has fans applauding her and happily buying up her books–she’s not only sanctioned the use of “role-play” as a promotional tool for her Doomsday Brethren series, she is an active participant in the daily activity of her group on Facebook.

While some authors are out-spoken with their fears and misgivings about allowing fans to role-play their characters, Ms. Black has taken the initiative and joined them, seeing for herself the very positive impact this can have on promotion. With talented and creative people stepping in to bring her characters to life for fans, and her own presence to see that things remain fun and friendly, she’s just embraced the kind of publicity no one can buy at any price.

So, if you have yet to experience this popular series of books, you can find them all with a quick visit here: Meet The Brethren: http://www.shaylablack.com/DoomsdayBrethren.html

There is a free novella listed to whet your interest:

FATED - http://www.shaylablack.com/fated.html

And if you want to join the group and Shayla on Facebook, here’s the link: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shayla-BlackShelley-Bradley/132991689785

The Doomsday Brethren Role-Play Group is here:

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?sk=group_171073539609382

Any way you look at it, this is author-fan interaction as its best, and Ms. Black has seen the value in it. Drop by, and join both groups, you’ll be amazed at the talent involved in all of this!!






Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Ria Candro: Writing the Sci-Fi Ménage

Writing the Sci-Fi Ménage:

When I first sat down to write what would eventually become Mated, I didn’t know what genre I would be writing in. All I knew was I wanted to write a ménage where the heroes were not only okay with, but actually expected that they would share the love of one woman. So what to do? Well create a race of hunky aliens, of course!

My heroes come from the planet Spygia, where native females have become extinct. Since the men of this planet gain strength from the act of mating, they are desperate to find a mate. And more than willing to share!

Enter my heroine, Natalie. She’s a human who is fed up with her place in the world: no family, a dead-end job, no respect. But she never expected she’d be propositioned by three yummy aliens who look like cover models and practically ooze sex appeal. Things get interesting when they tell her they want to claim her for their own. Because Spygians mate for life, and loving them means leaving Earth. Is she willing to take a chance on a love that’s out of this world?

Now I have a question for you. Do you read Science Fiction? What do you think of the meld of Sci-Fi and erotic romance (specifically ménage)? What would you do if you were propositioned by three hunky aliens who vowed to spend their whole life worshipping you?

Mated is now available from Ellora’s Cave


Ria Candro is the author of futuristic and paranormal erotic romance. When not dreaming up hot love stories, she enjoys spending time with her family in their home state of Florida.


You can learn more about Ria and her novels at her blog: http://www.riacandro.wordpress.com/



Short Blurb:


When Natalie awakens on a spaceship manned by three gorgeous and adoring hunks, she’s convinced she’s dreaming. It’s up to Andros, Leikos and Zafron to prove to her she’s not. And that she’s the perfect mate for all three of them.


Spygian alpha males travel far and wide in search of their perfect partner. And then share their mate in the most delicious, pleasurable ways they can imagine. But for Natalie, loving these red-hot aliens means leaving Earth. Is she willing to take a chance on a love that’s out of this world?


Excerpt:


The front panel of the ship’s control room slid open, exposing a view of space through the clear, impenetrable shield.

"We are approaching Earth now," said Leikos, Andros’ second-in-command. Silence filled the control room as Andros and his men stared at the round globe. Bright blue oceans eclipsed the images of land with a certain beauty that made him think of home.

"It looks somewhat like Spygia," said Zafron, the third and final member of Andros’ pod.

Andros grunted in assent. The planet did resemble their own, although their oceans were more of an orange hue. But still, it wasn’t the planet itself that had drawn them to this part of the galaxy, so far from their very own. No, they had been drawn to what was on this planet. Or rather, to who.

Our mate resides somewhere on Earth.

His Spygian homing instinct had led him here, to this alien planet, so that he could discover the one woman who was meant to be theirs. Now he had but to find her and get her back to this ship. Not an easy task. But compared to what they had gone through to get here, compared to the many weeks of travel, it was no great hardship.


Now that they had found the planet, they must search for their woman. And pray she would consent.


My blog: http://www.riacandro.wordpress.com/ Purchase link: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8928-mated.aspx


Wednesday, March 23, 2011

NOCTURNE Author: Janet Elizabeth Jones

Writers can't say it enough: it takes an industry to produce a book, but only one person can give it life. That's you. Before you think I'm being glib, dear reader, let me say it this way.

A story passes through a hundred hands and hearts on its way to you, and it takes every single one of those creative, devoted minds to create, produce, distribute and put that story into your hands--but it takes your imagination to make the story real. Your imagination is the essential, ever-changing, ever new, magic ingredient in every story, and no two readers imagine a story in the same way.

Just so you know, you're the person I want to reach. You're the one. It's all about you. Whether you're near or far, struggling or safe, happy or sad, feel welcome on this planet or disenfranchised by society, whatever your story is, if my story fails to touch a chord in your soul that we share as human beings, or if my characters fail to ring true to the depth of your oh-so-human heart, then I haven't compensated you for the time, money, and trust you've invested in the book.

You may only be looking for a few hours of escape. You may not need happily-ever-afters. But we all believe to some extent in the power of love. We believe because we've seen it in our lives, or in the lives of others. It's out there. The kind of love we can give our heart to on our own terms and cherish for the rest of our lives. A love that won't shy away from pain or anger, the killer emotions that make us sick at heart and road weary. A love that won't shrink into the shadows the first time we shine our inner light in its direction. A love that answers to the name we give it in our deepest dreams. A love that speaks for itself. Incubus is about this kind of love.

My hope is that you will see in Meical Grabian and Caroline Bengal some of your own uncompromising courage, that stuff that gets you out of bed every morning. Okay, for some of us that's coffee, and though many of us would argue that coffee and courage are interchangeable, coffee doesn't sound as poetic as courage. And even if you threw away your rosy-tinted glasses a long time ago or find feel-good preambles like this one a little tedious, you have to admit, loving someone, and letting them love you back, takes a lot of guts. For Meical and Caroline, it's literally a matter of life or death.

Thank you for dropping by today. Now, I'll quit the warm-fuzzies and let my characters do the talking. Here's Meical Grabian, Caroline Bengal and Benemerut Neshi (aka The Alchemist).

Meical Grabian:

To save his kind, Meical Grabian agrees to participate in a dangerous experiment. One that takes his vampire's thirst for blood and leaves him hungering for something new. An incubus can be sated only with passion—but what woman could love what he's become?

Interviewer: Meical you're the first of The Alchemist's test subjects to survive the transformation. I understand nothing went the way either of you anticipated.

MG: That's right. Not even Neshi could have predicted the outcome. I survived, but I'm not exactly what he had in mind. I've been asked not to give any spoilers though, so I'll leave it at that.

Interviewer: We know what a vampire is, but can you explain what an incubus is?

MG: An incubus feeds on human sexual pleasure. He uses dreams to arouse his prey. It's his prey's passion that sustains him. Unlike a vampire, he's impervious to sunlight, which is why Neshi felt that this particular transformation would create a more normal--more human--existence for vampires. In essence, they become givers, not takers.

Interviewer: So...it's always your prey's pleasure? Yours doesn't matter?

MG: (grinning) Well, it's hardly awful if I enjoy it, but yes, my own pleasure does nothing to keep me alive. Only Caroline can do that for me, and only her pleasure. And to answer your next question, yes: it matters if there's an emotional bond between an incubus and his prey.

Interviewer: Uhm...you just read my mind...

MG: Sorry. It's a reflex. But yes, based on Neshi's initial findings, even if an incubus only meets his prey in dreams, his sustenance is proportionate to the emotional bond they have. He might subsist for a while on random, nightly gymnastics with someone he'll never visit again, but he won't survive. Eventually he'll turn ugly and gaunt and starve to death. And there can be no use of force, either. That gets you dead quicker than starving. It's a fail-safe Neshi built into the process. For someone who can turn you into ashes with a glance, he's surprisingly sentimental and old-fashioned.

Interviewer: There was another reason why you agreed to be The Alchemist's guinea pig, wasn't there, besides wanting to enjoy sunlight again? Your friend Ellory Benedikt and his family were in trouble, right? Tell us a little about that.

MG: Yes, Ellory was facing a showdown with an old enemy he couldn't possibly defeat without the help of our vampire community, but most of them were either too afraid to join his side, or they chose to ally with his enemy. His family--his mate Talisen and his adopted fledgling vampires--would be next to die. I owe Ellory a lot. If not for him, I wouldn't have survived after I was turned, so there's nothing I won't do to help him. The only one powerful enough to see the Benedikts through their crisis was The Alchemist, but like most of us, Ellory doesn't trust Neshi, especially since most fledglings Neshi encountered became fodder for his experiments. Also, it's a fact that Neshi doesn't give his help for free. The best way I could help Ellory was to make it worth Neshi's trouble to offer asylum. So I swore my willing participation in his experiment in return for his promise to protect the Benedikts. I really didn't care what happened to me after that. I just wanted a little time at sunrise before I died. That's all that mattered to me. Until Caroline.

Meical Grabian was first interviewed on the Romance Lives Forever blog

Caroline Bengal:

Caroline's compassion and earthy beauty tempt the hunger Meical has desperately been keeping at bay. And soon Meical is visiting Caroline's dreams, seducing his prey while she sleeps.

Interviewer: Caroline, we know there are catastrophes that change people’s lives overnight, but it’s still hard to believe. One day you’re a successful child psychologist, and the next, you’re literally running for your life, hiding out in the back roads of the Poconos. How did it happen?

CB: I’d been working with my mentor and his patients in the El Paso area for about a year. Trauma cases are my specialty, so one night, he called me in on an emergency case at the hospital to help a catatonic little boy the police found wandering along I-10. He’d witnessed something so violent that he’d disconnected from his identity, but gradually, I was able to piece together who he was. He turned out to be the son of a powerful criminal the police had been after for years, and the information I uncovered while helping the boy enabled the police to finally bring his dad to justice. And that’s when everything in my life went wrong.

Interviewer: Because even from prison, he had enough influence to retaliate against you.

CB: Right. Bad Dad got mad.

Interviewer: I know what happened next is especially hard for you to talk about. His people did eventually get to you, and you actually lost a leg because of that attack. But something intervened that night and kept them from killing you.

CB: Yes, but I can’t talk about that either. I promised: no spoilers.

MG: Of course, Caroline’s escape so angered her enemy that he sent a professional assassin after her–I didn’t get to kill him until later–but from the moment he began hunting her, she didn’t know a moment of safety.

CB: Until the night I pulled you out of a snowdrift.

Interviewer: And that’s where your story really starts. And we’ll stop there, and let the readers find out for themselves what happened next.

Benemerut Neshi (aka The Alchemist):

In his human life, Ben was a physician in ancient Cairo. As a vampire, he's the closest thing to a druggist that vampires have, but his efforts to find a way to transform vampires into incubi and succubi have made him an outcast among his own people. It's a deadly process, and only one vampire, Meical Grabian, has survived it. Night Raven News wants to take a closer look at the vampire who made Meical's incredible, if perilous, transformation possible.

Interviewer: For the benefit of our audience, I'd like to explain, that even though your methods have made you out to be a monster, what you're trying to accomplish is a way to enable vampires to sustain themselves on human passion rather than blood. If they survive the transformation, ideally they'll even be able to withstand sunlight.

But during your work with Meical Grabian, there were unexpected results, and though we know the experiment wasn't exactly a failure, something definitely went wrong. We're not trying to give away spoilers, but we'd love to hear your side of it.

The Alchemist: I think it best that the readers find out for themselves.

Interviewer: Oh, come on, we won't think less of you. You're among friends here.

The Alchemist: Until I get hungry again. And that's not intended to titillate your audience. This is the legacy of my long existence: uncontrollable hunger. And it will only get worse, as I live on, unless someone intervenes on my behalf.

Interviewer: Someone like Shelby Mackleroy?

The Alchemist: It remains to be seen. She has her whole life ahead of her. She needs time to grow and live and be happy, to come to herself, to find her place in this world. Her world. Not mine. Regardless of the fact that she holds my life in her hands, it must always be her decision to choose me, or not. Until she is able to do so, the best thing I can do for her is stay out of her life.

In the meantime, I'll use what sanity I have left to keep working. But if I am to achieve a peaceful and pleasurable symbiosis between human and vampire, I must have subjects with which to test my findings. I claim the vampires who are unwanted, unprotected, hunting where they shouldn't be, preying on humans who are not their rightful prey, or trespassing on another vampire's domain. Regrettably, these are most often the young and weak of my kind: the fledgling vampires.

And before you ask me the next question on your mind: no, I don't allow them to suffer, though everyone thinks otherwise. I do have a heart, such as it is. It lies in pieces spread from one end of this earth to the other, and Shelby is the only person alive who can make it whole again, if I can survive my hunger enough to still be fit for her.
Interviewer: But if you can give vampires the chance to feel the sun again, like you did for Meical Grabian, I'd think they'd be flocking to you, even though there's a risk.

The Alchemist: It depends on the vampire. Some love the night; others still long for the sun. But even if they want what I can give them, they have to trust that the process is worth the danger. They have to trust my methods. They have to trust me--their worst nightmare.

Interviewer: Thank you for your honest answers to my questions, Ben. I'd like to know how things work out for you and Shelby. Maybe we'll be reading your book soon, and everything will turn out alright for you both.

The Alchemist: That is the hope that sees me through every long night of my existence, but only time will tell.

So now you have had a brief moment with the author and the characters. We hope this has tantalized your reading senses. The links to pick this book up in either print or e-book are below as are all the ways to stay in touch with the author.

E-Book – Incubus
Print Book – Incubus

Author Places:
http://www.janetejones.com/
http://thenightravenmuse.blogspot.com/





Monday, March 21, 2011

GUEST: Susan Palmquist

Talented author Susan Palmquist is my guest today, and she is going to tell us about her sexy new book, Caught in the Act, from Cobblestone Press. She's also agree to give away a copy of the book, too, so leave a comment and an address where we can rach you in case you're the luck winner!

Newly released!
BUY IT HERE

Caught in the Act is the first story in my Brazen Ladies trilogy for Cobblestone Press' Wicked Line. The next story will be Double Her Pleasure and the third, What The Lady Whats. All are set in Regency England and about three women who know exactly what they want from their men and aren't afraid to go after it.

About me, Vanessa Devereaux is the pen name of Susan Palmquist who is the author of A Sterling Affair and Sleeping with Fairies. As Vanessa Devereaux she writes, erotica and erotic romances. Her next novel will be in June and is titled One Night With You, also from Cobblestone. You can check out her two sites at http://www.susanpalmquist.com/ and http://www.vanessadevereaux.com/

Excerpt:

“You cannot go to that house.”

I glanced across the table at my brother. I had never seen such fear on his face. His eyes were wide, his jaw tense. He ran his hands through his hair.

“Jon is right. If you were caught, it could mean the gallows for you,” added my father.

“Then I will have to make sure I’m not.”

“But, Nicole, it’s Lord Sandford’s house. You’ve heard the rumors about him?” It was my sister-in-law who now placed her hand on top of mine.

“Who’s to say they are true?”

“I have spoken with women who have…well, you know, have been seduced by him.” My sister-in-law, despite being a married woman, had always been shy about speaking of matters of the flesh.

“Lord Sandford as far as I know has never seduced a woman who wasn’t a willing participant,” I said.

“But, Nicole, there is your reputation…should you be caught seen in his bedroom.”

I have never told my family, but I lost my innocence three years ago and have taken two more lovers since. We are a poor family, and the chances of me marrying a lord or a duke are nonexistent. In fact, the odds of someone making an offer for me are fair at best, so I felt I couldn’t wait to experience sex. I had nothing to lose by being bedded by the first man who showed an interest in me. “It is settled. I shall go to Lord Sandford’s house, break in, and retrieve the pearl necklace.”

“I cannot let you do this,” said my brother, slamming his fist down on the table. “It’s all my fault. I was foolish enough to lose it in that game.”

“And stupid to take the real pearls instead of the replica,” added my father.

An argument was brewing, and that would not help our situation.

“Enough,” I said, slamming my own fist down. “Lady Hornsby will not be calling for her necklace for another two days, so that gives me time to go to Lord Sandford’s house to retrieve it.”

My father and brother both opened their mouths to speak at the same time.

“I will be careful. I will not get caught, and even if I do, I am sure Lord Sandford, with his reputation for members of the opposite sex, can be charmed and sweet talked into looking the other way.”

My father put his hand on top of mine. “You will promise me you will not be foolish enough to allow him to bed you.”

“Of course not, Papa.”


BUY IT HERE





Thursday, March 17, 2011

Waking Maggie - new from CINDY JACKS

Wake up Maggie, I think I got something to say to you... Rod Stewart's immortal song takes on whole new charm with this wonderful new story by hot and sassy author Cindy Jacks! Just released, Waking Maggie is a tale reminiscent of Stewart's classic anthem... The beautiful, mature Maggie and the hot young musician who steals into her heart, and stays... I read this book last night, and I have to say I resented the few intrusions that made me put it down because I was immediately swept into the passion and the sweetness of Cal and Maggie's passionate love for each other. Another easy winner for Cindy Jacks fans, and for anyone looking to read a short, sexy story that will leave you smiling, make you laugh a little, and make you wish you were Maggie, at least a little, then this is a "don't miss" story.

WAKING MAGGIE
By: Cindy Jacks
BUY IT HERE

Blurb:

Maggie’s just decided she’s been stood up when she bumps into hard-bodied guitarist Calvin—literally. Once the shock of their abrupt meeting wears off, Calvin asks Maggie out for a drink and she figures, why not? She’s all dressed up for a date…just not this one.

She enjoys his company, even if he’s only twenty-seven and she’s forty…something. And while witty conversation’s all good, they’re just as compatible in bed. One drink turns into multiple romps between the sheets. He’s old enough to know how to make love to a woman and young enough to look damn fine doing it…and doing it. He even manages to convince Maggie she’s still pretty hot herself.

Now if he would just stop serenading her with that infernal Rod Stewart song.


Read an excerpt here




Monday, March 14, 2011

Guest: ALLAN LEVERONE

Today, author Allan Leverone talks about his craft and his love of the thriller! Please welcome him to the Fantasy Pages.

Why I Love (and Write) Thillers

A few weeks ago, you featured a guest post from the beautiful and talented Becky Due, explaining why she loves (and writes) contemporary romance. When you were kind enough to offer me an opportunity to introduce myself and my work at Fantasy Pages, I thought it might be kind of cool to rip off her post do the same thing. So today, with apologies to Ms Due, I’m here to explain why I love (and write) novels in the thriller genre.

Lee Child. Barry Eisler. Clive Cussler. Michael Connelly. Ian Fleming. Scott Turow. Sophie Littlefield. Michael Crichton. John Grisham. What do these and dozens of other thriller authors have in common? They write pulse-pounding fiction, novels of suspense where the odds are stacked against the hero, where some horrible fate awaits a person or a group of people if this one person, often a regular guy or gal, isn’t able to decipher often seemingly indecipherable clues and prevent a disaster, often of global magnitude.

Usually the chosen person doesn’t want the responsibility, isn’t up to the challenge, would like nothing more than to pass it off on someone else.

And, oh yeah, most of the time the clock is ticking; time is running out. Saving the world isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.

I grew up an insatiable reader. I enjoyed mysteries, read plenty of them and still do, but even as a young boy I gravitated toward the ones where the hero faced an element of danger. It wasn’t enough, at least as far as I was concerned, for the Inspector to unmask the killer. He had to read the clues and stop the fiendish perpetrator before he killed again, maybe even before he killed our hero. Hercule Poirot and Miss Marple just didn’t do it for me.

It’s unsurprising, then, that when I got this crazy notion in my head that I was going to write novels, I would gravitate toward the genre I’ve loved reading my entire life. No literary fiction here. Nothing against those novelists that end up on Oprah’s couch because they write four hundred pages of thought-provoking fiction where nothing much happens, but it’s not for me.

I want to see my hero get beaten down psychologically—and, sure, I can admit it, maybe even physically—and see if he has what it takes to struggle back to his feet one more time, against the odds, and fight the good fight. I want to see her face down treachery and betrayal and soldier on despite being set up by her best friend for a murder she didn’t commit. I want to see him struggle against his own basest instincts and maybe, just maybe, do something right in spite of himself.

I want action and suspense, dammit, and I want it with all my genre-loving soul.

Allan Leverone is a three-time Derringer Award Finalist whose short fiction has been featured in Needle: A Magazine of Noir, Shroud Magazine, Twisted Dreams, Mysterical-E and many other venues, both print and online. His debut thriller, titled FINAL VECTOR, is available February 2011 from Medallion Press. For details, please visit www.allanleverone.com or his blog at www.allanleverone.blogspot.com. Don’t forget to join him at Pump Up Your Book’s March 2011 Authors on Tour Facebook Party on March 25. Visit his virtual book tour page at http://www.pumpupyourbook.com/2011/01/16/final-vector-virtual-bookk-tour-february-march-2011/ for more information!





Friday, March 11, 2011

NEW RELEASE: Last day of the contest week!

So, the winner of the Wednesday/Thursday double prize was ilona. Books have been sent.

Now, for today - my newly released contemporary erotic/sensual romance REBEL HEART. Again, I'll be selecting a winner from the comments to give away a copy of this book! Here's a peek at what it's about, and all you have to do to win is tell me the name of one of the free reads on my website! Thanks!!

REBEL HEART
Publisher: XoXo Publishing
BUY IT HERE

Blurb:

Nick Red Cloud is a man content and at ease with his life. He does a job he loves, and enjoys the freedom of his motorcycles and all life has to offer. He's a private investigator, and a damn good one. When he's hired to find Francesca Daniels, he has no way of knowing that his life is about to change when the vulnerable and reclusive Frankie permits him to spend the night in her home, and his presence unleashes a nightmare in her world. As the pieces began to fall into place, Nick realizes he has placed the woman he's falling in love with in danger that might take her from him forever. It takes all his powers of persuasion and courage to tame Francesca's rebel heart and make her know that the passion they share can be the start of forever for both of them.

Excerpt:

She was double-checking the Jetta when she heard the distant rumble of an engine. Panic leapt into her throat, the reaction involuntary. Squinting, she turned toward the noise and tried to stay calm. In less than a minute the rumble of sound became more distinct, and by the time a gleaming Indian motorcycle had made the turn and come into view, she was ready to bolt for cover.

There was nothing on the road, only her house, and her father’s a little farther down, so it made sense the rider was either lost or looking for her. Neither possibility pleased her overmuch. It didn’t occur to her that he might be looking for her dad; Tom Daniels wasn’t known for his social activity. Her heartbeat began to thump in her ears, deafening her for several seconds as she watched the polished and chromed bike pull off the road and come to a halt a few yards from her car. The rider balanced the bike on the kickstand and rose, the motion seamless and well-practiced. As he walked toward her, Frankie was struck by the sheer size and presence of the man. He was easily six foot three, and had long legs encased in form-fitting black denim that accentuated both the muscular shape and the length of them. He wore a black leather jacket over broad shoulders, and was removing his gloves to reveal strong, elegant hands. He stuffed the gloves in his pockets and reached up to take off his helmet.

Frankie’s breath left her lungs in a sudden, powerful expulsion, and she forgot to draw in fresh air for several moments of time. In those suspended instants, she was lost in awareness of the man who walked ever closer to her. Within the emerging twilight, he didn’t seem quite real, yet he was more real than any man she’d ever seen in her twenty-nine years of living. Ebony eyes sparkled with natural warmth, and the perfect planes of his face were framed by long, blue-black hair. His skin tone told of Native American heritage, and the smile that flashed over his striking features revealed even white teeth.

“Can I help?”

His voice was smooth, tone rich and silky, modulation exquisite. She shivered, and remembered to breathe when tiny sparks danced before her eyes, haloing him as though he were some sort of dark angel.

“I’ve got a flat, and my spare is back at the house,” she replied when his head tilted to one side, his expression quizzical.

“Why don’t I give you a lift then?”

Every nerve in her body screamed yes, and it scared the hell out of her. The part of her brain that wasn’t attuned to every sinuous line of his body was still capable of reason, even if it was to a limited degree. She chewed her bottom lip for a few moments and considered her options, pretending for a second or two that she had any real options.

“I’m Nick Red Cloud,” he said, raking a hand through his dripping hair, and shaking the water away before reaching toward her.

She took his hand and tried not to choke on the leap of response that the simple touch elicited from the inner core of her heart. She’d never met anyone who rattled her deeply, and this man was already making her customary reserve a thing of laughable scorn. His grip was warm and strong, and he held her icy fingers for a breath too long before he withdrew.

“You are?” he prompted with a smile.

“Francesca Daniels.” She shook off the feeling of enrapture when a gust of icy wind shook her to her bones. “Most people just call me Fr…Frankie,” she added. “My house is about five miles down the road.”



Thursday, March 10, 2011

TWO new books being given away today!

Tuesday's winner is DIANE NELSON! Books have been sent!

Today, since I missed a day with the contest week - I'm going to post TWO titles. When you comment, you will be entered for the contest draw for BOTH today's titles, and I will select two winners. If you don't want one of the two books, please let me know, so I don't send you something that you don't want to read, ok? As always, thanks for your support and for dropping by!!

The ARe Romance tags for this book are: double penetration, erotica, explicit sex, marooned, ménage a trois, sex, shipwrecked, threesome

STRANDED!
Erotic ménage/voyeurism
Publisher: New Dawning International Bookfair

Blurb:

What begins as an idyllic cruise for four friends quickly becomes a nightmare… the pleasant afternoon has had its tense moments as personalities clash. Iris is the newest member of the quartet, married to Dale Montgomery for a short time, she is reserved and elegant–a direct contrast to the earthy sexuality and eroticism of Giselle Jordan–the woman who has been Dale's closest friend for many years. When their boat is caught in the crush of a tidal wave near sunset, the four are swept into the ocean. Hours after the capsize, Giselle awakens on a stretch of beach, a short distance away is Iris, bleeding and terrified. When Iris dies, Giselle is left stranded on an island with the two men she loves. How long will it be before passion take them into the dangerous realm that is the uncharted territory of the heart?

Excerpt:

Giselle floundered, no longer even remotely doubtful that she was dying. The sound of the waves pounded in her ears and she was aching and broken in every molecule of her being. As she lay face down in darkness and misery, her senses slowly started to wake and she realized she wasn’t dead after all. The sand under her cheek was cold and wet, and the water she heard was the rumbling thunder of surf heard at ground level.

She concentrated, then dared to turn her head. It was almost dark, and a long stretch of beach stretched before her. Something bumped insistently at her side and she reached out, pulling back with a yelp when she encountered a warm body. Forcing herself into motion, she sat up and looked at who was next to her, praying it would be Blake, then trying not to be angry when it wasn’t her husband, but Iris Montgomery.

She reached out a shaking hand and touched Iris’s shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge.

“Iris!”

There was no motion or sound from the other woman and Giselle tasted fresh panic in her throat while she shook Iris. Pushing into a sitting position, she strained to see the prone figure next to her. As her eyes adjusted and the moon began to glow, casting chill silver rays over them, she spotted the bleeding gash along Iris’s side. The water was inching inward, too, covering them a little more with each lapping wave.

Biting back a scream, Giselle rose to her feet, bent, and started dragging Iris up onto the dry sand of the beach. Once there, she plopped to the fine, warm sand and leaned forward, head on her drawn up knees. As she tried to calm her terror and push it into the back of her mind, she prayed that Blake and Dale were still alive and close by.

A low, agonized moan made her shudder against a raw cold that was purely internal in origin, and she bent to touch Iris’s shoulder as the other woman fought to focus on her.

“What… what happened?”

There was a world of pain in the shaken words, and Giselle knew she was seeing the first signs of trauma and shock—what she could do about it wasn’t worth considering.

“We were hit by a wave,” she said, stroking Iris’s hair. “I don’t know where we are, Iris.”

This is an EROTIC/VAMPIRE historical..... it's set in Ancient Pompeii, mostly, and moves into modern time..... it contains a great deal of sexual content, and historical accuracy about the decadence of the Romans of that era. It was fascinating to write, and as you can see, the cover is a stunner..... I hope your curiosity will be piqued, and you'll consider adding this one to your collection - the reviews are amazing... and I think you'll find it a satisfying read!!!

WHOM GODS HAVE FAVORED
by Denyse Bridger
Available now from XoXo Publishing:
http://xoxopublishing.com/shop-online/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=17&products_id=119

Blurb:

Pompeii lies complacent and decadent in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, the populace thriving on their depravity and their hunger for blood and Games. Within the elite aristocracy, games of another type are being played, deadly secrets are a threat to more than status, and conspiracy is a way of life for those who are unhappy.

Lucius has long been exalted as a warrior without peer. Adored and covetted by men and women alike, he is blind to the plots that are thickening around him. While total control is his on the bloody fields of war, on the battlefield of the heart, as he is about to discover, even the strongest man can be deceived by his ignorance.

Watching over it all is the majesty of Vesuvius, sputtering smoke, promising retribution. In the midst of the looming destruction, an ancient evil emerges, and will claim not only a celebrated general of Rome, but the slave girl he has slowly grown to love and cherish. A girl who will follow him into hell itself?

Excerpt:

Pompeii—Under the rule of the Emperor Vespasian

“The Emperor is most pleased with your progress, General,” Proconsul Flavius noted as he strolled the market streets with Pompeii’s illustrious hero. They proceeded without impediment as the people of the busy city cleared a path for them.

The general, Lucius, smiled, pleased by the undercurrent of fear that marked his passage. He enjoyed the power his position gave him, and the recognition of it came in various forms. Even the proconsul wasn’t entirely at ease with him.

“And well he should be, Proconsul. Resistance is crumbling. Another victory and Gaul will truly be defeated.”

They had reached the slave market, and Lucius stopped as a scream rose above the usual noises of the area. He felt an unwelcome empathy for the terror he heard in the voice, and was annoyed by the surprising emotion.

The slave-dealer’s bellow rang out and drowned the girl’s frightened shrieks. Unconsciously, Lucius turned to look at the raised platform that displayed the slaves being auctioned off to the highest bidders. The dealer slapped the girl across the face and silenced her before he turned his attention to the gathered buyers.

“…I’m told her name is Xina,” the dealer called out. “Not part of my shipment, good gentlemen, but a last minute addition. Seems she knifed a soldier last night when he refused to pay a fair price for her.” He laughed lewdly and hauled the girl forward so the crowd could look more closely at her.

Despite her obvious desire to remain immune to what was happening to her, her cheeks flamed scarlet when the slaver tore open her gown and left her nakedness displayed for the eager bidders. Almost immediately voices rose and purses were offered. Lucius watched as she closed her eyes and tears spilled from the corners.

“She is a beauty,” the proconsul observed with a laugh. “And a dangerous one, at that.”

Lucius laughed with the shorter man, but his gaze was drawn back to the girl. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, if she was that old. The trader knotted his fingers in long waves of light brown hair and pulled the concealing mass away from her body so the view was unobstructed. Her eyes stayed closed, but her chin lifted and she stood with proud defiance as the raucous bids and laughs continued.

A slow, indolent sweep of her body stirred more than curiosity within the general. His gaze caressed golden flesh, noted the smooth swell of full, brown tipped breasts, the small waist that flared into sensuously rounded hips. Firm, curved thighs were topped by an enticing triangle of sand-colored curls, and the ties of the sandals she wore twined around well-shaped calves like serpents lazing in the sun. Slender arms were tensed, muscles quivering with the effort to mask her fury, and her small hands tangled in the folds of her shredded gown where it hung limply from her shoulders.

“Who is she?” Lucius asked, surprised by his own interest when the proconsul stared up at him, clearly startled by the query.

“You don’t want that one, Lucius,” he advised. “Nydia would destroy her overnight.”

The general smiled again, but let his expression grow icy. The glitter of carefully controlled, lethal rage created a distinct shudder of terror within the Proconsul of Pompeii.

“You haven’t answered my question, Proconsul,” he whispered, his tone cool.

“Xina is the daughter of one of Boudica’s whores,” the other man supplied after a moment’s thought. “She’s been in the brothel since the day of her birth.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow and waited for the official to finish his narrative.

“Her brother, Plautus, is the current champion of Pompeii. Her mother died recently, while Plautus was away from the city, and Boudica decided it was time for the girl to earn her keep until her brother’s return.”

“That woman should be fed to the crowd during games,” Lucius muttered grimly. It was quite clear that Xina was not a common whore, despite her background. Not that it mattered, he mused. Before he was through with her she’d be well versed in a great number of arts necessary to a whore’s survival.

Without warning, Lucius strode into the crowd and headed toward the auction block. He yanked a purse from his belt, threw it toward the dealer, and continued onto the platform. The crowd rumbled with subdued irritation, but none dared defy Pompeii’s most renowned general as he took the girl by the arm and led her from the marketplace.






Tuesday, March 08, 2011

Contest continues....

Harlie Reader was the winner of Day ONE - and a copy of HIDE AND SECRET has been sent. So, let's have a look at release number two!

BEYOND THE GATEWAYS
A collection of epic adventure and paranormal short stories
Publisher/BUY: XoXo Publishing

A series of stories in various fantasy genres. There are vampires, sorcerers, and those touched by time and destinies they cannot escape... Venture beyond the gateways, and discover what magic awaits...

Includes:

Star of Rhulenia
: A young Prince is entrusted with the quest to find the magical star that will say his world from being encased in the Ice Flow that threatens everything on their planet.

Transition – Darkhold One: Sorcery and betrayals lead to a curse that will resound through ages, and change history.

A Deadly Mentor: Historical Victorian London is the setting for this vampire tale in which a trio of the undead, companions for centuries, encounter an innocent who becomes the trusting student of the deadliest of their company. When he imagines she has betrayed him, the mentor chooses a new lesson to teach.

The Future Is Yesterday: When the Gateways of time are breached, a warrior is sent to close them, and destroy the woman who has threatened everything. The answer, centuries old, arrives from the future as the cycle of time corrects itself in an unexpected way.

The Hunter Trilogy: Lethal, malevolent, and hungry - the Hunter finds prey with each new host...

A Flash Of Blue: Two rival princes are imprisoned by a sorceress, if they expect to survive old rivalries must be left behind, and trust re-forged between the once friends.

Embraced: A single man stands in defiance of a prophecy, and as his courage fades, a visitor arrives seeking truth and understanding... as he speaks, a new age begins.

Darkhold – Part Two: All but forgotten, the ancient gods are called upon millennia after the witch T'lyn has been imprisoned in the Grey-Borders - only one remains behind to honour the promise to protect, and she has made mistakes before....

Night-Song: An introduction to the world of Destino, and the upcoming fantasy novel "An Alteration in Destiny" - a small village in the Sicily protected for centuries by a Roman Goddess - meet the Guardians, a breed of gargoyles who have been abandoned by the gods, but not the people of Destino.

Inshallah: A dessert, a curse, and a warrior driven by madness to seek the evil that beckons to him... and ultimately waits to destroy him.

Love & War: Ares is the god of War, but not all view him with hatred. In the purest hearts, love can grow for anyone...

Darkest Angel, Fairest Knight: Historical vampire vignette.... a nobleman's daughter catches the eye of a young vampire knight, and becomes his obsession.

Escape Beyond the Gateways and enter a world where nothing is what it seems.....

BUY:
http://xoxopublishing.com/shop-online/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=99&products_id=118

So, to win this book, just drop by my website and tell me the name of two other non-erotic titles on my catalogue, and you're in!! If you email the receipt of a book of mine that you've bought, I'll include an advance copy of my upcoming release, too! Winner will be announced tomorrow evening, and Day Three will be announced!





GUEST: Megan van Eyck

Today my guest is author Megan van Eyck, who has written a wonderful book called Memoirs of a Widowed Mistress. The book sounds very interesting, and I'm sure you'll agree. Welcome Megan!

Affairs, at their best, are all about romance, anticipation, and desire. Women wait and men swoon. In the early days when you are little more than strangers there is no talk of children, chores, bills, or responsibility. No one wears comfy pajamas or finds respite in the freedom to unwind and snuggle in front of the television sharing a pint of ice cream. In an affair, both participants want to be sexual superheroes. The relationship is contingent on the orgasm. You are each other’s darkest secret; a covenant is made from the lies that you share.

But then, between the two of you, one of two things can happen: the sex becomes as disinteresting as the stranger you are having it with, or the time you spend together blossoms into something unexpectedly deeper and you fall love.

Carlos and I fell in love.

For five years I was mistress to a married man. To complicate things further, I was unhappily married at the time.

I am not here to justify, or make excuses for, my extramarital affair. I am not going to say what was right or what was wrong—only what was. And while my relationship with Carlos was occasionally turbulent, difficult, heartbreaking, and sometimes lonely, it was always romantic. We went on trips, he bought me presents, our sex life was mind-blowingly pleasurable, and we longed for each other like star-crossed lovers. The tragedy of our love only fueled the sense of romance; it never hindered it.

Then he got sick. Amyloidosis, a rare blood disorder, distorted the thing I loved most about him: his heart. Within months of diagnosis, he was dead.

Now, nine years after the affair began, three years after his death, I still miss him. I will always wish that he had lived. Our love will remain tragic. Romantic.

And I will always remember him…

Carlos mentored my emotional maturation. He was the man who taught me to accept love, to feel worthy of love; he was the man who made me believe that love could be simultaneously romantic and challenging. He taught me love doesn’t have to be perfect.

Now my husband and I are trying to rebuild our marriage (yes, he knows). Because of Carlos’s tender tutelage, I now believe my husband can love me; that romance is a subjective thing. Romance is more about faith than roses and canned lines. It is finding the love in the everyday event. It is a flower in the morning, a brushing back of the hair from across the face, your husband doing dishes even though it isn’t his turn simply because he wants to make you happy. Love is in the details. Romance is trusting that those details mean the same thing to your love interest as they do to you.

Now that the dust has settled, I guess the polite thing to say would be that I regret my affair. But with every adverse circumstance, every meaningful event in my life, I look for the lesson and dismiss remorse. If I could go back and undo my terrible childhood, I wouldn’t. If I could go back and change the worst mistakes that hurt no one but me, I would leave those moments intact. So, if I could go back and undo my love affair, I would not. It was part of my journey as an individual and mine and my husband’s journey as a couple. The ironic twist is that if the affair hadn’t happened, I don’t think my husband and I ever would have had a shot at love. We simply wouldn’t have made it this far.

I have also come to find out that like Carlos, my husband isn’t opposed to being a sexual superhero who wants more from his relationship than downtime in front of the television with a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream.


Megan van Eyck lives near Seattle, Washington with her husband and children.

Memoirs of a Widowed Mistress is her first memoir.

You can visit Megan’s website at http://www.widowedmistress.com/