Thursday, November 26, 2015

Out Now! COLD NIGHT MOON by Naomi Clark #Paranormal #LesbianRomance @EvernightPub

Thanks for having me here on your blog today! I'm really excited to be sharing my latest release, COLD NIGHT MOON - book five in my Urban Wolf Series. This is a series that's really so close to my heart for a lot of reasons, and it's great to be back in Ayla and Shannon's world. I've been with these characters for six years now, and I like to think that each installment, whether it's a short story like this or a full-length novel, has expanded the world and see my werewolf ladies grow. In COLD NIGHT MOON, I get to play with some British folklore (always fun!) and give Ayla and Shannon a romantic break in the woods...well, a sort of romantic break, anyway. I hope you'll love it!


“We’re going home,” I said, hoping my voice didn’t sound as shaky as I thought it did.
Can’t you hear her! It’s so beautiful, Ayla, I have to see… I have to find her…” She slapped uselessly at my arms.
I had to change position. I couldn’t really see past her head and if she started kicking, she could take out my knees with those heavy hiking boots. But I didn’t want to let her go to try and put her in a better hold. With a groan, I
sort of rolled her in my arms so we were face to face. Her expression was one
of angry hunger, nothing like the Shannon I knew. She slapped me, her gloves stinging my cheek.
“Let me go!”
I growled and hauled her over my shoulder. She kneed me in the stomach and pummeled my back, shouting now.
“Put me down! I have to see her!”
"There's nobody there!" I cried, frustration boiling over into anger of my own. "Please, Shannon—"
She kneed me again, knocking the breathe from me, and I stumbled. Her weight overbalanced me, pitching us both into the snow, with Shannon landing on top of me. While I wheezed for air, she tried to scramble off me, but I grabbed her wrists and clung on. The sheer panic on her face scared me. It was the intense, mindless panic of an animal fleeing a wildfire, a human watching a friend die. You couldn't reason with that, couldn't snap someone out of it.
She twisted and thrashed, trying to free herself, while snow soaked through my jeans and slid into my boots, sending chills through me. I was fighting the elements as well as Shannon, and whilst I could outfight Shannon if I wanted, I couldn't hold off the cold forever.
I gritted my teeth. "I'm so sorry," I said, and then I headbutted her.

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About the Author
Naomi likes writing, perfume, fancy tea, and unfathomable monsters from the dark spaces between the stars, not necessarily in that order. She has been writing stories ever since she learned how to write, but is still trying to master the art of biography writing. When she's not dealing with werewolves, demons, or sea monsters, she's hanging out with her cat and probably watching a documentary about Bigfoot. If the cat isn't available, she's with her fiancé watching cookery shows and silently plotting her next book.

Find Me Online


Wednesday, November 25, 2015

New Release: Insurmountable by Allyson Young #EroticSuspense @EvernightPub

Thank you for having me today and sharing my new release with your readers! Insurmountable, an erotic suspense, released November 23, 2015 from Evernight Publishing.

Kidnapped because of her father’s wrongdoings, Bianca Fontaine is interrogated for any hint of his whereabouts by a man she has no reason to be drawn to. Who falls for their kidnapper? Especially an arrogant, hard man who is bound by duty—with those intriguing soft and caring qualities he hates to show. She’s learned the truth about her mother’s disappearance and her reality is suspect, except for the one constant—Ellis Valiant.

Ellis Valiant is indeed a hard man, but he’s already destroyed Bianca’s world and could make it worse if he doesn’t send her away. But when he finds her exploring her submissive side in the sex club fronting for his organization, his noble efforts fall by the wayside and he steps up as her Dom. Except Ellis harbors a secret, an insurmountable one, and Bianca will surely hate him when it comes to light.

Buy links/author links: 


Pushing her into the back seat of the closest SUV, his big hand on the crown of her head, between it and the door frame, invader number one climbed in beside her. The man who said she was worthless as a hostage got in behind the wheel. Scrambling across the leather surface, Bianca huddled against the door, wondering if she might throw herself out and make a run for it. But where? There was no ally in the traitor Mrs. Doucette and they’d probably shoot Max in retaliation. She prayed the housekeeper would care for her dog as she promised. The older woman had never been anything but kind to him, but then she’d been kind to Bianca too. Bianca chewed the inside of her cheek. Maybe her father would get Max back when he ransomed or came for her. She had to hold onto some kind of hope of rescue, maybe before things happened to her. Anybody with money at her schools was versed in possible kidnappings, and the lurid tales left a vile taste in the back of her throat.
The man beside her pulled off his hood, running his fingers through flattened hair. Bianca stared. She knew she was staring, but was incapable of doing anything about it. It was like looking at a carefully sculpted face of a Roman god. High cheekbones, deeply set golden eyes framed by a thicket of black lashes under dark brows, incongruous with the thick blond hair curling to his collar, and a chiseled set of lips. The door shut, plunging the vehicle into relative darkness as its light extinguished and deprived her of that rock star visage. Of a killer.
“Fuck, man. You let her see your face!”
His deep voice retorted, “It’s not like Fontaine doesn’t know who crashed his party, Dave.”
Over the grind of the ignition she heard the driver mutter, “And it’s not like she’s ever going home.” A shadow of fabric passed in front of the muted lights from the dash instruments for a moment as he too pulled off his mask, tossing it aside. Her chances of surviving this just narrowed from fifty to zero percent, and she desperately needed to pee.
They drove in silence, the other vehicles falling in behind to form a convoy as they bumped through the ruined gates and gained the main road. Aside from their initial comments, neither man spoke, and she too remained silent. Her thoughts clamored to be heard but she couldn’t put them in any real semblance of order. Kidnapped. Check. They were going to make her talk about her father. Check. They planned to try to ransom her. Check. Except they didn’t think that would prove fruitful. Wouldn’t her father move heaven and earth to get her back? Except he wasn’t a family-first kind of guy … she didn’t want to understand the inference but accepted it was huge. Nightmare. Check. She concentrated on her breathing and drew on her reserves when she really wanted to scream the roof down.
“What’s with her, Ellis?” The driver finally spoke up. “She hasn’t said boo since she gave up the old man. Must be her father’s daughter, eh?”
Feeling his eyes boring into her, she turned inward. Ellis. An unusual name. Had she heard it before?
“Plenty of time to talk later, Dave. You hear of shock?” Ellis spoke quietly.
“Maybe,” answered Dave. “Most women would be crying and carrying on though. Can’t say I don’t like her reaction. Easier to put up with. Although there’s a ball gag in the dash.”
Ball gag? She bit her lip and swallowed convulsively, an action so awkward it hurt her throat.
“You plotting, Bianca?”
Despite herself, she jerked when Ellis used her name. Had she really thought they wouldn’t know it? Especially when they seemed well apprised of other things involving her father. A thought right out of the blue struck her with the same impact as a blow to the face might. Did they know where her mother was?
“I expect an answer, little one.” The velvety threat wove through his voice.
She shook her head, not trusting her voice. His hand grasped her upper arm and dragged her closer. His scent overwhelmed her, leather, gun oil and male. “Answer me. Are you plotting?”
“No,” she whispered. She stared into his face, the flood of lighting from the other cars’ headlights giving him a faintly demonic look. Had Mike seen that look in his eyes before this Ellis struck him down?
He released her with a slight smile. “Good. Then I’ll leave you to it. If you try to escape you’ll be punished.”
Easing back, building distance between them, Bianca tried to get her shakes under control. So far he hadn’t hurt her, despite his obvious ability to do so. She decided not to think about what this Ellis meant by punishment, and instead considered what might lay ahead if she cooperated. They seemed professional, like her father’s bodyguards, although surely Mike had taken a stupid risk—and paid for it. She didn’t particularly care for the man, but now tears pricked. His sacrifice had been for naught. She could hope they would treat her like a valuable commodity—until she wasn’t.

Her head felt packed with puffed cotton and there was a definite thump in her temples. Bianca tried to swallow and the dryness made her grimace. She managed to get her right hand to obey her and cautiously reached to touch her head. It was present and accounted for, and the headache ratcheted up to a drumroll. Lord, she felt horrible and thought she might be sick. As she struggled to rise up on one elbow, the pinch of soreness made her wince, and a few things came back in one breath stealing surge.
“Here.” Ellis’s voice intruded and he leaned in to where she could see him through barely cracked eyelids. He had a glass of water in his hand and her body cried out for the moisture. Then she wondered what else was in it and held back, closing her mouth tightly.
“It’s only water.” He took a sip and offered it again, but she wasn’t touching anything anyone here offered. Ellis stared impassively.
With a start, she remembered the restraints, and realized she was no longer held in place. With nothing to prevent it, she rolled sluggishly away from him, and slipped off the bed, nearly falling, but somehow braced her weight against the mattress. She watched him warily, and aside from the straight line his mouth drew, he remained impassive.
Setting the glass down, he motioned to it and some towels on the nightstand. “I thought you’d want to wipe your face and quench your thirst when you … woke.”
Ah, more euphemisms. She felt her upper lip lift in a sneer and hoped Ellis marked it. Thoughts whirled through her head and she couldn’t grab onto one of them. She then judged the distance to the bathroom and wondered if her wobbly legs would get her there before Ellis intercepted her.
As if reading her mind, he stood. “You’ll be on your ass and I’m not letting you hurt yourself.”
A burble of incongruous laughter erupted from her belly and she tasted bile as she backed away. “You’re such a joke.”
 Ellis was on her, that something unfamiliar now flashing across his face, and he scooped her up, déjà vu, only hustled her straight to the toilet. On her knees, Bianca retched, but miraculously everything settled without humiliating her further, and she dragged herself up with Ellis’s help. The chill of the porcelain bowl helped her focus.
“Stubborn wench.”
Flipping the lid down, he sat her on it with a thump, telling her to lean back. He grabbed a towel and wet one end of it. She accepted it and covered her face, willing him to leave. How had she ever thought to best this man at anything? Or shame him, for that matter, in appealing to his conscience. He was made of granite, now any need for the soft sell was over. It might be the aftereffects of the truth drugs, but she once again felt like a child. She knew he was still standing there. She could feel him and smell him, that scent she was beginning to associate with Ellis, like she was his dog or something. A bizarre vision of her in a collar, panting at his feet,
“You need a shower.”
Well, thank you, Captain Obvious. She longed to say that out loud but it might unlock the tenuous hold she had on all the things yearning to spill out—and peel the flesh from Ellis’s very bones. Like that would ever happen. So she bit her tongue, because she’d already called him a joke. Enough said.
“Save me from pretentious twits.” She heard him murmur it, as though he’d gritted his teeth.
 A startled yelp escaped as Ellis took two strides and ripped her shirt open. Buttons popped free and pinged off the sparkling surfaces. One ricocheted off her forehead and she blinked. So not like the romance books. Gah, what was in those drugs?
“Get your jeans off unless you want me to do it.”
Scrabbling to pull the sides of her shirt together over her chest, she watched as he worked the taps, opening them wide and adjusting the spray of the shower until he appeared satisfied. The way his brows drew together when he turned to see her still fully dressed made her shiver. She loosened her grip on her shirt and fumbled with the snap on her jeans. It refused to give and her heart leapt into her throat when Ellis, with an impatient grunt, pushed her hands aside and freed it without any problem, tugging the zipper down.
She giggled this time, unable to contain the sound, and felt her eyes go wide at the incongruous sound. Sit. Stay. Down. Good doggie. She managed to stand, once again with help, and Ellis dragged her jeans to her ankles.
“You’re still impaired.”
Thank you, Mr. Observant. Maybe she said that out loud, because he stiffened. But when she dared a look, he was staring at her … panties. His head almost immediately tilted up and he met her gaze. She heard him mutter something about stupidity, and tried to muster up some indignation, but her head throbbed harder and she felt terrible.
Thinking he was trying to hug her, she put her hands between them to push him back, and felt him snap open her bra. She pressed her hands back against the cups and protested. “Don’t.”
“So you’ll talk if your clothes come off. Well, don’t worry about it, sweetheart. There’s nothing left for you to say.” Smirking, Ellis tugged her toward the shower and pushed her inside. “Do you need help?”
“No.” Killing was too good for him. He needed to suffer, and she hoped she found an opportunity to inflict it on him.

Author Bio:

Allyson Young lives in cottage country in Manitoba, Canada with her husband and numerous pets. She worked in the human services all across Canada and has seen the best and worst of what people bring to the table. Allyson has written for years, mostly short stories and poetry, published in small newspapers and the like, although her work appeared in her high school yearbooks too! After reading an erotic romance, quite by accident, she decided to try her hand at penning erotica.
Allyson will write until whatever she has inside her is satisfied- when all the heroes man up and all the heroines get what they deserve. Love isn’t always sweet, and Allyson favours the darker side of romance.


Monday, November 23, 2015

Tempered by Her by Lynn Burke #EroticRomance #Giveaway @EvernightPub

Happy Book Birthday to Lynn Burke and 
Tempered by Her!

Tempered by Her
Risso Family #4
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
 Contemporary, Erotic, Romance, BDSM, Light Bondage

Zane Risso, a Dominant unyielding in his desires, is haunted by the one woman he wants and can’t have, vanilla goodie-two-shoes Raquel Hawkins. He knows the only way to flush her from his system is to seduce her and move on, because surrendering the kink club addiction he enjoys is not a demand he'll accept. From any woman.
Raquel Hawkins has never known temptation like the blue-eyed Italian god who seems fond of whispering naughty things in her ear during office hours. He’s bad news—sin personified—and although she continues to deny him, her body’s responses to his sensual words just might buy her a one-way ticket to hell.
From their first kiss, Zane’s determination to overcome her Pollyanna principles threatens his lifestyle. For Raquel, giving in to temptation would doubtless leave her heart a shredded mess—and unlock sordid secrets best left in the dark.

Click on the image above more information on the Risso Family Series



I found Raquel kneeling in the center of my bed, hands on her lap, head bowed, her high heels placed side by side on the floor at the bed’s foot. She hadn’t obeyed my first command, but fuck me, I didn’t give a shit.

I’d planned on taking her over my knee and reddening every inch of her ass and thighs, but seeing her in such a submissive pose in the middle of my bed had me drooling for a taste. “Take off your blouse.”

She started at my voice, but lifted shaking hands to do as told. With each button slipped free, my arousal returned, and the blue silk sliding off her bare shoulders and revealing a see-through white lace bra and puckered rosy nipples brought a groan to my lips.
“Lay back.” I strode forward as she straightened her legs and complied, the sounds of her quickened breaths heating my blood.

Fuckin’ Raquel Hawkins, sweet innocent, was on my bed, the darkness beneath her knee-length skirt sending my saliva glands into hyper-drive. I slipped leather ties around her wrists and tied her tight to my headboard. She chewed on her lower lip, chest rising and falling enough to make me think she might call out her safe word, but she kept silent.

I kicked off my shoes and climbed onto the bed, pushing up her pencil skirt with agonizing slowness over nylon-clad legs while settling on my haunches between them.

Thigh highs. I swallowed. Fuckin’A.

A sweep of my thumbs from inner to outer thighs, and she lifted her ass, allowing me to push the skirt to her waist. So much for my assumption about granny panties. White lace matching her bra and a scrap of silk hid her virgin curls from me. I leaned down, breathing in the sweet, musky scent of her arousal. “I’m going to taste you, Raquel.”

She gasped, her hands flexing in their restraints.

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to.”


I reached up and pinched her nipple, earning another gasp, a groan of pleasure on its heels as she writhed on the bed. “The proper response would be, yes, Sir.”

She licked her lips again and whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, Sir, what?”

“I won’t come until you tell me to.”


About Lynn Burke

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Her current work, the Risso Familly Novellas, revolves around four siblings from Boston’s North End.
Find Lynn on her website, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Amazon, and Goodreads.



All FOUR Risso Family novellas and a 
$10 Amazon Gift Card!


In The Spotlight: Character Obsession by Iyana Jenna #MMromance


Thank you so much for having me on your blog today. I visited with my re-released title, Character Obsession. It was published by my publisher, Breathless Press, but they were closed some time ago. I am so grateful that Evernight adopted this story. I was so happy with some additional parts suggested by my editor here in Evernight. I think they were a great idea!

Title: Character Obsession
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Genre: MM Contemporary Romance
Word count: 14,800
Heat Level: 3


Chase Riley, a Hollywood actor, is kidnapped. One of the abductors, Luke Nelson, is delusional and thinks that Chase is Elliot, the character Chase plays in his procedural cop series on TV. Luke plans to replay what happened to Elliot on the show with Chase. The worse thing is that Luke gets help from his father who seems to be as crazy as his son.

Chase's boyfriend, co-actor Aidan Buffett, is on a trip with his sister when Chase is abducted. He grows worried when his call to Chase goes unanswered. Will he ever see his boyfriend again?

This is a previously published work. It has been edited for Evernight Publishing.

Be Warned: m/m sex


Chase’s mind whirled and before he thought of anything else, he grabbed the door and threw himself out—or so he thought. The man was faster. A lot faster. He seized Chase by his jacket and just—stabbed him in his side. Chase caught his breath, and for some time he didn’t realize what happened. He sucked in a breath and whimpered when the guy yanked the knife out none too gently. Chase felt his world darken so he didn’t notice when the man slipped out of the car, came to be at the driver’s door, and wrenched him out from behind the steering wheel. As his breathing turned labored, Chase grappled at the source of the pain on his side and winced as he grasped it.

“Come on. Move.” The guy grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed Chase in front of him.

Chase swayed in the man's clutches, but he pulled himself up as he controlled his breath.

Chase attempted to plant his feet as he was dragged up the stairs, but the pain had become too much and he could only comply. At one time the man rested him against the wall, took off his sunglasses, and pulled down his jacket hood, revealing himself. Chase gasped. The man was practically the mirror image of that Bob Nelson he met earlier at the diner, only rounder and much sturdier. And also a lot younger. What worried Chase was this man took off his disguise and didn’t seem too concerned he could recognize him. Not like Chase would be able to escape him and go to the cops, anyway. He was too sluggish to even move. They'd come in the back door, but not much attention was given to them by those at the front desk. Chase suspected that the man had stayed in the hotel long enough that he'd become just another familiar face.

The man's grip tighten around his arm, but Chase kept his glare toward the receptionist in an attempt to get his attention—which failed totally—for the guy kept his head down. As his abductor dragged him toward the elevator, Chase palmed his side and lifted his hand with dread. It was damp and deep red with blood.

"Don’t do anything you’re going to regret," the guy whispered to his ear as they got into the elevator, which, to Chase's dismay, was empty. "I don't want to have to kill you, Elliot. I love you."

Chase turned cold at the mention of his character's name. "I'm not Elliot," he choked out. "I'm Chase."

"Hush." The man pulled Chase's back against him, wrapping his long, muscled arm around Chase's shoulders, waving the knife before Chase’s eyes.

Chase began to tremble.


Evernight - All Romance Ebooks - Bookstrand - Smashwords - Amazon US - Amazon UK - Amazon Canada - Amazon Australia

About Iyana

Reading, watching movies, and being unable to find exactly the thing she wanted to read have led Iyana to write her own stories, mostly about man-on-man romance that has fascinated her since as early as the Starsky and Hutch era. Teaching and writing English course books during the day, Iyana spend her nights mostly dreaming of love stories between two men who are protective toward each other.

Author Links:

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Saturday, November 21, 2015

Out Now! EMPRESS OF STORMS by NICOLA M. CAMERON #Fantasy #EroticRomance


Please welcome the fabulous Nicola M. Cameron, who's here to tell us about her new release.

Thanks so much for having me on your blog today! My new novel Empress of Storms is an unusual book for me on a number of fronts. For one thing, it’s my first MF high fantasy erotic romance (and never did I think those words would be used in reference to me).

Secondly, EoS was prompted by a challenge. Some of you may remember a certain author kicking off a kerfluffle in September by putting up a GoFundMe fund in order to write full-time. Which is totally cool, and I support the Patreon concept 100%.

That being said, the writer demonstrated a, let us say, unrealistic worldview on professional writing. After receiving both even-tempered remonstrating and plain old ridicule, she lashed out at her critics with the following:
“I’d like to challenge each and every one of these wonderful women to a writing contest. How about an 80K (that’s 80,000 words people, not dollars!) novel. It needs to be fully edited, proofed and a professional cover designed for it. Oh, and they have only 6 months to do all this. Ok, go.”

Well, I can’t pass up a challenge. I announced that I would go one better and finish an 80K novel, have it fully edited, proofed, and provided with a professional cover in six weeks, and release it as an ebook and trade paperback in November.

Let me take a moment to point out that every writer has his or her own speed. Some write fast, some write slow. Any speed you write at is fine. You do you, baby. But taking an 80K novel from zero to “Whoops, it’s on Amazon” within six m/o/n/t/h/s/ weeks is just not as impossible as some people seem to think. Part of this challenge was to show that it’s possible to do this without sacrificing quality, and while still maintaining something of a life.I will be perfectly transparent here and state that I did not make my original six-week deadline (due to a killer sinus infection and various stresses on the home front). I did it in seven weeks. Still not bad if I do say so myself.

I’ve also been asked why I’m using Nicola M. Cameron on Empress of Storms. I lifted the idea from the late, brilliant Iain Banks who wrote mainstream fiction as Iain Banks and science fiction as Iain M. Banks. It was a way of differentiating between the two genres without having to use a pseudonym, and I decided to use the same trick here. Nicola Cameron is pretty much associated with MM/MMM fiction by this point, so if you pick up a Nicola Cameron book that’s what you’ll get, whereas Nicola M. Cameron writes MF fiction with occasional forays into MMF. I like to make readers’ lives easier, you see.


Fantasy Romance, Erotic Romance, MF
Word Count: 83,000
Heat Level 4
Published by Belaurient Press
ISBN: 978-1-31-069790-6


A king who must offer himself as royal consort to fulfill a treaty. A young queen and mage, unexpectedly married to the man she’s loved since childhood. Two countries, divided by geography and united by a political marriage, are poised on the brink of a golden age. But will vicious magic and unexpected betrayal tear both the royal couple and their kingdoms apart?
When King Matthias of Ypres has to fulfill a treaty and provide a royal consort for young Queen Danäe of Hellas, the only royal available for marriage is … him. Can he risk letting a blue-haired witch queen into his heart?
From political necessity, Queen Danäe finds herself marrying the man she secretly loves. Now she must win the heart of a king, prove herself as a mage, and defeat the enemies that threaten them both.



“You’re not what I expected, Danaë.”

“So I gathered. You’re different as well. And I’m very pleased with that.” She reached out and tugged at a curl of his chest hair. “So, shall we try this again?”

“I think we should.” He held up the taper. “With the light or without?”

“With, if it’s all the same to you. I want to enjoy the sight of my new husband.”

“I suspect I’m the one who will be doing the bulk of the enjoying, but as you wish.” Matthias put the candle back on the side table. He was now cast in shadow, but Danaë could still see him well enough. He slid down until he was on his side facing her. “I’m afraid I’m out of practice with bedroom matters. What would you like to do now?”

She thought. He hadn’t kissed her yet, at least not above the collarbones. “I’d like a proper kiss. The one you gave me after the ceremony may have been acceptable for public consumption, but I hope it’s not how you kiss in private.”

“It isn’t.” He moved closer, stroking her shoulder with a finger. “And my apologies for that. I suspect I’ll be apologizing for much of what happened this day.”

“No apologies are needed if you kiss me.”

He did, a sweet brush of lips that made her mouth tingle with anticipation. The next kiss caught her lower lip between his. He sucked gently on the plump flesh, letting it slide free with a soft pop. Their faces were too close to see him smile, but she could feel it somehow.

“You have honey in your kisses, Danaë,” he murmured.

“Only for you, Matthias.”


She dimpled. “Kiss me again and find out.”

This time his kiss was stronger, hungrier. She responded with an equal need, cupping his cheeks and immersing herself in the intoxicating taste of Matthias’s mouth. He tasted of wine and the roast from dinner, and some secret flavor that was unique to him, something dark and very male. It was perfect, sating a hunger she hadn’t known she possessed. She fell back against her pillows and he followed, their tongues sliding against each other in a twisting dance.

He finally pulled back, gasping. “It’s a good thing I didn’t kiss you like that earlier today,” he said. “I would’ve taken you in front of the entire cathedral.”

“Perhaps a bit more than the nobles of Ypres needed to see,” she agreed, breathless. “Not to mention my brother and Patriarch Reniel.”

Matthias tilted her chin up, nuzzling the soft skin of her jaw. “He would’ve had me building shrines in atonement to the end of my days. And your brother would have run me through.”

“Which would have caused an unpleasant international incident.” She arched when his mouth hit a sensitive spot on her neck. “Not to mention I would have to have him executed for killing my husband.”

“It’s a good thing we avoided all that, then,” Matthias agreed, licking delicate spirals on her skin down towards her breast. He stopped at the point where the flesh began to mound and kissed his way to her nipple. Dragging the very tip of his tongue around the areola, he then flicked it across the stiff little nub. “Best we save such things for the privacy of our bed.”


Nicola Cameron is an expatriate Chicagoan who has lived in England, Canada, Holland, and Sweden, and keeps a confusing amalgamation of languages in her head as a result. Currently located in the clavicle of Texas, she has finally mastered the proper use of "y'all," much to her Chicago family's dismay.

Despite a healthy interest in sex since puberty, it wasn't until 2012 that Nicola decided to try writing about it. As it turned out, the skills she picked up during her SF writing career transferred rather nicely to erotic romance. When not writing, she wrangles cats, smooches her husband, makes dolls of dubious and questionable identity, and thanks almighty Cthulhu that she doesn’t have to work for a major telecommunications company any more (because there’s BDSM, and then there’s just plain torture...).
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