Hello, and a huge thank you to Delilah for hosting me! I’m KJ Charles, and my paranormal romance The Magpie Lord is just out with Samhain. The book is set in Victorian England and —

Excuse me? Victorian England? I came here for erotic romance!

Are you suggesting the Victorians aren’t sexy?

Bonnets? Top hats? Frilly bloomers on their piano legs? That is not sexy.

Did you know that Victorian women could go to the doctor for an orgasm?

Say what?

True. Women suffering from ‘hysteria’, a catch-all diagnosis for being overwrought, emotionally unstable or (as we’d see it) frustrated, could go to the doctor, who would induce a ‘hysterical paroxysm’ to relieve the symptoms. Guess what a hysterical paroxysm is?

You are having a laugh.

Nope. The electric vibrator was invented because doctors complained of repetitive strain injuries to their hands. (‘How was work, dear?’ ‘Exhausting. I had to induce fourteen clitoral orgasms. My fingers are killing me.’ ‘That’s outrageous! You should complain to your boss!’)

Tell me more.

About the Femme de Voyage blow-up doll, perhaps? Or the Victorian obsession with spanking? Go on, ask your local library for a copy of Victorian bestsellers Lady Bumtickler’s Revels or The Whippingham Papers. Or, if you have your m/m kink on, try Sins of the Cities of the Plain, the earliest English gay porn, which includes your actual fan-fiction of a famous real-life transvestite and his noble husband…

All right, you’ve convinced me. The Victorians were as kinky as the rest of us. Carry on.

Thank you.

The Magpie Lord is an m/m paranormal romance, featuring Lord Crane, a smuggler turned earl, and magician Stephen Day, who has every reason to loathe Crane’s family. Stephen has a moral obligation to save Crane from a curse but he does not want to find himself in the devastatingly attractive nobleman’s bed – and in the excerpt below, he’s even ready to abuse his magical gifts to stop himself from giving in to temptation.

I hope you enjoy it! The Magpie Lord is out now with Samhain, and I’ve a free electronic copy to give away – please just comment, ensuring you leave an email address, for a chance to win. (Drawing closes Thursday!)

The shaman knelt before him in the moonlight, painfully close. At some point, Crane wasn’t sure when, he’d moved so that his arms were now resting on Crane’s thighs, warm and heavy. His hair glimmered dark copper in the cold light, and his caressing thumb was sending spangles of sensation up towards Crane’s elbow now.

Crane looked down at him. As if he’d felt the gaze, Stephen looked up, mouth slightly open, and his wide eyes met Crane’s for a long breathless moment.

Crane reached out with his free hand and brushed his thumb slowly over Stephen’s lips, pushing them gently apart, feeling his mouth move softly, opening, accepting the touch. His breath came fast against Crane’s hand. Crane’s need was suddenly, violently urgent after the night’s terror, and Stephen Day was kneeling before him, lips inviting, pupils dilated, a gift to be unwrapped. He pushed his thumb further into the warm mouth and felt a flicker of tongue against his skin, a tentative taste.

“Stephen,” said Crane softly, trying out the name.

Stephen tilted his head back a little. “I…I don’t…”

“Oh, you do.” Crane stroked his fingers possessively over the small chin. “You really do. Lovely boy.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Stephen said weakly, and Crane’s lips curved, knowing that was surrender.

His hand closed on Stephen’s jaw, pulling him closer. “Come here. Unless you want to stay on your knees, of course,” he added, with a twitch of a brow, and something in the other man’s eyes went suddenly dark.

“Listen to me,” Stephen said. “I have been clearing the abreaction for the last few minutes. This has been dull and uneventful, and you’re keen to go in and do something more interesting than talk to me. I’m very boring and drab and unattractive, after all, and you’d be much happier talking to Mr. Merrick. You want to forget about me and go in, so you’re quite glad to hear that the abreaction has cleared.”

“Has it?” said Crane. “Oh, good. Can we go in?”

“Of course,” mumbled Stephen. He leaned backwards, shifting his bony elbows off Crane’s legs. The moonlight greyed his rather dull, mud-coloured eyes and nondescript features. He looked drawn and tense, almost distressed. Crane didn’t know why.

Please comment for a chance to win The Magpie Lord (or if you want to chat about Victorian kink!) Click on the cover to learn more about the story!

UPDATE: The winner of the free download is Michelle-Snarky Mom!

*****

Today’s snippet round theme is “Hero in the Doghouse.” Well,  I couldn’t think of a recent hero who was in trouble or who had made a horrible mistake for which he was being punished or punishing himself, but I did have this heroine in a heap trouble. It’s Zuri, from the first of the Triple Horn Brand Books, and you’ll see how things only manage to get worse in this scene. Enjoy!

 If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered to win
a free download of this book!

“With amazing suspense, and hot, dominant lovin’ this cowboy and his high school sweetheart take the reader on an amazing emotional journey… Ms. Devlin has created a beyond 5 Book worthy start of an incredible new series…” ~5/5 Books, Reviews by Molly

“Fun and fast, “Laying down the Law” is great for fans of western romances or someone looking for that great next “hot” read!” ~The Brunette Librarian

Seeking sanctuary could be the hottest mistake she ever made.

The TripleHorn Brand, Book 1

A lifetime ago, Zuri Prescott kicked the dirt off her boots and ditched her small-time small town for the glam city life—and lived to regret it. When she’s framed for a bank job, she lights out for home, seeking refuge with her old high school sweetheart while she figures out her next steps. Only she discovers that the boy she left behind is the last man she should trust.

Sheriff Colt Triplehorn knows trouble when he sees it, especially when it comes in the form of a familiar trespasser, caught naked between an angry bull and her underwear. Sure she’s up to her usual no good, he grants her sanctuary at his ranch—the better to keep an eye on her, and purge her from his system once and for all.

Reconnection is sweet and hot, but the heat can’t hide the truth. When Colt inevitably finds out what Zuri’s running from, it’s too late to put the fire out, and he’s got a career-compromising choice on his hands. Follow the letter of the law, or follow his heart.

Product Warnings: When a sheriff captures the girl who got away, expect revenge so hot it leaves brands on two lonely hearts…

Rain fell in sheets, so heavy and fast that it wasn’t long before Zuri Prescott’s hands ached from her death grip on the steering wheel. The darkness suffocated her headlights so that she couldn’t see farther than twenty yards in front of her, but the beams still glossed the highway’s surface to a bright glare, which left her wondering whether she was inside the lines or sailing down the middle.

She’d been driving for hours, numbed to the worsening conditions, her mind caught in an endless loop, reliving the horrors of the day.

Her panic hadn’t lessened for even a moment since she’d first felt a gun pressed against her temple early that morning as she’d unlocked the side door of the branch bank, and a harsh voice whispered in her ear to get the door open fast.

A heated body had moved close to her back and crisp, spicy cologne drifted over her. With her hands shaking, she’d unlocked the door, and then let him shove her through.

She’d landed on her knees, her pantyhose shredding on impact—the long, fat ladder that rippled up her thigh as strangely upsetting as the masked man behind her who grabbed her by the hair and pulled her up to face the security alarm.

She’d pressed the buttons on the key pad, disarming the premises alarm and dropped her hands. But another nudge of hard steel against her back, and his hushed, “The vault alarm too, sweetheart,” had her punching a second set of numbers before he hustled her around the corner toward the vault, out of sight of her manager who waited in the parking lot for the all-clear signal.

The vault operated on a timer. At any other time of day, she wouldn’t have been able to open it—a fact that didn’t register until later. She’d spun the two combination locks, heard the inner mechanisms clang as they released, and he’d reached around her to grab the lever and push it down. The large steel door swung open.

The thief had shoved her through the anteroom with security deposit boxes lining both walls, heading straight for the locked door at the rear. Again, he’d waited while she found the key and opened the door, then shoved the mesh interior gate inward.

Forcing her to her knees, he’d wrapped her wrists and ankles in duct tape, and pulled a hood over her head.

Then she’d been left to shiver on the floor, listening to the sounds he made as she followed him in her mind through the gate while he scooped stacks of cash into a bag. One side only. Later, the assistant manager pointed out that the thief must have been timing himself, a real pro, because he’d skipped the temptation of pausing to finish the sweep.

Less than five minutes had passed since they’d entered. Another two and the manager would call the police.

The thief had walked back to her and knelt, his knee touching hers as he leaned close.

She’d stayed silent, afraid as she’d never been before, because she knew he was going to kill her.

But the sound of keys rattling against glass had him scrambling to his feet and rushing out of the vault. A muffled shout and a single piercing shot was followed by the soft swoosh of the door closing.

For several interminable moments, she’d sat frozen, afraid he’d come back. But when he hadn’t, she’d crawled on her belly across the floor, inching her way toward the first desk in the lobby and a panic button. Sirens screamed in the distance, and she slumped on the floor, shivering and beginning to cry.

When the police arrived, her hood was pulled off, and a grim-faced police officer helped her sit while he cut the tape binding her.

Her head swiveled toward the door where the shot had rang out, and she saw another officer bent over Sam McWherter, her boss, whose rotund body lay spread-eagle on the floor, blood seeping outward to soak into the carpet.

The officer beside her moved to cut off her view. “You’re okay. Don’t look. We’ve got this place secured.”

Everyone had been solicitous. A hot cup of tea was pressed between her cold hands. She’d been herded into McWherter’s office, away from the body and the team beginning to comb the lobby and vault for evidence. They’d been kind, gently but firmly asking her to go over the chain of events that had transpired.

She’d given them a step-by-step description—of the robber’s actions and her sketchy knowledge of his height, weight and gruff voice. The second time through, she swayed in her chair from melting exhaustion.

“Ma’am, did anyone know your routine?”

That one question from the first FBI agent to arrive on scene sparked a dawning horror, and she froze, noting the glance he shared with the pair of detectives flanking her in leather upholstered chairs. Someone did know her routine—and wore a crisp cologne that smelled like cinnamon and sandalwood.

She swallowed hard, realizing in a split second that she’d been set up. That she might even be implicated because the robber wasn’t a fool. No, he’d been incredibly, devastatingly clever.

While the agent waited for her to respond to the questions, she’d shaken her head, giving him a tight smile. How could she tell them they were looking for a cop? Who would believe her side of the story? Especially after they did a little digging into her background. She’d lied about her affiliations with known felons when she’d applied for this job.

When she’d pleaded illness, they’d escorted her to her desk where she’d filled out the bank’s incident reports and made arrangements to meet later with the detectives and the FBI agent assigned the case at the station house to sign a statement, but her mind was already racing ahead.

She couldn’t go back to the apartment and risk meeting him. He’d have to finish what he’d started.

Gathering the handbag they’d already searched, she’d palmed her keys, nodded her agreement to see them later and walked sedately out the front door of the bank.

Since the moment she’d slid behind the wheel, she’d been on autopilot, navigating out of her Houston suburb and heading northwest. She’d stopped briefly, once, for gas—but had received another shock when she’d opened her glove compartment for her SpeedGas key.

Now, she drove with just one thought, just one image burned into her mind. An isolated cabin, deep in cattle country. Somewhere no one would think of looking for her. Then she could take a breath and consider what to do next.

She didn’t see the city-limit sign when she passed it, but she knew where she was when she reached the highway crossroad. She turned left away from the little town she’d once been so eager to escape and toward the Triple Horn Ranch.

Lights flared behind her as another car took the turn. For just a moment, the rain relented, and she saw the make of the vehicle. Her panic surged again.

How had he found her? She’d driven back roads in case the police were already alerted that she’d fled.

The headlights of the car behind her switched off. Not knowing how close behind her he was, she gunned the gas pedal. Her car surged forward, tires losing traction in standing water. The rear of her vehicle wagged in a wicked fishtail, but she steered through it, not easing up on the gas. If she could outrun him, make it to the cabin and hide her car beneath the lean-to…

She’d forgotten about the low-water crossing until she saw the yellow warning sign. With only a moment to make a decision, she kept her foot on the accelerator, hoping the water wasn’t too deep, that momentum would propel her through if it was, and held tight to the steering wheel.

The road dipped, her car hit the water, jerking her against her seatbelt, spray coating the windshield too thick for the wipers to clear. Then she felt the subtle shift beneath her as her car was lifted and floated sideways, off the low bridge, tilting as it slid into the swiftly moving water.

* * * * *

Be sure to check out the snippets on these other authors’ blogs:

Lauren Dane
Caris Roane
Eliza Gayle
Lissa Matthews
McKenna Jeffries
Shiloh Walker
Taige Crenshaw
HelenKay Dimon
Myla Jackson
TJ Michaels

UPDATE: The winner of the free book is Judy Stone!

*****

Hi! I’m Ashlyn Chase and my novel How to Date a Dragon releases today! Woo Hoo! Party!
A free copy of Flirting Under a Full Moon will go to a US or Canadian reader.

Some of you may remember me from an Ellora’s Cave anthology with Delilah called Red Stilettos. I Wrote Dear Sexy Lexie and she wrote Bad Bad Girlfriend. Our characters were friends and so are we.

Writer friends often find other things they have in common. Delilah and I both like to make jewelry…and we LOVE hottie firefighters! (grin)

My story’s hottie firefighter is Drake Cameron, who is the last of his dragon clan. He promised his mother on her deathbed that he’d find a female dragon and continue the species. But Zina, the only single female dragon he finds, is bat-shit crazy!

I should probably post the blurb here, but as usual, a reviewer has done a better job summing up the story, so I’ll post her summary instead.

“Bliss Russo has never had a problem seeing the funny side of life but just as she is completing her own Hall-Snark Greeting Card designs for a major television competition she loses everything when her apartment building catches on fire and there’s nothing to laugh about. But her dreams haven’t necessarily gone up in smoke, enter hottie fireman Drake, a dragon shifter who is smitten by the derisive designer. Can Drake Cameron give up his hopes of continuing his family legacy, and even if he does will human Bliss survive the paranormal pitfalls of a scorned dragon?”

Written by Pauline Michael for Night Owl reviews.

She also gave the book 5 out of 5 stars and a reviewer’s top pick! Wow! Color me tickled pink! http://www.nightowlreviews.com

So…what else would you like to know about the book? Okay, there are a couple of important things. This is book 2 in the Flirting with Fangs series from Sourcebooks. Book 1 Flirting Under a Full Moon was released in April. And there will be a third book in March of 2014 called Kissing with Fangs. All take place in my beloved Boston in the Beacon Hill area.

Series arc. Anthony Cross is a vampire who believes that the different paranormal factions would get along if they simply got to know each other. So he opens a bar in Boston’s upscale Beacon Hill area as a safe place for paranormals to congregate and socialize. Since immortals don’t seem to need or want wait-staff jobs, Anthony has to hire humans. The #1 rule for all paranormals is to keep humans ignorant of their existence.

But when some of the humans fall for their regulars, they could be in for the shock of their mortal lives!

Buy links and other good stuff can be found on my website http://www.ashlynchase.com

Thanks for letting me squee on your blog, Delilah! I hope you all have a wonderful week.

Thank you, Delilah, for having me as a guest. I’m very excited about the release of Passion’s Poison. I mean, look at the cover! That’s Zach and he is a former logger turned chainsaw artist. He can pretty much tackle anything, except maybe Beatrice Rappaccini’s 6 fathers, but then again, to be fair, he was out numbered :-}

What Zach finds in Bea is a woman who is all about sex, but knows nothing about relationships. At first, that is fine with him, he doesn’t mind helping her explore new sexual horizons and explaining that she needs to return his calls. But what he doesn’t know is that his newest lover could kill him with her body’s toxins if he enjoys her too much.

Bea has to get creative if she wants to keep Zach and keep him alive. She finds herself willing to go to great lengths, even ignoring the anonymous letters telling her to stay away from him. Until things get ugly. Zach thinks the worst of her thanks to one of those letters, and she can’t go back to the one-night stands that keep her alive. For Bea, love is literally a death sentence.

I write erotic romances inspired by the classics. The inspiration for this story was Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short story “Rappaccini’s Daughter.” It was actually Hawthorne who created a poisonous Beatrice. I just made her life a bit more complicated. I’ve included an excerpt from my story that may just show exactly how complicated her life is. I hope you enjoy.

Always, Lexi

Leave a comment for a chance to win an ecopy of Passion’s Poison. Feel free to share your complicated life. I will definitely understand.

Beatrice Rappaccini is tired of the one-night stands that keep her alive. Tired of the illness she causes when she releases her sexual poisons into her partners. But when she meets Zach Woodman, everything changes. Desperate for what she can’t have, she puts her heart and life on the line, ignoring the anonymous letters warning her to stay away from Zach.

Zach Woodman, logger turned chainsaw artist, has the perfect life, but no one to share it with after the deaths of the women he loved. Fascinated by the sexually experienced yet naïve Bea, he promises himself he will end their hot relationship before fate takes another beautiful woman from the world.

But he discovers Bea has no idea how to have a relationship, and he is perplexed by her strange behavior, hippie mother, six fathers and her request to give him every man’s sex fantasy. It is only when he might lose her that he realizes he must make a decision that will break his heart either way.

Bea’s brain kicked into gear at Zach’s words. She wanted him too, but not for just a night. Her pleasurable heat turned frosty. How could that be? She didn’t even know him, but her heart already named him hers. She pushed against his chest to break his embrace.

He let her go.

She staggered back, her knees shaky, her breaths coming fast. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea,” she rasped.

He stared at her quizzically. “What idea would that be? That you’re as attracted to me as I am to you? That this,” he motioned with his hand pointing between them, “is great?”

She shook her head, trying not to look at the large bulge in his jeans. “I-I don’t know. It’s too fast.”

He stared into her eyes. “You mean too hot, don’t you?”

She gulped as his words sent fire racing through her veins. She nodded.

He took a deep breath and jammed his hands into his front pockets. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s not something we can ignore.”

His gaze changed from polite to possessive. “I want you, Beatrice Rappaccini. I want you naked in my bed. Once you’re there I want to taste you, smell you, feel you and pump into you until I lose myself.”

At his words, Bea’s legs turned to slush and she sank into the nearest chair.

He hunkered down in front of her and took her hands. “Bea, is there any reason why we shouldn’t get together?”

Oh, was there. But none she could tell him. He wouldn’t believe her if she did. Her last long-term relationship back in high school ended with her boyfriend in a coma. Despite his eventual recovery, she still carried a pile of guilt around with her. As much as she wanted Zach, she couldn’t be happy with one night. This wasn’t about her need to cleanse the toxins she produced. This was about the idea of having one special man in her life. The only obstacle standing in her way was her deadly body.

Zach dropped her hands. “What is it? You hesitated for too long.” He stood abruptly. “Are you already seeing someone?”

She jerked her head up, surprised by the anger in his tone. “No, I’m not. It’s complicated.”

He walked away from her and stood behind the other couch. “Why do people always have to make things complicated? This is simple human nature, two adults who are attracted to each other. What’s so complicated about that?”

She straightened her shoulders. “First, I’m supposed to be here on business. I don’t think it appropriate to kiss a vendor on company time. Second, I don’t know anything about you except that you can create amazing statues with a chainsaw and you used to be a logger from Maine. I like to know a lot more about a person before I have sex with him.”

How little she knew about her one-night stands stabbed at her conscience, but she ignored it.

He grinned and came around to sit on the couch perpendicular to her chair. He took her hand again. “If those are your only concerns, I can work with that. You’re being very reasonable and I’m being impatient. Forgive me. You’re so damn beautiful, it’s hard for me to control myself.”

Heat rose in her cheeks and she looked down to see his big calloused hand holding hers. She wished it were so simple.

He raised her chin with his other hand. “Bea, I’ll try to be patient if you’re willing to give it a chance.”

She stared at him, this incredible man that her body and her heart seemed to crave. A man who would suffer if she gave in to her own needs, but she was weak. Her head nodded of its own accord while her mind screamed no.

He leaned forward and brushed a featherlight kiss upon her lips.

She wanted to cry at his tenderness and she silently cursed her deranged ancestor again for the poisonous nature he had inflicted on her, on so many Rappaccinis. “I better go.”

He stood with her hand still in his. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

She let him help her up, wishing she could figure out some way for a relationship to work, but a deep-rooted fruitlessness settled deep in her stomach.

He let go of her hand to cup her face in his palms. “You look as if you’re going to cry.”

She put her hands on his chest. “No, I—oh no.”

His brows drew together in concern and his hold tightened on her face. “What’s wrong?”

She stared at the scene over his shoulder. “I don’t think I’m going anywhere now.”

He turned toward the great windows, his arm coming around her, but he remained silent. He squeezed her waist.

Outside the snow fell hard, and on his massive deck a foot of the beautiful white flakes announced her imprisonment. The Tamwick roads would be impassable. How could she stay in his house overnight without sleeping with him? “Maybe, it’s not as bad as it appears. You must have gusts up here, right?”

He raised his brow. “Study the snow. It’s falling straight down. There’s no way you’ll make it back to Meriden in your vehicle.”

She stared at her silent jailer, unable to fault the large white flakes defined against the dark grayness outside. He was right. In his home with the snow piling up, it was as if they were the only two people on earth. But if that were the case, he would be dead within the week.

She shook herself and the foreboding that flooded her body. They weren’t the only two people in the world. In fact, she needed to call Craig. “I better make a few calls. Let people know where I am.”

He stepped away, the energy in his body palatable. “Sure, I’ll go downstairs and get wood for the fireplace. I’m thinking it’s going to be a cold one.”

Zach gave her a reassuring smile that did everything but reassure her. Then he headed downstairs, leaving her body in jitters, her heart aching and her mind frantically searching for answers like a chickadee caught inside a house, desperate to find a way out and accomplishing nothing but harm to itself.

Passion’s Poison is available in electronic formats:
Amazon | Ellora’s Cave

For more information about Lexi Post:

website:  http://www.lexipostbooks.com/
Blog:  http://www.happilyeverafterthoughts.com/
twitter:   https://twitter.com/LexiPost
Facebook:   http://www.facebook.com/lexipostbooks
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6915542.Lexi_Post

Crescent Moon was something different for me in more ways than one. It was the first time I’d sold a book to an editor by describing the opening in a few sentences over the phone. It was my first mummy book and my first using Egyptian mythology.

It’s also a unique experience because it’s being issued in installments–eight of them. I just turned in installment 7, so now, I’m nearing the end of the story. Once it’s complete, it will be assembled into a single novel and printed, making it more accessible to folks, especially those not in the U.S.

CM is different. And I hope you enjoy the differences. I’ve certainly had fun spreading my wings to try something new. 🙂

 If you post a comment today, you’ll be entered
to win an Amazon.com gift card worth $5!

From ancient Egypt to present-day New Orleans, a woman of exceptional strength is called to protect against an unspeakable evil…and to experience an unforgettable seduction.

Khepri still isn’t used to being The God’s Wife. The daughter of a common farmer, she’s more comfortable being friends with servants than employing a whole team of them. Being the wife of Amun affords her luxuries she only dreamed of, but her dreams are not always a haven…they are also filled with demons. Lately she’s had doubts about the role she’s been thrust into. She’s had yearnings for another sort of life, one where she’s loved intimately, rather than only adored from afar.

When a powerful man lures her away from her temple, she’s thrilled at the chance for an adventure. Her adventure quickly becomes a nightmare when the handsome vizier mummifies her alive. Pure of heart and body, she’s the warrior he foresees will battle a demonic pharaoh if ever he awakens. Khepri’s sure he’s insane, until she awakens in a distant future. Alone and needing a guide in this strange and garish new world, she turns to the troubled man who set her free…

When New Orleans police detective Justin Henry Boucher is called to the Garden Museum to investigate stolen Egyptian artifacts, it’s not exactly the adrenaline rush he used to get working a homicide. But with a reprimand on his record and a sorrow he can’t shake, he will take what he can get – as long as he can keep his badge. What he doesn’t count on is having to keep his cool when he finds one of the priceless artifacts—a golden-skinned goddess wrapped in fabric like a mummy, left to die and needing his help. She’s a mystery he’s determined to unravel. She might also be the cure for his lonely heart.

One last time, her mind drifted, peacefully content . . . no shadows or disquiet to disturb her . . . allowing her to separate the parts of herself, first body from spirit . . . and then the mournful, dying part of her soul to dwell forever in the pit, while what remained, the part that would be born again, floated upward on golden wings.

Her sprit ba left her mortal shell and spread its wings, flying through the small bright hole in the ceiling, leaving behind her swaddled human form, which lay on a bare wooden bench.

One, two, three strong surges of her fluttering wings and she flew toward the sun, free at last and feeling grateful to her husband for his generous gift. Her wings caught an updraft and she held them still, floating on the wind, the glorious waning sun warming her back.

Her spirit flew above white limestone cliffs and past a deep quarry littered with enormous blocks of carved stone. A sudden gust riffled through her feathers, forcing her to fly west, high above a barren valley.

But at last, her ba tired, circling downward, searching for the great river to lead her home. But no familiar white-washed city dwellings, no temple walls lay below. No fields of cotton and wheat.

Confused, she made her way back to the dismal pit. Not wanting to enter, she flitted around the opening, feeling weary and afraid. Something dark awaited her. Some horror in the shadows.

And then she spotted the man with the dark, watchful gaze standing beneath the opening, his arms outspread to catch her . . .

Her heart pounded against her chest, the sound intruding on the vision. Khepri’s eyes slammed open.

Freedom was only a dream, a memory. How long had she been sleeping?

Slowly, Khepri grew more aware of her surroundings. Pressure enveloped her from head to toes. Frayed edges of linen strips surrounded her eyes. An ache centered in her head made her want to gasp, but when she tried to draw a deep breath, the constriction around her chest made the movement impossible. She couldn’t feel her fingers or toes. Her body, other than her head and chest, was numb.

Something was terribly wrong. Short, panicked breaths huffed in the silence.

She blinked, bright sunlight streaming through a hole in the rock ceiling above, blinding her, making her eyes tear. Unable to turn her head, she peered beneath the fringe of her dark lashes, through the openings left in the fabric, gazing upward. Her sight cleared slowly, but was filtered as though looking through the gauzy curtains that surrounded her bed in her tiny house inside the temple walls. But the haze obstructing her sight wasn’t merely physical. It was a thin curtain pulled over her mind. One placed there, purposely, to confuse.

Her head reeled, not understanding, not recognizing where she lay. The sickly sweet scent of frankincense tickled her nose. Read the rest of this entry »

Labor Day Lament

I’m so excited and honored to have the opportunity to visit at Delilah’s blog. Every time I come here I look around in awe. Isn’t her website great?

I’m all caught up in a new release today and waiting for my bestie and her husband to come hang out with us for a week,  and why is it that just when I get into the fun of summer, it ends? I know we still have time before the Equinox, but everyone knows Labor Day is the effective end of summer. And the time I make my resolutions for the next one.

Next summer…I will go to the beach more often, swim every day! Well, every other day. I will get up extra early to go hike the Ascot Hills so I don’t make the excuse that it’s too hot and end up staying inside with a good book.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I can hike early/read later. Right?

I will grow a lot more veggies so I can eat all the incredible tomatoes and zucchini I want. And force the baseball bat-sized summer squash on my unsuspecting neighbors when I forget to pick them on time.

And watch my nephews do all the summer things while they are little enough not to remember summer has an end and it will get cold soon.

But I am so glad for the books I’ve had the opportunity to read, and the fun I’ve had writing my own. And so, with one weekend left of “official” summer, I have huge plans. I will go swimming tomorrow in a mountain lake. Sunday, the Tri-County Fair with my entire extended family. Hope they are ready for us. And Monday, the hubs is smoking enough meat to feed half the town. We’ll eat and drink and toast this summer and look forward to the fall.

With all its own fun and beauty and charm. The aspen trees with their shivery leaves are already starting to change color way up in the highest Sierras…I won’t want to miss that.

I’d love to hear what you did this summer, and we will select one commenter to win a copy of my brand spanking new release, Switch, and a ten-dollar Amazon gift card to buy some fall snacks to enjoy while reading it. Or summer snacks…any snacks you like. Just enjoy.

Here is a little bit of Switch, to whet your appetite:

“This can’t be the place.” The sun glinted off the block of glass and stone condos, blinding Esme. “Why would someone who specializes in spanking lessons set up shop in the center of town?”

Rick chuckled. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know. A dingy storefront on a side street, maybe a battered warehouse?” She fidgeted in her seat, restless and anxious.

“Somewhere with big rats?” Rick stepped out of the car, and the valet took his place. “I don’t think he’s ashamed of what he does, baby.” He pulled a card from his pocket and glanced at it then came around to her side and opened the door. “The address is correct. 401 E. Burlington Avenue. P3. In such a fancy building, I suspect P3 is a penthouse.”

Helping her out of the car. One of many courtesies he’d instilled in their routine as part of their new lifestyle. She tried to adjust, but it never quite felt natural. Maybe in time. Read the rest of this entry »

ACTION!

First, I’m so pleased to be here with you very talented ladies. I know several of you personally, and the others I’ll get better acquainted with as we go along. What an adventure, huh, gals?

My blog is about what I know best. I’m not an outstanding wordsmith, as you’ll soon discover, but I know action. How to build it, use it and how it keeps the reader turning the page. If you don’t know by now, you can pretty much assume I write Romantic Suspense. I’ve just finished my third book in the Falcon Series, OUT OF THE NIGHT.

I write each book quickly. Down and dirty, some call it, but I prefer, ‘getting the action down on paper’. Well, actually a computer screen, but you know what I mean. By doing this, I pretty much know where my story is going, until the last third of the book. I never write the end until I’m completely finished with the first part of the story. That means I might write two hundred and seventy-seven pages before I even think about how I’m going to end the story. The last part of the book is where all the subplots are tied up nicely, the black moment hits, and then the resolution pulls the story to an end.

All through the book I keep the action very high by constantly having my main characters in danger. In other words, they’re pretty much running for their lives throughout the whole book. I do this by having both characters fighting to save whatever is at stake. And I make it big. I feel if you are going to write Romantic Suspense, make it big, meaningful and full of action. Yes, it’s a love story, but we all know they are going to end up with the happy ever after, so, make them work for it. Make them work hard. Take away what they value most and put it in peril, or completely destroy it.

Action is the best vessel to make your readers care. Have your alpha males get the crap beat out of him, get shot, or make a wrong move that jeopardizes the one person he cares for the most. But, never let your characters give in, or give up. You know when you’re watching a movie or a TV show, and the good guy and the bad guy are both facing off, and the bad guy tells the good guy to throw down his weapon, and he does? That’s called stupidity, or extremely lazy writing. Have a hero tough enough, brave enough, and good enough to take that kill shot.

Men of action are what dreams are made of. They run forward when others run away, they think quickly, rationally and intuitively. In all my books I force my heroes to face their worst fears and come out better. They live on the edge and can’t afford to back down for that would mean death and destruction to our country. They fight, struggle and win, because action is their middle name.

I hope you’ll check out my books, OUT OF THE DARK, OUT OF THE SHADOWS and OUT OF THE NIGHT.

Below is an excerpt from my first book OUT OF THE DARK: Mac and Emily’s first brush with danger.

Suddenly, the door to their room crashed open and two guys rushed in. They were armed and ready to kill.

Glock in hand, Mac fired twice. Before the intruder’s eyes could adjust to the dim light, they were dead.

When Emily didn’t respond quickly enough, Mac jumped off the bed and grabbed her arm. “We have to leave now. It’s going to get real ugly.”

“What?” she screamed. “This isn’t ugly?”

“I’ve seen worse.” He released her arm.

Obviously, she hadn’t. No doubt, nothing like this ever happened in the normal world, especially hers. With her nice orderly life, Mac figured she’d probably never witnessed anything firsthand worse than a broken nail.

 “What’s going on?” Emily had her hands to her mouth, her eyes the size of saucers.

“Nothing. Get the pilot on the phone. We leave now.”  Grabbing what he could, Mac snatched up his bag and threw in an assault rifle that belonged to one of the Russians, then Emily’s briefcase, laptop and purse.

Shouldering the bag, he jammed his Glock in the back of his waistband. He took her cell phone off the dresser, handed it to her and repeated, “Get the pilot on the phone while we move.”

Mac inched around the corner where the door used to be and checked the well-lit, carpeted hall. Clear.

Taking Emily by the hand, he led her out behind him. They darted for the stairwell. Security would investigate the sound of gunfire, and Mac didn’t want to be anywhere around when that happened. Read the rest of this entry »