House of Rae franchisee Marie Argenta is on the run after her estranged husband Ned inflicts unimaginable tortures. Leaving her Paris House to hide out in the U.S., she ends up at the San Francisco House to serve as temporary manager. The very first day, her gaze lands on the most arrogant man she has ever seen, Adrian Velasquez. He’s also the most compelling devastatingly attractive, over-the-top pleasure partner the universe could ever conjure, which makes her think twice about the rules forbidding employee relationships.

Adrian knows what he likes and this new House manager Marie ranks above and beyond anything he’s ever imagined. Too bad his life is already crammed too full of family troubles, work overload, and finishing his law degree to even consider stretching the rules with this irritating woman. But a touch here, a kiss there, might be too delicious to refuse and she’s, well, she wants him. He knows it.

What Marie and Adrian are soon to discover is that Ned knows where Marie has fled and plans to take her back no matter what.

West Coast life like you’ve never imagined! Take luxurious surroundings, drop in a few gorgeous men, and stir. Don’t forget there’s serious trouble ahead.

Get your copy! Amazon Free promotion Dec 7, 8, and 9 ONLY

Follow my blog for GIVEAWAYS of Book III and IV, coming up in a few days! https://lizzieashworth.com/

** Reviews Needed! ** Please take a moment and review this book!

Excerpt from Reprieve…

Adrian lounged in the hallway outside the ground floor conference room. If it were his call, he’d bring everyone to the room at once throwing out ideas and arguing over word choice. But it wasn’t his call and Marie obviously preferred to take advice from one person at a time. He stopped himself from further questioning her reasoning. He didn’t want to think about her reasoning, her, or her luscious body.

Damn it.

He’d found it unexpectedly difficult to craft language that surpassed hers. He’d actually wasted a lot of time thinking up clever ways to make her uncomfortable with over-the-top sexual innuendo. Which wasn’t the purpose of the task, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He wanted to provoke her, push her limits, test her control. Any opening and he would storm past her walls.

Ridiculous, he knew. Storming her walls was the last thing that should be on his mind. She set something loose in him, something he’d never encountered in all his thirty years. Not carefully calculating his hours, his days, his future as had been his pattern. Instead, this doppelganger lurking inside him plotted devious methods that would result in Marie’s eager nude body in his bed.

He shifted uncomfortably as his cock twitched.

The door opened and Savannah walked out, throwing him an amused glance. “Hey, sex boy. You’re next.”

He shook his head and grinned. “Tear it up, Savannah.”

He rolled his shoulder around the door frame, crossed his arms and looked down the long table to where Marie sat at the far end. Surrounded by papers she was organizing into stacks, she glanced up only momentarily before motioning to a nearby chair. Her hair had been fastened loosely on top of her head but a few strands had worked loose, drifting around her face and doing something outrageous with her beauty. A gauzy pink blouse floated around her shoulders and vanished into the shadow of her sumptuous décolletage. He was instantly hard as iron.

Did she know the image she presented, part sex goddess, part ice queen? He had no doubt of her intellect, whip smart and aggressive. He also had no doubt that she would be a wild cat in bed, a tempest of little moans and cries, all of which would ensure his undying servitude to her unending pleasure. Yes, in a perfect world, he would devote himself utterly to Marie, to fulfilling her every sexual need in long leisurely episodes of rampant lust.

His balls had drawn up tight.

As he pulled out the chair nearest her and sat carefully, her gaze followed the bulge straining his pants until his hips disappeared under the table. He watched her reaction, a careful flick of her tongue against her full bottom lip and a slight flush of pink across her cheeks. Goddamn it, that’s all he needed for his rowdy dick to threaten to leap out of his pants.

“Whatever this game is you are playing, monsieur, it will go nowhere,” she said in a husky voice. “Surely you know I cannot entangle myself with an employee.”

He cleared his throat, fighting against laughter. Triumphant laughter. So the cards were on the table.

“Of course,” he said in his most dignified voice. “But I don’t know what ‘game’ you mean. I’m here only to offer advice on the advertisement.”

Her long lashes blinked up and her aquamarine gaze intensified as she studied him, her brow creased. Oh, he could make that gaze darken and smooth that lovely brow all in the same moment. Just one moment to bare her lovely breasts, taste the dark pink nipples—she would call his name. He would draw those rosy tips hard against his tongue until she cried out.

Then he would move lower, teasing with little kisses and bites, until he reached the altar of her body, that delicious valley of moist ruddy flesh where he would live off her delectable nectar. His tongue, his mouth, and his fingers would perform ancient rites of homage until she flailed and cried out, desperate for his engorged cock.

He suppressed a groan, couldn’t help that his glance had drifted to those luscious mounds waiting for him under that flimsy pink blouse. Was it his imagination or could he actually make out the erect peaks of those perfect tits pressing their captivity, begging him?

She brought her papers into a neat stack and looked up. “When you manage to tear your eyes away from ma poitrine, perhaps we can hear your ideas? S’il vous plait?”

He dragged his gaze back to her face, unable to keep the guilty grin off his face. “Ma poitrine,” he drawled. “Is that what they call those lovelies in French?” He leaned forward, as much to punish the rigid length of his raging cock as to push the boundaries of her personal space. He knew he was acting like an ass, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. His outrageous alter ego was in full control.

“It’s a shame their beauty must be hidden from the world.”

“Pah, you are not here to seduce a client, Monsieur Velasquez.” She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on the papers. “What ideas do you have?”

UPDATE: The winners are…Stacey Kinzebach and Laura!
*~*~*

Some of you might not be aware, but my sister and I began writing together, just over twenty years ago. These stories were our first efforts. Funny contemporaries that we set aside for years while we concentrated on writing our solo works. Then, a few years ago, we decided to revise them and put them up for sale. We never lost our love for these characters or the funny things we put them through. If you haven’t read them yet, check them out!

For a chance to win your choice of one of the Texas Billionaires Club books, answer this…

Do you love billionaire stories? Or do you prefer a blue-collar kind of hero?

 

Something to Talk About

What happens when Martha Stewart teams up with the Oscar Madison of radio talk shows? Sparks fly, romance blooms and their audience goes wild!

Diane Denton is a cool, sophisticated home and garden talk show host on K-YAK 102.5 radio station. All she thinks she wants is to talk about fertilizer and place settings, while fending off her well-meaning country club parents’ attempts to push her into marriage with the “right man.”

To Diane, fellow talk show host, Rip O’Rourke, is nothing more than a rebellious, overgrown teenager flaunting his baseball-capped, Hawaiian-shirted, ex-football player physique to “score” with anything with breasts. Proof of his perversity is the crude, but popular, hour of programming he hosts that discusses such manly topics as wet T-shirt contests and sports statistics. Diane wouldn’t spit on Rip if he were on fire, while Rip on the other hand, wants to do more than spend time with Diane. She is a challenge to mankind as a whole and his goal in life is to see Diane’s crisp shirts and tailored slacks properly rumpled, just once.

Rip gets his opportunity when the radio station is sold to a large corporation and the station manager is challenged to come up with a prime-time show that will set the city on its ear. From one of Rip and Diane’s public arguments springs the idea of a show about the differences between men and women giving their audience, “Something to Talk About.”

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Excerpt from Something to Talk About…

Their boss and station manager, Dave Lebcowitz, stepped into the room at just that moment. The high-spirited chatter halted. Anxious faces turned in his direction.

“Good afternoon, team.” Dave’s voice carried like a sonic boom in a cardboard box. “I know you’re all wondering why I called this meeting. I don’t want to keep you hanging, so I’ll cut to the chase.” Dave glanced around the room, drawing out the pause.

Casey held her breath. Dave only acted this way when he was about to announce something big—something they weren’t going to like. Despite her belief superstition was for ignorant people, Casey crossed her fingers in her lap. Please don’t cut my show.

“The station’s been bought out by ROR International.”

Pandemonium broke out, and everybody spoke at once. A buy-out usually meant one thing. Someone, maybe a lot of someones, would lose his or her job.

Dave raised both hands, “Quiet now, everyone.” He waited until the noise subsided before continuing. “I just got off the phone with the new management team. They’ve been studying our ratings and haven’t recommended any personnel or timeslot changes, yet.”

“What do you mean—yet?” Casey demanded. “We all know what happened to that station in Denver they bought out six months ago. It’s pretty much a turn-key operation now. Most of their programming comes from nationally syndicated shows.”

“Well, they did express concern about our ratings,” Dave admitted, “but I talked them into giving us a little breathing space—a chance to prove ourselves as part of their new team.”

“Were they amenable to the idea?” Rip asked.

“They agreed to give us two months,” Dave responded.

Casey frowned. “A kind of trial period?”

“Yes.” Dave turned to pace the length of the conference table. “The problem is we’re not rock ‘n roll. We’re not rap. Face it—we’re not sexy. We’re talk radio. We’ve been losing market share steadily in our ‘morning drive’ slot ever since Jack the Yak left. We need to change that.”

“Any suggestions on how to turn that around?” Rip asked.

“We need something different. Something that will get the entire city listening and talking. Ladies and gentlemen,” he looked around the room at each face, pausing on Rip, who was poking holes in his paper coffee cup with a pen, “…and Rip, if we don’t come up with something big, we’re all likely to be out of jobs.”

He took a deep breath and continued, “Having said that, I called you together to brainstorm a new idea for our morning drive. We need something that will set this city on its ear.”

As the others settled into discussion, Casey sat silent, racking her brain for an idea. With a quick look around the room, she made a mental inventory of the current lineup.

Dan Rice had the hourly news segment. Not much you could do with that. Randy Gaither had “Mechanic’s Corner” in the mornings right after the morning drive timeslot. Evelyn Krinard hosted the late-night jazz segment on the weekends, and Trish Yarborough was the resident gossip columnist, mixing national with local celebrity news, in the hour following the evening drive hour. With disgust, Casey noted Trish’s attention was fully tuned in to Rip O’Rourke, the resident macho man who hosted the coveted evening commuter’s show and the “Just for Men” program after ten o’clock. She stopped her perusal there.

Casey pursed her lips. She couldn’t understand what she’d seen in him. His square jaw and many-times-broken nose, combined with his ice-blue eyes and dark chestnut-colored hair, were certainly arresting. His belly, as yet, hadn’t turned to flab despite his hedonistic appetites, and his shoulders strained the seams of his shirt, almost to the point of bursting. She hated to admit his exterior certainly had its charms.

But, he was rude, slovenly, and uncouth. A no-necked, ex-jock with the perfect combination of misogynistic qualities that made his show, featuring a mix of sports and male-oriented chatter, so popular.

She’d originally been attracted to his ruggedly handsome face and physique, and ignored warnings of his womanizing tendencies. For once, she’d followed her instincts and gone out with someone her mother would never approve of. And she’d been sadly disappointed when he’d lived up to his reputation, and then some. And he probably still had the paint to prove it.

Despite her own lack of interest, other women loved him. They fell all over themselves to be with Rip O’Rourke, case in point: Bambi. Sliding her gaze upward to his face, she found him watching her.

He winked.

She glared back, and then dropped her gaze, trying to get control of the heat suffusing her cheeks. Casey stared at his chest for a moment before she noticed the T-shirt he wore beneath his open Hawaiian shirt. “Good grief, O’Rourke. Can’t you find something more—” Casey gave up searching for the right word and said what she thought, “—more adult?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, grinning. “What’s the matter, Cramer? Don’t you like my hairy chest?” He turned toward the rest of the group and pulled the shirt open wider. His T-shirt sported a drawing of curly hair and a belly button.

“Of course not,” she replied sharply. “It’s crude and disgusting.”

“Don’t be such a prude, sweetheart. Haven’t you ever run your fingers through a man’s chest hair before? Or don’t the men you date have any?”

Embarrassed by the turn of the conversation, Casey pursed her lips. “It’s none of your business what I have or have not run my fingers through. That shirt belongs in a frat house—not a workplace. It’s as bad as the T-shirt you loaned me the other day.”

“That’s just your opinion, Cramer. Shall we poll the rest of the group to see if they feel the same?”

Glancing around the room, she was startled to realize the “Rip and Casey Show” held center stage. Even Dave was quiet, a speculative gleam in his eye, as though he waited for the next shot to be fired.

“All right,” Rip continued, “all those who like the T-shirt and don’t think it’s childish or—more to the point—don’t care, raise your hands.”

Most of the guys raised their hands. Trish smiled, raised hers, and batted her eyes at Rip.

Rip turned to Casey with a triumphant look on his face.

“Only the majority of the male half of this room agreed with you,” Casey pointed out, discounting Trish’s vote. “Obviously, you don’t have a clue about a woman’s preferences,” she said, with a smug expression of her own.

“Au contraire, Cramer. The only thing that’s obvious is you don’t know how to loosen up and have fun. You’re so stiff, I bet you even starch your underwear.”

Starched underwear? He had nerve. “I. Do. Not,” she said through gritted teeth.

Rip’s eyebrow rose. “Prove it.”

“I will not, you moronic, prepubescent buffoon. Why don’t you grow up?”

“I will as soon as you learn to loosen up. I’d like to see you when your shirt’s wrinkled and your hair’s messed up. Or you have salsa all over your chest. That’s when I can almost mistake you for a mere mortal like the rest of us.”

“That’s it!” Dave shouted.

Every person in the room turned startled gazes to the man standing at the head of the conference table. Dave’s color was heightened, and he had a feverish gleam in his eyes. “That’s it!” he repeated.

“What’s it, Dave?” Rip asked.

“That’s our show.” He clapped his hands together like a child at the circus.

“What are you talking about?” Casey stared around the room, certain she had missed something.

“The whole reason we’re in this room,” Dave answered, excitement staining his cheeks red. “Pay attention, you two. We’ll do a show on male versus female opinions with Casey and Rip as the co-hosts.”

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3. #KissApp HOTTER WITH A POLE is on KISS! (Contest–4 Winners!) — This one ends soon! Win 20 KISS coins!
4. Getting “Holiday Ready” (Puzzle Contest) — Win an Amazon gift card!
5. St. Nick’s Night (Contest) — Win a FREE book!

Thank you, Delilah Devlin for having me today!

Let me introduce myself, my name is M.D. Stewart and I live in southern West Virginia. I was born and raised here, but due to marrying a Navy man, moved around from age eighteen to twenty-two. I came home and, after much trial and error, I finally found my forever-person and moved to rural Boone County fifteen years ago. We have three indoor cats, three old lady chickens, and when I’m not writing, I’m canning and freezing our garden veggies. He’s also a hunter, so we process deer in the fall.

As the only girl child in my family, I grew up watching soap operas, sci-fi programs (Star Trek reruns mostly), and sneaking my mom’s Harlequin romance books into my room where I devoured them cover-to-cover! All these things combined to give me a vivid imagination and a desire to create my own Universe! I’ve always dreamed of becoming an author and in 2018, I self-published my first book.

This entire journey has been a learning experience! I also think I’ve evolved as a writer. I started with sci-fi romance, dabbled in paranormal romance, and now I’m writing contemporary motorcycle club romance. My Fae Shifters duo is mmf and some books in my series do have menage of mfm and mm merging to mmf throuples. Basically, I think love is essential for survival if you’re an alien, shifter, or human.

I also exclusively pen LGBTQ paranormal romance for Changeling Press. My books with CP feature mm, mmm, and mmf romances with ghosts, psychic vampires, hellhound shifters, demons, angels, and trolls! Like I said I think love is for everybody!

If your interested in my backlist, there is my Amazon Author page! I’d love for you to take a peek!

Let me tell you what I’m working on right now! My most recent release that came out on December 3^rd is Her Three Bears. It’s a retelling of Goldilocks if it were set in modern-day West Virginia with a motorcycle club romance trope. Her Three Bears is part of the Bleeding Souls Saved by Love! Anthology.

The BSSBL books are all MC romance or dark Mafia romance based on fairytale retelling. The series started releasing in March 2021 and various authors are scheduled for release through 2023. Each book is a standalone. While not all the BSSBL books are, Her Three Bears is exclusive to Amazon so you can read it FREE though Kindle Unlimited.

Here’s the description of Her Three Bears.

Amber Gold needs to escape and hide from her treacherous family. 

Her dad is a mean drunk, her brother is abusive and her life at home is deteriorating fast. When she stumbles on a cabin in the woods, Amber thinks she’s found a safe shelter. Sneaking in at night while the owners are away, she doesn’t realize the danger her heart is in.

Parker “Papa Bear” Kodiak has earned his grumpy, hardcore reputation.

Growing up poor in a rural West Virginia town, he struck out on his own at sixteen. He found acceptance as a Prospect in the Wicked Warriors MC. Through brutality and determination, he became the youngest Sergeant-at-Arms in their history. No one crosses Parker and lives to talk about it.

Someone has been breaking into Parker’s home.

While his brothers Max and Bryson aren’t concerned, Parker is determined to make the intruder pay for their crime. But is Parker willing to pay the ultimate price when he finds the golden-haired beauty asleep in his baby brother’s bed?

I had so much fun writing Her Three Bears, that the story just came to me and flowed to the page. Trust me, it is a gift when that happens. It was different for me to have a little bit darker characters than I was used to writing. It is a romance though, so an HEA is guaranteed!

When I wrote Her Three Bears, a character showed up that intrigued me. Well, two characters actually; Mark and Mac “Rogue” Steele. Mark is a West Virginia State Policeman and his twin, Mac is a member of the Black Dagger MC. I knew they were twins, but it wasn’t until I started writing Rogue’s story that they revealed they were mirror twins. So fascinating!

Even though it is a spin-off of Her Three Bears, Rogue, Black Dagger MC, begins a new series but has a lot of cross-over characters. I also introduce a badass female MC, Devil’s Daughters. The leader, Sammi Jo, is based on a friend of mine.  My beta readers loved this story, and I’m so happy to bring it to you!

Here’s the description of Rogue.

With a corrupt cop and an escaped killer hunting them, can Rogue do the impossible and save Stevie?

Stevie Anderson barely eluded death when deranged serial killer, Paul Turner, murdered her entire family before setting their house on fire. While in protective custody, she’s hidden where the killer would least suspect — the home of a biker in the Black Dagger Motorcycle Club.

Mac “Rogue” Steele resisted his twin’s suggestion to hide a federal protection witness at his home until he got      to know the shy but charming woman. With a bruised heart, scarred body, and beautiful soul, it doesn’t take long for Stevie to claim his cynical heart.

After her family’s killer contacts Stevie from his prison cell, Rogue takes her on the run through the hills and hollows of southern West Virginia. Relying on the help of his MC, Rogue desperately searches for a way to keep Stevie alive.

If you’re interested in Rogue, and his twin, you can preorder on Amazon, and they will show up on your Kindle on January 21^st! It will also be FREE on Kindle Unlimited.

While writing Rogue, I met a character that I really didn’t like. He was rude, bitter, and just angry at the world. Rogue wanted to kill him, even though he’s part of the same MC! I decided to get to know Dodge a little more and what I learned was heartbreaking.

Dirk “Dodge” Hodges had a hard life as a kid. His dad was both physically and sexually abusive to him and his brother. But he found a home with the Black Dagger MC as a teenager. Dodge was a strong character, and I knew he needed a woman who could go toe-to-toe with him and not back down. Kira Taylor is that woman.

Here’s a little more about Dodge.

Someone made the fatal mistake of abducting Dodge’s son

When Dodge’s Old Lady suddenly wants out, and his brother goes to prison for murder, all Dodge has left is the Black Dagger MC. Abandoning the club that gave him acceptance and safety is simply out of the question. Six years later, his old childhood sweetheart, Kira returns with a surprise — their son. What should be a happy reunion is cut short when the boy goes missing.

Kira Taylor once found club life thrilling, but as a nurse she saw first-hand how quickly things get bloody. After becoming pregnant she leaves town and made a clean break from everyone. But the freedom for her son only lasts until a tragedy befalls them and she must return home.

Now Kira’s only chance at happiness is to confess everything she hid from Dodge. With his help, they might be able to rescue their son. But with both of their lives shattered by this news, can they learn to forgive each other and finally become the family they were meant to be years ago?

If you would just love to fall for a bad boy with a tragic past, you can preorder Dodge now and you’ll have him on your Kindle March 21^st. Again, Dodge will be FREE on KU.

I don’t want to take up all of your time, so I’ll leave you and Delilah with my thanks and the links to my social media if you’d like to follow me. If you go to my website, you can sign up for my newsletter which, to be honest, only comes out when I have new releases. I don’t flood your email, that’s for sure!

MD Stewart’s Social Media
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MDStewartAuthor
Instagram: https://instagram.com/mdstewart8
Twitter: https://twitter.com/gooseandmindi
BookBub: www.bookbub.com/profile/m-d-stewart
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18294133.M_D_Stewart
Website: https://mdstewartauthor.com
Blog: https://wordpress.com/mdstew.art.blog
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/~/e/B07GBFKNDP
Tik Tok: https://www.tiktok.com/@mdstewartauthor

UPDATE: The winner is Elaine Howell!
*~*~*

Christmas is a big thing in our house. A month-long big thing.

We start on the 1st with the Elves on the Shelf arriving with their pets. I think we’re up to six in the entourage, and of course, they move every night to a location for the youngest kid to find them.

We also start the advent calendar countdown, leaving little gifts like pencils, candies, rolled-up dollar bills, or tiny toys in the calendar’s pockets.

Then on St. Nick’s Night (I think it’s spelled Kriskindlnacht), the kids all leave out a shoe beside the front door. Santa visits and leaves gold coins or coal along with more small gifts to let the kids know how he’s judged their behavior. This tradition was one I began when my family lived in Germany and my two kids were small. They both attended German schools, so they had to have the same traditions as their classmates, right? Anyway, the 8-year-old is thrilled about tonight and just as thrilled that Nina (me!) gets to leave out a shoe as well. Yes, my dd is continuing the tradition and has decided that, since I’m the biggest kid in the house, I have to participate. Notice that I don’t tell her not to bother… 🙂

So, my question to you is whether you have any Christmas month traditions you follow leading up to the big day. Answer for a chance to win your choice of one of my downloadable books. Your choice!

UPDATE: The winner is Ani S!
*~*~*

This is where I’ll be today! My daughter and I will have a table. We didn’t have a lot of time to prepare, but we have some “things” to sell!

So, I’ll leave you with this puzzle because—it’s Saturday! Solve the Puzzle, then tell me what you’re doing to get “holiday ready” for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!

December is for wishes, whether it be gifts we desire or things we hope for in the next year. And sometimes, we are given things we newer knew to wish for.

Take Aaron, for example. He seems to have everything a person could want: he’s good-looking, a powerful witch, and his family is rich. He goes to wintry Fairview to look for a missing girl.

Then there’s Ilya. Ilya’s a bartender who likes his job. He’s also a banshee and mildly psychic, but he doesn’t tell people about that, because it makes him a target, desirable for his skill.

These two men run into each other, and while the reason for their meeting isn’t a happy one, they do get something out of it: each other. But not without a fight. Not without a risk.

Meet Aaron and Ilya this holiday season in The Night Bartender.

The Night Bartender (Fairview Chronicles 9)

Ilya stays safe by trusting no one, but Aaron, a wealthy witch, makes Ilya want to trust.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3DjlWNU
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3wLbmwQ
Apple: https://apple.co/3Di9UEK
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3qQMsLh
Changeling Press: https://bit.ly/3HwmLpj

Aaron has come to Fairview to find his ex’s teenage sister, who went missing in the city. As a witch both rich and powerful, Aaron follows a trail that leads him to a bar frequented by supernaturals and to a bartender who attracts Aaron’s attention — and not just because the bartender is keeping something from Aaron. When Aaron runs out of leads, he follows the mysterious and pretty bartender, and the next thing Aaron knows, he’s foiling an attempted abduction.

Ilya has built a quiet life in Fairview mixing drinks and flying under the radar. He is a banshee, and the psychic ability and mild telepathy that comes with that makes Ilya a sought-after commodity. That carefully constructed life Ilya built for himself breaks into a thousand pieces when a handsome witch starts asking questions and becomes Ilya’s rescuer mere hours after they meet.

The witch, Aaron, vows to protect Ilya and to keep his secret. Now Ilya has to decide whether he will give Aaron his trust and risk a lonely but safe life as a night bartender in a wintry city in which people disappear only to then turn up murdered.

Excerpt from The Night Bartender…

Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Aaron buried his hands in his coat pockets and gave the bleak Fairview midday sky a hard look. Not that the sky gave much of a damn. It was late November, just after the Thanksgiving weekend, and for most of the morning, it had sleeted in a way Aaron had never before experienced in his life. It was like a hot shower, except the cold, freezing water got all the way through to your skin and passed the cold to every inch of your body.

“Damn city just might be cursed with bad weather,” Aaron mumbled as he walked along a street in the Old Town, which should lead him to a bar friendly to the not-quite-human clientele if his online research skills hadn’t failed him. A deep black cloud caught his attention. It zapped across the horizon as if blown by a particularly vicious breeze. Aaron frowned before he picked up his pace. The sooner I’m done here, the sooner I can go back to Morrowvale where November doesn’t suck so bad your balls want to freeze off in surrender, he thought.

In all honesty, Fairview wasn’t a bad place. The city itself was nice enough. The parks and trees here littered the streets with the bones of leaves turning to sludge in the puddles left from the earlier sleet showers, and the people, while ignoring both other people and the suck-tastic weather, dressed a little nicer than the average Morrowvaler. Aaron had also never had Japanese food as good as he’d had an hour ago in a small, unassuming place he’d accidentally walked into, at least not outside Japan. That counted for something, at least in Aaron’s book.

Traffic was in what passed for a bit of a midday lull in Fairview. The honking had ebbed to a not-eardrum-shattering noise, and Aaron managed to cross the street without it feeling like he was gambling with his life.

The Ragdoll was a basement bar, and if Aaron hadn’t been looking for it, he probably would have missed the small neon sign that was either broken or just off this early in the day. A wrought-iron fence further hid the sign and the door, which lay at the bottom of a flight of stairs. This could be a private gambling den or the hideout of a bunch of Russian spies, Aaron thought.

He walked down the stairs and pulled the door open just as another sleet shower was getting ready to wash the streets and everyone walking outside with icy wetness. Aaron shivered as he crossed the threshold and blinked into the softly lit bar.

Last week’s Thanksgiving paper turkeys and fall-colored garlands were still up, though a busboy collected the decorations into a cardboard box labeled “Turkey Day” in black sharpie. There were no Russian spies and no gambling going on here.

Surprisingly, there were several patrons in the bar this early in the day. Aaron spotted a handful starting their day’s drinking early, but most nursed mugs of coffee or were digging into sandwiches which, admittedly, looked better than was right in a basement bar. Judging by their business suits, those were just office workers who knew where the good sandwiches were at. The music was pop, playing just loud enough to offer background noise without becoming obnoxious. This place, despite the outward appearance, looked hip, trendy even. Fucking Fairview. This city is as confusing as a clown at a dinner party, Aaron thought.

Aaron’s fingers closed around the talisman in his pocket. With his touch and the smallest pinch of magic, he felt the worked metal coin activate and the spellbound to it sizzle to life. Three people, including the strawberry-blonde girl behind the bar, whipped their heads around to look at him. So, this place really is supernatural friendly, Aaron thought. The talisman heated rapidly in his pocket. And Dora definitely was here before she disappeared.

That confirmed, he let go of the talisman and walked straight to the bartender. The other two patrons who’d noticed his magic had gone back to ignoring him like the good Fairviewers they were.

“Hi,” Aaron said, giving the strawberry blonde his best winning smile. “What’s good here?”

She shrugged. “Depends on whether it’s drink-o’clock in your world or not. If not, the pumpkin spice latte kills. If yes, you look like a Macallan kind of guy.”

Aaron grinned at her. “You’d be right about the whiskey, but I think I’ll go with the latte,” he told her.

He was doing his best with the charming vibes, which usually worked even if he turned it on women, but the bartender just nodded and went about preparing his coffee. Aaron watched her, more interested in the fact that she was making coffee at a bar decked out with an impressive assortment of liquor than anything else. The coffee machine was one of those intimidating ones that took up some primo counter real estate, and from the looks of it, it saw some use.

When she was done, she brought the latte over to him and puffed a dash of cinnamon over the foamy top right in front of him. The warm scent of the spice immediately made Aaron feel just a little more optimistic about everything. The mug was the cutesy kind with a grinning, red-nosed reindeer on the side.

“There you go,” she said with little enthusiasm, though not exactly unfriendly.

“Thanks, miss,” Aaron said. Before she could walk away again, he focused on her instead of the latte. “Could I ask you something?”

“I’m guessing I’m not your type, so go right ahead,” she said.

Aaron’s eyes widened, and it was the girl’s turn to chuckle. “Half-succubus,” she said in a whisper. “The gay-dar is practically built-in.”

He nodded, fighting the color rising to his cheeks. “Right. Makes sense.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this girl,” he said and pulled the photo Patrick had given him from his pocket. It showed Dora smiling, her blond hair shimmering in the sun.

The half-succubus took a look, then shook her head. “No, sorry. Friend of yours?”

“My ex’s sister, believe it or not,” Aaron said. “She went missing, and I tracked her first to Fairview, and now here.” Aaron had the cellphone gods to thank for that. It made using his magic almost unnecessary, although Aaron still liked to confirm the actual person had been to a place, not just their phone, hence his talisman.

About Alexa Piper

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them.

Connect with Alexa: https://linktr.ee/AlexaPiper

Wow, it’s December already. I have no idea where this year has gone. But I can tell you I’m hard at work on Elemental Dragons. And I’m thrilled to share a sneak peek at a scene from book two, Wind’s Fury.

Haunted by her loss of control and the injuries she and her air dragon caused to another of her kind, Nina Buchanan knows there’s no more running from the rare gender mismatch that made her dragon, the other half of her soul, male to her female. She’ll do anything to make this right. Haunted by the death of his older brother, Reuel Damaris knows these dragons are like a disease. He’ll do anything to cure the human race of the terrible shifter affliction that took his brother and shattered his family. But when the battle lines are drawn, only together can they unravel the lies and calm the fury of a dragon.

This scene is when Nina shifts for the first time in front of Reuel. (How do you think you’d react if a dragon appeared right in front of you?) Enjoy!

He clenched his fists. Hell, he clenched his entire body.

A dragon.

That was a fucking dragon. And somehow, that dragon was also Nina.

No. Not possible.

Reuel pressed his fingers against his carotid. Hard. He still had a pulse. So not a heart attack. Unless he was actually lying on the ground, gasping his last, and this was some kind of death-knell hallucination.

The dragon landed in front of him. Right in fucking front of him. Close enough for him to see each individual scale, sharp-edged and sparkling in a thousand different shades of white. Close enough for him to smell the musk of the beast. For him to feel the heat rolling off the massive body. For him to see the endless depths of those faceted eyes.

Close enough for him to reach out and touch.

He clenched his fists again.

Damn it, he wasn’t ready to die. He had things to do. Things to prove to his father. Things to say to his mother. He had to make them see.

Fucking heart attack.

The dragon–he couldn’t call this thing sitting calmly, proudly in front of him Nina, no matter what he thought he’d seen, not even in a hallucination–lowered its massive head and snuffed at him. The heat and force of the beast’s exhale actually pushed him back a step.

He should turn around and walk away. Maybe hallucinate a super model with him on a nice, eighty-foot yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean. No, ditch the super model. How about a fishing pole and a cooler full of beer and nothing but the sound of the water against the hull and the wind in his face. Geez, didn’t he deserve some peace in the last few moments of his life?

And now he’d never get to know Nina better. Would she have liked to go fishing with him?

Or would a woman who could turn into a dragon just grab fish from the waters with her razor-sharp claws and eat them with those massive jaws?

Walk away.

He dipped his shoulder. Shifted his weight. He hadn’t asked for this craziness. Didn’t want it. But in that split second before he could turn, the dragon tilted its massive head and the stunning blue of Nina’s eyes caught him. Wrapped around him and held him motionless. Promised him heat and strength and a power he couldn’t comprehend.

And silently called to him, with more sorrow and pain than he’d ever felt in a lifetime of sorrow and pain.

He knew that pain. Understood to the depths of his bones the primal longing for acceptance he could see in those stunning eyes. In Nina’s eyes.

This wasn’t a hallucination.

Reuel swallowed hard. “Nina?”

He felt a thousand times a fool, whispering to this beast like it could understand him. Like Nina was actually somewhere in there.

But that massive head nodded, the tiniest fraction.

His breath left him in a giant whoosh. It physically hurt to inhale again, to take all the hot scent of dragon into his lungs. “You’re… Fuck, Nina. I can’t…” Shifting, he swiped a sweaty palm across his jaw. But the word dragon wouldn’t come out of the tightness constricting his throat.

The dragon’s head drooped. Had the beast just… sighed?

“I’m sorry,” Reuel said, not sure what he was apologizing for, but positive that was all he could manage.

Again the dragon nodded. And then the light around the beast… shifted. Shimmered. Danced.

He blinked as the brightness grew, but he couldn’t look away. Or maybe he wouldn’t look away.

This was magic.

He knew it suddenly, totally, like he knew his own name. Like he knew he was meant to be a scientist. Not an athlete. No matter what his father thought. Or said. Or did.

Or didn’t do.

This was magic, and that dragon was somehow Nina.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

The warmth of the dragon’s breath wafted over him. And then the dragon wasn’t there anymore. Nina was.

For a half a heartbeat he thought she was naked.

About the Author

Grace Adams is a 2017 Golden Heart® finalist and award-winning author of paranormal romance who loves nothing more than a happy ending. Whatever the genre, regardless of the medium, as long as justice prevails, the good guys win, and people are falling in love, she’s in.

A lifelong reader of science fiction, fantasy, and of course romance, Grace also enjoys painting and drawing and is an avid skier. One of those rare Geeks who loves both Star Wars AND Star Trek, she’s got a closet full of costumes she created and firmly believes that she who dies with the most fabric (and books) (and shoes) wins.

Grace has a B.S. in Mathematics from Ursinus College and an M.A. in English from Wright State University.  She is a veteran of the USAF as a communications officer and currently works as an IT Controls Analyst. She shares her home with the best super cats ever, Thor and Loki.