Bio: Mardi Ballou


By day, she's a mild-mannered language teacher. But after hours, Mardi Ballou's wild writer persona erupts and entraps her in bondage…to her computer. Release comes only once she achieves her word count goal, at which point the maniacal chocolate monster will give her one sublime piece. And then she can spend time with her hero husband Lee, who gives great massages at strategic times. So Mardi writes what she knows-- romances--hot and mainstream--for Ellora's Cave, Samhain, NCP, Whiskey Creek, and Changeling. Also women's fiction. Her upcoming releases are the Fangly, My Dear series--Byte Marks, What's a Ghoul to Do?, and Playing with Matches for Samhain, Long, Slow Ride for Ellora's Cave Oh, Yum series, Déjà Brew for NCP, and Whatever Maura Wants for Ellora's Cave Jewel of the Nile series. Check her out at http://www.mardiballou.com/ .



"Long, Slow Ride" by Mardi Ballou, an Oh, Yum Quickie coming from Ellora's Cave May 14



Blurb:


The wedding reception is boring and depressing for Lori Nelson until she gets asked to dance by the chauffeur. The twenty-something, very hot chauffeur. Lori figures Jeff's just being polite -- until he takes her in his arms and shifts her libido into overdrive.

The moment Jeff meets gorgeous, classy Lori, he falls hard. But much as Lori seems to dig him, she's hung up on their eleven-year age difference and her own personal baggage.

While Lori is convincing herself that she can handle a one-night stand, Jeff is firing up his limo, prepared to take Lori for the ride of her life.

Buy Link:

http://www.ellorascave.com/AuthorsBooks.asp?AuthorCode=MaB

Excerpt:


"Want to dance?"


Surprised, Lori Nelson looked up at the hot young guy holding his hand out to her. Jeff, the only other unattached person at her table at the wedding was doing the polite thing and offering to rescue her from wallflower status. The fact that he was the bride and groom's chauffeur shouldn't count against him, right?


"Uh, thanks. That's really nice of you but not necessary." Even though the deejay was spinning Aretha's "RESPECT," one of her all-time favorites, and she'd been drumming her fingers on the table and wiggling in her chair, she figured she should act her age--at least a decade older than Jeff--and sit it out.


He kinda leered at her. "I want to dance. You sure as hell look like you do. I want to dance with you. End of story." He half dragged her out of her chair. Okay, so he didn't have to drag too hard. Aretha was hard to resist. So was Jeff.


A lot taller than her--and buffer--Jeff gave Lori a major workout as they boogied. Luckily, she'd been extra conscientious about getting to the gym since the break-up with Charlie. All the extra kickboxing she'd mentally aimed at his pointed head helped her almost keep up.


The deejay segued from "RESPECT" to "Yesterday." That was a low blow. The last thing she wanted to think about was all her yesterdays with that low-life scum Charlie. Luckily there was an open bar. Lori thanked Jeff and was about to head there when he drew her back to him. "This one too, pretty lady," he whispered, giving her goose bumps with the sound of his voice and the expression in his ocean gray eyes.


Heck, one slow dance with him would probably be better than the double vodka that had been Plan A. Besides, she could have her drink after the dance. "Okay."

"The pleasure's all mine," he murmured, enveloping her in his very strong arms.

Hmm, up close and personal, Jeff's body was all hard planes and barely contained energy--emphasis on hard. In moments, his erection made its presence known pressed against her belly. Ah, the pleasures of dancing with a younger man. "How old are you, Jeff?" she whispered in his ear.


"Twenty-five."


She swallowed hard. He was even younger than she'd thought. "Sure you know what you're doing? I'm thirty-six."


"Cool." He held her even tighter, which she wouldn't have thought possible. Cool definitely did not describe the way she felt in his arms. A pool of warmth had gathered smack in her groin, spiraling waves of inappropriate but not unwelcome desire from head to toe. Jeff was definitely cute--okay, hot--but he was so not for her. Those spiraling waves had merged into one gigantic tidal burst that threatened to pull her under.


"Yesterday" ended. Without breaking stride, they continued dancing to "When I Fall in Love". Of course, by this point, it didn't really matter what the deejay played. Jeff and Lori were locked in their embrace, barely moving and just about oblivious to everyone and everything.


Too bad she couldn't allow herself to linger in the delicious haze of being with him. She snapped to alert and mentally smacked herself for what she was thinking, trying--not too hard--to break away. Jeff's crisp citrus scent invited her to lick and then take a bite. The way he held her, she suspected he wouldn't mind. Heck, he'd probably lick and bite her right back. She shuddered at the prospect of his full, sensuous lips parting so he could take a taste. Her nipples beaded and she leaned into him even harder because the perverse, bad girl side of herself wanted him to feel her reaction. His groan expressed approval. So did his growing erection.


The proximity to his arousal practically had her whimpering with need. So close but, in reality, way beyond reach. Cripes, she was on a public dance floor with her work buddies all around her. They'd gathered for a colleague's wedding. No matter how much booze had flowed and how dim the lights were, people would notice and talk.


"I hate to say this but," he rasped in her ear, arching his hips so she knew they were on the same track. "Duty calls. I've got to go now. Trust me, I don't want to leave you."

So they wouldn't even get to have the last dance together. She pulled herself into polite, professional mode and cleared her throat. "Nice meeting you, Jeff. Thanks for the dance--er, dances."


His eyes devoured her. "Uh-uh, this is definitely not good-bye…"

Why zombies?

By Mary Winter


It started off as a joke. I have a couple of really good friends who are zombie crazy, and I thought: “what's the one thing you never see in a romance novel?” That's right. Zombies. Of course, a zombie couldn't be either the hero or the heroine. You can get away with a lot of things in erotic romance, but something that is a walking, rotting corpse, just isn't romantic or sexy. If it makes you go ick, it doesn't need to be the heroine (or hero) of a romance novel.


So when I sat down to plot my NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) project I knew that I wanted to write a romance and I wanted it to have zombies in it. I had the character of Zahra in mind as a zombie slayer, and the more I thought about her, the more I realized what kind of man, or in this case, a half-angel, it would take to stand up to her. The entire mythos kind of fell into place and the novel was born.


So why zombies and angels? The biggest reason is as a nod to my two good friends who have supported me from my days as an aspiring writer through my published days, and now listen to me while I talk about the trials and tribulations of the publishing world. And angels, because I read a book Metal Angel by Nancy Springer and absolutely loved her hero. This fallen angel made the perfect dark, brooding, sexy hero, and while Dashtu isn't a full angel, he certainly does, well… have his wings.


And probably the biggest reason is that I wanted to have fun. NaNoWriMo is about cranking out 50,000 words in a month. While I've certainly done that, and my current writing goals, if I get to them every day, tend to run more toward the 80,000 word range, I wanted to make sure that the story was one that I couldn't wait to get back to every day. In 2006 it was my polar bears in Bjorn's Mate. In 2007, it was An Angel's Blade.


Happy reading!

An Angel's Blade

By Mary Winter

http://www.marywinter.com/

Release Date: May 15, 2008

http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=702

Loose Id

Genre: post-apocalyptic/near future erotic romance with zombies and angels


BLURB:

A woman teaches a half-angel that the best way to save the world, and himself, is to give into his desires and play with his Blade.


EXCERPT:


Dashtu rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I'm just one man, Zahra. I worked with someone once, remember? It didn't end well. I'm too smart to wage a one-person crusade against the Necromancers.”


“Someone has to fight. I'm not giving up.”


“Then you're going to die. I'm sorry, Zahra. I want to help you. I really do, but I've done my time. More than you can know. I remember when the first Necromancers gained power. I remember when the bomb took out most of Washington DC. Amazing what people will do out of greed, isn't it?” He kept his voice deadpan, his expression undecipherable.


He didn't look much older than thirty. For him to have seen that -- she did some quick mental calculations -- made him nearly seventy-five years old. He looked good for being a septuagenarian. “If you saw all of that then you know why we have to fight.”


Dashtu glanced toward the door again. A tall wall of a man strode in. His bald head gleamed in the lantern lights. He wore black from neck to toes, insignia along the right arm of his jacket.


Zahra's stomach fell. This man worked for the Necromancer controlling the area. She ducked her head.

Dashtu lunged across the table. Cupping the back of her head, he pulled her lips toward his. “Don't fight me,” he whispered an instant before his mouth closed over hers.


She'd once watched an apartment building catch fire and burn to the ground in less than an hour. The flames igniting inside her eclipsed even the memory of that event. With his left hand, he cupped her cheek, obscuring anyone's view of her face. She did the same, tangling her fingers in his fine hair. His tongue swiped across her lips and willingly she opened for him. A hungry, needy moan erupted from her and he swallowed it.


Fire and ice. He made the combination possible, the heat radiating from him feeling strong enough to melt the worn, vinyl bench. His scent surrounded her, a mix of sandalwood and cinnamon like the incense her mentor used to burn. The scent of angels, she'd called it, and after getting this close to Dashtu, Zahra knew she was right. Not even the crudely brewed beer she tasted detracted from his allure. His spicy taste filled her mouth and made her tingle all the way to her toes. Her nipples rasped against the leather vest. Between her legs, her leather pants rubbed against her swollen clit.


No one cared about the couple kissing in the corner. Zahra tried to focus on her surroundings. The big man strode through the bar, acting as if he were looking for someone.


Dashtu's hands didn't move. He didn't reach for her breast, didn't try to caress any more than her face and neck. His tongue plunged into her mouth, a carnal acknowledgement of the attraction between them.


Zahra kissed him back. Stroking his tongue with her own she poured her years of sexual frustration into the kiss. She tucked her knees beneath her, crawling further onto the table. Distantly, she recognized hoots and catcalls coming from somewhere in the bar. She clenched her fingers in his hair, pulling him hard against her. Their teeth clicked together, the slight pain adding to her pleasure.


The need for air parted them, a momentary distraction. Even that tiny parting made her whimper and press her lips to his. Her years of self-enforced celibacy, her hunt for Dashtu, her need to save these people…it all coalesced into this moment of life giving passion. His lips on hers. His hands on her skin. His cock in her body. She wanted it all and she wanted it right now.


He pulled away. “Let's go.”


“What?” Her mind reeling from the kiss, she turned to look.


“Don't look.” Cupping her cheek, he turned her to face him. “Just get out of the booth and head out the back door.”


Zahra nodded. She knew her way around Barg's since she'd often come here to let off a little steam, especially after Spika's death. “I'll lead.” She tore off the apron and left it in the booth.


He followed so close his breath tickled the back of her neck. With him so near he swamped her senses. She struggled to listen to snippets of conversation. A woman's orgasmic scream vibrated through the paper-thin walls. Two men discussed the harvest, or lack thereof, and one boasted he found a way to repair an abandoned car. The other guffawed. Beer flowed into tankards and into mouths. The slick floor made a hasty retreat impossible.


She ducked into one of the alcoves lovers used when there weren't any rooms available in the back.


“Hurry,” Dashtu growled.


“I'm trying.” She poked her head out of the alcove, saw the big man still sitting at the bar. “This way.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him down the hallway that led to the prostitute's quarters. Raising her hand in the air, she made a gesture for Barg. The bartender nodded and shoved another drink at the big man.


“What are you doing?” Dashtu stopped in the hall. He glanced at the curtains. Sexual sounds echoed from the rooms, from the slap of leather against bare flesh, to a man's groan of pleasure. Somewhere, a tenor voice chanted “Yes! Yes!” and squeaking bed springs made an off-tune symphony. She'd often hidden back here where the prostitutes worked, sometimes offering protection to the women. Barg helped her out with the occasional job. She knew she'd be leaving Barg with one hell of a mess. Sorry, man. She shoved open the back door, stepping through a cloud of cigarette smoke.


“You coming?” she snarled over her shoulder at Dashtu, aware that had they been somewhere else the question would have had a different meaning. As if on cue a man gave a long, lingering moan. Zahra grinned.


“Yeah,” he muttered. “Where now?”

Coming Soon:

June 2

Bio:

Aubrey Ross writes an eclectic assortment of erotic fiction. From power struggles between futuristic clans, to adventurous Mystic Keepers, her stories are filled with passion and imagination. Some of her recent awards include Passionate Plume finalists, an EPPIE finalist, and a CAPA Nomination from the Romance Studio.With a pampered cat curled on the corner of her desk, Aubrey dreams of fascinating words and larger than life adventures -- and wouldn't have it any other way! Visit her website at: http://www.aubreyross.com/ Join Aubrey's Newsletter group at: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Anything-but-Ordinary/.


Out Now: The Dark Dichotomy Series

Dark Dichotomy: Mishbehaving


Kendra Lawrence isn’t sure what to expect when she meets Torral Burton for the first time. His family’s secrecy has kept Napa Valley gossiping for generations. He contracts her to renovate a cottage on his secluded estate, but Kendra is tempted to misbehave as soon as she looks into his eyes. Never before has a man ignited her senses and made her long for erotic misdeeds.

Ryan, Torral’s nocturnal half, senses Kendra’s presence even before he transitions out of sleep state. His visions reveal an enemy lurking in the shadows, waiting to destroy them all. A soul bonding is the only way to ensure Kendra’s safety. But first she must accept the complexity of their nature and learn to revel in the pleasures awaiting her as the mate of a Dichotomy.

Buy Link:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=822

Excerpt:

Dark Dichotomy: Misbehaving
Aubrey Ross
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2008 Aubrey Ross
An Authorized Excerpt

He took a step toward her and then another. “What do you feel when you look at me?”

Her heartbeat leapt in response to his whispered question. Torral had asked her what she felt when he touched her. Ryan didn’t seem to need touch. He had her aching with just the power of his gaze.

“I think you’re extremely handsome. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I look very much like Leos. Did your heart pound when you looked at him?”

“My heart pounded when I looked at Torral. It’s not just you.” His smile caught her off guard. She’d hoped to dissuade him with the comment.

“Torral is part of me. It’s natural that you find us both attractive.” He drew her hand to the middle of his chest and pulled her toward him. “Touch me. Tell me how this makes you feel.”

She splayed her fingers against the firm contour of his pectoral muscle. His shoulders were broad, but his chest tapered dramatically to lean hips. Heat radiated through his casual shirt and her fingers tingled.

As if in a trance, she raised her other hand to his chest as well. Anticipation wrapped around her and curled through her. Reality melded with fantasy, accelerating her arousal. She stroked him from neck to waist over and over, while erotic images swirled through her mind. Caressed, surrounded, overwhelmed, she longed to revel in decadent pleasure.

She squeezed his shoulders and explored his upper arms, hungry for the warmth of his skin. Her hands found the hem of his shirt and slipped beneath. She groaned and tugged the offending material upward, caressing him with her lips.

His fingers pushed into her hair. “Is your reaction to me unusual?”

She’d forgotten this was a test, a sort of experiment. “I’ve never felt like this, not even with Torral.”

“I’m the dominant twin. My effect on you is bound to be stronger.”

Easing back without depriving herself of his flesh, she looked into his eyes. “What’s happening to me? Do you feel this too?”

Dark Dichtomy: Mistress

Determined to find her missing niece, Lark Emery follows the clues to Napa Valley. Aidan finds the stunning blonde poking her nose into matters that don’t concern her and decides to use her in his revenge plot against the Burton brothers. He manipulates her perception with erotic dreams and false memories then sets her in the path of Evan Burton.

Evan immediately senses deception in Lark. She’s desirable and willing, but something holds him back. He’s unsettled, yet aroused, so he looks into her mind and sees her locked in a passionate embrace with his enemy. Unsure if she is Aidan’s willing spy or another of his victims, Evan takes her to his secluded estate for an erotic interrogation.

Finally convinced of Lark’s innocence, Evan isn’t sure how to protect her without revealing the secrets of his race. His obsessive attraction to her is a complication he can’t afford with a Dark Dichotomy on the loose.

Buy Link:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=882

Excerpt:

Dark Dichotomy: Mistress
Aubrey Ross
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2008 Aubrey Ross
An Authorized Excerpt

The brisk wind buffeting Aidan Nicholson’s face did little to cool his temper. He looked around the parking lot and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. The apartment complex had no surveillance, but signs of life were everywhere. It wasn’t as if he were trying to lure Lark down a dark alley. A cluster of children tossed around a ball and the rumble of music came from inside one of the units.
“What’s the problem?” he grumbled, his gaze moving over her lovely face. She was a classic Scandinavian beauty with high cheekbones and the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He wanted to watch those eyes cloud with desire and fear as he peeled back layer after layer of her defenses.

“I don’t mean to be rude” -- Lark tried to soothe him with a smile -- “but in this day and age a woman can’t be too careful.” She sat inside her car, as if the automobile could protect her.

“What exactly do you think I’m going to do to you?” Speaking to her through a half-open window was humiliating. He’d been polite and patient, tried to earn her trust and ease her mind.

“Please don’t take this personally. I can’t help Holly if I become a victim myself.”

The statement made him smile. She had no idea how close she’d stumbled to the truth. He wasn’t directly responsible for Holly’s disappearance, but he was very much involved. And he had every intention of making Lark his next victim.

“All right.” He glanced into the distance as he composed his expression. “We both want to search her apartment. What do you suggest?”

“You have a key.” She crossed her arms over her chest, obviously uncomfortable despite her precautions. “Why don’t you go first? Take as long as you like. Just leave the door unlocked when you leave.”

“Fine by me.” Arguing with her was a waste of time. He had far more effective ways of getting what he wanted.

He crossed the parking lot without a backward glance. Deep inside him Connell surged, clawing at the confines of sleep state, rebelling against his imprisonment. It had taken many years for Aidan to control his day-dwelling half. At first he’d influenced Connell, coaxing and manipulating him through thoughts and emotions. He no longer bothered with subtleties. He wore Connell like a costume, never allowing his consciousness to fully emerge.

Opening the door with his key, Aidan slipped into the tiny apartment. Holly only slept here when he hadn’t required her services and he seldom did without his obedient whore. Did Lark realize her precious niece had become a prostitute?

He peeked through the blinds, curious to see how long his stubborn prey would keep up this nonsense. This was Napa, not L.A.!

Lark hadn’t moved. She sat in her car, patiently waiting for him to finish his search. Sunlight gleamed in her long blonde hair as she reached for something on the passenger seat. A cell phone. She unfolded the device and Aidan tensed. He needed to move fast with this one. She was too damned cautious.

A quick sweep of the apartment revealed nothing of importance. He’d only wanted to make sure there was nothing here that could incriminate him. Lark would be so disappointed when the apartment turned out to be another dead end.

He started for the door when a glossy brochure caught his eye. Nicole Fierbrose was a brilliant young artist who was just starting to build a following. He’d taken Holly to a gallery featuring her creations the last time they’d been in San Francisco. Nicole knew the Burton brothers and he was interested in anyone who had a connection to his enemies. According to the brochure, Nicole was having her first solo exhibition the following Saturday night.

Inspiration swept through Aidan. His biggest challenge had been accessing the Burtons during their nocturnal cycle. They pooled their resources and he was no match for their combined strength. If he had a connection with someone inside their defenses, someone they trusted, perhaps even felt the need to protect… It might restore his best advantage, the element of surprise.

He pictured Lark’s lovely face and voluptuous figure. What hot blooded male wouldn’t be attracted to her? The exhibition was three days away. He could establish a link with her subconscious and shape her perception with dreams and false memories. He’d perfected the skills on Connell, but he had yet to test the full scope of his control on anyone else.

Having her totally at his mercy held undeniable appeal. Still, nothing was more important than repaying the Burtons for the injustices forced upon his family. If postponing his play sessions with Lark would bring him closer to his ultimate goal, he was willing to wait.

Coming Soon:

The future hangs in the balance as Setti hybrids invade the kingdom of Zylott. Never before have the Setti been this bold or this successful. Past resentments must be set aside and uneasy alliances forged when the sorcerers of Zylott turn to the Mystic Keepers for help.
Consuming desire and conflicting loyalties will test their inner strength. They must learn to see beyond their prejudice before they face their common enemy. If the Setti cannot be stopped in the kingdom of Zylott, their ultimate destination is Earth.

This collection contains the previously released novellas Zylott Wars: Revenge, Zylott Wars: Ransom, and Zylott Wars: Rescue. These titles continue the Mystic Keepers series.

Buy Link:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=847

Excerpt:

Mystic Keepers: Zylott Wars
Aubrey Ross
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2007 Aubrey Ross

This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

“Cold?” Her tone gently mocked him.

He shook his head, filled with wonder and tenderness. “I knew you were… I’ve dreamed of…” He laughed. “I feel like a bumbling schoolboy.”

Slipping her hands inside his pants, she eased them down along his hips. “You don’t look like a schoolboy.” She encircled his shaft with one hand and squeezed his ass with the other. “I’m so glad you’re not one of my students.”

He kicked his pants aside and pulled her against him. “Not half as glad as I am.”

His mouth settled over hers, ending the conversation. Her lips parted sweetly, her tongue greeting his with a sensual swirl. Warm and silken beneath his hands, her skin fascinated him. He stroked her back, her hips, her arms, wanting her to accept the feel of his hands on her body before he touched her intimately.

The gurgling pool beckoned. Perhaps a leisurely swim would give him some hope of controlling himself. But her body was so warm, her kiss so giving. He moved his hands to her face, forcing himself to slow down. Nibbling and nipping, he migrated from her lips to her jaw. She arched her neck, offering her throat and pressing her belly flush against his groin.

Heat flared deep in his abdomen. His cock bucked against her warmth. He cupped her breast, easing away so he could watch her nipple tighten beneath the firm stroke of his thumb.

He dipped his head and closed his lips around her nipple, flicking it with his tongue. Her fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close, urging him on. He suckled and licked, reveling in the feel of her pebble-hard tip.

She parted her thighs and straddled his leg. His mouth moved to her other breast. Clutching his shoulders, she rocked her hips, grinding her mound against his muscular thigh. Her moist heat seared his skin, tantalized and aroused him. He wanted to savor this moment, make it last as long as possible. But his rebellious body wasn’t cooperating with his mind.

He had to touch her, feel her pussy ripple, hear her cry out. With a ragged moan, he dragged his mouth away from her breast and spread her cloak on the cavern floor. He swept her into his arms, capturing her startled gasp with his mouth. Bending to one knee, he placed her on the cloak, pausing to appreciate the contrast of her blonde beauty and the rich, dark fur.

Her gaze never left his face as he stretched out beside her. Passion deepened her eyes from crystal blue to sapphire. Brushing her lips with soft kisses, he stroked her breasts and belly, addicted to the soft heat of her skin. He couldn’t stop touching her, didn’t want to stop.

Each breathless murmur, each restless arch assured him of her need. He pressed his hand over her mound, easing his fingers between her folds. Soft, hot, slick with passion’s cream. He slid his fingers deeper, teasing her opening.

It wasn’t enough. He had to see her, watch his body join with hers. He moved between her legs, pushing up on the backs of her knees. “Open for me, love. I want to look at you.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she relaxed her legs, allowing him to guide them up and back. The silvery curls covering her mound gleamed with moisture. Tye dragged air into his burning lungs. His cock jerked impatiently in response to her obvious eagerness. Leaning forward, he slowly traced her slit, only touching her with the head of his cock. Up and back, over and over until she whimpered. Hot, incredibly soft, her slick folds surrounded him, welcomed him, beckoned him deeper.

Determination surged through him. He would feel her come at least once before he surrendered to his own need. Holding her open with one hand, he pushed just his cock head into her opening. Stars, she was hot and tight. He circled her clit with his fingertips. Her inner muscles squeezed with each pass.

“Come for me, princess. I want to feel your pleasure.”

Canting her hips, she tried to take him deeper. Tye wouldn’t give in. He continued the teasing stimulation, his gaze intent upon her flushed face. She licked her lips and closed her eyes, her hands grasping the backs of her knees.

“Let go, sweetheart. Come for me.”

He covered her clit with his thumb and rubbed. She cried out and arched her back. Her sweet pussy pulsed, driving Tye to the brink. He kept up the rhythm with his thumb and thrust his full length into her.

She bit back a scream and turned her head to the side, her body shuddering. Tight, hot -- much too tight. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered the question against her lips, careful to keep any hint of accusation from his tone.

“It wasn’t important.”

“Like hell it wasn’t. I wouldn’t have hurt you if I’d known.”

“It always hurts the first time.”

“Not with a sorcerer.”

Wedding Day Pt1
5 Years Ago
By Selena Illyria
Copyright © Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
Interracial, Paranormal

Sebastain held Lea in his arms, carrying her limp body with great difficulty. Blood dripped from the wounds in her side and down her arm. He had wounds in stomach and side. He had a broken ankle that with every step was wounded. He felt weak, dizzy but angry and worry consumed him. He had sent all demons that had attacked her back to their maker but not without some cost. He was hurt and she was injured and infected from the bites that had been inflicted on her.
He could see black swirls, curling, writhing all over her neck, arm and hand. She had yet to awaken. That worried him. He saw her eyes moving under her eyelids but so far no response when he tried to speak to her, reassure her. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. It took him a second to focus before he realized it was his brother, Toryn.
“What happened to you? Who is this?”
“We were attacked. She is Lea, I . . . . love her,” Sebastian swayed on his feet, almost dropping her. He managed to find his balance and increased his grip. His fingers dug into arm and thigh. Sebastian’s vision swam and for a second he thought he would fall, only to feel hands gripping his shoulders.
“I’ve got you. I’ll lead you upstairs.”
“No, time, call father, he needs to bind us together. She is dying,” he said weakly, his voice strained with effort.
“You want to do what? She’s human . . . she’s . . . Bastian consider what you’re saying, what you want to do. She’s human. You would be sharing your power with her. You don’t know what effect you’ll have on her.”
“Toryn, just do it.”
Sebastian stumbled but managed to keep on his feet. He kept limping toward the throne room, once there, he climbed the three marble steps, keeping his blurring vision on the throne. He managed to turn around and sink down with her in his arms. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, breathing slowly, his body ached. His side and stomach pulsed with tinges of pain.
“By the gods, Sebastian!” He heard his brother. Vulcan’s voice and then heard footsteps pounding toward him. “What happened?”
“Attacked, need father, Toryn’s gone,” Sebastian managed to rasp.
“I’ll fetch Tryton and Cable.”
Sebastian heard footsteps rushing away. His shoulders sagged and he tried to reach for his power. He need to let Lea go, his arms were asleep and numb. He managed to open his eyes and summon a small chaise lounge. He watched as he floated her toward the settee, straining his mental abilities. By the time he had laid her down he was on the edge of sleep. Yawning deeply, he fell into a deep dreamless sleep.

Location, Location, Location!!!


So there’s a big piece of advice a writer often gets when they start out writing, and it’s ‘write what you know’. Why? Probably because it’s more believable and you’re not as likely to screw up your facts. (Hello, that is the BIG reason I’m terrified to write a historical, though I love to read them!)


After my first book, which was kind of a purge of every Harlequin and romance novel combined into one fun, dramatic love story, I decided to sit down and write a book that takes place in Seattle. My home town. And so Dangerous Grounds began to take shape. I plotted the heck out of the story (totally a new thing for me!) and took classes to help with the research. Strippercize (yes there is a stripping scene!) and a class on how to open your own espresso business. I was the only one there actually not interested in going into coffee.


What I noticed when I began to write what I know (Seattle) was that I wanted to share the love for the state I lived in. Washington. I love to travel. To explore and do touristy things--even when I’m at home. And this transferred into my writing. In my Seattle Steam series (Tempting Adam and Dangerous Grounds so far!) you’ll see a theme. Along with a fun plot, I love to take you on a tour of my city through writing. You’ll become a tourist voyeuristically by reading my book. If that makes any sense (and I’m not claiming it does!). In other words, the city and region I live in almost becomes a secondary character.


Personally, when I read a book I enjoy seeing that. I love a writer who can drop me into Dublin Ireland, or New Orleans and make me feel like I’m there. Now I’m not saying I always need the location to play a huge part of the books I read--or even write! Sometimes the story line is big enough that a book could be set anywhere (even the clearance aisle at Target!) and I wouldn’t care.


So how about you? What are your thoughts on how much detail should be included about the location of a story? Does it bother you when the author goes into depth about the city? Or do you put on your tourist hat and eat it up with a spoon? *Grin*

Bio:

Shelli read her first romance novel when she was eleven and fell in love with the genre. It wasn't until many years later that she decided to pursue writing stories of her own. By then she acknowledged the voices in her head didn't make her crazy, they made her a writer. Her ideal romance, both to read and write, is one that'll not only get you a little hot under the collar, but also gives you a good laugh every now and then.



Shelli currently lives in the Pacific Northwest with her young daughter and enjoys serving as President of her local RWA chapter.

Links:



Email: shellistevens@aol.com
Website: http://www.shellistevens.com/
Blog http:http://www.shellistevens.blogspot.com/
Group Blog: http://www.naughty-and-spice.com/
Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ShelliStevens/
Myspace: http://www.myspace.com/shellistevens






Latest Release: Blurb:

The man she wants is the one she must deceive.

Seattle Steam Book 2

Christy Wallace may be a respectable Seattle Spanish teacher, but she’s got a sultry side. She lets it come out to play during the summer, when she moonlights as a Salsa dancing instructor.

Sexy, cowboy Adam wants more time with her than just a fleeting cup of coffee, but she makes it clear that if he wants her, he’ll have to sign up for dance class. Amazingly enough, he does. And Christy finds herself falling for a charming country hick with hands as fast as his feet.

Adam’s no hick, though. He’s the owner of Adam’s Apples, the fastest-growing cider business in eastern Washington. To his own surprise, one night with her has him thinking in terms of forever. That is, until he walks into a restaurant for a family lunch—and finds Christy on the arm of his brother.

Is there a logical explanation? Or is something rotten in Seattle?

Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, dirty mechanical bull riding, and the violation of blueberries.

Buy Link:

http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/tempting-adam

BECAUSE YOUR VAMPIRE SAID SOBroken Heart, Oklahoma, Book 3By Michele Bardsley
Divorcee Patsy Donahue is an undead hair stylist whose clientele has dwindled down to human donors and shaggy lycanthropes. Her sixteen-year-old son Wilson is driving her crazy, but not as much as the ghosts who want her to solve their problems. But her biggest problem is named Gabriel Marchand--a gorgeous lycanthrope with dark secrets that could mean the death (no, really) of Patsy.
Nationally bestselling author Michele Bardsley writes novels because it's much more fun than housework. She lives in Oklahoma with her son, their pets, and a bunch of empty Godiva boxes. Visit her website at http://www.michelebardsley.com/ or drop by the Broken Heart website at http://www.brokenheartok.com/.

Buy Link:

Amazon.com
http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0451223861?ie=UTF8&tag=welcometobrok-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0451223861

Barnes and Noble
http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Because-Your-Vampire-Said-So/Michele-Bardsley/e/9780451223869/?itm=2

Excerpt:

BECAUSE YOUR VAMPIRE SAID SO

By Michele Bardsley

Chapter 1

"I ain't a groomin' service," I said, wishing I could still smoke Marlboros. Becoming a vampire cured me of most vices. If I couldn't breathe, I sure as hell couldn't inhale and exhale cigarette smoke. I wanted a donor who smoked, so I'd get a nice fix every time I had a pint. Unfortunately, the Consortium—which was in charge of our little piece of Oklahoma—didn't hire donors who abused their bodies. Yet, I hoped for the day I'd find me some nicotine blood.

"You give such good shampoo massages, Patsy," said Darrius, who was a fine-looking male. He could shape-shift into a big, black wolf, too. In either form, Darrius was hard to resist. He'd talked me more than once into a full-body shampoo.

"I own a salon service for people, not mutts."

"If you added animal grooming to your offerings," he said. "You'd make more money."

"You think so?" I liked money almost as much as I liked cigarettes. I couldn't smoke anymore, but I could spend money. I hadn't been jewelry-shopping in a dog's age. I looked at Darrius and cackled. Dog's age. Wasn't I hoot?

His green eyes filled with calculation. He sidled closer to me and draped a muscled arm around my shoulders. Oo-wee, I loved it when handsome men flirted with me. Gave me a thrill, it sure enough did. I was forty-years-old (and would be forever, by God) and not above enjoying the titillation offered by Darrius. Look at him, all cute and wily.

"Oh, all right. But this is the last time." Of course, that's what I said every time Darrius and his ornery brother Drake talked me into a wolfie shampoo. Too cute for their own good, both of 'em. "You know how I feel about watching that shifting bullshit. Go in the back room."

Darrius took two steps before his cell phone rang. Cursing, he plucked it from the holster on his hip. "Ja?"

After listening a moment, he sighed deeply. He shut the phone and re-inserted it into the case. "I must take a rain check, Liebling. Damian says there is an emergency, but with him, everything is an emergency."

Damian was the third brother; the oldest, by eleven minutes, of triplets. He was head of the Consortium's security, and he protected the borders of Broken Heart fiercely. He never asked for a shampoo.

Darrius kissed my cheek then tapped my nose with his forefinger. "I will be back, Patsy. Then you can rub me all over."

"Promises, promises, stud."

He grinned widely and turned around. I slapped that tight butt so hard my palm stung. He laughed and sauntered out of the salon. Looking at that fine posterior almost made it worth digging out the wolf hair from my tub.

As Darrius exited, cold air gusted through the door and brought with the promise of snow. Well, what can you do? It was the first week of November, after all. Then again, Oklahoma weather was as fickle as my sister at a half-price shoe sale. Yesterday, the temperature had been a balmy sixty-six degrees.

I turned the sign on the front door to "Closed," then I grabbed the broom and started sweeping the clean floor. I'd been feeling off-kilter lately. You know that prickly feeling you get when a storm's coming, but the sky is clear? Whatever-it-was teased the horizon just enough to keep me clutching my umbrella.

My thoughts drifted to Darrius's suggestion. Grooming services, huh? We had enough lycanthropes around these parts that I could make some extra money as an animal groomer. Business wasn't exactly brisk thanks to ousting most of the original residents. Anyone who wasn't a paranormal being or a human donor found themselves elsewhere in a hurry.

I used to have two employees, but they were given new jobs in Tulsa, as part of the Broken Heart citizen resettlement program. My nail girl Linda got re-assigned as an assistant to scientist Dr. Stan Michaels. She was mightily in love with that man, but wouldn't admit it.

Anyway, Broken Heart wasn't exactly a hopping town before the undead took over. Less than a year ago, the only thing that had saved my salon from closing had been the strippers from the Barley and Boob Barn, which had been shut down and razed in June. Aw, hell. I missed those girls. They were fun and raunchy and tipped real good.

I was "life-challenged" because of Lorcan O'Halloran. Diseased by the Taint—a nasty illness that only affects vampires—he'd attempted a radical cure. The cure turned him into a two-legged, hairy, stinky beast. He romped around ol' Broken Heart and killed eleven of us single parents.

Oh, now, don't worry. He's back to being a vampire. He married my friend Eva, Broken Heart's only teacher. She was obviously the forgiving sort, but I still felt uneasy around Lorcan.

The night he attacked me, I'd been outside my shop smoking a cigarette. If I'd known that was the last smoke I was ever gonna have, I would've enjoyed it a lot more. Anyway, I died. Wham! Knocked down, knocked out, and snacked on. Next night, I woke up on a steel table in a white room feeling more alive than ever—only to be told I wasn't. And I figured out real quick that I had gained a few new tricks.

It wasn't all bad. My crow's feet, cellulite, age spots, and the ol' saggies went bye-bye. I had clear, wrinkle-free skin, but no amount of vampifying could rid me of my height, a couple inches shy of six feet, or what my son called "fluffiness." Eva said I reminded her of a Valkyrie, which was some sort of Viking chick who kicked ass. I liked that description, I'll tell you.

The Consortium bought my place and gave it to me lock, stock, and barrel, and they paid all bills associated with it and my double-wide, which was twenty feet behind the salon. I didn't have much to do with the money I made, except abuse my credit card on the Home Shopping Network.

"Good evening, Patricia."

The man's voice startled me, but I kept my cool. One thing I'd learned from my ex-husband was that offense was the best defense. "Do you ignore all the signs you read, or just the ones on doors?"

I turned around and leaned on the broom. A man I'd never seen stood inside the doorway, staring at me. And he was built, honey. Mm-hmm. I saw the muscles bulging underneath the crisp white shirt opened at the collar. He also wore a pair of tight black jeans and … I'll be damned. He had himself a pair of black Prada Croc Sneakers. I liked boots and didn't wear much else. Wilson had shown me a magazine ad with those Crocs and said he wanted them. Even though our existence was no longer hand-to-mouth, I couldn't justify buying a pair of shoes that cost twice as much as my mortgage payment.

What was a guy wearing thousand-dollar pair of kicks doing in my shop? Shoot. What did it matter? Most of the paranormal beings running around our fair town were richer than God.

He didn't seem to mind I was looking him over. As I took his measure, he took mine. His long hair was so white it looked like captured moonbeams. It was drawn into a queue at the back of his neck. If that hair wasn't enough to make the hairstylist in me slobber, then his golden eyes made the woman in me go mreow. Those mesmerizing amber orbs reminded me of the sunsets I would never see again.

Damn. He was temptation itself. I was a celibate as a nun because of vampires had a hitched-for-hundred-years sex clause. My last marriage lasted eighteen years and that was seventeen years, three-hundred-and-sixty four days longer than it should have. I swore I wouldn't walk down the aisle ever again, much less fall in love. No, thank you.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"My name's Gabriel." He smiled, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was more like a I'll-eat-you-up grin. I shivered all the way to my toes. "Damian sent me. His orders are to secure your beauty shop and to walk you home."

"Why? Are more Wraiths sneaking around or something?"

Wraiths were vampires who thought they should rule the world, being the superior race. Hah. They'd attacked Broken Heart twice and hadn't accomplished much more than pissing off the residents.

He shrugged. "I do what the boss tells me."

I clutched the broom handle, suddenly uneasy. Handsome as he was, I'd never seen him before. Drake and Darrius were always showing up 'round here for one thing or another, but it didn't make a lick of sense for Damian to send me a guardian.

The man seemed to sense my distress. "You want to call him and ask?" He unclipped his cell phone from his belt and extended it toward me.

I looked at the phone and then at him. If he was willing to let me call Damian and check up on him, then surely he was legit. Yeah, right. I may be blonde, but I ain't stupid.

"I have him on speed dial." I dug my phone out my back jean pocket and flipped it open. The only weapons I had were the broom, my vamp skills, and my charming wit—none of which would disarm him.

I hit the button and put the phone to my ear. Damian picked up on the first ring. "Ja?"

"I got a tall drink of water over here who says you sent him."

"You have a what?"

"You are so cliché-challenged," I said. "There's a guy here who wants to hold my hand and walk me home. Did you send him or do I have to whack him with my broom?"

He sighed. "New policy, Patsy. Every Turn-blood has a guardian until … well, I say so. Consider him your new shadow. And do not whack him with anything."

Damian hung up. He wasn't much for hellos or good-byes. I put my phone away. "I guess you're my new best pal. Wanna tell me why?"

"You should ask Damian."

"Yeah. It's easier to catch a greased hog than it is to pry information outta that man."

Gabriel's lips turned up into an almost grin. Mm-mmm. My stomach did a little mambo. Handsome wasn't a good enough word to describe him.

All the same, I felt trapped. I didn't particularly like being bossed around, especially by Consortium puppets. I pretended that him standing there looking all big and powerful and yummy didn't bother me.

"It makes no never mind to me what you do," I lied. "I gotta lock up now."

I finished sweeping up then turned off the lights. I had to bolt the front door, which meant getting awful close to Gabriel. Heat emanated off him, like an invisible fire raged around him. His gaze caught mine; the look in his amber gaze made my stomach jump. Lust zinged through me and he knew it. His lips curved into a feral smile.

I put on my lambskin jacket then headed out the back door. Gabriel followed and leaned against the wall, watching me lock up. As soon as I was done, I whirled around and hurried across the high grass toward my double-wide. I didn't want the luscious Gabriel within my orbit for too long. I was prone to make bad decisions around men like him.

Behind me, I heard a whoosh, and then I heard Gabriel yell. Whomp. Thud.

Fear spun through me, but I turned around. And screamed.

The massive creature was at least eight feet tall. He had marbled gray skin and completely black eyes. His hairless head gleamed in the moonlight. As he took as step toward me, the ground shook. He grinned at me and revealed double rows of needle-sharp teeth.

I didn't see my bodyguard anywhere—until I fell ass over teakettle over him. I landed way too close to the monster's clawed feet.

I scrabbled backwards, right into the unconscious form of Gabriel. Some guardian he turned out to be! I scooted over him, knelt by his head, and shook his shoulders. "Hey, you! Get up now!"

The creature watched me in amusement. Dread snaked through me. Gabriel's moonshine hair spilled onto the ground. I detected his shallow breathing and the steady beat of his heart.

"Your boyfriend can take a punch," he said. His voice sounded like thunder. He crossed his huge arms, his expression grim. "Usually that move kills lycans."

Fear chilled me even more than the frigid air. The storm threatening my horizon was here and damned if I didn't have my umbrella.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice quivering.

"You."

Horror kept me wielded to the ground. I couldn't move. My gaze was glued to the ugly thing bending toward me over Gabriel, who was trapped between us. He enjoyed my terror, the bastard. His curved claws grazed my shoulders as he tried to grab me.

That's when I remembered I was a vampire.

I swung a right hook at his jaw. Pain jolted down my arm on contact, but the strength of the punch made him stagger back. He looked as shocked as I felt.

The growl surprised us both.

My gaze switched to Gabriel. He was awake, his gold eyes filled with fury. He pushed onto his hands and feet. His body arched, his flesh rippling. I heard the snap of bones and the snick of muscles realigning. His clothes and his expensive shoes shredded and fell to the ground.

His face elongated into a large snout filled with sharp teeth. His long hair flowed down his back and joined with the white fur sprouting over every inch of skin.

Snapping and snarling, the white wolf lunged for the monster.

I'm posting a bit of a W.I.P. I'm working, the usual Friday Flash will be posted this week on Friday. Enjoy. Excerpt is Rated R, Adult.

Selena

P.S. Please vote in the poll. I would love your feedback. Hugs.

Unedited Excerpt:

Trapped
By:
Selena Illyria
Copyright © 2008 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
Interracial, Paranormal, Vampires

“You’re aroused, my darling. You’re aroused by me.”
“Go to hell.”
“Been there, got the t-shirt. Do you need help dressing?”
“No, let go of me.”
“So you can sway on your feet and fall over? I think not, allow me to support you.”
“Pervert.”
“That is quite true. I am a pervert. You bring out the lech in me. I want nothing more than to watch you bend over as you put on your jeans. I want see that sweet ass exposed to my gaze. I long to part those deliciously rounded cheeks, fall to my knees and lap at your anus until you become aroused, your pussy dripping with need for my cock. I want to tease you until you squirm against me urging me to fuck you, long, hard and deep. I want you to admit you want my cock up your ass, in your pussy and in your mouth. So, yes darling, I am a pervert.”
She shivered at his words, each syllable causing her aching channel to clench with need, gushing more cream. Her clit throbbed as her nipples tightened even further.
“I want to watch you put on your tank top. See those delicious nipples of yours pressed against the thin fabric of your shirt. I want to take those nipples in my mouth and suck on them while my fingers sink into you pussy, feel your juices slip over my hand and down my forearm. I want to finger fuck you until you come all over my hand, until the air is heavy and pungent with the scent of your sex. After that I want to throw you against the wall and sink into you balls deep. I want nothing between us, my darling. I want to feel your pussy spasm around me each time I slam into you. I want your legs wrapped around my waist, my hands holding your wrists up high over your head as I fuck you. I want to sink my fangs into your throat as I pound your pussy. I want to feel you come all over my cock, your cream slipping down my balls, over my thighs and then I want to come inside of you. I want to pump every last drop of my seed into you. I want to fuck you until my scent is rubbed into your skin. Yes, my darling, I am a lech. I am a pervert, for you I will be all that and so much more. Do not think for a second that once I have you that I won’t possess you, fuck you in private and in front of everyone. I want everyone to know who you belong to, everyone.”

-End of Excerpt-

The Flash will be posted this weekend.

Selena

Author Spotlight: Adele Dubois

Intimate Art

Blurb:

Copyright © ADELE DUBOIS, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

When Jack strides into the Special-T café each morning, wearing jeans hot enough to melt glass, the erotic fuel between him and waitress Legs Anderson almost ignites the room. That's why Legs' willingness to keep Jack at bay is Hartsville's most bemusing mystery.

That and the fact that Jack Harris is the only person in town who doesn't believe the Anderson house is haunted. But Legs believes. And as long as her aunt's ghost haunts the master bedroom of the house she inherits, Jack can't spend the night. Ada had an ironclad rule she enforces from the grave — no men allowed. Especially Harris men.

Jack forms a plan involving paint, body stencils and exotic ingenuity to chase Ada's ghost from the house. Will intimate art help him claim the woman he loves? Or will Ada conjure new surprises?


Buy Link:

http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419915321

Excerpt #1:

Copyright © ADELE DUBOIS, 2008


All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Move in with me, dammit. You're the most stubborn woman I ever knew.”

“No more stubborn than you, since you keep askin' the same old question. I have my own place.”

Jack frowned and stabbed his egg yolks, making them run. “Then let me live with you.”

“In my aunt's house?” Legs asked like he was crazy.

“It's your house now.”

“I'm trying to fix it up. I have to patch and paint. There's no room for your stuff.”

“I'll help you, and then you'll have plenty of space for me. And my junk.”

“Ada won't like it. She'll think it's immoral.”

“You talk about her like she's still with us. She's been gone over a year, sweetheart.” His voice dropped an octave and his brows creased. “Don't you think she'd give in after all this time?”

Legs wrinkled her nose. “No. She thinks you're a wanderer.”

Jack tossed down his fork. “I own a sporting goods store for crissake! I go fishing!” He touched her hand when she got close enough and drew little circles around her wrist bone with a fingertip. The preschool teachers from Let's Explore stifled sighs at the next table. “It's time to let go, hon. His expression turned earnest. She raised you, I know. But I want to be with you now. It's time to let me in.”

“Not if that means letting her go. I'm sorry, Jack. I just can't.”

Jack sighed and returned to his breakfast. “We'll talk about this again tomorrow.”

It seemed like Jack was the only person in town who didn't believe the Anderson place was haunted. Or maybe he pretended not to know. Ada had died but still stood like a sentry in the two-story white Victorian where she had raised her niece. And it was clear Legs liked it that way. After her parents died in that car crash, she and her aunt had become almost inseparable. Legs still slept in the spare room she used as a child. The master bedroom belonged to her aunt as far as she was concerned.

Legs couldn't bring herself to move into Ada's old room, though she'd hauled out much of the furniture and torn down the old-fashioned curtains. Most of the bigger, fussier antiques in the house had been sold to pay land and inheritance taxes. The rest Legs rearranged to her liking and hoped Ada would approve. But a man moving in? Ada would pitch a fit.

How do I know all this? My name is Cloris. I own the Special T café. Ada was my best friend and I've known Legs since before she was born. Her given name is Linda, but I've always called her Legs, 'cause she reminds me of a sleek, long-legged colt. The nickname stuck with customers after her first shift at the café.

I hired Legs as my runner around the time Ada got sick. My knees throb and my feet ache with arthritis, though I still manage the restaurant and take orders at the counter. Legs had just graduated college when she came home to nurse Ada. It was nice of her to help me around the café, too, and then stay on after her aunt died. I'm a realist, though-- I know our arrangement can't last much longer. The girl has a business degree to use.

Back at Jack's table Legs shook her head as if further talk would make no difference. Her ponytail swished between her slim shoulder blades. “I'll be painting all weekend. You can help if you want, but I make no promises about you moving in. Ever.”

A satisfied smile curved Jack's lips. He held Legs's large brown eyes with his deep cobalt blues. “I'll bring coffee and biscuits. I'll be there by eight.”

Legs nodded once. “Okay. Guess I could use an extra pair of hands.”

Every other woman in Hartsville would have passed Jack a paintbrush with her teeth if he brought those rugged, strong looking hands to her house. Yet, there was an unspoken, but palatable admiration for Legs the other women seemed to share. They liked that she could handle him--probably better than they could. Legs had an unshakable confidence that earned other women's respect.

I think Jack liked that about her, too.

*****

Excerpt #2:

An Excerpt From: INTIMATE ART

Copyright © ADELE DUBOIS, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

“You're really serious about her haunting the place, aren't you?” His question was heavy with controlled annoyance.

Legs nodded and folded her arms across her chest. “And she has very strong opinions about what you and I have been doing.”

His smirk told her he couldn't care less. “Then we don't need to sneak around anymore, do we? She knows.” He set his coffee cup on the dresser and plunked the Home Depot bag on the floor. “Just because her husband ran out on her doesn't mean you shouldn't have a life. I'm not like your miserable drunk of an uncle.”

He shifted his gaze around the room, a frown forming on his handsome, angular face. Glints of gold in his long, thick hair caught the morning light, and Legs sucked in an admiring breath. His hair was combed back from his face and trailed to the center of his neck like rich butterscotch fudge glazed with real vanilla. She almost wanted to take a bite.

The last time they'd made love she'd run her hands through the smooth strands, combing his tight scalp with her fingertips. She'd reveled in the creamy texture while he licked the swell of her breasts and sucked her erect nipples, groaning as his cock strained tight against her naked thigh. The memory of hot skin against skin made her tremble inside. Some of her defenses fell away.

Legs could tell Jack recognized the scent of Ada's White Diamonds perfume gaining strength in the air by the way he tilted his head as his nostrils flared. His blue eyes flashed defiance. He looked around, shouting at corners. “Do you hear me, Ada? I'm not like he was.”

A cold chill swept through the room. Legs shivered against the draft and looked hard into the air, trying to focus through the dust motes in the early morning sun. If she stared in just the right way, and at just the right angle, she might see glimmers of her aunt. It had happened before.

Jack narrowed his eyes. “I know how to get her out of here. Tough love.”

“What?”

He reached out and pulled her into his arms. The scent of fresh lime soap and musk aftershave filled her senses, dousing the White Diamonds. Arms of sleek steel hugged her to his broad, muscled chest. The smell and feel of him drifted over her like a safe, sensuous blanket.

She pressed her cheek against his shirt and rubbed her face across the nipple that had hardened beneath his black t-shirt. The fullness of her bottom lip clung to the tip and she resisted the primal urge to nip it with her teeth and poke it with her tongue through the fabric.

His voice was gruff. “We'll fuck her out of here.”