Monday, April 23, 2012

Monday Blues Promotion, April 23

Are you ready to play?......

Are you ready for the THEME?

Okay, here goes....

Today's theme is....*Drum roll, come on, let's get dramatic here*


Yes, heat.  Your character could be facing the heat literally or figuratively. It could be a heated argument, it could be the real heat from the sun, it could be a heated moment of sizzling sexual tension....get creative, let's see what you've got!

The comments section is wide open. Please no excerpts not much longer than 500 words. Leave a title, author name (sometimes it doesn't show up in the comments) and a buy link.

So, bring on the HEAT! (i'm okay with the heat for now because I have a brand new a/c installed, hehe)


  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

  2. Title: a Touch of Ice

    Author: L. j. Charles


    I gave his hand a gentle squeeze and kept my mouth shut.
    He jerked away from my touch and forked both hands through his hair, leaving it in raggedy spikes. “The cops said he killed himself, an overdose of some sort. Speculation on their part, since the tox screen hasn’t come through yet.”
    I caught my lip between my teeth. Best not to interrupt.
    He balanced on the back legs of his chair again and his fingers gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. Suddenly he let go and slapped his hands over mine, pressing them firmly against the table. The chair landed flat with a sharp crack. “The thing is, I know it was murder.”
    Heat poured into my abdomen when his hands covered mine. From his touch? Or was it his intense need to be believed about the reference to murder?
    The man had good hands. Strong. Warm. Smooth, mixed with rough. I flexed my toes to keep them from curling. Who knew skin could be so fascinating?
    He broke contact.
    Lonely. Damn. I never feel lonely.
    And that’s when the vision hit me for the second time.


  3. Title: Blood-Mage Rising
    Author: Tory Michaels

    “What do you think you’re doing?”

    “In your vernacular, ‘duh’.” He imitated her quite well in that single syllable, for a Brit.

    She deserved the sarcasm. Talk about a stupid question. “Better question: why are you doing it? I’m capable of washing my own back.”

    “I never said you weren’t.” He nudged her forward a little, pouf caressing the small of her back. Though she should protest, words didn’t come. The gentle movements felt too good.

    She wasn’t alone. And he was probably the only person she knew who could understand what they’d done to Pierce. Not that Jordan gave a damn whom he hurt.

    “You find the blood distasteful,” he said softly, his breath tickling the tendrils of hair escaping the myriad hairpins holding the mass up. “As I’m responsible for getting you splashed with it, this seems the least I can do.”

    Maybe this was part of his game plan, get her all gooey to weaken her defenses, then swoop in and claim victory in their bet? Chris inched away and turned to look up at him. Dressed in only a black silk robe, blond hair still damp from his shower, he looked incredible. No hint of monster, just one hundred percent man. A horny man looking to score, if she took into account the southern equipment. And he thought she’d just fall for it. Riiiight.

    She set aside her wine glass roughly and held her hand out. “Give me that. I’m perfectly capable of washing my own back. Get out.”

    The quiet, seemingly gentle side he kept showing was screwing with her head. If she didn’t watch it, she’d start liking him. At the very least, he’d make an adequate solution to burying her guilty conscience for a little while. Sex with Jordan, while frequently violent, kept her from brooding.

    The pouf drifted over the water’s surface when he released it to catch her hand in his. He stroked her palm and slid off the edge to kneel beside the tub. “Always hostile, Chrissy. Do you have to be so antagonistic?”

    Something hot and syrupy oozed through her, replacing the blood in her veins as their eyes met. She saw no darkness, no craft, just the man she’d met and been utterly charmed by in London when she rebelled against Stuffy Britches’s (she thought) idiotic concerns.

    “You’re upset about what we did to Pierce, what I pushed you into.” He brought her captured fingers to his lips, nibbled at her fingertips, reminiscent of earlier when he had licked the blood away. “Let me give you something better to think about, pleasure to wipe away the guilt that lingers in your face.”

    The bet, the bet. Her heart sped up, beat in time with her grasping to remember why he would bother with this. Jordan didn’t do gentle. Hot, fast, over with. It’s all about the—

    The frantic reminder cut off when the crooked index finger of his free hand tilted her chin up, and he leaned forward. He whispered, “Stop thinking, Chrissy. Please, let me do this for you.”

    Their lips met, his soft and persuasive on hers. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared into the deep, leaf green of his eyes.

    Currently still on sale at 15% off the normal price.

  4. This scene is taken from my debut novel, Love's Prophecy. In this scene Mel(hero) is telling Breeana(heroine) he is taking her home and ending their relationship because the threat against her life has been lifted. She is not very happy about it.

    Mel's silver-gray eyes bore deep into hers, then sadness crept across his face. After a few moments, he turned away. “I won't change my mind,” he stated more to himself. “You may not understand, but I do this because I love you so much.”

    Anger and pain coiled around Breeana's heart. She clenched her fists. Rage and frustration mounted and streamed through her, hot as lava. “You do this because you love me?” She jumped at him, grabbing the front of his shirt, balling it up in her fists. “You break my heart into a million fucking pieces and you have the gall to say you do so because you love me?”

    “Yes. Believe it or not, it's the truth.”

    Breeana shoved him and stumbled backwards. “Don't…you…dare say it's because you love me!” Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. “How dare you try to justify your actions by sugar-coating them with words of love.” Her voice rose as hysteria and madness took over her heart and mind.

    “I'm doing this for your own good!” he shouted back.

    “My own good? No you're not. You're doing this for your own good.” Her eyes widened. “Oh…my God. You never loved me.”

    “How can you say that—”

    “If you did, you wouldn't be able to imagine a second without me, so—go to hell!” She jabbed a finger toward the door, her body vibrating with unrestrained rage and pain. “Get out.”

    Mel grabbed her arm, but she jerked it from his grasp. “Breeana, you're better off without me. Please try to understand. This isn't easy for me either.”

    Madness completely took over and she spun away, screaming, “Don't touch me! Just…leave so I can pack.” She marched across the room to the closet and grabbed her bag.

    “Breeana, please listen to me.” He tried to stop her by stepping in her way, but she stalked around him, grabbing her clothes along the way, shoving them into the bag.

    On her way to the bathroom, she stopped and glanced at him over her shoulder. He stood in the middle of the room, his face a mask of hurt and pain. “You're right about one thing, I do hate you. I hate you for breaking my heart. I hate you for deceiving me, but most of all, I hate you because you're a coward.” The last one was low but she really didn't give a shit. She wanted to hurt him. Wanted him to feel as miserable and dead inside as she did.

    “If you believe nothing else, believe that I love you and always will.” He took a cautious step toward her but she backed away, holding up one hand.

  5. Onslaught by Teri Thackston

    He lifted a hand toward her. Releasing the tangle of her own fingers, she moved to the porch steps and hesitantly placed her hand in his.

    “I want to be here for you,” he said quietly.

    She wanted that, too. She needed someone to be there for her. She wanted it to be him.

    At the slight pressure of his fingertips on hers, she stepped down onto the cool grass. Now he stood over her, his eyes in shadow as moonlight fell over him.

    “Actually, I want more than that,” he went on. “I know we haven’t known each other very long…”

    “It doesn’t matter.”

    Her heart began to throb. To her surprise she wasn’t worrying about questions or secrets for the moment. She simply allowed herself to enjoy the attraction that swept through her. She saw in his eyes that he, too, wanted to put away questions for a time. They both deserved to live in the moment for a while.

    He lowered her hand to his side but held onto it. Then, reaching for her other hand, he stepped close enough to brush his body against hers. His head came down.

    The kiss started out tender and tentative, yet it was flavored with a hint of fate that had them both pressing closer. She tilted her head, opening her mouth to his, accepting the sweep of his tongue over her lower lip, answering it with her own. The kiss deepened. Their fingers tangled at their sides and her body flushed with heat. But this wasn’t the cloying heat of a Texas night. This was the magnetic heat of desire.

    Barnes & Noble:

    During April a portion of each sale of Onslaught is going to the Star of Hope homeless shelter in Houston, Texas. Please spread the word. Thanks!

  6. heat. great topic. It here snowed last night. Keep bring the heat on with more awesome excerpts.

  7. Awesome snippets today!! Thanks for sharing everyone! I enjoyed reading them!