|
An Heir Made in Hawaii
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: She missed home, missed the crispness of fall sliding into winter as snow danced down from the Alps and dusted the town and the adjoining lake. Lake Bled was becoming better known as a travel destination, although it had held on to its small-town European charm. But Hawaii had rekindled a wanderlust she hadn’t felt in years. She hadn’t even known she’d needed to get away from Slovenia until she had stepped out of Kauai’s airport into tropical heat that had slid across her skin like a lover’s caress. Palm trees had provided shade, mountains covered in velvety green instead of snow had stood proudly against a turquoise sky and, perhaps her favorite part of all, were the chickens that had run about with carefree glee. Determined to relax before she walked back up for the conference’s opening session, she lay back on her towel. Slowly, she focused on relaxing her body, tension seeping out of her muscles as the sun gently wiped away her worries and lulled her into a dreamlike state. Schedules and overdue bills and marketing plans slipped away. For once her mind was completely, blissfully clear of everything except where she was. The word drifted through her mind again—heaven—and she let out a sigh of contentment. “Be a shame to burn that beautiful skin.” She froze as the deep, gravelly voice rolled over her, each of the words pronounced with emphasis and tinted with his rasping accent. The rigidity returned, invading her body and tensing her limbs into tightly coiled springs as her pulse kicked up a notch. Because he’s annoying as hell, she reassured herself. A shadow fell over her, blocking the sun. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and blinked. “I was wrong.” Nicholas loomed over her, white smile flashing against tan skin that said he had recently been traveling, or more likely partying, abroad. “About what?” “I’m not in heaven. I’m in hell.”
GIVEAWAY! --
The Sweetest Obsession
-- EXCERPT: All of me freezes as I meet his eyes, stare at him, stare into Grant, into that quiet solemness and raging gruffness that hides a heart so true. He never stopped. He really never stopped looking for my brother all this time. He still thinks there’s a chance he’s alive, even if deep down, that seems completely ludicrous. The hope was starved out of me without anyone finding a single clue. “You… you asshole,” I strangle out. My mouth moves automatically. I don’t know what I’m saying, why I’m saying it, or why my eyes are welling up and I just can’t take anymore. “You overly loyal giant donkey. You… you…” There’s a moment. A crack in reality when those hard eyes soften. All those years I spent when we were young, wishing he’d show some emotion. Something plain and simple and honest. Something easy, without having to turn myself into a human Grant decoder to understand his growls and loud silences. Now, he finally gives me what I’m aching for with real concern flashing across his face, the way he leans into me, staring down like he’s afraid he’s broken me somehow. “Ophelia, fuck,” he says softly. “I won’t see you hurt.” No, but he will see me speechless tonight. If I ever speak again, I’ll tell him how wonderfully dumb he’s being. But right now, he’s just a giant blur past the tears. Scalding, stupid, overwhelmed tears I don’t want to cry, but I just can’t take another bee sting to the heart. I can’t take more confusion, more things to fear. Holy hell, I don’t want to think about it anymore. Because if I’m thinking, that means I won’t do what I’m doing right now. I won’t be laying my fingers on Grant’s face, my fingers weaving through the thick, grey-shot bristle of his bearish brown beard. Pulling him closer, even as his eyes widen. I definitely won’t be kissing him. Kissing. Him. I don’t know what comes over me. It’s too instant, too impulsive, too reckless. Too impossible to be denied. And now that I’ve started I can’t stop, and I can taste years of pent-up emotion in the salt between our lips as I crush my mouth to his and beg. Don’t hurt me right now, Grant. I can’t stand another ounce of pain and disappointment. Just give. Give me the fire in that growl, the nip of your teeth, the sweet, sweet rush that makes me tingle. I’m actually shaking for my longest obsession. No surprise, the man is a human earthquake when his lips attack mine. Or maybe it’s just the vibration, the shock and awe steaming out of him, tangled up in this sudden hunger I can feel. Grant goes still for just a second. The shock radiates through both of us in hot waves so intense they leave me dizzy. I brace, wait for it, fully expecting the imminent stab of hurt where he sternly pushes me away and reminds me I’ll always be the kid sister. Nothing but Butterfly. Not anyone he could ever see as romantic or sexy or remotely desirable. …only he doesn’t. Instead, he wraps his huge arm tight around my waist, possessively jerking me forward, almost off the chair. My stomach leaps and twists. Instead of tearing his mouth off mine, he goes all in.
GIVEAWAY! --
Whiskers on Kittens
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: When I became bored, trouble happened. The current flavor of trouble stood a little over five feet with light brown hair and dark eyes, putting him a solid inch taller than me. He wore his uniform well and glared at me as though he’d enjoy escorting me to the next life if given a reason. The glare I understood. Cats and dogs did not get along, and my nose informed me I dealt with a single male wolf of the lycanthrope variety. I doubted he’d ever met a clouded leopard lycanthrope in his life, resulting in the divine essence of female feline tormenting him. That I happened to reek of divine single female feline might do him in. What I didn’t understand was why Judge McMurphy, one of the nicer men I’d dealt with in the Chicago court system, had dragged some poor cop out for my sentencing. I especially didn’t understand why the judge had requested I come along with the poor cop for a private discussion in his office along with the attorneys. Community service was community service, and that I’d only been slapped with six months of community service astonished me. In the judge’s shoes, I would have gone for two years. The judge made himself comfortable behind his desk, invited us all to take a seat, and promised we wouldn’t have to wait long before he could get on with why we needed to have a private chat after everything had been said and done. I pitied my attorney, who would need therapy after dealing with me. It wasn’t that I had gone out of my way to give the man a hard time. I just accepted responsibility for my actions, confessed I’d broken into the home of a wealthy businessman to steal a toy mouse on a double-dog dare, and refused to rat out my succubus friend for being the one to dare me to do it. When I’d broken into the home, I hadn’t known the mouse was the size of a small dog and wore a diamond-studded collar. The attorney especially hadn’t appreciated when I’d made use of my legal rights to summon an angel to confirm I hadn’t known about the collar, had done the heist as a prank, and would not be snitching on my friend in this life nor the next, not even if the Devil came calling to drag me into some dungeon to put me through hell. I’d amused the angel, who had assured me I wouldn’t be doing any time in the dungeons unless I wanted to. The innuendo had caught me so off guard I’d burst into laughter at the sheer thought of leaving the pool of divine single female felines. The wise men ran the instant they realized I was on the prowl, the smart ones ran soon after, and the dumb ones pissed me off and often received a face full of claws if they didn’t get the hint I didn’t want a dumb man in my life. Wise and smart men were few and far between. 
GIVEAWAY! --
Geordie
-- EXCERPT: The old manor house, or the residence, as Geordie calls it, is out of a period piece from PBS. Portraits of ancestors trimmed in gold, heavy, ornate furniture in plush velvet, a fireplace the size of a wall. I expect to see Robert Burns and his friends walk in at any minute. I try not to gawk like a tourist at the place or the countless celebrities Geordie introduces me to. After leading me away from the last group, we walk into a dark passage to another section of the house. The hum of the guests is not as noticeable here. He stops, turning to me, my back against the wall, and I’m looking up at him. “I could see you were overwhelmed by the company, so I thought I’d steal you away for a bit.” He slips an arm above my head, leaning in close. His lips and the scent of whiskey make my bra feel tight. “I’ve missed you these few days.” He takes my lips, pressing against me, his hand sliding up and down my waist. “You had Connie to keep you company,” I tease. He pulls back a little, smiling. “She’s not you. I don’t fuck her. That, I do with you.” “Is that what you’re going to do to me now? Take me like one of your male ancestors took a maid in this hall?” I’m so up for it, I can already see it in my mind. God, I’ve missed him enough to make up this silly fantasy. I need him to be the laird of the manor right now. He pulls up the hem of the pale blue chiffon dress I wore to the christening and bunches my panties in his hand. His lips drop to my ear. “I should take you right here for making me wait.”
GIVEAWAY! --
Shadow’s Raven
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo Get both book 1 & 2 for only 99c each for a limited time only! -- EXCERPT: “So, Raven, what in the hell did you do to piss off the Fae Queen?” Wow. Lyric was more blunt than my father, and that was saying a lot. Steeling myself, I inhaled, ready to give them my story. Most of it, at least. “I—” The doors crashed open, cracking loudly against the stone walls. In a nanosecond I was on my feet, my chair overturned behind me. The intruder stalked across the threshold. His wild eyes searched, constricting when they found mine. Casimir halted, a herculean tower of lean masculinity demanding my attention. And, oh, did he have it! Outwardly I was as cold and smooth as granite. Inside I was a live volcano, reacting to the force of his remarkable bearing. Surely he was descended directly from the gods of lust. The fabric of his black shirt hugged him tight. I could see almost every dip and valley of his chiseled frame—a frame that was expanding and contracting like a runner who’d just finished a race. I’d known he was attractive when I’d seen him lying on the floor earlier, even with the blood. Seeing him animated, feeling his dominant presence and palpable virility, set me afire. The low growl in his chest was one of possession. He tugged on the bond and the spell sputtered. It held but felt somewhat unstable. Adrenaline flooded my system and heat grew between my legs. If he kept up that sound, he might be able to convince me to rut like an animal with him right here on the stone floor. Even muted, the cord connecting us was an overwhelming lure. Or was it simply him? 
GIVEAWAY! --
Seduction in Blood
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Devon. His shirt was open halfway, revealing a smooth, powerful chest, and I remembered the feel of his pecs, his ridged stomach. Thick, wavy hair hung to his shoulders, giving the impression he’d just woken or had been caught in a summer breeze on his way here. His eyes didn’t glow the pure silver of his nature but the silver-blue of his heightened passion, and they caught me in their snare. I ran a tongue over my lips, pleased to see his fierce smile widen to reveal the tips of fangs. His hands balled into fists. He was never as patient as he claimed to be. Not when he knew what he wanted. I waited. Let him come to me. I was surprised by his careful control as his steady march clearly shouted his intentions. The goosebumps raced across my flesh, and I felt myself grow wet. He knew how to tease. But still, I remained seated. When he stood in front of me, I lifted my head and lost myself in his gaze. How many times had we played this game? And I never tired of them. Almost wept with the sweet promise of pleasure, the easing of the ache between my legs, and the strength of his arms as he held on tight. Devon held out a hand, and I took it. He brought it to his lips, his fangs brushing against the warm skin. Then, he pulled me up, wrapping an arm around my waist as he slid his fingers down my neck, making me shiver. He bent down, burying his nose in my hair while his lips nibbled my ear. “Cressa.” The way he said my name never failed to heat my blood, full of desire and hunger with that touch of impatience. I smiled and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunch as he lifted me so I could wrap my legs around his waist with my dressing gown hiked to my hips. His body molded to mine, wrapping me in his spicy scent and making my skin glow with equal need. I ran a hand over his hair, grasping a handful to pull his head back so I could see the need in his gaze as I kissed him. His lips were molten hot, and he found no impediment as his tongue pushed through to meet mine, branding me. I pulled him closer, wishing we were skin-on-skin and wondering why not. I tugged at his shirt as his lips moved to my neck. The scrape of his fangs re-energized the goosebumps, and I shivered. He pulled back, and his eyes bored into mine, hot and greedy. “Are you sure, Cressa?” My eyes popped open, and I jumped out of bed, tripping over the sheets and falling to the floor. What the hell just happened? Was that a dream? I sat on my ass and recalled the entire scene. It was so real. I touched my lips. They were damp, and I still smelled the roses and his spicy scent. I dragged myself up and stumbled to a chair, not ready to return to bed. The whole dream, and yes, it had to have been a dream, was the most realistic and erotic I’d ever experienced. And with a vampire? Where had that come from?
GIVEAWAY! --
Kiss of a Witch
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Then Toby ducked through the low door from the street and her breath stopped short in her throat. She was on her feet in a moment, shoving the sewing back into the basket at the hearth, straightening her skirts, checking her hair and adjusting the neckline of her bodice, small breasts pushed up and on display to their best advantage. She waited by the hearth, a coy smile on her lips and her head tilted in invitation. He saw her straight away and made his way towards her, and the little light of hope inside burned brighter. He had come, not for any girl, but for her. ‘Ale, Rosalind,’ Mary ordered to the other girl, who still sat staring at the unlit fire. Rosalind turned towards her, frowning in question. ‘Get us ale,’ Mary told her again, and eventually the girl got to her feet and headed out the back to where the barrels were kept. ‘Master Chyrche.’ She dropped her best curtsey, and he returned it with a bow. ‘Mistress Sparrow.’ They sat at a small round table beside the fireplace, and he looked around the empty room. ‘Where is everyone?’ She shrugged. ‘Elsewhere.’ ‘Then I’m glad,’ he replied. ‘Because it means I can have you all to myself.’ She laughed, taking pleasure in the pleasantry. ‘I am all yours, Master Chyrche.’ He took her left hand in his, and began to caress the extra finger, gaze intent on the movement of their hands. Then, looking up, his eyes fixed hers in question. ‘Are you truly cursed, Mary Sparrow?’ he asked. ‘Does the Devil suckle at night on this finger?’ She gave him an uncertain half-smile in answer. Why was he asking the same questions again? ‘I cannot rightly say,’ she murmured. ‘I hope not.’ Lifting her palm to his mouth, Toby kissed it, then briefly, discreetly, slid the extra finger between his lips, his tongue warm and moist as it curled around the tip. Her breath lifted in response, warmth in her gut. Then Rosalind returned with the jug of ale and Toby let her hand go. Mary poured for them both and she drank, unsure of him now. She had met men before who made a fetish of her fingers, but Toby’s sudden interest disconcerted her. She lowered her cup and looked at him. He was watching her closely, eyes grey and pale in the candlelight, and she was self-conscious under his scrutiny. ‘Perhaps I’m your Devil,’ he said. ‘Perhaps,’ she replied, but she had no understanding of his meaning. He must have seen the confusion in her eyes, though she tried her best to hide it, because then he gave her a smile that made her fall a little deeper.
GIVEAWAY! --
The Maw of Mayhem
-- EXCERPT: He stumbled to the door, eyeing Nikki through the crack as he unlatched the chain. Her eyes swept up his body, arousal tinging the air. Woman was in permanent heat, though given her age, that wasn’t surprising. Around thirty shifter women got desperate to breed, but Jesus, he didn’t want that stank in his room. He blocked her entry. “I’m sorry, okay?” She glanced away as a door opened and shut farther down the hall. “Do we have to do this out here?” “Yeah.” She huffed her bangs from her eyes. Her brow furrowed, walking her fingers up his abs to the ink below his right pec and tracing the line of script. “When’d you get this one?” —growling-- “Don’t fucking touch me. If you’ve got something to say, say it.” Her hand fell. “Look, you’re right. I was out of line down there. Disrespected you. Made you lose face in front of the club. I was just… it’s different for the women here. Harder.” —bullshit-- “Might be easier if you minded your place and stop pissing the ol’ ladies off.” The rage that flashed over her face proved his cat right. This was damage control, her trying to manipulate his emotions and suck him back into her lies. He snorted, and she blinked at him, crocodile innocent again. “We had a deal, Nikki. But all the shit you’ve been pulling is making that null and void. I’m not the only one with a past. I gave you my word, but keep it up, and I’ll have nothing to lose handing your ass over to Hellspawn.” Her eyes narrowed at the mention of the MC down south she’d run riot through before landing here. “You wouldn’t.” “Keep pushing and find out.” 
GIVEAWAY! -- #Book Blitz #The Black Unicorn by Heather E.F.Carter #Historical Romance @Xpresso Book Tours16/12/2023
The Black Unicorn
-- EXCERPT: Having reached the opposite wall, the dancers executed a quarter turn to face each other and proceeded through a short advance and then a lengthier, intricately choreographed retreat. Then they moved through another quarter turn to face the Presence, and my breath caught in my throat as I caught my first glimpse of his face. Damnation. He was not English, at least not entirely. His dark coloring did not harken back to the raiders from Normandy, but rather to blood whispering of heat-scorched mornings, afternoon siestas, and the lazy currents of warm bluish-green waters. His eyes, though I knew from long experience to be blue, appeared now as dark as his hair, and were fringed with sooty lashes so impossibly thick and long they cast permanent shadows beneath them, lending him a thoroughly debauched air. In fact, his beauty was staggering; the sort a Michelangelo or a Raphael might have found in some Mediterranean brothel; an incubus to be immortalized by lending a face to divinity. He advanced towards us, the light shimmering around him like the gentle waves of the flautist’s vibrato as he moved through the intricate series of steps. “Who is he?” Charlotte queried from my other side. “I do not think I have ever seen him before.” “That is Ashby Harcourt,” I said. “Earl of Ashenhurst up in Northumberland and whoring companion to my late husband.”
GIVEAWAY! --
Vacancy
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: Completely out of my depth with this guy, I picked up one of the pillows from his bed and hugged it to my chest, trying to muffle the impact he was having on me. But his smell rippled up from the fabric, and my body went into a state of hypersensitivity. “So…” I said, drawing in a deep breath and trying to sound casual, even though every part of me was trembling with arousal. Damien left the doorway to take a single, cautious step in my direction. “Did I pass inspection?” I shrugged, still trying to play it cool. “For the time being.” Then, I took a step forward as well, holding my breath the entire time in anticipation. Shaking his head, he eased closer. “I still can’t believe you’re standing in my room right now.” “I don’t know.” His whiskey eyes searched mine as if reading all my secret desires. “I kind of thought I may never see you again.” I paused and tipped my head curiously. “But you’re my landlord.” Lifting one shoulder, he narrowed the gap until there was only about two feet separating us. “I’ve had lots of tenants that I only met once and never saw again. And I didn’t want you to be one of those. I picked up my phone half a dozen times to text, but I didn’t know if it was okay to do that after…” When he lifted his eyebrows in question, silently asking if it would’ve been okay, I merely sent him a mysterious smile. “What would you have said if you’d texted?” His lips twitched, finding amusement. “Probably only that I wanted to see you again.” Catching my breath, I squeezed the pillow against me tighter. “Say it now,” I commanded. Damien’s eyes turned predatory. Moving in until only the pillow separated us, he whispered, “I want to see you again.” “Okay,” I whispered back.
GIVEAWAY! -- |
Archives
December 2024
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed
