Friday, January 31, 2014

Guest Post Barbara Longley TRUE TO THE HIGHLANDER

Veronica Scott sez: Our guest author today is Barbara Longley, who I’ve known since our days at Carina Press. She’s sharing the gorgeous cover, blurb and excerpt from her latest novel TRUE TO THE HIGHLANDER. The story:

Native American violinist Alethia Goodsky had plans for her future, and they didn’t include time travel, hocus-pocus good luck charms, or heroic deeds. And she certainly never intended to lose her heart to a fifteenth century Scottish warrior or an orphaned boy unable to hear her music.

A life hangs in the balance, and only Alethia can tip the scale. This is all the supernatural being posing as a Renaissance festival fortuneteller reveals before transporting Alethia back in time to the Highlands of Scotland. Alethia must unravel the mystery before it’s too late if she’s to return home. She throws herself into the task only to have her efforts thwarted by her overbearing, self-appointed protector—Malcolm of clan MacKintosh.

It is 1423AD, the year before Scotland’s King James is ransomed from the British to take his rightful place upon the throne. The Highland clans are at each other’s throats, and all of Scotland suffers under the ruthless reign of their regent, the duke of Albany. Treachery and intrigue rule the day, and all Malcolm wants is peace. Finding a gently bred woman alone on MacKintosh land can only mean more trouble. When the exotic foreigner reveals her strange tale, Malcolm believes she was placed in his path to warn him of coming danger. He cannot allow the willful beauty to put herself in harm’s way for his sake. Malcolm is determined to keep Alethia safe and by his side—if only she’d let him.

Surrounded by enemies, with the mystery still unsolved, passion grows between Malcolm and Alethia until her heart is torn. Should she follow the dictates of reason and find a way home, leaving Malcolm and the young boy she’s adopted behind, or should she listen to her heart and remain true to the Highlander?

The excerpt:
Northern Scotland, 1423 AD
Malcolm leaned forward in his saddle and glared down at the well- dressed stranger asleep on the ground. On MacKintosh ground. With an important missive to deliver into his father’s hands, he had no time for problems not his own. “What devilry is this?”
            “She looks far more angel than devil,” his cousin Robley remarked. “Who could she be?”
            “She’s no’ Sassenach. ’Tis certain. Her complexion is far too dark. Mayhap she’s Italian or Basque.” Malcolm glanced at the tree line.
            “Aye, no’ English, for certes. Mayhap she’s fae. She’s lovely to look upon,” Angus murmured. “Enchanting.” He cleared his throat, and his face turned as red as his hair.
            “Nay. The fae are always fair skinned,” Galen argued. “’Tis why they’re called fairies.
            His men grunted as they contemplated the possibilities, and Malcolm kept a wary eye on the edge of the forest. The lass wore clothing and jewels proclaiming her nobility. Where were her servants and escort? Something was amiss, and it turned his foul mood to pitch. No doubt this sleeping apparition was some new mischief conspired by fate to beleaguer him further. Between the Comyn clan’s never-ending treachery, the greedy, ruthless rule of their regent, and his parents’ expectation that he make an advantageous marriage, ’twas a wonder he slept at night.
            Was peace too much to yearn for? He scowled at the sleeping woman—another complication he didn’t need or want. His gelding stretched its neck to nose the curiosity on the ground, and a delicate hand rose to bat the disturbance away. The lass sat up and looked around in sleepy-eyed confusion, leaping to her feet when she saw him and his men in a circle around her. “Who are you, lady? From whence do you come?” Malcolm demanded.
            At his words, she turned to stare owl-eyed up at him. “Holy. Crap.”
            The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Where are your guards- men and servants?”
            Her spine straightened, and her chin lifted. “They’re . . . in the woods.”
            Malcolm studied her. She had eyes the color of the sea on a stormy day. Hair the lustrous shade of fine sable hung in a braid down past her waist. He lost himself in fantasies of that glorious hair free and cascading down around her shoulders. She was a vision. Malcolm gave himself a firm shake. Her looks mattered not in the least. “Aye? What might they be doing in my woods?”
            Her eyes flew to the forest. “Um . . . tending to . . . things.”
            His men chuckled. She was a terrible liar, clearly alone and aban- doned by the side of the road. This could only mean one thing. Trouble, and more trouble he did not need. “What sort of things?”

“Very important things,” Alethia muttered. Definitely the alpha male in this barbarian six-pack, the brute confronting her radiated arrogance and authority. Sun-kissed golden hair fell to his shoulders, and a few days’ growth of thick russet beard stubbled his strong jaw. He wore nothing but a swath of wool in muted plaid draped around his body and soft leather boots that reached mid-calf.
            Where the hell was she, some kind of Braveheart parallel universe? What did that old witch do to me? Giselle’s words echoed inside her head. “Time is relative, Alethia, and completely malleable for one such as myself.” Oh my God. Did she send me back in time? Was such a thing even possible? Her head rang from the pounding of her heart, and her mouth went dry. None of this was possible, and any minute she’d wake up and find everything back to normal.
            The leader scowled down at her, his wide, generous mouth drawn into a straight line that screamed annoyed. Well, she wasn’t all that happy herself.
            Sparing a glance for the rest of his crew, she couldn’t help notic- ing the large swords slung over their backs and all the daggers tucked into belts and boots. She sucked in her breath and stood a little straighter. The Anishinaabe had always been a peace-loving people but also fearless when the need arose. Intending to be brave now, or at least appear to be, she clasped her trembling hands together in front of her. “Now, if you don’t mind, please move aside,” she said, clearing her throat, hoping that would get rid of the telltale quiver, “and I’ll be on my way.”
            One of the men nudged his horse forward. As dark as the leader was fair, this one gave off a bad vibe. As frightened as she was, she could still sense his malicious nature.
            “Let me take her off your hands, Malcolm. She’s a foreigner and without protection. That makes her fair game.”
            “No!” A surge of adrenaline hit her bloodstream, and she searched for a gap in the wall of horses and men. How far would her trembling legs carry her? “I’m responsible for myself and not game of any kind.”
            “She is on my land, Hugh,” the one called Malcolm replied. “That makes her my responsibility.”
            “My people are waiting for me to join them,” she bluffed, “and they’re heavily armed.”
            Malcolm snorted and scooped her up off the ground like a sack of grain. Placing her in front of him, he nudged his horse down the road. His chortling men fell in line behind him.
            “Put me down! I have no intention of going anywhere with you.” She tried to pry herself out of his hold.
            “And I have no intention of leaving you alone in the wilderness.” Malcolm’s arm tightened around her waist.
            She blinked back the tears of fear and frustration and struggled to get out of his hold. It was useless. He probably weighed more than twice what she did, and every inch of him was granite. She glanced back at her violin and duffel bag. The only links to her life lay by the side of the road, growing smaller by the second. “My things. At least let me get my—”
            “Nay, we travel in haste. I’ll no’ burden our mounts with any more useless baggage.”
            Damn the tear trickling down her cheek. “I didn’t ask you to take me anywhere. I didn’t ask for any of this.”Don’t panic. Think. Swiping her eyes, she took several deep breaths to calm herself. Her mind raced for a way out of this mess. Thank heavens her friends had insisted she take self-defense classes after one of their classmates had been mugged.
            She forced herself to relax into his hold. His grip eased. Reaching back, Alethia placed her hands on either side of his neck below his ears. Using the pads of her thumbs, she found his pulse points and applied pressure. Within seconds his body slackened. Shoving his arm from around her waist, she slid off the horse and hit the ground running. Her captor fell with a loud thump behind her.
            Alethia snatched up her belongings and ran for the forest bordering the rutted dirt road they traveled. Thundering hooves ate up the ground behind her. She dashed into some brush and glanced over her shoulder. Damn. The dark one was after her, the one who saw her as game. Frantic, she searched for a place to hide.
The Buy Link:
You can find out more about Barbara and her other books, as well as read the entire first chapter of TRUE TO THE HIGHLANDER on her webpage:

Thursday, January 30, 2014

Cross Overs, Paranormal+

I have a rebellious nature, so as soon as I find myself in a box, I want to bust out of it. Lucky  for everyone, I pretty much confine this regrettable characteristic to my writing!

I have a steampunk space western with a shifter heroine--she is a griffon shifter, a single mom with a small shifter daughter.

Where the idea came from, I don't know! I had a hero who was an asteroid miner, and in my surfing--I mean RESEARCH-- I learned griffons could find precious gold. So I thought--what if my heroine could find the valuable mineral Jack mines? What if unscrupulous wild west villains held her captive? What if, what if?

So Sophie the griffon shifter ended up in a space western. It seemed perfect to me, but I guess others might think it a little freewheeling. But we are dealing in speculative fiction, right? The books is Starlander's Myth.

So I have this other story, about a woman frozen in a space life boat-rescue pod, lost in space (only I can't title it that!). She gets rescued by a cat shifter captain of a luxury space ship, complete with a child crown prince who prefers to stay in his kitten form most of the time. The rescuer managed to escape a coupe but all of them are a long way from civilization of any sort. Except for those creepy grey hooded aliens...Oh, and my heroine has powers over crystals and rocks. So it is a shifter-space-crystal witch mash up. This is a WIP titled Found in Space. This might be a good self published project, lol. If I submit it I am not sure what I would call it. Scifi romance. Shifter-witch romance?

I am not even going to go into my paranormal-fantasy mash ups. Am not sure the romance world is ready for that!

Anyone else having fun mixing it up?

The Starlander Frontier: Starlander's Myth,
A steampunk, space-western romance.

Wednesday, January 29, 2014

I didn't Forget... I got Behind

Ever have that happen? You think, okay, I'm on the ball and will get this done...then life happens. I seem to be having a case of life happening a lot. Was talking with tot today and he was upset about feeling dumb. I asked him how he believed he was dumb. "Because I forget everything."

I knew exactly how he felt. I have post-it notes all over with plot things I want to remember. I've got lists for what I need at the store in various parts of my purse. The notebook I keep with me has more than just story ideas. It's got posting reminders and grocery lists and pretty much whatever else I might want to remember. Google calendar loves me because I've got multiple things in there telling me what not to forget.

And yet, I forget a lot of stuff. I think that's part of the life of an author. You have so much going on you forget some stuff. That's me. I made a resolution to be better prepared and to remember to do what I had to do. Involved in that was the actual DOING of the stuff planned. So far? I'm not exactly hitting high marks. I'll get better. I will. Grin.

Here's my latest paranormal offering, Cat Style, from the Stray Cats series at Changeling Press!

Cat Style (Stray Cats, bk 2) by Megan Slayer 

BIN:  06761-02176
Word Count: 10K
Page Count: 37
Genres: Erotic Romance, Novella, Paranormal
Themes: Shapehifters, Magic

He’s got cat style, but does he have what it takes to win her heart?
Penelope went to the witch’s house to look at the cats, not bring one home. The moment she spotted the tiny fur baby with huge green eyes, she lost her heart. But Hildegard’s cats aren’t all they seem. One skeptical owner plus one affectionate shifter equals love cat-style -- but will love prevail over the evil threatening to kill her furry best friend?

And a Hot Excerpt!

She knew that sound. “Fang! It’s Halloween. How in the name of God did you get out? I had you in the bedroom so you wouldn’t get loose.” She scooped the cat into her arms and flipped the switch to turn off the porch light. “You can be a real poop sometimes.” She nudged the door shut with her hip then engaged the lock. As per usual, the cat cuddled in her grasp and purred. She plunked him on the couch. “What am I going to do with you? Huh? I’ll get that bell I’ve threatened to put on you.”
Penelope sighed and closed her eyes. She rubbed her temple. As much as she loved the cat, he drove her crazy. “I should take you to the vet and have you fixed,” she grumbled. “That would teach you.”
“I suppose you could, but what fun is that?”
She opened her eyes. Instead of her black cat lounging on the couch, a dark-haired man with a hint of scruff on his cheeks and not a stitch of clothing on sat in his place.
“You’re not Fang.” Not her best response, but who in the hell was he? She balled her fists, ready to punch the intruder. “What did you do with my cat and how the hell did you get in?”
“Penn, it’s me, Fang. My mother called me Ascher, and I rather like it better.” He rose to his feet. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’d rather be back in your arms.”
Her brain misfired. A nude man, handsome at that, in her house and wanting to be in her arms? And he claimed to be her cat? She wobbled on her feet. The room went blurry, then black. When she opened her eyes, the man was crouching over her.
“Penn? Fuck.” His eyebrows crinkled and he smoothed her hair from her face. “I knew I should’ve told you yesterday but there wasn’t time.”
“You’re a strange man in my house.” She scrambled to an upright position. “Get the fuck out.” Where in the hell were her purse and her mace?
“You don’t know me.” She inched away from him. Instead of coming after her, the naked man sat still. “Now get out.”
“I do so know you, Penelope.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Wait.” He grabbed a pillow to cover his crotch, then sat on the floor. “I know. Piss-poor timing to hide my junk. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “When you went to Hildegard’s to get a kitten, you were handed me. You didn’t know you wanted me until you saw the fluff on my ears. You loved that I had those funny tufts of fur.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No, no.” The man knew too much about her cat. What a lunatic! She grabbed her purse and rummaged for the bottle of mace -- all without moving her attention from his face.
“You wondered why I hadn’t been nabbed yet.”
Shit. Those were just about her words exactly.
“Hildegard said I’d be exactly what you needed. I can be, but you have to believe me and trust me.” He finally moved toward her. “Please?”
“I’m supposed to believe a naked man in my house is my cat? Not on your life.” And yet, somewhere in her brain his story made sense.

“I’ll show you.”
@Copyright 2014 Megan Slayer

When she's not writing the stories in her head, Megan Slayer can be found luxuriating in her hot tub with her two vampire Cabana boys, Luke and Jeremy. She has the tendency to run a tad too far with her muse, so she has to hide in the head of her alter ego, but the boys don't seem to mind.
When she’s not obsessing over her whip collection, she can be found picking up her kidlet from school. She enjoys writing in all genres, but writing about men in love suits her fancy best. The cabana boys are willing to serve, unless she needs them. She always need them. So be nice to Javier or he will bite--on command.
She also masquerades under the name Wendi Zwaduk and is published through Changeling Press, Decadent Publishing , Liquid Silver Books, MLR Press, Resplendence Publishing, and Total-E-Bound Publishing.

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Guest Post from Jocelyn Dex VALIA'S VILLIAN

Mimi sez: It's great having Jocelyn on our blog today. She has two releases: Valia's Villian and Fin's Fantasy, both erotic paranormal romance featuring very hot, sexy demons. I read Valia's Villian and the first book in Jocelyn's Sempire Seduction series, Araya's Addiction. All hot reads and lots of fun with characters you can't help but love! She brought along some guests today for an interview, the hero and heroine of Valia's Villian: Rydin and Valia.

Rydin, please tell us a little bit about yourself.
Rydin: Who do you think you are to question me?
Jocelyn: Rydin, be nice. They’re just trying to get to know you.
Rydin: <Grunts and folds arms across chest> My name is Rydin. I’m a Ferox demon and you should fear me.

What do you like most about being a Ferox demon?

Rydin: I am fearless and strong. I could crush you with one finger.
Jocelyn: Slight exaggeration there, don’t you think?
Rydin: Try me, female.
Valia saunters in…
Valia: Hey what’s up?
Jocelyn: You’re late.
Valia: <Shrugs> You can’t rush awesome.

What other person in your book do you dislike? Why?

Rydin: I feel an intense hatred for he who holds my contract. His name is Debol, a deranged Incubus who loves to flaunt his power over me and make my life miserable. One day, I’ll make him suffer and glory in his pain. <Sneers at Jocelyn> You might be next.
Jocelyn: What? What did I do?
Rydin: You are the one who wrote Debol to have power over me.
Jocelyn: <Rolls eyes> I’ll make it up to you later. Don’t be a jerk.
Rydin: <Sneers some more>

Valia, do you agree?

Valia: <Shudders and squeezes Rydin’s bicep> <Looks at Jocelyn> Yep, you kinda suck for creating him.
Jocelyn: <sighs> Whatever. Next question.

Rydin, is there an illegal act you would commit without guilt and why?

Rydin: I’ve committed several acts you humans would consider illegal. Murder, kidnapping, thievery, torture. It’s my job. I do what I have to do with no regrets, no guilt.
Valia: <Looks lustfully at Rydin> Mmm. So villainous.

Tell us something about your hometown.

Rydin: Hometown. You humans are clueless. I grew up in the demon realm. There are no “hometowns” there.

Rydin and Valia, who is your favorite author?

Rydin: <Gazes at Valia> Jocelyn Dex. But only because she wrote Valia into my life. Otherwise, I could do without her meddling.
Valia: <Gazes adoringly back at Rydin> Ditto.

Rydin, what was the scariest moment of your life?

Rydin: <Scoffs> I am Ferox. I know no fear.
Jocelyn: None? Really? What if Valia was in trouble?
Rydin: <Eyebrows narrow> You will NOT put her in danger any more, female. Or I will make you pay.
Jocelyn: <Snorts>

Rydin, what songs are most played on your iPod?

Rydin: I don’t know what an iPod is but if it needs killing, I’m the demon to do it.
Jocelyn: Valia seriously needs to bring you up to speed on technology.
Valia: We have more important things to do. <winks at Rydin>

Everyone, what is your favorite meal?

Rydin: Meat.
Jocelyn: Try a vegetable every once in a while. Geez. For me, it’s spinach enchiladas. YUM.
Valia: Fruit. It’s all about the fruit and...
<Rydin pulls her onto his lap and kisses her passionately>
Jocelyn: Um, hey. It’s not the time for that.

Valia, what is the worst thing Jocelyn has done to you?

Valia: <Gives Jocelyn the stink eye> She made me think my Rydie was going to die.  That was super lame.
Jocelyn: Geez. He’s not dead is he?
Valia: You’re lucky.

Will the three of you work on any more stories in the future?

Valia: Oh yeah. Fin’s story is already out. Rydin and I are in it. Of course. I mean, it wouldn’t be as awesome without us.
Jocelyn: What Valia said. Also, I plan a fourth book in the series but haven’t worked out the who, what, when and why of it yet.
Valia: But we’ll be in it, riiiiight?
Jocelyn: Of course. Thanks for having us here today!

Title: Valia’s Villain
Series: Sempire Seductions, Book 2
Author: Jocelyn Dex
Publisher: Ellora’s Cave
Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone
Genre: Erotic Paranormal Romance
Length: 36,000 words
ISBN: 9781419948275

Valia’s Villain Blurb
When Valia approaches the Ferox demon, hoping for scorching sex and a feed, she doesn’t expect to be handcuffed, transported to the demon realm, accused of dirty deeds she has no memory of committing and held captive for three days.  Even though she believes her captor to be crazy, she feels a connection to him she’s felt with no one else.

When Rydin senses the Sempire who locked him up, fed on him and used him as a sex slave many years ago, he knows his wait for revenge is finally over. Burning with the need to punish her, he imprisons her in the demon realm, where she is at his mercy, but as much as he tries to ignore it, a connection sparks between them every time they touch.

Author Bio

Jocelyn was born in Iowa and currently resides in hot-as-hell Texas. She shares her home with her very own 6'4" alpha male and varying numbers of spoiled cats and dogs. Teaching one of her dogs to file his nails is one of her all-time favorite accomplishments.

She thinks dragonflies are awesome, spiders are creepy and it’s rumored that she sleeps with a machete by her bed in case zombies attack in the middle of the night. Jocelyn loves to paint, loves to read, and loves to write sizzling erotic romance about yummy demons that would make your momma blush.

Here’s where you can find Jocelyn on the web

Here’s where you can buy Valia’s Villain

Sunday, January 26, 2014

Guest Post From Isobelle Cate FOREVER AT MIDNIGHT

NOTICE: Some of the content of today’s blog post is VERY steamy, not intended for the under 18 audience.

Veronica Scott sez: Today we have a guest author with us, Isobelle Cate, sharing some details of her paranormal series and most recent book FOREVER AT MIDNIGHT. Turning the blog over to Isobelle without further ado:

Hi  Everyone!

Thank you for having me guest today.

My name is Isobelle Cate. I’m a contemporary and paranormal romance author.  My paranormal romance series is called the Cynn Cruor Bloodline Series that starts with Rapture at Midnight followed by Forever at Midnight.  I’m going to talk about Forever at Midnight here which is Roarke and Deanna’s story.

The Cynn Cruor is a race of immortal warriors imbued with the Kinaré gene, a unique DNA that fuses the best of vampire, werewolf, and human blood.  There is an on-going war between the Cynn Cruors and their nemesis, the Scatha Cruor. These immortal warriors have lived, assimilated, and raised families among us. The Cynn Cruor wants to live in harmony with the human race. The Scatha Cruor wants to enslave them.

Roarke catches a glimpse of Deanna in Dac Valerian’s club. He is unable to believe that Deanna is alive when he buried her himself nearly five hundred years before. He searches for her in the streets of Manchester just to prove that he hasn’t lost his mind.  But when Deanna turns up on the street facing the Cynn Cruor’s headquarters, Roarke needs to know why she hid herself from him.

Knowing that her secret can only destroy whatever feelings Roarke has left for her, Deanna remains silent until circumstances force her to reveal everything.

Hearts are broken on both sides but Roarke and Deanna have to work together if they are to find a way of ending Dac and the Scatha Cruor’s power once and for all. Desire rises and passions are rekindled.

Will their pursuit of Dac lead to another chance at happiness?

Or will it forever tear them apart?

Excerpt from Forever at Midnight:
Without preamble she took Roarke's face in both her hands and devoured his mouth, laughing softly at his growl. She gasped when he tore her blouse from her body, the buttons falling like soft raindrops on the wooden floor.
“You too,” she said as she pushed his leather jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to his feet. “Now, your shirt.” She helped him remove it, smiling when one of his buttons popped off, joining hers on the floor.
“Are you anxious?”
“Yes, Roarke.” Deanna moved closer so she could run her hands along the hard planes of his chest and stomach, giving in to the urge to lick and nibble on his delicious skin. He groaned, entangling his fingers in her hair.
Slowly, her hands travelled down to cup his erection, bulging against his jeans. “Yes, touch me,” he hissed, bucking his hips against her palms.
With an intensity which thrilled her, Roarke kissed her again, backing her to the bed. When Deanna felt the edge of the bed behind her, she eased herself on it, pulling Roarke down with her. When he parted her legs with his thigh, she sighed in pleasure and mewled when he cupped her mound and rubbed her clit. The friction of the slacks and the lace against her pleasure button made her arch in delight. She was in a vortex of carnal bliss with Roarke's mouth sliding down the column of her throat, his tongue flicking at the erratic pulse at the base of her neck, down to her sternum, then to her breasts. She unbuttoned the waistband of his jeans, and oh so slowly unzipped him. Roarke stood up to shuck his shoes and socks before he removed his jeans. She looked at his erection with hunger. It stood hard and thick and bounced a bit as he moved.
Slowly Roarke bent down to remove her slacks. She saw his eyes widen before his gaze scorched her with his lust. She lifted her buttocks and felt the material slide first against her lace underwear, then down to her lace edged stockings. She sat up to take off her hose.
“Leave them on,” he growled.
Suddenly, it was as if they went back in time. His words gave her the oddest sense of déjà vu. He had said this to her before—before everything. Deanna panted, her entire body sensitized by the desire in Roarke's eyes. God, she was about to come and Roarke hadn't even touched her!
Roarke knelt down at the edge of the bed. He grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, his eyes never leaving hers.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. Slowly, he removed the tiny scrap of lace which covered her mound. Then he looked down, reverently. “Everywhere.”
As a slow smile lit his face, so did the slow burn begin in her sex, making her hips writhe beneath his gaze. He held her thighs, spreading them wider before his fingers trailed a hot path toward the apex. She watched mesmerized as his mouth followed his fingers. Nipping, kissing, licking her inner thighs. Her womb tensed. Desire coiled toward her centre, and her whole vagina throbbed. This was the only man who’d ever mattered to her. All the pent up passion she’d had stored up in her heart for decades came pouring forth. Deanna bit down on her lower lip.
She was about to come.
Then Roarke's mouth was on her. His tongue parted her folds. He laved her from bottom to top, flattening his tongue against her throbbing clit before swirling it round and around. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady when she just couldn’t be still. He speared her sweet channel, dipping his tongue as far as it would go before going back to suck on her swollen clit and labia lips. She looked at him. His eyes locked with hers as he continued to pleasure her.
She threw her head back as wave upon wave of incredible bliss brought her closer to the edge. She panted and moaned, nearly delirious with ecstasy. She didn’t know whether to hold on to his head or to grab the silk sheets into her fists. A powerful current in the centre of her sex threatened to drown her. Roarke's tongue and mouth were voracious and she loved every minute of it. His tongue made languorous flicks around her clit without let up. Then he inserted two fingers into her, rubbing hard and fast inside, and she combusted. Her cries of release merged with his growl of passion. His fingers and mouth continued to pleasure her until her orgasm subsided.
She floated in a cloud of bliss, boneless but not sated. She felt the bed dip. When she opened her eyes, Roarke was hovering over her. The gold flecks in his eye more prominent, and she knew his lust had grown. She purred as her hands caressed the hard planes of his chest.
“There is no one like you, no one,” he said.
Buy Links:  Amazon US   Amazon UK

Book title: Rapture at Midnight, first in the series:
Finn Qualtrough, a Cynn Cruor warrior is on a mission to find Dac Valerian, the leader of the Scatha Cruor responsible for the deaths of many, including his parents. When he pursues three Scatha warriors who can lead him to Dac, he happens upon a woman who awakens a desire within Quinn to claim her as his own.
She is the very essence of his immortal life.
Eirene Spence is an insomniac and a computer genius who loves walking in the park at midnight. She stumbles upon the Scatha Cruor and is almost killed until a handsome stranger rescues her. His touch ignites a hunger inside her that only he can satisfy.
He is her soul.
By some twist of fate, one of Eirene’s clients is Dac Valerian. She is able to tell Finn and the rest of the Cynn Cruor where Dac is hiding. Now Dac wants her dead.
Will Finn be able to keep Eirene alive and at the same time fulfill his mission? Will Eirene’s wish to be part of Finn’s life come true knowing that he is destined for someone else?
Buy links for Rapture at Midnight:

About Isobelle:
Isobelle Cate is a woman who wears different masks. Mother-writer, wife-professional, scholar-novelist. Currently living in Manchester, she has been drawn to the little known, the secret stories, about the people and the nations: the English, the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, and those who are now part of these nations whatever their origins. Her vision and passion are fuelled by her interest and background in history and paradoxically, shaped by growing up in a clan steeped in lore, loyalty, and legend.
Isobelle is intrigued by forces that simmer beneath the surface of these cultures, the hidden passions, unsaid desires, and yearnings unfulfilled.
Blog   Facebook   Twitter: @isobelle_cate    Goodreads    Amazon Author Page

Saturday, January 25, 2014

Are you prepared for a disaster? Prepper Romances

Veronica Scott sez: Pulled this post from the Archives. Even though the book it was promo-ing was about a tornado disaster, plenty of people have been suffering through ice & snow-related disaster in recent months, so it seemed like something of a timely topic. This post was written by former Contributor  D. L. Jackson:

Are you?

Life has been crazy lately. A lot of what has been going on, has brought me full circle back to a Prepper Romance I wrote called Finding Mercy. Now this was released ( NOTE: in December 2012)., but I’ve had a lot of people asking me lately about the prepper lifestyle and what things they could do to not only prepare for disaster, but how to put away food and prepare for times when money is tight. I’ve also had readers contact me, or comment about things they do to prepare.

If you think about it, our grandparents were doing this in The Great Depression, finding alternate means to feed their families and sustain life on little or no money. But prepping goes deeper than that. It’s having basic first aid and other skills needed to survive a disaster, like the hurricane that moved up the East Coast this past fall. It’s about being ready for anything and having peace of mind, that though you can’t guarantee one hundred percent your family will be safe, you have done everything you can to tip the odds in your favor that everyone will survive.

 In Finding Mercy I have a full community, having suffered the devastation of tornadoes, that pulls together to rebuild after the disaster. In fact, they could be any community in the country (you see this everyday). They are a group that has neighbor helping neighbor, to make their piece of the world a better, safer, and greener place to live.

Today, you’ll see all sorts of television shows and books dedicated to this lifestyle. From shows like The Colony, to specials on Doomsday Preppers. Classes are even springing up around the country to teach you lifesaving skills we’ve lost in a high-tech age. From greener living, to putting away food and water, there is so much you can do to prepare.

Here’s a brief excerpt from Finding Mercy:

Evans Point, Wyoming

June 28th, 2010  

If he didn’t know better, he’d think the end of the world had arrived. Will Evans tightened his grip on Bear’s and Sadie’s leashes and tuned in for any cries for help. The fresh smell of rain mixed with the industrial stink of spilled fuel and the ozone from a nearby lightning strike pounded reality home.

Even though they’d merely begun, his bones ached. Fifteen years before, he would’ve torn through the wreckage and pulled out survivors without hesitation. Now, he could only survey the destruction and fight the tears that tugged on his eyes. The scene brought back another time he couldn’t stomach, when he’d seen the Grim Reaper rip a hole between life and death, as he’d done this day.

The storms had hit with ferocity, in the middle of the night, without warning. The roaring of the beast had woken some, but not all. Those alerted had rushed for cover in their basements and cellars and now searched for those who were not as lucky. This was all that remained of the downtown after six tornadoes had torn through Evans Point. In all his eighty-four years, Will had seen only one other battlefield like it.

He swallowed and searched his soul for courage. There would be bodies among the rubble, but hopefully, there would also be living. He had to believe to continue, even though he found his faith tested.

So much carnage. Scanning the brightening horizon, he took in the destruction. Brick buildings were blown apart. Vehicles lay on their rooftops, dripping gasoline and other fluids. Even a pickup had been skewered on a flagpole like one of the carousel horses he’d ridden as a child at the fairground. A toy truck lay at his feet, its red paint bright and clean like it was fresh from the box.

Before I wrap this up, I’d like to invite you to check out the Prepper Romance Series from Decadent Publishing. PrepperRomance Buy Links. In this series you will find stories of people falling in love, who are also preppers. The focus isn’t on what they do, it’s simply a part of their lives. You will read stories of war heroes, princesses and geologists that embrace the earth and make amazing shelters. You will read stories about people like you and me, who want their families and friends to be safe in an emergency. 
So, what are you waiting for. Go get some great romance, and a few tips on how to be better prepared for disasters.
Thanks for stopping by.