Tuesday, July 31, 2012
A Matter of Lust Release Blitz
Trask is a lust demon on the hunt for a playmate, a human exceptional enough to sate some of his ravenous hunger. When he finds Rena, he knows that she is the one he must have. He makes it his business to seduce her.
Rena is immediately drawn to Trask. She could easily fall for the dangerously sexy bad boy who makes her scream every time he makes her come, but the problem with bad boys is that they’re actually bad. They break girls’ hearts and hers has been broken too many times already. One more crack might shatter it forever.
Trask claims Rena for his own, but she needs more than just sizzling sex. She wants to trust him, but can they ever share anything more than lust?
An Excerpt From: A MATTER OF LUST
Copyright © LISA FOX, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
The deep, melodic trance music vibrated through Trask’s body as he prowled the crowded dance floor. He was hungry, so very, very hungry, and the time had come for him to find a willing partner for the night. Any one of the mortals undulating around him would have sufficed, but so far none of them appealed to him. The need gnawed at his insides, but he waited, searching for the one. Over his long years among the humans, he’d learned that it always paid to be a little bit discriminating. It made the feast so much more gratifying.
He sidestepped around a young woman, his shoulder accidentally brushing against hers. He felt her body temperature rise as he passed, the lust that had been simmering just below the surface swelling to a fevered pitch within her. She grabbed her companion and kissed him ferociously, shamelessly rubbing herself against him. She wasn’t the only one affected by his presence either. Potent waves of raw sexual energy radiated from him, infecting the air around him, threatening to turn the club into one giant orgy. Trask smiled at the thought.
He cruised the dance floor, reveling in the exquisite thrill of his hunt. Human lust was such a decadent treat, so very different from the desperate lust of the damned in hell, and it filled this ordinarily dull world with brilliant light and added depth to the darkest shadows. He could feel it oozing from the dancers, the men and the women, sweating and panting, touching and grinding, their bodies writhing in time with the music. Tension built in his groin and he welcomed the pure, straining delight.
He stopped suddenly, the prickling at the base of his spine alerting him to the presence of another demon nearby. Not a lust demon like himself, but something similar. Pride maybe, or perhaps wrath? He couldn’t quite get a fix on it. He waited, wondering if it was going to make contact. Often other demons haunting and hunting the human realm wanted to meet, to plot and plan and scheme, to “raise some hell” or whatever, but he got the impression that it was occupied with something else entirely. Which was just fine with him. He’d never been the social sort.
The music changed and a thumping bass beat poured out of the speakers. Trask shook off the psychic residue of the other and worked his way toward the bar. He ordered a bourbon on the rocks and leaned back, happily absorbing the intoxicating atmosphere while scanning the crowd for his potential playmate.
His gaze fell upon a woman on the edge of the dance floor in a short, black dress that hugged every curve of her luscious body. Her violently dyed red hair was piled high on her head and sexy tendrils escaped to frame her heart-shaped face. There was a hint of rosy flush on her smooth, round cheeks and the way her hips swayed to the music made his cock stir.
Trask placed his drink aside and unconsciously ran his tongue over his teeth as he glided toward her. She was tall, probably close to six feet in her heels, but he still had to lean down to whisper close to her ear. “Hello,” he purred, breathing in her clean scent of shampoo and roses and woman.
She turned slowly toward him, her gaze roaming over his face, his body, and he got the distinct impression that she was mentally undressing him. He certainly hoped she was. She obviously liked what she saw because a smile blossomed on her glossy, pink lips. “Hi.”
The instant, piercing sexual tension between them made his blood surge. He reached out with a fine strand of psychic energy and lightly dipped into her primal core. Trask hissed as desire coiled in his groin. She was sweet ambrosia, a succulent feast just waiting to happen and his cock ached to sink inside her, to make her come again and again while he fed on all that glorious lust. “You are very beautiful,” he said, savoring the tiny taste of her fire.
“Uh-huh,” she said, mischief and humor making her eyes sparkle. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Trask laughed. He liked this woman. “I think I might be in love with you,” he said, beginning the game. It was a line that had worked many times before—the humans always seemed enchanted and amused by the concept, but it was a hollow sentiment, something meant to elicit a grin and nothing more. But as the words left his mouth, they felt different this time, almost as if they had…weight.
“Are you sure it’s love you feel?” she asked, a smile dancing along the corners of her mouth. Her eyes flicked down to his crotch. “Or something else entirely?”
“Now I know I’m in love,” he replied, the lust coursing through his veins. She was perfect. Fun. Bold. Smoking hot. And she was going to be his. All night long. He reached out and traced the curve of her cheek with his index finger. Her skin was flawless, warm and silky. “What’s your name?”
She paused and an odd, little smile formed on her lips. “Does it matter?”
Normally it wouldn’t matter—in fact, there was no reason why it should matter, but for some reason it did matter. It mattered a lot. “Yes.”
Her smile changed, softened, and Trask was awestruck by just how simply beautiful she was. “Rena. My name is Rena.”
“Rena.” He liked the way it rolled off his tongue.
“And what about you?” she asked, leaning closer to him. He looked straight down into her very ample cleavage and took his time enjoying that magnificent view. His fingers itched to caress that soft skin, to feel the weight of her full, round breasts in his hands. “Do you have a name? Or should I just call you the sexy Darkman of my dreams?”
“I do like the sound of that.” He wondered if his presence was affecting her, making her more daring than she’d normally be or if this was just her nature. He had the power to inspire humans to say and do outrageous things simply by standing beside them. His gaze touched on her flamboyant red hair and he thought—hoped—that it was her and not a consequence of his influence. “But Trask is so much shorter and to the point.”
“Trask,” she said, and he had to admit, he liked the way his name sounded on her lips. He couldn’t wait to hear her scream it. Her eyes trailed over him, her gaze a provocative caress that sent hot, tingling ripples down his spine. “So, now that you’ve declared your love, what happens next?”
“Oh, you know, the usual.” He caught hold of a loose strand of her hair and twined it around his fingers. The tension between them rocketed up a few notches and he inhaled the essence of her arousal, breathing it deep into his body, relishing the flavor of her. “A whirlwind romance, storybook marriage, honeymoon in Paris.”
“Followed swiftly by a quickie divorce in Mexico, right?”
Her voice was tinged with unmistakable venom and the bitterness sliced through the hazy, plush cloud of their lust. Startled by the mental slap in the face, Trask dropped his hand back to his side. Darkness deepened around him as anger settled in. He did not like this turn of events at all. “What makes you think I’d do anything quick with you?”
“I see,” she said, and he watched her features soften as her mood shifted. Humans were so extraordinarily complex. He didn’t think he’d ever understand their ability to feel so much, so quickly and thoroughly, even when those emotions were completely contradictory. Demons were defined by their desires, embodiments of the thing they hungered after. There was never a reason for a demon to feel anything more than his driving need. Everything else just got in the way of the goal.
Her bitterness ebbed away, gone almost as quickly as it had come, and she favored him with a dazzling, flirtatious smile. “You’re a slow-and-steady kind of guy then?”
“Oh yes,” he said, returning her grin. “And I always win in the end.”
She laughed, a lovely, musical sound that tugged at his insides. She leaned into him, a whisper of space between them and he could feel the heat of her body on his skin. “Hmm,” she said, and bit down on her lower lip. Her fingers flitted over his collarbone. “I do like confidence.”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “Then you’re definitely going to like me.”
About the Author:
Feedback, comments, opinions, words of wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super hot men are always appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact Lisa any time.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
I'm happy to welcome Kelly Whitley, author of Into the Red. Kelly is sharing her love of vampires and an excerpt from her new book. And now here's Kelly…
Thank you to Gale for hosting me today.
I write paranormal romance, M/M romance, and a variety of flash fiction. I’ve been a vampire lover since Anne Rice first introduced me to this paranormal creature years ago. After years of thought about vampires, my medical background tapped me on the shoulder with the way I envisioned a vampire, and I had to write it down.
Evan, the hero, is a medical oncologist—a cancer specialist. He’s an amalgam of people I’ve known, and larger-than-life personality traits. I’d love to meet him in person.
Tara, the heroine, is a rock climbing specialist, inspired by some of my personal
history. :) She’s determined, a real fighter.
history. :) She’s determined, a real fighter.
I hope you enjoy these excerpts.
Into The Red
Human blood is an illicit and highly addictive drug--if you're a vampire. Known as Red, its side effects are insanity, and eventual death. A group of Red-addicted vampires known as Poisoners are killing women as part of an extortion plot involving a lost ancient vampiric tome, and they’re leaving a trail of bodies in their wake. The discovery of each new victim risks exposure of the entire vampire race to humans. Then one victim survives…
Dr. Evan Nichols, oncologist and vampire, lives a monk-like existence, by his own choice, focusing on patient care and research to benefit his vampire brethren. It’s been twenty-five years since his world turned upside down—the night he lost his fiancee and discovered his hidden vampire heritage. Now his government has ordered him to take a mate—or they’ll choose one for him. It’s a horrible prospect, and one that might push him over the edge—until Fate throws him together with a human female.
Wary of relationships, Tara West has poured her energies into work and inventing cutting edge climbing equipment. She doesn’t like the gorgeous Dr. Nichols, yet finds herself unaccountably drawn to him.
When a crazed vampire attacks and poisons Tara, Evan rescues her. With time running out, he has to create an antidote to the poison before he loses his chance at love.
In order to make the vaccine which might cure her, he has to find the bastards who poisoned her and take their venom—before they die of their addiction. If he doesn’t reach them in time, saving her will be impossible.
Thus the journey begins—into the Red!
He shifted, tracked her while she climbed the two steps to the kitchen. A lot of bare skin tonight compared to yesterday. The sway of her hips had pressure building in his groin. Better focus on business before his body decided to advertise his attraction.
She returned carrying a tray containing a plate of cookies and their drinks, a blue folder was tucked under her arm. She set the tray on the coffee table and handed him the folder.
“Here’s the schedule. The auction’s at the end.”
He skimmed the list of bachelors before flipping to the schedule. She settled next to him and tucked her feet up, her knee grazing his. The skin of her thigh beckoned him to drag a finger over it. He held back a groan and shifted the folder toward her. “Maybe you can explain the auction.”
“The silent auction will run from cocktails until the end. So will the bone marrow donor registration. The volunteers take care of those. The speeches come first”—she traced the paper with one finger—“and then dinner.”
She met his gaze. “Then the bachelor auction. You’re number twelve, the last one. You’ll wait in the back, and come out on stage when the auctioneer announces your number.”
“Got it. When the auctioneer opens the bid, you can start right in bidding on me.” He grinned and leaned forward to steal a cookie. Chocolate chip—his favorite.
She moved the folder to the coffee table and took a cookie. “What’s my limit?”
“For the auction? There is no limit.”
Her eyes widened as she bit into her cookie.
He grabbed another. Homemade. Did she bake on top of everything else?
She leaned in, eyes intense as she licked crumbs from her lovely mouth, and his pulse jumped. Hard to resist cleaning off those crumbs. With his tongue. The air subtly vibrated between them.
“You realize this could go above a thousand dollars, right?” Her eyes dropped to his mouth for a second, then back to catch his gaze. “Right?”
“Yep. That’s fine. Bid as high as you need to go, just win.” He brushed her shoulder with his fingertips. The feel of her skin—soft as a sable paintbrush. “Just win.”
Her eyes closed half way, the dilated pupils darkening the hazel. The bedroom expression from his drawing. She shifted toward him. “Win?”
He moved close enough to whisper in her ear. “Win.”
He bent his head to the hollow of her neck and inhaled, pulling her scent inside him. God, she smelled good. Clean, floral, and female. He had to know what her lips felt like. One kiss. Just one, and he’d go.
The atmosphere charged—equal parts anticipation and need.
Not a good idea, no matter how much he wanted it.
He should leave now.
Evan drew back and caught a glimpse of her tongue moistening her lips. Control slipped away, and he buried his hand in her hair and pulled her in for a kiss.
The first brush of his lips on hers, an electrifying sweep, shrank his world down to the two of them.
Her mouth had the perfect balance of heat and tenderness, fitting perfectly with his. Jesus, he hadn’t experienced this for so long, and it felt so good. He pressed his lips more firmly against hers. Slender fingers wove into his hair, and pleasure cascaded down his back and set off pressure in his groin. God, he should stop.
He pulled her into his embrace.
Damn good to hold a woman, warm and vital, after all these years of a cold and solitary existence. Tara had awakened a hunger, and he hadn’t realized the degree of his starvation until now. He had to get a taste of her.
He teased her lips with his tongue, and groaned in delight when she sighed and allowed him access. A flavor explosion—orange juice and chocolate chip cookies and steamy human woman, hot and vital. He stroked her tongue, penetrating, probing, shifting his mouth over hers to deepen the dance.
Tara gripped his shoulders, each one of her fingernails triggering tiny sparks of pleasure that flashed down to the small of his back.
Her enthusiasm was unmistakable. She wanted him too.
What would she feel like under him, his body buried in hers? Blood pulsed through him headed for destinations south, and his erection throbbed in readiness, shoving against his zipper.
Too fast, needed to slow down before his libido went off the rails.
As if sensing his thoughts, Tara broke the kiss but didn’t pull back. The heat of her breath warmed his jaw. At least one of them had sense.
Nope. He hadn’t gotten enough.
He captured her lips and mated his tongue with hers, and electric anticipation spread out across his skin. The fragrance of arousal poured off him, smelling of smoky bergamot, the unique signature of claiming and possession.
A mating scent. A whiff of answering desire hit his nostrils.
Had to get her closer, get his essence on her skin. He wrapped an arm around her waist. Soft breasts pressed against his chest, moving in concert with his breathing, and pushed desire to need.
So. Damn. Good.
About the Author:
Kelly Whitley wrote technical material for years before falling in love with romance. Now an ideal day consists of coffee, no phone, and writing. Her paranormal suspense novel Into the Red was published by Muse It Up in July 2012. Stop by www.kellywhitley.com to check out what’s new and Kelly’s other books.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Babs Book Bistro is hosting the 2nd blogoversary on August the 3rd. It's a big celebration and there'll be lots of swag so be sure to stop by.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
The Emerald Room by Scarlett KnightExperience the passion that ignites when handsome older men connect with young beautiful women. This steamy collection of four erotic short stories includes the kind of sexy encounters that only a blending of experience and youth can bring. Read how a composed college professor gives over to his lust for one of his faithful students, witness a seasoned theatre director succumbing to the stubborn wiles of a hot young actress in his play, and more.
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
And all other good eBook retailers
The Emerald Room bar was one of the classier joints where Nate got paid to play these days. Every Friday for the past two months, he put on a jacket and bowtie and sat at their shiny baby grand, tickling the keys for his two-hour set. It was a hell of a lot better than some of the trashy spots he was forced to waste his talent in, places whose patrons were so noisy and crude, where his music drowned beneath the sound of shrill laughter and glass breaking.
But not this place.
Aside from the nice paycheck, and aside from the sleek marble-topped bar and tall cherry wood seats, and aside from the polite, well-dressed folks who not only listened to him but tipped as well, there was the goddess.
She always showed up when he was about thirty minutes into his set, usually around the time he was playing soundtrack tunes from movies like The Godfather. In she'd stride, wearing one of her killer dresses. Sometimes it was the little black one, her hair cascading like a golden wave down her bare back. Other times she wore the sparkling red number. Tonight she donned a silver gown with a slit all the way up to the top of her right leg, the lacy band of her stocking peeking out whenever she moved just right on the barstool.
God, did Nate have a thing for stockings.
Her black stilettos only made her heavenly legs even more mouthwatering, the way they caused the calf muscles to flex just right. In between songs he took a sip of his bourbon and loosened his tie. To imagine those legs wrapped around him…it was the fuel for many a fantasy after he went home, too chicken shit to talk to her.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Today I'm happy to welcome Grace Elliot, who is on tour celebrating the release of her new book Hope's Betrayal.
And now here's Grace...
Everyone Needs to Be Creative.
And now here's Grace...
Everyone Needs to Be Creative.
I have a pet theory which is, 'Everyone needs to be creative.' With the pressures of the modern world, it's easy for creativity to get overlooked, and yet for me, it's an all important safety valve. I write for escapism. I have an emotionally demanding job (a veterinarian) and by using different mental muscles away in writing my historical romance books, it diffuses the anxieties of the day and helps me cope with the stress of being a working mother. In other words, I get transported to a different time and place where the worries of today no longer exist.
In a way, my writing is a form a meditation. During the creative process I sit with closed eyes (my husband takes the Mickey about this bit!) and imagine what the characters look and sound like, how they dress and react in different circumstances. Digressing slightly, these people can become so vivid that they can even dictate the plot line. I recently ditched 25,000 words of a work in progress because the hero and heroine kept nagging at me in to go in another direction. When eventually I stopped and listened, everything fell into place and a new, and much stronger plotline suggested itself.
So, if you could do with a healthy dose of escapism, why not give "Hope's Betrayal" a go?
Book Blurb and buy links.
Hope's Betrayal (#2 The Huntley Trilogy.)
One wild, winter's night two worlds collide.
Known for his ruthless efficiency, Captain George Huntley is sent to stamp out smuggling on the south coast of
On a night raid, the Captain captures a smuggler, but finds his troubles are
just beginning when the lad turns out to be a lass, Hope Tyler. England
With Hope as bait, the Captain sets a trap to catch the rest of the gang. But in a battle of wills, with his reputation at stake, George Huntley starts to respect feisty, independent Hope. Challenged by her sea-green eyes and stubborn loyalty Huntley now faces a new threat - his growing attraction to a sworn enemy. But a love where either Hope betrays her own kind, or Captain Huntley is court-marshaled, is not an easy destiny to follow.
Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. Grace believes intelligent people need to read romance as an antidote to the modern world. As an avid reader of historicals she turned to writing as a release from the emotionally draining side of veterinary work.
Grace lives near
and is addicted to cats. The Elliot household consists of five cats, two
teenage sons, one husband, a guinea pig - and the latest addition - a bearded
Grace Elliot (blog) "Fall in Love With History." http://graceelliot-author.blogspot.com
Grace Elliot website
Grace Elliot Facebook
Saturday, July 21, 2012
LYON'S THEOREM OF SEDUCTIONTomCats 2
AVAILABLE: Saturday, July 21st
This title is offered at a 10% new release discount. Offer ends midnight CST, July 28th.
[Siren Classic ManLove: Erotic Alternative Paranormal Romance, M/M, shape-shifters, HEA]
Can a vacation fling turn into a real romance?
TomCats is the hottest gay resort in Key West and the perfect place for Andrew Long to forget his cheating ex-boyfriend.
Sexy tomcat Lyon Nash enjoys his life running the resort he owns with a group of cat-shifters. He's not looking for a mate, but the shy, uptight Andrew ignites a spark that his cat can't ignore.
Captain Jack, the cruise director, is also attracted to Andrew, and he bets Lyon that he can seduce the new guest first.
Lyon puts his Theorem of Seduction to the test and wins the bet. Things heat up between him and Andrew. They have a magical, mutual connection, but their relationship goes south when Andrew finds out about the bet. Once again he's been humiliated and he flies back to New York. At least he's bringing back the stray cat he adopted, but can the feline help him forget the charming cad he left behind?
Available at Bookstrand:
Andrew stood at the entrance and scanned the room for the sandy-haired man, but he didn’t see him. Maybe he should just go back to his cottage. He could sit on the veranda and read by the porch light. It would be so much easier than standing around like a kid in a candy store with no money. If he was honest with himself, he sucked at this kind of scene. Navigating through a crowded bar and trying to look like he belonged was something he’d never been good at. Always looking for potential landmines, he could never relax and just have a good time. If he had a drink in his hand, he’d worry about spilling it and giving someone an alcohol bath. Of course that was provided he could even get a drink. First he’d have to shove his way to the bar and try to catch the bartender’s attention over the heads of the more aggressive, intoxicated patrons.
Interfacing with his computer and books he could do. Mingling with other humans baffled him. Face it, Andrew. You will never be the life of a party. He sighed and turned on his heel, ready to make a quick exit before anyone even knew he’d been there. Too late. A stream of men poured through the door, and Andrew found himself swept along with crowd. It seemed like fate wanted him to stay. What the hell, he could use a drink.
A wall of bodies bumped him from behind, pushing him firmly against the bar. There was nowhere to go, and he ended up standing between two occupied stools. Forget any concept of personal space. The man on his left looked him up and down and introduced himself. “First time in Key West?”
“Does it show?” Andrew said, raising his voice to be heard over the loud music.
“Nothing shows, that’s the problem.” His new friend, dressed in blue spandex shorts, grinned at him.
“What did I get myself into?” Andrew muttered half to himself.
“The land of free spirits.” The man on his right laughed. “You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.”
Friday, July 20, 2012
Reluctant Romance: Guys and Guys by Various Authors
Sometimes true love is reluctant to blossom and needs a little bit of coaxing in order to come out. But a strong will and a heart filled with determination will triumph every time! The authors of the Bigger Briefs present to you these m/m tales of lovers who just need a gentle prod to push them into the relationship they’ve been yearning for.
*****While Zane showered, Neil picked up the living area and called in for a pizza to be delivered. He’d changed his mind; he didn’t want to go out. What he wanted was privacy. Zane had just joined him in the living area when the pizza guy showed up. Neil quickly paid him as Zane got them plates.
“Where do you want to eat?”
Zane shrugged. “In the living area is fine. I just usually sit in the couch.”
They ate in silence. He noticed that Zane acted like he hadn’t eaten in a month. Once they were finished, Neil moved closer to Zane on the couch, laying his arm behind Zane’s head.
“Okay, spill it. I want to know what’s the deal with you. You never leave to go to work, you shut yourself up in here for days on end, and you refuse to commit to me. No more, Zane. I can’t take it.”
Zane stared at Neil, then he stood up. “Maybe it would be easier to just show you.”
He led Neil to one of the bedrooms he kept closed. Opening the door, he stood to the side and waved his arm. “Everything you want to know is in there.” Then he turned away and went back to the living area.
Neil walked in the room. Covering one entire wall of the room were photographs. No, not photographs, covers—book covers. Covers he recognized. A laptop sat open on a desk and on it were endless paragraphs. A multi-purpose printer sat to one side. Notebooks, paper, and books lined a bookshelf. A mini-fridge sat in a corner and a coffee maker was close to the desk. Awards were all over the walls. Shocked, Neil took in the office—an author’s office. One of the biggest named authors’ office. His heart stuttered in his chest. Zane was the gay male author Sivad… which was his last name, Davis, spelled backwards.
Stumbling out the door, he found Zane on the couch, head in his heads. “So, now you know who I am.”
Neil sank down on the couch next to him. “Why’d you hide this? Why do you act like this is something to be ashamed of? Zane, you have a God given talent, and nothing—do you hear me—nothing to be ashamed of!”
Zane raised his head, meeting Neil’s eyes. “I’m not ashamed of being gay, or of what I write, in either career. But I kept them separate because I knew mainstream publishers would flip if they knew. Homophobia is alive and well, don’t think it’s not. I was dumped by some of those very same publishers when word got out.”
Neil took Zane’s hands, holding them tightly. “What happened?”
Taking a deep breath, Zane held it for a second, then released it. “Long story short, I caught my boyfriend of two years in bed with another man. I kicked his ass out. Pissed that he lost his free meal—me—he outed me. He knew what could happen—fact is, he did it to hurt me. Some of the mainstream publishers told me I needed to go elsewhere, and they were not very nice about it either. They were horrified that I wrote what they called gay porn.”