Feels like it’s been forever since I was here! I wanted to fit everyone in who wanted a date to blog, and didn’t leave myself any time. So, I’m waving madly—hi, there!

The biggest thing that’s happened around here is that the pool finally cooled. October 1st was the last time I ventured into the water—and man, was it ever cold! But I was determined to make it to October. Now, I get the job of maintaining that pretty, clear water without any reward. Y’all probably think I’m nuts, but I love the pool. After years of jogging, some of those years in combat boots, my poor feet can’t hold up to long walks (bone spurs, stretched ligaments). I love the pool. Did I already say that? The weight is off my feet, and I swim like a fish. Now, my only exercise for the next six and a half months will be the twice daily walks across the highway (maybe 600 yards?) to my dd’s place and cleaning house. Although Kelly swears we’ll be doing shortish nature walks with the kids this year. We’ll see.

Are any of you water babies, too? Do you get depressed when you can’t swim? What exercise do you do in the cold winter months?

Answer for a chance to win a copy of It Takes a SEAL!

* * * * *

Enjoy a glimpse inside my Adventure Girls series.
Ex-SEALs and an Army Ranger—more adventure than most women could handle…

It Takes a SEAL, An Adventure Girls, Inc. Story

A travel agent visiting friends in the Bahamas is stranded on a desert island with a sexy ex-SEAL after their private pleasure cruise is interrupted by men who mistake her lover for a reclusive billionaire.

Justin was poised to thrust, and he knew he’d draw no complaints from the woman lying beneath him. Instead, he paused.

What the hell was he doing? Rushing this like he was a teenage boy with the first girl to say yes. Susan was worthy of so much more than a quick tumble. He ought to be worshiping her body, seducing her mind to ensure her pleasure and make double-damn sure she said yes again. Because he wanted more than this.

Slowing down was going to kill him. Her hair was a wild, tangled damp mess. Her skin a little pink from sunburn. And yet, she was impossibly beautiful. Long and lean. Her small breasts tipped with pretty cotton-candy pink nipples. Her mound was smooth, a courtesy he appreciated because he wanted to spend time with his mouth buried there, maybe hours and hours.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and her hand shot down, passing his cock to grip his balls. She gave them a firm tug. “This is not the time for an attack of finesse.”

His breath gusted with a laugh. “An attack of finesse?”

“Yeah, you don’t have to prove a thing to me. Just be quick.”

He grunted and gave her a swirl of his hips, sinking slightly deeper into her slick channel. “How’d you know?”

Her gaze narrowed. “You had this look, like you were dying to go with it, do it fast, but then you sighed.” Her eyelids dipped and her gaze grew smoky. “I won’t be disappointed. I promise. I can already tell this is going to be something special.”

“And you know that how?”

She tugged his balls again, but then her fingers began to roll them, massaging them, and his cock got a little harder. “I know,” she whispered, “because you’re right there, and so am I. Finish it.” She released him, and her hands clamped both cheeks of his ass, her fingernails digging into his skin.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “You’re gonna leave bruises.”

“And you care?”

He gave her a crooked grin and planted both hands on the mattress on either side of her shoulders. “Might be hard to explain to my other girlfriends.”

“Are you trying to piss me off?”

“Yeah. I like it when you’re eyes go cold as icicles.”

She shook her head, and gave a sexy snort. Then her legs shifted, feet sliding up, and she pumped her hips, forcing his cock deeper inside her. “You fill me up, SEAL-boy. Do it now.”

And since he was more than ready to concede the battle, he took the plunge, his thrust so hard and fast her breath gusted. He gave her another deep, sharp thrust and watched her head tilt back, her mouth opening as she held, suspended, the pleasure there for him to see in her reddening cheeks and tightly closed eyes. “That’s it baby. That’s it,” he said with another strong pump of his hips. He burrowed and twisted, tunneling fast into her slippery depths.

When at last he was fully seated, he came down on an elbow and slid a hand beneath her smooth, round butt, squeezing it, molding it as he gave her shorter thrusts, more targeted, waiting for her gasps. A whimpered mew told him he’d found just the right spot to rake the crown of his cock against again and again.

She curled under him, lifting her head to nuzzle his neck, slinging a long leg around his hip as she countered his thrusts. The way she hugged him close made his chest fill and tighten. She was a snuggle-bunny, a mewling kitten, a sexy mess as she rubbed and hummed and moaned.

He held her fast and rolled, bringing her over him, and she shook back her hair, snugged her knees close to his body, then began to rock, forward and up, down and back, slowly at first, biting her lower lip as she savored the motion, driving down on his cock. Then she pumped faster, her breasts quivering and jerking, and he reached up to cup them, fondling them and rubbing the tips, watching them grow engorged, the tips extending. His abdomen knotted as he leaned up to toggle one with his tongue, and then he sucked it into his mouth, noting the catch in her breath and the hot liquid flowing around his cock as she churned her sweet cream.

He suckled her other breast, and she cried out, but she was losing rhythm, her movements jerking as she became more frantic. He rolled them again and pushed her thighs upward, hands skimming the backs of her thighs, his lips grazing the tender insides before he locked her ankles behind his neck. Then he lifted her hand from his shoulder and sucked two fingers into his mouth, wetting them before popping them free. “Baby, touch yourself.”

And then he braced his weight on his hands and began to piston fast, fucking her hard, watching avidly as she lowered her wet fingertips into the top of her stretched folds and rubbed.

Her breaths were ragged, chopped apart with his quick thrusts, and she was gasping, moaning, wriggling beneath him as he pounded. Sweat slicked their bellies and their faces, and added another layer of moist sounds to their coupling.

The moment she came, her sex tightened around him and he shouted, the sensation of her clenching around him too much, too delicious to resist. He exploded, rutting harder. His body tightened, every muscle in his thighs and abdomen, his arms, shuddering as come spat from his balls in wave after wave of release.

When he opened his eyes, his gaze locked with hers. He quickly reached back to unlock her ankles and help he slide her legs down to rest on the mattress, and then he fell against her, nuzzling into the corner of her neck, smiling as her fingers combed through his hair and rubbed his cheek and ear. Both their chest billowed as they recovered their breath.

At last, Justin lifted his head, sought her swollen mouth and kissed her. Their tongues touched, a tentative caress, sweet in its wonder.

“You okay?” he whispered. “Stretch any tendons?” he said, lifting a brow.

Her smile was tired, but blissful. “I’m better than okay. Need a little praise?”

“Yeah. Stroke me, baby.”

She laughed. “Justin Walsh,” she said, trailing her fingers through his hair. “I’m speechless.”

“I’m not.” His smile stretched.

“Are you ever?”

“Now, what do you think?”

Her gaze slid away. “I think, you have a right to be boastful.”

“Now that’s very pale praise. Hardly worth mentioning. Guess I’ll just have to try harder next time.”

She dragged in a deep breath. “You were…” She stopped and swallowed, “…exactly what I needed.”

I had a reader ask recently who (or what) is my muse?

Let’s start by defining a muse. Per Merriam-Webster.com, a muse (noun) is a source of inspiration; especially: a guiding genius.  When capitalized, Muse is also one of the nine sister goddesses in Greek mythology presiding over song and poetry, and the arts and sciences.

The concept of a muse has always struck me as somewhat bewildering and a bit far-fetched. Poets and sculptors have muses. Authors, however, draw their stimulus from everyone and everything around them. From that sour-faced lady in line at the grocery store to a funny meme posted on Facebook. Inspiration is in the eye of the beholder.

Even so, I’ve always harbored the fantasy of having a muse because it would be a fun thing to be able to claim.  A few years ago, a lovely gray cat ambushed me during a walk and followed me home.  After unsuccessful attempts to find her owner, we decided to keep her.  I wanted to call her Muse, or maybe Mews, but Mr. Snark vetoed it.

Go away! You’re bothering me!

Luckily, I was able to find a work around.  We named the kitty Clio instead. Mr. Snark thinks she’s named after Pinocchio’s cat, Cleo, but she’s really named for the Greek Muse of history. She’s really not all that inspirational so far as story ideas go. In fact, she’s a little on the grumpy side, but she’s soft and plush.  Made for petting, and we love her.

What about you? Do you have a muse? Leave me a comment below!

99 cents on Pre-Order

☆♡☆♡☆AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER ONLY 99¢☆♡☆♡☆

Edge of Never: A Unique Paranormal Romance/Urban Fantasy Boxed Set Release date Oct 12th
New York Times, USA Today, and Other Bestselling Authors
Join us at the Edge of Never

Obliterate the lines between fantasy and reality with nine spine-tingling tales from your favorite bestselling and award-winning authors. Dragons, gods—fallen and otherwise—ghosts, vampires. A touch of steampunk. More than a splash of romance. From magical lands to a chilling glance into post World War II Europe, Edge of Never has something to tempt everyone.

Caridad Pineiro: Undead Uprising: A Wolf Alone – Will she lead her pack in a war against the vampires or will she sacrifice everything for the human she loves?

Rosemary Edghill: Lizzie Fair and the Dragon of Heart’s Desire – Visiting the World of Iron is never a good idea. Ask any Morning Lord.

Kristine Kathryn Rusch: Show Trial -A beautiful woman, a terrible time, and faerie justice…served cold.

Brenda Carre: Finnraziel – She raised a god to life and thwarted the Queen of Demons, can she prevent a war without destroying the man she loves and the last two dragons she’s sworn to guard?

Ann Gimpel: Highland Secrets – Tumble off reality’s edge into myth, magic, Scottish dragon shifters, and forbidden romance.

Pauline Baird Jones: Specters in the Storm – A just-the-facts professor needs to trust a time bending lady detective—and believe the wildly impossible–to defeat a deadly evil threatening everything they hold dear.

Julia Mills: Her Dragon’s Soul – Exorcise the demon possessing your mate. Capture the maniacal wizard. Save dragon kin…again. Even the strength of the Universe may not be enough. Only time will tell. Fate Will Not Be Denied!

Susan Scott: Dragons Will Fall – To defeat a dragon is impossible. To love a dragon—deadly!

Melissa Snark: Hunger Moon – Wolf shifters, hunters, and a Norse winter witch—How will Valkyrie Victoria Storm ever find her true love…before someone kills her?

Amazon US: https://goo.gl/TT92Ef
Amazon UK: https://goo.gl/AyvtzK
B&N: https://goo.gl/uIJoIy
Kobo: https://goo.gl/eKnBsJ
iBooks: https://goo.gl/KvkVok
Google Play: https://goo.gl/pp1Zgm

Author Bio

Melissa Snark lives in the San Francisco bay area with her husband, three children, and a glaring of mischievous felines. She reads and writes fantasy and romance, and is published with The Wild Rose Press & Nordic Lights Press. She is a coffeeoholic, chocoholic, and a serious geek girl. Her Loki’s Wolves series stems from her fascination with wolves and mythology.

Subscribe to Melissa Snark’s newsletter for new releases, prizes, and lots of fun. You’ll get a free ebook just for signing up!  URL:   https://www.melissasnark.com/free-book-sign-up/

She blogs about books and writing: https://www.thesnarkology.com/

• Visit her website: https://www.melissasnark.com/
• Follow her on Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelissaSnark
• Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0076EEQIU
• Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/MelissaSnark
• Email: MelissaSnark at gmail.com

Many people like to decorate their yards for Christmas.  You can drive through the streets of any neighborhood and see houses with twinkle lights, colored lights, icicle lights, and many variations on that theme.  Some houses have nativity displays, or snowmen, even Santa and his reindeer complete with sleigh.  My family is a bit different; we like to decorate for Halloween.

The first weekend in October my front yard magically transforms from a green space with grass, pine trees and bushes into a creepy old graveyard.  My husband and I try to add something new to the display every year. It’s fun to check out the Halloween supply stores and catalogs to try to find another item that will enhance the experience for our neighbors.

This year I thought I had found the perfect item.  My husband is into blacksmithing and knife making which means we go to a lot of auctions looking for tools he can use in his hobby.  At one auction I found a horse drawn hearse from the 1800’s.  It was absolutely beautiful.  Someone had gone to great lengths to restore it to its original condition.  The glass windows that surround it were all replaced.  New red satin material lined the floor and the entire exterior had been repainted black.  I thought it was the perfect addition to our Halloween theme.  However, my husband balked at the idea of paying five thousand dollars for a seasonal lawn ornament. Now it’s a running joke between us.  Every time he goes to another auction I tell him to bring me back a hearse.  I’m trying to persuade him to build one.  He doesn’t know it yet but he’s getting some new wood working tools for Christmas.

I hope everyone enjoys this Halloween season.  What does your family like to do for Halloween?

Augustina Van Hoven
Proving Love is Strange
THE KISS OF A ROSE – Now available
www.augustinavanhoven.com
Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Augustina-Van-Hoven-Author/336028986575129
Twitter:  @augustinavhoven

A DISTANT PAST

In 1882, Rose Van Buren loved the wrong man and paid for it with her life. Now, more than a century later, the angel Gabriel has granted her another shot at living. In exchange, she must convince a smart, handsome, up-and-coming lawyer to set aside his lofty ambitions.

A FUTURE PRESENT

Stephen Winship is headed straight for the governor’s chair. He has a brilliant career, solid allies, and a seemingly perfect girlfriend. But night after night he finds himself dreaming of a heavenly beauty, a luminous but long-dead girl. Like some altered Ghost of Christmas Past, she shows him her own tragic tale in order to “save him.” And he’s beginning to see Rose is risking her heart as much as baring her soul. Yet falling for her will cost him everything—and open him up to a happiness he never imagined.

The second book in the series, THE THORN OF A ROSE, coming in December.

Wolves of Willow Bend
Single Wicked Wolf
Releasing October 1, 2015

Releasing at ARe exclusively on October 1st, you’ll also be able to find this gem on other etailers sometime after the 10th. In the meanwhile. Would you like a sneak peek at Giovanni and Murphy’s first meeting?

He’s single, wicked, and a perfect pretend boyfriend…but exactly who is she fooling?

A Wolves of Willow Bend Novella

Murphy DeWitt enjoyed two years touring American consulates in Europe as an assistant to a diplomatic attaché. It was a dream come true, and a hell of a learning experience. A master of languages, she knows how to get her point across. Romance, however, proves to be a tongue twister. Now en route to Willow Bend for a friend’s wedding—without the make-believe boyfriend she created for her family—she debates how to confess her deception. Luckily, her flight includes a fantastically hot wolf that leaves her breathless and contemplating all kinds of naughty things.

Giovanni Conti thrives on protecting others. As a Centurion for the Seven Hills pack in Italy, it’s his pleasure to serve his Alpha wherever he is needed. Dispatched ahead in preparation for the Alpha pair’s trip to Willow Bend, he has no problem entertaining the sexy wolf he encounters in the airport. The last thing the playboy wolf expects, however, is to find in Murphy the most captivating chase of his life…

Single Wicked Wolf
Release Date: October 1, 2015 on ARe, October 10^th or later on other retailers
All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-singlewickedwolf-1893620-168.html 

Series Reading Order:

Wolf at Law (Prequel)
Book 1: Wolf Bite
Book 2: Caged Wolf
Book 3: Wolf Claim
Book 3.5: Wolf Next Door
Book 4: Rogue Wolf
Book 5: Bayou Wolf
Book 6: Untamed Wolf
Book 6.5: Wolf with Benefits (Romancing the Wolf Anthology)
Book 7: River Wolf
Book 7.5 : Single Wicked Wolf

About the Author:

Heather Long

National bestselling author, Heather Long, likes long walks in the park, science fiction, superheroes, Marines, and men who aren’t douche bags. Her books are filled with heroes and heroines tangled in romance as hot as Texas summertime. From paranormal historical westerns to contemporary military romance, Heather might switch genres, but one thing is true in all of her stories—her characters drive the books. When she’s not wrangling her menagerie of animals, she devotes her time to family and friends she considers family. She believes if you like your heroes so real you could lick the grit off their chest, and your heroines so likable, you’re sure you’ve been friends with women just like them, you’ll enjoy her worlds as much as she does.

Contact Details:

Website: https://www.heatherlong.net
Email: heather@heatherlong.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/HVLong

Excerpt of Single Wicked Wolf by Heather Long:

Seven Hills Centurion, Giovanni Conti balanced the she-wolf with care and no small amount of interest. Though Salvatore declared the airport neutral territory for travelers, Giovanni caught her scent the moment he cleared security. With time to spare before his flight, he entertained himself by tracking her. As long as she remained within the airport, no one from Seven Hills would accost her.

She moved like a wolf on the hunt, striding with purpose cutting in and out of people, avoiding them with a smooth expertise he admired. When she ducked into the shop for a sandwich and a beverage, he’d grimaced. The call with her mother said she wasn’t planning to leave the airport. He didn’t have to keep following. Still, the length of her silky brown hair, honey bronzed skin and pale, pale hazel eyes captivated his imagination.

Inserting himself into her path to answer his curiosity, he hadn’t expected her to slam into him. More concerned she’d bruised herself, he caught her before she stumbled. The low-heeled pumps she wore were sensible for a meeting, not for striding through an airport. Shock with ripples of wariness and more than a dab of desire filled his nostrils.

Oh, she likes what she sees. Pleasure speared him. Women were so delightful. They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were confident, some were shy. They used laughter and jokes to set those around them at ease or they relied on their keen intelligence to snare interested males. He loved them all.

“Buon pomeriggio.” He gave her a moment to be certain of her balance before releasing her. “And my apologies for blocking your path.”

“Buon pomeriggio,” her swift reply in his native tongue tickled him. “Please, accept my apologies for colliding with you. I’m usually better about maintaining my personal space.” Though her tone was light, tension wound through her voice and she didn’t attempt to hold his gaze.

Relaxing his stance, he adopted an air of soothing. Most wolves within Seven Hills were less dominant than he and the other Centurions. Serving Salvatore, the Alpha of Seven Hills, and by extension his mate, was a privilege he and his brother wolves enjoyed. From gentle reminders to rebellious wolves to take downs of wolves gone wild to acting as spymasters and information gatherers, no task was too great or too small for him.

“Mi perdoni, cara,” he used the endearment to encourage familiarity, then resumed the courtesy of her language. “I stepped into your path to say hello. So it was my fault, not yours.”

“Thank you,” she surprised him by not making her own excuse or defusing his apology. So many of the Americans he met, wolf or otherwise, turned out to be apologists. She shifted her carry on bag and not so surreptitiously glanced at her watch.

“May I escort you to your gate? Or perhaps to a café? We have one or two.” All of which served better food than the sandwich she’d purchased.

“Lovely offer.” She recovered enough to smile as she spoke, but she adjusted her grip on her bag nonetheless. “I don’t want to miss my flight or overstay my welcome. Turning into Edward Snowden isn’t my idea of a good time.”

Though familiar with the name, he didn’t catch the reference. At his frown, she laughed and it chased some of the nervousness from her voice.

“The being stuck in Russia with no passport part, not the leaking state secrets part.” The explanation helped, but he didn’t see her in the same vulnerable position. Nothing in her scent said deceit. Her smile faded. “Diplomatic humor, sorry. It was nice to meet you.”

When she withdrew a step as though to circle him, he pivoted and fell into step with her. “You haven’t actually met me, cara.”

“I’m batting a thousand today,” she groaned, then juggled her items to offer her hand. “Murphy DeWitt.”

Accepting her hand, he lifted it to his lips. Grazing her knuckles with a kiss, he inhaled deeply of her scent. Eucalyptus and mint layered beneath soft pear and sage, offered him a deep breath of a bright, clean exotic morning. Savoring the tingling taste on his tongue, he enjoyed the catch in her breath and the leap of her pulse. All of the above were far preferable to her discomfort and wariness.

“Ciao, cara, I am Giovanni Conti,” he pitched his voice low, trusting her hearing even amidst all the background chaos of the airport terminal. “Centurion of Seven Hills.”

Blessings of the fall season! I’m a big fan of whimsy. Since I write emotionally intense, character-driven BDSM romance which explores the darkness of human nature on the way to the happily-ever-after, I think putting whimsy in my daily life is my balance. It touches my heart, knowing that people create and indulge simple pleasures to make themselves and others feel good and smile. For instance, I was just visiting Disneyworld, and I love their fall decorations, like these pumpkin people. The existence of whimsy supports a theory I have; that maybe the best way to gain perspective in the midst of grief or despair is not to come up with some big theory to explain or cure the problem, but to figure out a small way to touch the heart and keep the candle burning in darkness. The darkness may always be there, sure, but come hell or high water, that candle’s not going out.

In my own stories, I’ve found indulging those moments in the midst of bigger problems is a way to keep the story from being too dark and offer the reader as much hope as the characters. Like this short scene in Mirror of My Soul, where Tyler is wondering if love is enough to heal Marguerite’s broken soul. He’s never even seen her laugh. They get caught out in a rain storm and…

In the way of Southern storms, the full force of the shower was on them in twenty more steps, a heavy rain that made the winding asphalt path slick and dark like a raven’s wing. Steam rose from the tarred surface, disrupted by the raindrops. Marguerite stopped, pulling her hand free to push her wet hair from her face. Tyler saw her eyes were laughing, her mouth quivering against the real thing.

“It’s like music,” she said, her voice rising over the wind. Lightning flashed over her, followed by the roar of thunder. His angel spread her arms and began to twirl, her hair spinning with her, the wet skirt fluttering with the wind, grabbing for slick purchase on her legs.

As it grew wetter, the dress’s white cotton fabric began to cling to her. When she twirled, she stepped into a puddle, splattering water on her ankles and the glistening curves of her calves. Gathering up her hair in her hands, she held it to the top of her head as she swayed with the movement of the wind, her eyes closing, her mind obviously concentrating on the presence of the storm on her body. She undulated her upper torso with that rhythm, began to perform a sensuous dance with the elements. Turning and jumping as lightly as a dancer, then stomping in the puddle with both feet with the abandon of a child.

She opened her eyes, stretched out a hand and he took it, moving with her in a spinning dance across the path and back. Taking both her hands, he swung with her in a wide circle, mesmerized by the way the water rolled down her face and the top curves of her breasts, revealed by the scooped neckline of the dress. He brought her into him, a turn that put her back against his body. He held her there, nudging her head to the side to suck beads of water off the side of her throat. When his hand came up to catch a cold wet nipple through the cloth, her back arched, rubbing her bottom against him. She broke away, headed down the path as her laughter—her laughter—called him to give pursuit.

Kicking off the comfortable slides, she ran from him in bare feet, her arms wide like wings, ropes of hair spilling down her back wildly like a glossy cape. His heart had wings of its own, as if he were a young man again with no weights on his heart, but with the wisdom of his present age to know what a tremendous gift this moment was. He caught up with her, seized her hand. They kept running, both running from shadows but running together, throwing off a light he reflected might keep those shadows cowering in the past where they belonged.

This excerpt reminds me of that beautiful lantern scene in the movie Tangled and the song that goes with it: “I See the Light”. It always makes me cry, in a good way. Hope and loss rise together hand in hand in that scene, and leaves me full of faith that the two will always at least balance, even if one can’t vanquish the other.

Hmmm…. Well, when I started this, I’d intended to write about my vampires, because we’re headed toward Halloween and the next release in my Vampire Queen series, Night’s Templar. My thought was I could talk about how sexy AND scary vampires can be, but I got a little derailed. That’s okay, though. I’ll still give you a snippet from one of my vampire books before I finish this post. If you love vampires, and want to explore the vampire-servant relationship from a Dom/sub perspective, you can read blurbs and full chapter excerpts for all dozen or so books in the series here. The upcoming one (late Oct-early Nov release) is a male/male BDSM romance, featuring a Fae Lord and a vampire. As you may have guessed from the title, the vampire was a Templar Knight!

Since many of you may not have read the series yet, I’m giving you a teaser from Beloved Vampire, Book IV, because some readers prefer to read it as the first book. That’s because it can standalone, is a great introduction to my vampire world, and has a wonderful male vampire as the Dom hero, Lord Mason. If you decide to read Mason and Jessica’s story, you also get a gentler introduction to Lady Lyssa, a Domme vampire who’s a bit scary at first, but whose story with her servant Jacob actually starts the series with Vampire Queen’s Servant. Anyhow, here’s the teaser from Beloved Vampire:

Lord Mason went to one knee next to Jessica and curled a lock of her hair around her ear, even as she tried to draw her head away from him. Vampires usually prohibited their servants from looking them in the eye, but he’d specifically asked her to look at him, a couple times now. However, she stared down at the towel wrapped around her, not wanting to see his handsome face, feel the pull in her lower abdomen at the slope of jaw, high cheekbones, the firm lips and steady eyes.

“I meant what I said, Jessica. No harm will come to you here, but you cannot cause harm to others, either. Attack one of my staff again, and I will keep you with me at all times.” She noted from beneath her lashes that his glance strayed over her throat, then down to the tenuously tucked towel. “You know enough about vampires to realize that if I’m around you too much, I will not deny myself a taste of you, in several different ways.”

“You said . . . I’d be safe.” She swallowed as his brow lifted.

“You would be quite safe, Jessica. As safe as you were in Amara’s arms. Keep that in mind before you decide to take out your anger on an innocent again. If you need to fight with someone”—his gaze sparked in a way that inspired fear and yet heat again, low in her belly—“you call on me.”

Jessica is a strong, amazing heroine who has been through a terrible ordeal with her previous vampire master, so she and Mason have a long road before she can trust him and her submissive instincts again.

And that’s all from me right now (except for my giveaway at the bottom – don’t overlook that!). For those who don’t know my work, I do contemporary and paranormal BDSM romance. So far, I have about 40 books and six series happening. I know, I know, I should have mentioned this at the first, but that seemed like a boring opener (grin). Here’s how to find out more about those books –

Website: www.storywitch.com (blurbs, excerpts, series order, etc under Books menu)
Twitter: @JoeyWHill
Facebook: www.facebook.com/JoeyWHillAuthor
Fan Forum: www.storywitch.com/community (includes free novellas revisiting characters from my books)
Newsletter subscription:  https://storywitch.com/cgi-bin/dada/mail.cgi/list/storywitchnews/

GIVEAWAY – You knew I wasn’t going to leave you without offering you goodies, right? For a $15 Amazon, B&N or ARe gift certificate, AND a free ebook of your choice, tell me about a piece of whimsy in your life that makes you smile. A cute figurine on your mantle, a memory of you or someone you love acting silly, a pair of pajama bottoms with snoozing sheep printed on it… you get the gist. You can also leave any comments and questions for me as well. I’ll randomly choose a winner after about 48 hours and post the person’s name here, but if you feel comfortable putting your email address with the comment, I can also email you directly if you win!

For the last couple days I’ve been working on an old ceramic jug my aunt gave me a few years ago. I remember this water pitcher and its basin sitting on the sideboard in her dining room every time we’d go visit when I was a kid. She’d been given the set as a gift years ago by her brother- and sister-in-law. Over the years, it was broken (no, I didn’t do it!) and repaired with the glue available at the time. When it came to me, the glue hadn’t held, and two large fragments were inside the pitcher waiting to be reattached.

As I set to work removing the hardened and brittle glue from yesteryear, my mind wandered to the edits I’d received on my upcoming short story Summer Stalked due out in the fall with MuseItHOT Publishing. I’d written the summer theater murder mystery a couple years with the best available writing skills I had at the time. Though a good job on the overall story, I’d made some mistakes in the way I’d written the timeline and the character interactions. The edits were much like the acetone I’d been rubbing on the old glue on the pitcher. Undoing the problems that made the pitcher or the story not stay together.

The story is coming along, and the pitcher will be as good as new very shortly. New writing and new glue. Repairing two old but cherished items.

****

Brent Archer began writing in 2011 at the nudging of his cousins. His first story sold, and he was hooked! Stay tuned for the Dec 8^th release of his short story The Artistry of Steam publishing in the Gym Boys anthology edited by Shane Allison. Preorder it here.

Visit his website to keep up on upcoming releases, and follow him on Twitter: @brentarcherwrit.

Click to learn more!

Andrew de Moray – A Fleeting Glimpse At A Hero

©Diana Cosby 2015

The Battle of Stirling Bridge evokes images of William Wallace, a man of firm beliefs, and a warrior who inspired both commoner and noble to raise their sword for Scotland’s cause.  But in this era of shifting loyalties and political subterfuge, I believe it’s important to recognize another warrior whose tactical expertise and intelligence made a significant impact in Scotland’s fight for freedom — Andrew de Moray.

Born to one of Scotland’s greatest houses in the province of Moray, Andrew de Moray would have studied in Europe, his knowledge of military tactics learned from Swiss mercenaries.  In the spring of 1297, recently married, and a man who despised King Edward’s illegal occupancy of Scotland, de Moray escaped his imprisonment at Chester Castle.  With his father and uncle locked in the Tower of London, and a man greatly influenced by his uncle, David de Moravia, parson of Bothwell and one of the most ardent patriots of his time, it is easy to understand why upon his return to Avoch Castle Andrew de Moray raised the standard of revolt.

Frustrated by the choke hold of the English, with de Moray’s stand, many Scots, including Alexander Pilche, burgess of Inverness, cast away any semblance of allegiance to King Edward I and joined de Moray.  Though de Moray’s initial assault upon Urquart Castle failed, he demonstrated the enormity of his threat as he led his growing army north to Ross.  A cunning strategist, he divided his troops, placing half beneath Alexander Pilche’s command.  Their combined efforts allowed them to harass English forces with destroying precision, capture weaponry and ultimately, Boharme Castle, a strategic stronghold that severed the northeast in two.  With this major victory, de Moray pushed on to seize numerous strongholds including Urquart Castle.

Focused on his upcoming military campaign in Flanders, at news of Andrew de Moray’s uprising, King Edward I sent a message to Scottish nobles whom he’d freed in return for their joining his fight in Flanders to now find and squelch Andrew de Moray’s rebellion.  Though John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, agreed, neither could England’s king dismiss that the Comyn’s were major contenders along with Robert Bruce to become the Scottish king, nor overlook Comyn’s blood tie to Andrew de Moray.  Factors that in the end swayed Comyn to step back and see if de Moray would be the victor.

In this time of upheaval it is crucial to note the importance of the Guardians of Scotland, in specific, the role of the Bishop Wishart.  A powerful man, Bishop Wishart utilized every available option to ensure Scotland’s freedom.  With the long-reaching power of the church, Wishart’s connection with Andrew de Moray’s uncle David de Moravia, parson of Bothwell who would later become the Bishop of Moray, it is easy to understand how Andrew de Moray’s actions were guided by more than by his patriotism to Scotland, but by Wishart’s hand.

On 7 July 1297, when outnumbered, the Bishop Wishart, Robert Bruce and Sir William Douglas surrendered to Sir Henry de Percy.  Though a blow to the Scots in their fight for independence, battle plans were already in motion; de Moray was en route to join Wallace to keep the English forces from reaching Stirling Castle.

With continued troublesome reports of Andrew de Moray, before sailing to Flanders, King Edward I employed an often used military tactic to stop de Moray’s interference.  The king offered de Moray’s father, who was imprisoned in the Tower of London, freedom — if he agreed to fight with him in Flanders, and if his son, Andrew de Moray, replaced him as a hostage in the tower of London.  De Moray’s father agreed.  King Edward I’s letter of safe conduct and the personal letter from de Moray’s father were sent to de Moray, but not until after King Edward I had departed for Flanders.  It is unknown if the offer ever reached Andrew de Moray’s hands.  If so, de Moray’s future decisions proclaimed his reply.

On 11 September 1297, John de Warenne, the Governor of Scotland, and Hugh de Cressingham, the Treasurer of Scotland, readied their army on the south side of the Forth.  Though both de Moray and Wallace stood before their men that day, it was the tactical expertise of de Moray which led the Scottish force, a strategist whose campaign in Moray built and swept south to create this defining moment in Scottish history.  Andrew de Moray, having ordered the simple timber construction of Stirling Bridge weakened, waited until enough attacking infantry and knights had crossed, then he and Wallace gave the order for their spearmen to cut the English army in two.  Without room to maneuver, the English were massacred.  De Warenne fled for his life, but Cressingham was killed.

Tragically, amidst the fighting, Andrew de Moray was gravely wounded.  Some believe he died on the battle field.  Proof he not only survived, but played an active role in Scotland’s continued fight for freedom is confirmed by de Moray’s signature in several documents, including the letter written at Haddington on October 11th, and as his status dictated before Wallace’s, “Andrew de Moray and William Wallace, leaders of the army of the realm of Scotland.”  Most likely, after the Battle of Stirling Bridge, de Moray was brought to Cumbuskenneth Abbey or farther north to be treated and recover.  The last time his name appears on a document is November 7th, indicating that soon after, he succumbed to his injuries.

Andrew de Moray may have walked but months in the scope of Scotland’s history, but his steps were those of a brilliant leader, a skilled warrior who drew thousands to Scotland’s cause, and a champion who alongside another great man, William Wallace, overcame overwhelming odds and won the Battle of Stirling Bridge, forever changing the course of Scotland’s history.

Diana Cosby

References:
The Scottish War of Independence by Evan Macleod Barron
Robert Bruce & The Community of The Realm of Scotland by Geoffrey W.S. Barrow

About the Author

A retired Navy Chief, Diana Cosby is an international bestselling author of Scottish medieval romantic suspense.  Books in her award-winning MacGruder Brothers series are translated in five languages.  Diana has spoken at the Library of Congress, Lady Jane’s Salon in NYC, and appeared in Woman’s Day, on USA Today’s romance blog, “Happy Ever After,” MSN.com, Atlantic County Women Magazine, and Texoma Living Magazine.

After her career in the Navy, Diana dove into her passion – writing romance novels. With 34 moves behind her, she was anxious to create characters who reflected the amazing cultures and people she’s met throughout the world.  With the release of her first two books in her new Scottish medieval The Oath Trilogy, An Oath Taken and An Oath Broken, both which hit bestseller lists in the U.S., Canada, and the United Kingdom, as well as the release of the e Box Set of the MacGruder Brothers series, she is now preparing for the release of the last book in The Oath trilogy, An Oath Sworn on 23 December, 2015!

Diana looks forward to the years of writing ahead and meeting the amazing people who will share this journey.

www.dianacosby.com

An Oath Sworn

Colyne MacKerran is on a mission for his king, and he’s well aware that spies are lying in wait for him everywhere. Wounded en route, he escapes his attackers and is aided by an alluring Frenchwoman…whose explanation for her presence in the Highlands rings false. Even if she saved his life, he cannot trust her with his secrets. But he won’t leave her to the mercy of brigands, either—and as they race for the coast, he can’t help but wonder if her kiss is as passionate as she is.

Webpage | Kindle | Nook | Kobo | Google Play
Canada – Amazon | United Kingdom – Amazon

Excerpt: 

“Who is he?” Colyne MacKerran asked.

He far from understood the importance of the question he asked.  “What does it matter who it is or the reason his men are searching for me?”

Colyne shot her a wry grin.  “If I am going to risk my life escorting you, I need to know what I am up against.”

Hope stumbled through Lady Marie Alesia Serouge.  “You will escort me?

But—”

The Scot held up his hand, any trace of humor gone.  “To my friend’s home as I offered before.  Nay more.  Once you are in safe hands, I must go.  I have my own business to attend to.”

Colyne’s reaction to the knights who’d ridden by flickered in her mind.

Uneasy, she cleared her throat.  “You believed the men were after you?”

His expression grew shuttered.

Marie tensed.  Was this Scot a threat?  She didn’t want to believe she’d miscalculated to such a degree.  But if she was wrong . . .

Long seconds passed as he stared at her, his deep gaze assessing.  “Aye, they are.”

“Why?” she asked.

A grim smile touched his mouth.  “Well now, lass, I have my own reasons. Ones I will nae be sharing.  And,” he paused, “you will have to trust me as well.”