Monday, February 4, 2013

Monday Blues Promotion: February 4

Guess whaaaaat?

We're baaaaack!

And today? Not even a theme! Just share an excerpt with us! And hey, be sure to tell your friends, put in a buy link or two. and have fun!

Excerpt no longer than 750 words please.

Whatcha got for me?


  1. Thnaks for the opportunity.

    From my To Be Released this week - NA contemporary - Circles Divided

    Robert followed, passing Julie's closed door and entering his room. Knocking the pile of clothes off the bed, he changed in to a dry sweatshirt and jeans and left everything else in a pile in the centre of the floor. Back in the kitchen, while the pizza heated, he scoured the fridge for a cold beer, but had to settle for a Coke. When he'd eaten, he sat staring at the table. He didn't want to go upstairs and confront Julie. He couldn't figure out what he could have possibly done wrong. He rubbed his face. Man up, dude, and get this over with. With a big sigh, he headed to Julie's room.

    Julie sat on her window ledge watching the rain stream down the glass. "Come hold me, please."

    Robert settled next to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and waited for the other shoe to drop. Silence filled the room. He bit back asking what the problem was. He'd let her explain it.

    Her shoulders shook as she sniffed. With teary eyes, she glanced at him. "Why didn't they accept me at the dance audition? You said, the others said I was good. Well I'm not. I suck." She turned, threw her arm over his shoulder and buried her face in his chest.

    Yes! It's not something I did. He squeezed her tighter. "I think ya dance great."

    She knocked her forehead on his sweatshirt. "You don't know anything about dance. You made me do it. I hate you for it."

  2. Writing as Marlie Bridges, from my Romantic Suspense, You Belong To me, on Amazon at

    Noticing movement through the gallery window, he rapped on the door. Erin opened it with a smile and invited him in. “I’m just hanging a painting. There’s some coffee in the little kitchen back there to your right. Help yourself while I finish this up.”
    Colin couldn’t help but notice her curves – in all the right places. To distract himself, he said, “I brought the donuts,” holding up the bakery box. “Do you need any help?”
    “No, I do this all the time. I’ll be done in a minute. Go on, get some coffee.” She eyed the bakery box he carried. “Dinkel’s?” she asked. When he nodded, she added, “My favorite.”
    “Mine, too,” he said, glad he’d taken the extra time to drive there on his way. Through the gallery to the back, he turned into the little kitchen, spotted the coffee center and poured two cups.
    “There,” she said, walking into the kitchen, brushing off her sleeve, “I’ve just been putting up some things to replace what I sold last night.” She took the cup of coffee he offered her and set it on the counter, dropped two lumps of sugar into it and topped it off with some milk from the tiny refrigerator. “How about we raid the goody box first, then do the tour?” she asked.
    They sat at the little table in the corner of the kitchen. Erin untied the string on the bakery box and opened the lid. “Cinnamon sugar,” she said and laughed.
    The expression on her face – one of pure delight – stopped his heart and he knew he was here for more than the paintings, more than the investment opportunity. He’d convinced himself on the drive over that she wasn’t his type. But now he wanted to get to know her.
    She brought out some paper plates and napkins and took one of the donuts. “Do you want one of these or some of this…” she asked, pointing into the box.
    “Apple Cheese Stollen. It’s my weakness.”
    “Let me cut you a piece.” Using a knife from the drawer in the counter she cut him a large wedge, set it on the paper plate and sat down across from him.
    When she bit into her doughnut, she closed her eyes and seemed to savor it. Crumbles of cinnamon and sugar on her lips caught his attention and when she caught them with her tongue, he imagined licking them off himself. Breaking into his fantasy, she said, “You’re a Harvard grad, aren’t you?” Was there a hint of disdain in her tone?
    “Does it show?” he said.
    She smiled. “Not so most people would notice, but you can’t fool a Boston College girl. You guys were always easy pickups.”
    Colin laughed. It had been a long time since someone made him laugh. Erin’s intelligence and wit surprised him.
    “What do you do, Colin?” she said.
    “I’m a lawyer,” he said.
    She hesitated before she said, “You mean divorces, stuff like that?”
    He laughed. “God, no! I’m in mergers and acquisitions. Pretty boring stuff, really.”
    “So why do you do it?”
    “Well, it’s not boring to me. Only to the poor sucker who has to listen to me talk about it when I get on a roll. So, I’m not going to talk about it, now. The last thing on my mind is business. So tell me what brought you to Chicago.”
    It was as though a cloud passed in front of the sun the way her expression changed. She reached for her coffee cup – her hand trembling – gripping the cup with both hands. All the laughter disappeared from her eyes.
    “I needed a change of scenery,” she said and took a sip of her coffee.
    Waiting to see if she would say more, he didn’t respond. Her eyes darkened and sadness filled them, but she recovered her composure and said, “It’s not a big deal, it was just time to move on to new territory.”

  3. From HEALING HEARTS, the launch novella of the Decadent Publishing Challenge Series:
    “Stop flirting with me. That’s a personal bubble violation,” he whispered, letting his lips graze her earlobe, loving how her whole body shivered against him.

    “Fine, then stop pressing against me so hard I can feel how much money is in your pocket.”

    “Touché.” But he gripped her closer. The candlelight flickered, the music embraced them, and she nearly brought him to his knees with her next words.

    “I can’t be what you want me to be, Jay. I have goals. I need my independence. I want to make it on my own.”

    He sucked in a breath, slid the hand he had on her hip around to the small of her back. He didn’t need this. But he wanted it so much he was about to explode. “I’m never going to be what you want me to be, either. Let’s just be…what we are…tonight.”

    She laid her head against his chest, and he shut his eyes, trying not to let the moment overwhelm him, send him screaming into the night. Christy’s face at their wedding, at the birth of their children, and that last moment when her eyes clouded over after she told him not to blame himself while he watched her die—they all rose, clear and bright. He swallowed, leaned down into Abigail’s thick riot of dark curls, sucked in a deep breath. “What do you want me to be for you…tonight?” he asked.

    She put her hand to his face, went up on her tiptoes, and met his lips, urgent and needy. He kissed her, listening to the crowd clap and catcall. Then broke away. “Well?” he asked, his body zinging.

    “I want you to be the guy who takes me to bed again.” The simplicity of her words taking his breath away. “I don’t want to be made love to, not now. I need you, Jay. With me, inside me, all over me. And you need it, too. No strings, no emotion. Only physical urges met. I’m willing. Are you?”

    He stepped away from her, a little shocked and a lot horny. “Give me two minutes.” Grateful the room had dimmed for the music and dancing, he dropped three hundred in cash on the table, more than enough to cover the meal, wine, and a healthy tip, and took her hand.

    “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, giggling when he pushed her up against the side of his SUV and dove into her mouth, sweeping into it with his tongue, his hands cradling her face then buried in her hair. She molded into him, making that damn noise, the one that made him insane, down in her throat.

    He broke from her, stared into her eyes. “Yes.”
    Buy it here:

  4. From THIS CHILD IS MINE, contemporary Native American romance

    “Do you take pictures only of beautiful things?” Russ asked.

    “Ugliness is just as much a part of life. It’s about bringing reality into sharp focus.”

    He slowed the pickup and stopped along the side of the road. “Those trees over there. What do you see?”

    Kate snapped on a wide-angle lens and looked through the viewfinder. “A stand of pines. They’re growing tall into the sky toward heaven, but they’re also reaching out to each other. The small ones are growing right next to the big ones as if for protection. There’s a birch climbing up underneath a big pine. They’re not mean to one another. There’s no cruelty among them. They’re all just sharing the same space.” She moved the camera to a spot beyond the trees where the ground had been cleared. “What’s that?”

    “The trees in that area were cut down for lumber to build houses.”

    “Oh. I suppose the houses have to be built, but still, the bare spot is a wound on the land.” Her voice rang with sadness.

    She snapped a few pictures of the trees and then lowered the camera. When she turned back to Russ, he was staring at her with an unfathomable look upon his face. Unnerved by his stare, Kate lowered her lashes and said shyly, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go on like that.”

    He steered the pickup back onto the road, not knowing what to say. He hadn’t expected her to see the trees the way he saw them, as a living, breathing family with the old protecting the young. Or for her to express sadness at the sacrifice of the trees for lumber. It was as though she were seeing the landscape through his eyes. She was so much more complicated than he imagined, like a riddle daring to be unraveled, and it only made him want her more than he already did.

    Russ struggled to wipe his feelings from his face as a wild yearning seized him. He ached for the safety he might find in her arms and for the notion, however crazy it might be, that she would not break his fragile heart. Her scent drifted to him on the wind and he had to fight down a wave of desire so savage that his hands shook. What was it about this woman that had him going against his resolve to remain unaffected? Whenever he looked into her beautiful blue-gray eyes he fell deeper into a pit of longing. He’d been alone for so long he’d forgotten what it was like to be connected, not to the land in the Lakota way, but to one special woman the way a man needed to be.

    This woman was his wife. But he didn’t want a wife in name only. He wanted a wife to share his life and his dreams, to fall asleep next to at night and wake up beside every morning. A wife who understood who and what he was—Lakota. He cast a quick glance at Kate who rode with her head back against the seat, brown hair tossed by the wind, eyes closed and her cheeks tinted pink by the sun. She was the kind of woman he had always hoped to find but never believed he would. She was smart and resourceful and beautiful…and white. What were the chances a white woman would want someone like him? Were the betrayals they had both suffered enough to bridge the gap between her world and his? Despite their marriage ceremony, as brief and impersonal as it was, would she always be his brother’s wife? The thought lingered all the way home.

    Buy it here

  5. Thanks for the opportunity!

    SAFE FROM THE DARK by Lily Rede

    SHIVERING AND COMPLETELY DRENCHED, Evie dropped her backpack on the Daniels' porch. It was a beautiful hundred-year-old farmhouse that was obviously in the process of being restored – scaffolding protected a new wing off the side of the two-story structure. Evie spared only a quick glance around – her teeth were starting to chatter.
    Fingers tight with cold, Evie raised a hand to knock.


    Come on, come on.

    Someone had to be home, judging from the sporty little SUV in the driveway sitting next to a more utilitarian truck. The lights within blazed with beckoning warmth and the smoky scent of a fireplace teased Evie with promises of heat and comfort.

    She knocked harder, kicking the door for good measure, stumbling back as it jerked open.

    "What the hell, Tom? Can't a guy take one Sunday afternoon – ”

    He broke off abruptly, hazel eyes widening.

    Evie tried to form words, but her brain inconveniently chose that moment to shut down, obviously overloaded by impending hypothermia and the sight of six plus feet of bare, tanned muscle standing in the doorway, clutching a blanket around his waist with lean, elegant hands. His skin had a light sheen of sweat and his dark hair was ruffled over those bright hazel eyes.


    Even the inner cop whimpered and she gave it a mental shove.

    Pull it together, Asher.

    "I'm so sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Mr. or Mrs. Daniels – ”

    His brows snapped together with a frown.

    "They're dead. Over a year now. Car accident."

    "I’m sorry, I didn't know. I was headed to the old Asher cabin down the road and my car got stuck."

    "You were trying to get out there in this?"

    Incredulous, he gestured and the blanket slipped just a bit, exposing another inch of taut waist and a narrow pelt of dark hair under his navel that arrowed downward in a most interesting manner.

    Evie swallowed and kept her eyes on his.

    "I just need a phone to call the garage, if that's okay."

    "Colin?" The breathy voice drifting down the stairs had Evie's face heating in a blush, despite her shivers, as her brain stuttered back into working order.

    Two cars in the driveway, panting sex god in the doorway. Way to go, Asher. You just cock-blocked your new neighbor.

  6. Thanks for the opportunity!

    From For the Love of a Sphynx, available now!

    He checked the garage and front doors on his way back to the bedroom. Both were impossible to open even when he stretched up and curled both paws around the knob. Some parts of this form were enjoyable, like the retractable claws and ability to detect movement so keenly, but most of the time, he really missed having thumbs.

    Done with his inspection, he settled back onto the bed and studied the woman. She'd shifted, moving her head from its unnatural angle and rolling onto her back, allowing him to peruse her features. straight brown hair fanned around her shoulders, and several freckles graced her small nose. High cheekbones and full lips saved her round face from appearing pudgy.

    Some would probably consider her attractive, in a cute, pixie-like way, but women with thinner, more dramatic beauty had always drawn him. This woman looked as if she'd been made to decorate a kitchen, welcoming any who entered with warm sweets and laughter.

    He twitched his tail in irritation. he may have to abandon his quest to escape for now, but he would be alert for an opportunity to present itself. Over several hundred years, he had learned it was unwise to be in a populated area when the equinox forced the change upon him. People never understood what they witnessed and often reacted violently when confronted with something they couldn't understand. It always ended badly for him.

    he glared at the peaceful form on the bed. This wasn't the first time he'd had to convince a persistent person to kick him out. By now, he considered himself a master.

    Morgan stretched out his front paws, snagged the top of the comforter with his claws, and raked them across the fabric. His jaw dropped open in a feline smile at the tearing sound. Hopefully, she'd slept well the night before because she wasn't going to have peace as long as she kept him trapped.

  7. Thanks for the opportunity, Nikki.
    From my unedited WIP to be released this spring. "You Called Me" by Cora Blu
    ---Waking up in a stranger's home---

    “You’re sick,” he observed.
    “I thought it was the flu.”
    “Is this Randall gonna take care of you if I take you home?”
    “I’ll be okay once I get home.” Muscled biceps flexed under her, scooping her against a hard muscled chest. Crossing the room he settled her on a soft rug and heat blanketed her face warming the chill she felt.
    “Don’t roll into the fireplace,” he teased her. “We’ll eat down here.” She watched the dog go into a little alcove off the hallway and stretch out on the floor. “I prefer a cool house and Judge gets uncomfortable if it’s too hot.”
    “Your bulldog’s named Judge?”
    “He’s a good judge of character. Laid beside you all day, didn’t bite once.”
    “All day,” she winced. She had a new account to prepare for. “I have to get to work.”
    “When you’re better.”
    “I’ll be better at home. Who are you?”
    “There’s a doctor two floors down. He’ll look at you, give you some antibiotics. He owes me a favor.”
    “No need, I have a doctor. Why are you helping me?”
    “Because you’re gonna help me.”

    Find release date to be announced on my site soon.
    Sincerely, Cora Blu.

    1. Best wishes with the upcoming release!

  8. Thanks Nikki. Here's a bit from my Loving Leonardo - An unusual bisexual, polyamorous, Victorian love story with a touch of reader-interactive art history. You can read the blurb on Amazon.

    That I experienced a sudden wash of guilt over my romp with the fair Dutchman came as a surprise. I didn’t like that feeling, nor did I care for it overlaying my angst associated with my newly-realized sexual nature. By the time she entered the sitting room smelling of jasmine, I was pouring her a brandy and having myself a third. I’d always enjoyed the scent of jasmine.

    For the first time I took notice of the little things about her, things that I’d found pleasant enough as we traveled but now found strikingly beautiful. Ellie had delicately arched eyebrows and her pink bottom lip was fuller than the top. Unpinned, her riot of cinnamon curls fell like a cloud to the small of her back and damp ringlets framed her fresh-washed face. I’d only seen her hair up in pins these past few days. I had no idea she possessed a lovely mane that would bring about the desire to bury my fingers in the mass. Art historian I, she reminded me of William-Adolphe Bouguereau’s Venus. She smiled prettily and that Venus transformed into Renoir’s Little Irene so completely, it made me blink. I’d found her high-styled and attractive that day she breezed into my home. I found her no less than a work of art now. Port and brandy loosening my tongue, I told her so.

    She smiled and it lit her eyes. It wasn’t quite the bold smile she treated me to in my townhome, but it had that quality I found so appealing. In what could only be described as having the minds of two men inside my head, I felt my cock thicken, the sensation instantly squelched by that returning rush of guilt. We had to talk, and god help me, I didn’t know where to begin. I handed her the glass, took another for myself, and swept my hand to the settee. “Come sit with me, Ellie.”

    She sipped her brandy and sat beside me. She said, “We don’t have to revisit our conversation, you know. We can talk of other things.”

    I nodded. I had other things on my mind at the moment. So we chatted about the meal, the dinner company, the voyage in general. Then, she suddenly thrust at me a point of no return. “He was quite handsome, don’t you think?"

    I blinked. “Who?”

    “Our dinner companion, Jerone Some-such. I don’t remember his last name — you know, the Dutch brother to the sister sitting with us tonight?”

    My heart started to pound. “Pleasant enough. Why do you ask?” Draining my snifter in one overlarge sip that nearly choked me, I let the alcohol flame run like a burning fuse down my gullet.

    Eyeing me sharply, she smiled that knowing smile of hers; a smile that caused me to feel a heavy presence between my legs. It was everything I could do to keep my robe from rising like P.T. Barnum’s circus tent.

    I couldn’t help but feel she led the conversation when she said offhandedly, “I assume there will be men in your life. I might be wrong, yet I’m certain the man is attracted to you.”
    Refilling my glass for the fifth time, I reached for hers as an afterthought. “You bring up a point I wish to discuss.”

    Realization dawning in her wise ocean-blue eyes, she drained her brandy in one astounding swallow. Those same eyes watering, she handed me her glass. I saw the dawning transformation a split second before she burst into a delighted squeal. “You didn’t!”

    I opened my mouth to speak and absolutely nothing came forth. I couldn’t think of what to say for myself. My silence condemned me.

    “You did!” Ellie’s eyes were bright and her color high, either from spirits or the request forming in her mind. “Will you tell me about it?”

    Her assertiveness appealed to me, no question about it. However, I wasn’t sure this was a topic one had with a wife. “I don’t think… ”

    “Fiddlesticks. If my own husband can’t talk to me about his lovemaking, then who can?”

    1. Art History was one of my favorite subjects in school!

  9. Thanks for this oppotunity. Here's an excerpt from my award-winning sweet, sexy novella, LOVING OR NOTHING.

    Bursts of fireworks lit the star-studded sky as they strolled onto the deck. Careful to close the door behind them, Tami went to the railing and leaned against it.

    Daniel stood next to her, sipping his wine.Three quick explosions of light - in bright blue, yellow and pink - shot into the sky, making Tami gasp. She turned to Daniel. “I love fireworks. They’re always so magical.”

    “Definitely magical,” he said, his gaze on hers. The huskiness of his voice told her he spoke of more than fireworks. She gripped her wine glass and shivered with anticipation.

    “Cold?” he asked.

    She shook her head.

    He stepped closer until his thigh touched hers. The warmth of his body heated her through her jeans. When he slipped an arm around her waist, she didn’t protest. Lost in the feel of Daniel so close and the spectacular light show, Tami let the smooth wine and her secret desires take hold. Just for tonight she’d let herself enjoy the magic of Daniel Ramsey and spring. “Penny for your thoughts,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

    She lifted her gaze to his. The dazzling fireworks and the twinkling white lights twined around the deck railing illuminated his eyes. Caught and held by the desire in their green depths, she couldn’t look away.

    “Why so quiet?” he asked.

    “I have a lot on my mind.”

    She forced the tension from her muscles and licked her suddenly dry lips. Daniel’s gaze went to her mouth.

    “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

    “Later. You came to watch the fireworks.”

    He moved his arm from around her waist and caressed her face with his long, slender fingers. “I know what I’d rather be doing.”

    She swallowed. “We’ve got issues we need to resolve.”

    “Yes, we’ve got issues, but that doesn’t keep me from wanting you.”

    “Daniel,” she whispered. “Don’t say things like that.”

    “Why? It’s the truth.”

    Buy links:

    Third place winner in Silken Sands Star Contest; Semi-finalist in Kindle Book Reviews Best Indie Book of 2012

  10. From The Seduction of Lady Phoebe which will be released by eKensington in September.

    As Marcus turned to leave, someone began pounding on a door at the far end of the hall. From the almost unintelligible words of love coming from the young blood attempting to lay siege to the chamber, it appeared the young man was in his altitudes, and he’d found Phoebe. At least Marcus didn’t think the idiot would be reciting bad poetry to anyone else. Damn.
    Much to his disgust, Marcus recognized something of his own prior behavior towards Phoebe in the drunken young man. With long strides, Marcus quickly covered the distance to her door. Taking the other man by his coat collar, Marcus picked him up, and shook him. Hard. In a low, fierce growl, he said, “You, my lad, are leaving with me now, and you will not return to bother this lady again. If you do, I shall take great delight in breaking every bone in your body.”
    Through the fellow’s alcoholic haze, he tried to focus on his tormentor. Marcus received a grim satisfaction at the fear in the blood’s eyes. Marcus slowly lowered the younger man until his feet touched the floor, then Marcus guided the buck down the hall to the stairs and out the front door, handing him over to one of the ostlers still on duty.
    Marcus scowled. “Take this fool, and do not allow him back in the inn.”
    The ostler eyed Marcus cautiously. “But, my lord, he’s stayin’ here.”
    He fixed the ostler with a cold, hard glare. “I don’t give a damn where he is staying. He was bothering a female guest. You will not allow him back in the inn, or you’ll answer to me.”
    “Of course, my lord. I’ll put him in the barn.”
    As the ostler started off, Marcus asked, “Where’s the landlord?”
    “I don’t know, my lord.”
    Marcus scowled as the ostler hurried off with his charge. When his groom, Covey, called out, Marcus glanced over.
    “What did you discover?” he asked curtly.
    “Seems as if it were just bad luck, my lord, her la’ship being on her way to London. Stays here a lot she does. She was supposed to have arrived next week but came early.”
    “Did her servants tell you anything?”
    “Close as clams. Don’t tell no one nothin’. Got the information from one of the ostlers. She’s travelin’ with a groom, coachman, and maid.”
    “Those damn ostlers talk too much,” Marcus responded savagely, striding back to the inn and to the hall outside of Phoebe’s chamber. If the innkeeper couldn’t protect her, he would.

  11. Here’s a snippet from MERCY AND REDEMPTION, where Mercy experiences having both men at her beck and call:

    ~ * ~
    “No, Adam, wait.” She struggled to lift herself, her palms planted on his massive chest, knees astride his hips to dig into the mattress. “This time it’s going to be slow and easy. I want to take a lo-o-ong time. Like we used to do.”

    “What’s he going to do while we’re going to town?”

    “Me?” Seth said, sitting on an edge of the bed. “I’m a voyeur. I’ll just watch.”

    She felt Adam relax, saw the smile on his lips, the gleam in his eyes as he focused his attention on her. “Have at it. You want to see how long I can last? A lo-o-ong time,” he echoed her words.

    “Good,” she cooed. “You just lie back and enjoy.” She began undulating her hips, lifting and lowering herself on the pole of him, the friction ratcheting her pleasure up another notch. “Just let go. Arms up so you can’t touch me. I’m in charge. You just…enjoy.”

    His smug smile widened as he positioned his arms up to grasp the vertical spindles of the headboard. She lowered her head into his armpit, relishing the unique, piquant smell of him, the sandy tuft of hairs soft and tickling against her face.

    From a corner of her eye she saw Seth move up to Adam’s opposite arm. The snick of metal made her blink. Handcuffs. Before Adam had time to react, and with her holding down his other arm simply by the weight of her body, Seth reached across to cuff Adam’s other wrist.
    ~ * ~

    Mercy and Redemption is available here:

    Ellora’s Cave url:
    Amazon url:
    B&N url:"cris%20anson"
    ARe url:
    Anson website:
    Anson blog:
    Anson Facebook page:

  12. Here's an excerpt from FAIR PLAY, the first novel in the Diamond series. It's available at (Amazon) (Barnes & Noble) (Soul Mate Publishing) and (Kobo Books)

    Dani stopped halfway in the room. She felt like she’d just been undressed with his eyes, but instead of making her feel disgusted as she had with Martin Pace, he’d caused her body to warm with pleasure. She hated that he could control her reactions to him, so she said indignantly, “One look wasn’t enough the last time, so you needed a repeat performance?”
    He rose to his feet and smirked. “If I recall, we were supposed to exchange notes. I was just refreshing my memory.”

    “Tonight I escaped the mauling of one pervert. Do I need to defend myself from another?”

    His eyes flared with anger at her words, but he replied calmly, “Don’t put me in the same category as that excuse for a man.”

    “Sorry. That was totally uncalled for.” Her gaze fell to the floor. “It’s been a tough night.”

    He circled the front of his desk to face her.

    She raised her head and followed him with her eyes and couldn’t help scrutinizing his body as he moved. He was tall. She figured him to be at least 6’3”, with broad shoulders, a lean body, and long legs. He had a really great body and so much male sexuality pouring from him, she figured women threw themselves at him all the time. No wonder he was so self-assured and arrogant. Her reaction to him was no different than other woman. No matter how much she denied it, she was very attracted to him.

    She had to make sure Jace never learned of her attraction. It would be a very dangerous weapon to put in his hands. When her eyes returned to his, she realized he was watching her.

    He crossed his arms and grinned. “Refreshing your memory, too, I see? Do you like what you see?”

    Dani’s face instantly heated as she realized what she’d been doing. A few minutes ago she’d berated him for leering at her, and she was doing the same thing. Damn! She was treading on dangerous ground. Jace didn’t seem to be a man to be played with.

    “Forgive my rudeness. You wanted to talk to me about something?”

  13. Thanks for this opportunity, Nikki!

    Ancient Ties by Jane Leopold Quinn

    Excerpt: She had to bite her lower lip to keep her cries low, her throat aching with the frustration of holding them in. She didn’t want any of the servants hearing them.
    “Let it go, Janney. I want to hear you,” he rumbled in her ear, his warm tongue spearing inside.
    “Someone…” she gasped, her scalp prickling in ecstasy.
    “No one will come,” he assured her. “Except you.” He gently thrust his finger inside her.
    She groaned then, loud and long.
    Again and again he thrust, her squirming hips drawing his fingers farther inside. She felt the thick cock pressed against her backside become harder every time she writhed against him and hotter still at her every moan. She didn’t think she could survive it one more minute and pulled away from him.
    “What?” he complained.
    “Marek.” Her sob became a growl. “I want you inside me.”
    Stepping down into the pool, he lifted her. “Put your legs around me.” His eyes glittered before his lashes lowered with pleasure.
    The solid length of him, every thick, ridged inch, filled her. Her slick muscles grabbed him, pulled him in, pulsated around him. Held him tightly. She whimpered, her chin resting on his shoulder, mouth open in ecstasy. She squeezed her legs around his waist. Water, warm and womblike, swirled gently around their bodies joined beneath the surface.
    He nudged her, began to withdraw, preparing to thrust.
    “No,” she said thickly. “Don’t move.” She slid her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed flat to his chest, and pushed her fingers up into his hair. She bit his shoulder, and forced her hips to be still. “I just want to feel you inside me. Feel the beat of your heart.” It was ecstasy the touch of their skin, their arms around each other, his body filling hers. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I love you, I love you.” Then she began moving, gently swaying against him.
    He responded.
    “No. Let me,” she whispered.
    She perfected a slow, restrained rhythm grinding into him, grinding against the hair at the base of his cock. She gasped at the sensations sensations of being open so completely to him, of being stretched so fully by him. Lost in some private world, small movements, she wanted small movements.
    Under the water, his fingers flowed over her, around the connection of their bodies. She was open to him. Vulnerable. Oh, yes. His sure, aggressive fingers circled and stroked, teased her back hole. Her fingers curled into claws, scraping down his neck, across his shoulders, her breath ragged.
    He licked her just under her ear, pulled her earlobe between his teeth, and continued his caresses.
    She reveled at the way her body responded to the exquisite, dark thrill of his double penetration. He owned her, possessed her body. She belonged to him heart and soul. Groans tore from her throat as she rocked against his cock, each movement drawing his fingers more deeply inside her. Tremors shook her body, overwhelming her. With a high shriek, her orgasm hit and she contracted tightly around him. His responding explosion, hot, powerful, and sustained, flowed into her. She felt the continuous jetting, the surging heat of his passion, could feel his throbbing, thick and heavy, in tandem with the beats of her heart.
    “I love you.” Tears washed her cheeks. The force of her orgasm drove her fingernails into his flesh; her teeth clamped down on his shoulder. She clung to him as his strong arms surrounded her. It was a long time before she could bear to relax her grip. A long time before she realized that he’d moved again to sit on the stair, still joined belly to belly, chest to chest.
    Neither wanted to let go. Neither could let go.

    Journey to 2nd Century Roman Britain – Ancient Ties

    Jane Leopold Quinn -
    My Romance: Love With a Scorching Sensuality

  14. Thanks for the opportunity to showcase “Torc of Moonlight”, book 1 in a trilogy of paranormal romances about the resurrection of a Celtic water goddess. Out now as ebook and soon paperback:

    The girl behind the computer screen looked up with a smile that faded to a suspicious frown. Nick slapped the poster across her keyboard.
    ‘Hawkins,’ he snapped. ‘Who is he?’
    The girl blinked, and pushed herself back on her wheeled chair. ‘What?’
    ‘Hawkins,’ Nick repeated, stabbing a finger at the blacked-out name on the poster beneath Alice’s head. ‘Who is he and where can I find him?’
    Her gaze followed his hand, and then took in the poster as a whole. ‘Oh,’ she said.
    Nick leant over her desk. ‘Who is he?’
    The girl stood, pushing her face towards his, matching his aggression. ‘What’s your problem? Never heard of please and thank you?’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Our lecherous lecturer laid your girlfriend, has he?’
    Nick straightened, catching his breath. The girl eased her stance in return.
    ‘Figures,’ she said. ‘We thought this little interlude was too good to be true. Helen is the one you need to speak to. She did an exposé a couple of years back. Nearly had him turfed out.’
    ‘Where is he?’
    ‘Forget it, or you’ll end up turfed out. And that prat isn’t worth your future.’
    ‘I’ve never heard of him. Lecturer in what?’
    ‘Forget it. Acting the jilted lover isn’t going to score you any points around here.’
    ‘Helen, then. Where will I find this Helen?’
    ‘Right here.’
    Behind him the door swung gently on its hinges to reveal an angular woman in her late twenties wearing a mauve silk jacket and a short black skirt. In her heels she was taller than Nick. At sight of the poster she raised a darkly pencilled eyebrow.
    ‘Mother Earth Society, eh? Not a devotee, are you, desperately trying to be one with nature?’ Her gaze washed over his scarred face. ‘I guess not. Hardly the bardic type.’
    ‘He’s looking for Harkin,’ the girl told her.
    ‘Hawkins,’ Nick corrected.
    The woman shook her head. ‘Leonard Harkin, our celebrated hippie that never was, chief practitioner of free love and peace, man.’ She swayed, giving an imitation of being stoned. ‘Except he wraps it up with candles and secret invocations.’
    The girl shot her a warning look. ‘Helen...’
    ‘But not everyone,’ Helen continued, ‘only the impressionable ones, the ones he wants to shag. Your girlfriend. Presumably.’
    ‘Where will I find him?’
    ‘Now? Pass. His studio’s in Loten. You could try there. Of course, at this hour he could be scraping his reptiles on Cranbrook.’ She looked beyond his shoulder to the girl behind the desk. ‘Time to call it a day, Jenny.’
    Nick frowned. ‘This Harkin lectures in…?’
    Helen unhooked a coat from the back of the door and passed it over the desk. Jenny flicked the switch on the computer and its incessant hum fell silent in the tiny office.
    ‘You’re not listening,’ Helen told him. ‘Loten. Studio. You’ll find it if you want to. Can hardly miss it really.’ She gestured towards the corridor. ‘Would you like to go ahead of us so we can lock up?’
    Nick stepped by her and kept on walking. Helen followed him out of the office, watching his determined stride with interest as Jenny turned the key.
    ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ Jenny said. ‘If he flattens Harkin he’ll get thrown out. If he mentions your name you’ll get thrown out. They’ll bring up that harassment claim he made against you.’
    Helen smiled, unperturbed. ‘I hope he does flatten Harkin. I hope he beats the shit out of him. Justice has been a long time coming.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Besides, you never can tell. A scapegoat might come in handy.’

    Check out:

  15. Here's a quickie from The Midas Rush, my upcoming science fiction novel with romantic elements, being released at the end of February. Tresky, a shepherd on the planet Jones, has gathered his life savings and come to the city seeking adventure. He finds a mysterious woman, Ebbril who insists on marrying him within hours of meeting. Here they are in a hotel room, where Ebbril drinks little but keeps refilling Tresky's glass:

    "Where you from, Ebbril? Can't place your accent or your looks."
    "Where do you think I'm from?"
    "By your light skin, somewhere up northwest. Actually...." In a fit of drunken bashfulness, Tresky stared into his cup, which had somehow refilled itself. "Without meaning any offense, I find myself wondering if you're a Pilk."
    Ebbril cocked her head to one side.
    "Am I right? You a Pilk from the coast of the Square Sea?"
    "What have you heard about Pilks, Tresky?"
    He screwed up his face, trying to squint at memories through a fog of alcohol. "Not much. 'S too far away. Never met a Pilk. Never knew anyone who had."
    "You're right, Tresky. I'm a Pilk."
    For a moment he was speechless. Then he exploded, drumming his fists on the table and howling. "I married a Pilk! I married a Pilk!"
    "Tresky, control yourself."
    He stopped drumming, but let out another howl. "Glory to the Diggers, on my first day in the big city I meet a Pilk and on the second day I marry her. A Pilk! Whooha!" He started to do the Shearing Dance, but a spinning head changed his mind. Instead, he leered at Ebbril as though seeing her for the first time.
    She glanced around nervously, seemingly worried that his noise might bring complaints. But he'd given the innkeeper a huge tip -- well, at least a tip -- to ensure against interruptions.
    "What," Ebbril demanded, "have you heard about Pilks?"
    "Only what ever'one knows."
    "Which is?"
    "Oh ..." He giggled. "You know."
    She lowered her lashes, then looked at him with an expression warm enough to kindle the wood of the table. "Come on, Tresky lad. What have you heard?"
    "Tresky lad." He giggled again. "Boy, oh boy, am I gonna get it tonight. Whooha!"
    "Tresky." The word was louder than her usual throaty purr.
    "Okay, okay. I've heard that Pilks are sort of like us Gasparres, 'cept opposite. Gasparres are dreamy romantics given to sloppy poetry and staying virgins until they marry, and then staying fateful ... uh, faithful forever."
    Ebbril stared as though seeing him for the first time. "You're a virgin?"
    "Well ..." He made himself speak slowly, so the words would behave themselves like a flock under the watchful gaze of a sheep-lizard. "I suppose to a Pilk, whose people've raised sexual pleasure to its highest, most intense, most sophissicated levels--"
    "To a Pilk, I shuppose being a virgin at twenty-two is a disgrace. But here--up in Gasparre, I mean--it's bein' a Pilk what's scandalous." Tresky winked at her with both eyes. "But I won't hold your 'sperience against you. Just be gentle wi' me."
    He reached for her, but bumped the bottle of wine instead. It toppled over. As a puddle formed under his nose, he giggled, imagining the wine spilling onto Ebbril's dress and her removing it very Pilkily.
    Then the room went dark, though he never heard the click of the light switch.

    The Midas Rush, available February, 2013
    The Trial of Tompa Lee, available now in hardcover and e-book

  16. Here's a blurb from my debut novel Taming the Stallion, where my main character just stepped out of the shower, and she realized she inadvertently gave the hero her phone number....

    Available at B& in ebook right now and coming to paperback in the spring:

    The phone rang, and Raylie stepped into her bedroom to answer it. “Hello?”
    A pause. “Officer McPherson?”
    “Who’s calling, please?”
    “It’s Ashton Lyre, from Star—”
    “How did you get this number?” Was he a stalker? Dangerous?
    He seemed tentative, confused. “I…you gave it…the write-up. Report. Whatever you want to call it. It says ‘Me’ at this number, right at the top.”
    Bowling. Her free hand slowly cradled her forehead. The towel fell.
    “I…I thought…maybe…you know…you had heard of the last fiasco. Wanted to find out more. Especially since the case was dropped only two weeks ago.”
    Her body responded to the uncertainty in his voice, the vulnerability that made her originally choose this profession. His rich timbre vibrated through the phone, making her nipples pebble and a shiver tickle along her spine.
    She was probably just cold. “What? It was?”
    “Well…yeah. No evidence. I told them I never hired the kid. I thought maybe you had some suspects in mind.”
    Ray snatched up her towel and gripped it to her wayward breasts. “Mr. Lyre, in my profession, the suspects are always the ones who own the pets.”
    “Damn it, McPherson,” she heard a thud through the phone line. A palm along a table? “Doc Schneible was here not two hours after you left. I’ve known this man for fifteen years. He was my character witness at the trial, for God’s sake. He thinks my boys were poisoned. Now, I want to know, do you have any suspects?”
    Not many men stood up to a woman with a gun. And he referred to his horses as his “boys.” She liked that. Like they were kin and not commodity. Something she understood better than most.
    Still…in a composed voice she said, “I think you need to call the Louisville Police Department for that, Mr. Lyre. If you’re talking suspects, it’s really hard for us to put lie detectors on horses. Hell, even our stool pigeons don’t sing.”
    He grew quiet. She started shivering again. “I thought,” he started slowly, “that being an animal cop meant you wanted to help those in jeopardy. Give voices to those who can’t speak. See that justice was served.” He took a deep breath. “Guess I was wrong about you.” He hung up the phone.
    “No, you weren’t,” she whispered before replacing the receiver. Moisture had gathered in a long neglected place, moisture far removed from her shower. For the first time, a man had unwittingly validated her job, her beliefs, her purpose, and dang it, it felt good. Her breasts tightened as her nipples strained out of her skin. His face danced in the mirror of her mind, and she imagined those callused hands sliding around her waist, drawing her close....
    Humpty Dumpty may be dead, but suddenly Raylie no longer felt like she was. “He’s my suspect,” she growled at herself.
    But still…
    This was going to be a great case.
    She was completely turned on.

  17. An excerpt from my newly re-released book, THE WIZARD'S SHIELD:

    The rush of a sudden, fierce wind outside drew her to a window to watch the shrubs and palm trees flapping wildly. Sand blew over the pavement and splattered against walls and trees. Dead leaves, loose papers, and other debris danced in the air. A livid, purple-tinged darkness turned the day grotesque. Tendrils of indigo-shaded power floated along with the dark storm clouds.

    A flash of lightning seared its way from sky to ground just beyond a row of houses across the street, followed closely by a crack of thunder that rattled the windows.

    A man and woman hurried three small children along the boardwalk that led over the dune from the beach to the street. They toted coolers, bags, boogie boards, and buckets. The youngest trailed a towel flapping behind him in the wind. More lightning zig-zagged from sky to ground, not far away. Ilene sucked in a sharp breath.

    The father looked up and flinched. Fear tightened his muscles as he dropped a cooler and turned around to snatch up the straggling toddler. His voice carried over the rushing wind. "Get to the van. Quick!"
    He nodded toward a vehicle parked down the street. His wife and two older children raced on ahead.

    Ilene’s hands clenched into fists. Too much energy crackled in the air. It wasn’t directed at the family, but that didn’t guarantee they wouldn’t get hurt by it. Collateral damage. Some of the more ruthless mages cared little for who else was affected by their activities.

    Two flashes hit nearby, one right after the other. The child let out a frightened wail as his father, bent low over him, dashed off the wooden walkway and down the street. Even they could sense the danger building.

    Ilene couldn’t trust their fate to chance. She roused her own power, feeling for charged particles in the area. Gathering them in, she rolled and pushed them into position, building a lattice of force around the family. It wouldn’t keep out the wind or the rain—she could have done that with air, too, if she’d had time—but it should keep the lightning from reaching them. For the moment, that mattered most.

    Even at a distance, the rush of oppositely charged particles prickled in her brain. The growing polarization signaled an impending strike.

    What formed out there made her gut clench in fear. It was so close to the father and child the hair on their bodies must have been standing on end. The man looked around wildly, searching for shelter. The panic in his eyes radiated across the fifty feet or so that separated them.
    Would her barrier be enough to protect them? The ground charge was forming so close it could jump right through it if she’d left even a small opening. Ilene reached out toward the building charge differential. Playing with lightning was tricky business. Choosing her positions carefully, she pushed in various weak spots to move the polarizing field.

    It sucked a lot of energy out of her to divert its course. Her ribs and head ached as she herded protons in a subatomic cattle drive to get the charge well away from the family. Those minuscule bits of potential energy were every bit as ornery and uncooperative as cows were reputed to be.

    Even as the bolt formed, she didn’t know if she’d succeeded. Her breath stopped in her throat for a long, long moment as she waited.

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