There are many milestones in our lives—birthdays, holidays, graduations, weddings, new jobs, new homes. The list is endless. Some families use any excuse to get together and celebrate, while others only do major holidays, and some even none at all.

I’ve had many amazing milestones in my life. I’ve cherished the time spent with family and friends celebrating all their successes. When I was growing up, the extended family would get together—rotating to each home—at Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, not to mention birthdays and anniversaries.

But times have changed. As I grow older, many of my family has passed. Those of us who are left get together as often as we can. These times are special in my heart.

This year marks two major milestones for me. The first is my 100th published book. When my first book was released in 2004, I never dreamed I’d actually reach this high. I was more worried about trying to write the second book. It’s been fifteen years of up and downs, highpoints and low ones, both professionally and personally. Writing changed my life for the better in so many ways. I’ve done things I’d never dreams of and met so many amazing people along the way. Heck, I even went to my first convention this past summer. If you knew me, you’d understand just how huge that is.

The second milestone is my birthday. Now we all have them every year, if we’re lucky, but this year seems special to me. I’m 55 today. Maybe it’s the double numbers. Fortunately, I still feel young and am in good health. I feel as though I’m embarking on a new chapter of my life. I have no idea yet what will be written on those pages. When I was fifteen, I never could have imagined where I am now or everything that has happened to me along the way. Life always has surprises in store for us all.

No matter when my path leads going forward, I know that writing will always be a part of it in some shape or form.

I hope you celebrate all your milestones, including the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. Blessings to all of you and your families.

And if you’re looking for a sexy holiday read to help you unwind after the holiday madness, you might want to pick up Naughty Temptations: Collection Two—a collection of bestselling stories from the Naughty Literati (Berengaria Brown, Katherine Kingston, Nicole Austin, and N.J. Walters). It includes two of my previously published stories—Unmasking Kelly and Lady’s Minstrel.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07Z219NXQ
B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/2940163576005
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/naughty-temptations-collection-two
IBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/id1483717734
Print: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1699316228
Universal: https://books2read.com/u/bPRlNA

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:
Website: http://www.njwalters.com
Blog: http://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign Up: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

“America is now wholly given over to a damned mob of scribbling women, and I should have no chance of success while the public is occupied with their trash.”

Sounds like contemporary critics of the romance genre, doesn’t it? This little gem was penned by Nathaniel Hawthorne to his publisher in 1855 because his female contemporaries were reaping critical acclaim and outselling him.

I first heard this quote in a keynote speech this past October given by Maya Rodale. Intrigued, I wondered who was “Mr. Scarlet Letter” complaining about. This 2013 article gave me more than a clue:

http://www.bookslut.com/the_bombshell/2013_06_020173.php

Among this damned scribbling mob was the woman to whom Abraham Lincoln is supposed to have said, “So you are the little woman who wrote the book that started this great war.”

That’s right: Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Harriet Beecher Stowe? A writer of trash? Hardly.

Stowe had been writing for fifteen years before Uncle Tom’s Cabin was published in 1852. In addition to novels, she wrote non-fiction, poetry and a drama based on Uncle Tom’s Cabin.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin has gotten a bad rap through the years, but think about how radical it was for a White woman in the 1850’s to have a Black slave representing Christ at a time when her society was debating whether or not African-Americans were even human. We don’t have to imagine the impact of seeing slaves depicted with dignity, loyalty, and willing to be self-sacrificing had in that era. Even Lincoln recognized the power of her novel. What I never imagined was the backlash it received. Her depiction of African-Americans as human beings was so despised there was a slew of anti-Uncle Tom novels written to offset her novel’s impact. Needless to say, they failed.

As I’ve learned more about Stowe’s religious views and social justice activities, I understand better why her novel hit the nerve it did when it did. She wrote from her heart about a cause she believed in, unlike Mr. worried-about-having-no-chance-of-success Hawthorne. I’m eager to read more of her works and more works about her because I want to be a scribbling woman like her.

Better to Marry Than to Burn

Wife Wanted: Marital relations as necessary. Love not required nor sought…

A bridal lottery seems the height of foolishness to ex-slave Caesar King, but his refusal to participate in the town council’s scheme places him in a bind. He has to get married to avoid paying a high residence fine or leave the Texas territory. After losing his wife in childbirth, Caesar isn’t ready for romance. A woman looking for a fresh start without any emotional strings is what he needs.

Queen Esther Payne, a freeborn black from Philadelphia, has been threatened by her family for her forward-thinking, independent ways. Her family insists she marry. Her escape comes in the form of an ad. If she must marry, it will be on her terms. But her first meeting with the sinfully hot farmer proves an exciting tussle of wills that stirs her physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

In the battle of sexual one-upmanship that ensues, both Caesar and Queen discover surrender can be as fulfilling as triumph.

Excerpt:

WARNING! This is hot!!

With thanks to God, he pushed past her flimsy drawers to the moist welcome of her center. Her vaginal walls gripped his fingers with surprising force. No amount of twisting or turning wrenched them free. God, to have that grip surrounding his shaft.

He pulled back and studied her face. Eyes still closed, a sly smile bowed her perfect lips. She enjoyed this battling as much as he.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mrs. King?”

Her eyelids rose with the slow grace of sunrise. A gleam as sly as her smile shone in her gaze. “You call that brutal, Mr. King?”

She unclenched her lower muscles, allowing his fingers momentary retreat. With great care, she grasped his hand then slid his fingers between her folds once more.

“Holy Christ, woman. What—?”

The gentle rubbing robbed him of his ability to think.

“Jesus, have mercy,” he wheezed.

She slid his fingers from her wet sex into his mouth. He moaned, lost in her delectable taste.

Without taking her gaze from his face, she raked her gloved hand down his chest, across his belly, to his groin. Anticipation tensed his muscles in the wake of her touch. He watched mesmerized as, with a practiced ease, she unbuttoned his fly, pushed past the fabric, sought, found and stroked his cock. Her woolen gloves imparted a delicious friction he couldn’t oppose, even if he’d wanted. Delight enlivened every muscle in his body, including his jaded heart.

Jesus. This couldn’t be more than arousal. Could it?

Her fingers squeezed and his body arched upward on the yes swelling his spirit with joy. He threw back his head, mouth open, ready to shout as he neared the point of release.

Then she let him go.

He doubled over, slain by the abandonment. His lungs constricted, bereft of air. Reason deserted him too.

She stood and smoothed down her skirts with the hand that had massaged his shaft more deftly than he ever had. Reseated, she grabbed the reins and snapped the leather against his horse’s rump.

“Get up there.”

The wagon jostled Caesar from side to side. Still unable to straighten up, he looked into eyes gleaming with triumph. Her lips curved in a regal smirk.

“Was I too brutal for your enjoyment, Mr. King?”

Buy links:
Wild Rose Press – https://www.thewildrosepress.com/books/better-to-marry-than-to-burn
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/Better-Marry-than-Michal-Scott-ebook/dp/B07BK1JPKX/

Thanks so much, Delilah, for the chance to meet your readers.

Until a few years ago, I was one of those readers—literary snobs who look down their noses at romance for the usual stupid reasons: too corny, too predictable, too fluffy. Then I read a few online articles about how fun and lucrative writing erotica can be. I thought, what the heck? Let’s try.

I have never had so much fun with a writing project! My first steamy romance, Through the Red Door, nearly wrote itself, though it damned sure didn’t edit itself. I’ve totally immersed myself in the world of romance, gobbling books like popcorn, filling my ears with romance podcasts, and joining the Romance Writers of America. From skeptic to romance mega-fan in two short years, I’m totally addicted to passionate, heartfelt stories with happy endings.

My Book Nirvana series offers steamy contemporary romance set in a bookshop in Eugene, Oregon. Why a bookshop? Ever since I was a wee lass, I dreamed of owning one. Add to that my fascination with historical erotic art and literature, and you’ve got the perfect setting for love to bloom: an indie bookshop with an extensive erotica collection behind a locked red door. Of course, there’s a cool, quirky coffee shop next door.

I love stories in which a couple’s powerful physical attraction leads them to consider a partner outside their usual M.O.—one who just might turn out to be their perfect match. That’s how it happened for my husband and me, as well as for Clara, the bookshop’s owner, and Laurel, her assistant. I’m currently writing Book 3 in the series, featuring Margot, Clara’s spiky-haired young assistant, a senior at the University of Oregon.

I sort of pulled the setting out of a hat. I wanted to set my series in a college town. I’d heard that Eugene has a lively arts scene and a rich counterculture legacy from the hippie era. After much online research, correspondence, and hours on Google Earth, I finally made the trip. Eugene is even lovelier than I’d imagined, and I look forward to many return trips to this sparkling jewel on the Willamette River.

Wherever I travel, I make a point of visiting the local indie bookshops. Here in Tacoma, Washington, we have a very special one. King’s Books welcomes readers, writers, and local artists with a huge, well-curated collection of new and used books, as well as thirteen book clubs, plus writers’ groups, author events, art fairs, and more. I had a blast at their Romance Bookstore Day event. King’s Books’ collection has “a little bit of everything,” with a special focus on social justice, female authors, and authors of color. The children’s collection is especially popular, offering young readers books with strong female protagonists as well as characters from a wide variety of backgrounds. Rather than having a “Diversity Section,” King’s Books strives to showcase diversity in every section of the bookshop.

Meet Herbert, shop cat since 2015.
He’s a sweetheart and will gladly share his book recommendations.

Through the Red Door, Book Nirvana #1

Letting him inside could be her salvation…or her undoing.

Clara Martelli clings to Book Nirvana, the Oregon bookshop she and her late husband Jared built together. When rising rents and corporate competition threaten its survival, her best hope is their extensive erotica collection, locked behind a red door. In dreams and signs, her dead husband tells her it’s time to open that door and move on. When a dark and handsome stranger’s powerful magnetism jolts her back to life and he wants a look at the treasures of that secret room, she can’t help but want to show him more.

Professor Nick Papadopoulos is looking for historical erotica. Book Nirvana’s collection surpasses his wildest dreams, and so does its lovely owner. A widower, he understands Clara’s battle with guilt, but their searing chemistry is too strong to resist. Besides, he will only be in town for two weeks, not long enough for her to see beyond the scandal that haunts his past.

Excerpt:

Nick pressed his back against the red door and blew out a long, shaky breath. He’d heard about Book Nirvana for years, but nothing prepared him for what he found inside. The shop was aptly named, that was for damned sure.

From the first jingle of the brass bell over the doorway, he knew this place was something special. The sweet, almost edible scent of books, both new and used, wafted out to greet him. The early-summer sunlight bathed the shop in a welcoming glow and highlighted the colorful posters on the walls—Peter Max’s psychedelic sunset pointing toward the art books, the Beatles’ Yellow Submarine above the music section, and a lush still life of fruit, bread, and wine for the cooking section. Further down the long, narrow space, comic superheroes, a futuristic spacescape, an armored knight charging into battle, and, above a lacquered red door at the rear, Ingres’s La Grande Odalisque threw a languid glance over her bare shoulder—at once an invitation and a dare.

But the jewel of the collection was Clara herself. His friend at the University of Oregon told him about the pretty shop owner, but “pretty” hardly did her justice. Her unruly dark hair glimmered with just a hint of red fire. Those eyes—dark, like the Pacific on a stormy day, somewhere between green and gray—eyes a man could get lost in. Something about this woman set his pulse to revving like a race car at the starting line. Caught off guard by her startling beauty, he’d behaved like a horny teenager, ogling as her delicate fingers fiddled with the locket between her breasts. She noticed, too. Damn.

Buy links: Amazon Barnes & Noble Google Play Kobo iTunes

Runaway Love Story, Book Nirvana #2

Fierce passion or long-cherished dreams…she can’t hang onto both.
She hates average…he’s as average as they come.

High school history teacher Doug Garvey is trying to enjoy his last few weeks of summer vacation, but receiving his final divorce decree hits him harder than expected. After a brief fling fizzles, he fears love just isn’t in the cards for him. If only he could find someone who’s real, someone interested in something beyond herself…maybe a new running partner who can keep up with his more carnal appetite. When sexy, straight-talking Laurel runs across his path, he dares to hope again.

He’s done with social-climbing posers…she’s ambitious and has big dreams.

Fired from an art gallery, Laurel Jepsen shelves her pursuit of an art career in San Francisco to help her beloved great aunt Maxie move into assisted living. While out on a morning run, she’s harassed by a group of teens until a tall, broad-shouldered hottie steps in, pretending to be her boyfriend with a kiss that makes her wish it were true. But she’s only passing through, not looking for a relationship.

Their fierce chemistry burns up the sheets—and the couch, the shower, the forest—but falling in love would ruin everything. Laurel can’t stay in Eugene, and he can’t leave. Doug’s only hope is to convince her the glittery life she’s after could blind her to the opportunities already in her path.

Get your copy here!

I have been writing for a few years now, and until recently, I’ve never written a series. I’ve read plenty of them, so I thought, How hard can it be?

Come to think of it, that’s the exact same thought I had that got me involved in writing to begin with! Maybe I should have given it more consideration since writing turned out to be harder in many respects than I’d imagined.

This series—the Good Man series—didn’t start as a series at all. It started as a duo book, shared between the fabulous Vanessa Hart and me. She took a character and I took one and we handed off the story line, chapter by chapter. Eventually, we had to give up the project—Nessie had other commitments and so did I. Last year, she gave me permission to use the characters in this new series about the Goodman brothers, a set of identical triplets.

The character I had, Daniel Goodman, I developed into Book 1 of the Good Man series, Only a Good Man Will Do. I loved Daniel and his priggish, schoolteacher ways. I had taught in a boys’ residential school so I had Daniel do the same. I loved teaching boys, so I tried to make the kids Daniel taught, as well as those in his dormitory, a realistic (and endearing) part of his story. I hope I succeeded in that!

The second book is Jonah’s story, and this was Nessie’s character. One Woman Only is based loosely on Nessie’s Jonah, but I changed both him and his circumstances quite a bit, though he is still a mechanic and works with NASCAR teams. I really like Jonah. He has a good sense of humor and takes things in stride. Despite his success, he’s still the guy who really just wants to be a good mechanic—he has no airs. And he loves the woman he’s been dreaming about since high school. As a woman who married her own high school sweetheart, he’s a man after my own heart.

But between Daniel and Jonah, I ran into trouble writing the series. Jonah figures prominently in the first chapter of Daniel’s story. He said things and did things that I had to keep going back to look up when I wrote One Woman Only, since the books were written a good year apart. I didn’t anticipate this, so I didn’t keep notes as I should have. Also, in Daniel’s final chapter, Jonah came back into play. I forgot this when I started writing Jonah’s story. When you’re used to writing standalone books, what happened in a previous book has no bearing on what happens in the current book. Not so with a series!

But my biggest problem in the two books is that I added the first chapter from Jonah’s book at the end of Daniel’s. It fit nicely at the end of Daniel’s book because whoever read it there had just read the opening book in the series—events and characters made sense. But, when read at the beginning of Jonah’s book…not so much. I had to make lots of changes in order for One Woman Only to be a true standalone book, able to be read and appreciated without reading the first book.

I learned my lesson! Book 3, which I’m starting now, should avoid those issues. It’s the story of the third Goodman triplet, Mark. His book With Only the Heart, takes place in one of my favorite cities, Richmond, Virginia. I hope to have it out by the end of the year. And then, I have another series in mind (oh, no!). LOL!

One Woman Only is newly released! It saw the light of Amazon day on November 4. It’s available on Kindle Unlimited.

One Woman Only

As one of a set of triplets, Jonah always felt the need to make his individuality known. So where his brother Daniel was serious and completely focused, Jonah shunned commitment. Where his genius brother Mark was hailed in the scientific world, Jonah hid beneath a car tinkering. Thing is, being different wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It took a woman to make him see that focused and recognized in his field could turn a “good man” into a better man.

Excerpt:

“May I have this dance?”

Kelly turned at the sound of Jonah’s voice behind her. Dinner had ended. All three of the boys had given best man speeches and Eve had even given a very creditable matron of honor speech, considering she had only known Marilyn and Caleb a short time. Lots of toasts had been raised and finally the live band had struck up the music. Caleb led his bride onto the floor for a foxtrot—a dance more than half of the guests had no idea how to do, including her.

Facing Jonah she sighed inwardly at how scrumptious he looked. Sure, his face was pretty much displayed on his brothers’ heads, too, but there was something different about Jonah. His nose was just a little crooked from when Bobby Hendricks had broken it in ninth grade and his eyes held an especially bright sparkle in his eyes when he smiled. Maybe… Well, she didn’t know what caused the difference between Jonah and his brothers. Whatever it was, she had never been fooled by the so-called identical nature of the identical triplets. She’d wanted to be his girl since elementary school. Thought she would be in high school. And then forced every last thought of him from her mind from senior year on.

Until now.

“I don’t know how to foxtrot.”

He shrugged. “Who does except those over fifty?” He glanced at his folks, still alone on the dancefloor, although a few couples were wandering out to join them now. “We can pretend.”

She mentally compared standing on the sidelines alone now that Mama Rio left the party, or being held in Jonah’s arms. Smiling, Kelly held out her hands. “Just don’t step on my toes, Jonah Goodman, or there’ll be hell to pay.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Together they walked onto the dancefloor. He took her right hand in his left and placed his right hand on her waist. Fortunately for them, the music changed to a slow tempo. Kelly laid her head on Jonah’s shoulder, and he tugged her closer as they swayed to the music.

“This is nice,” he murmured.

“Yes it is,” she replied. So very nice. He smelled good. Beneath the light citrus fragrance of his aftershave was a slight whiff of pure man with maybe a twinge of motor oil or something so Jonah it brought tears to her eyes.

He rubbed a path up to her shoulder blades and gave a squeeze. “You fit me perfectly, Kelly.”

“I do?”

“You sure do. I think our hearts can feel each other beat.”

Kelly chuckled. “Smooth talker. Face to face like this our hearts are on opposite sides.”

“Hey! I’m trying to be romantic here.”

She sighed. “Keep on. It’s appreciated.”

“You smell…good.”

She felt his smile. Raising her head she gave him a mock glare. “Watch it with those pregnant pauses, buster.”

He used his hand to press her head back to his shoulder. “You do smell good, though. This isn’t the same perfume you wore in high school. That was—”

“Lilac,” they said at the same time. Once more she raised her head to look at him. “How did you remember that?”

“I remember much more than you might think.” He turned her and moved her closer to the door onto the patio. “Each spring when lilacs are in bloom memories come flooding back. Does that surprise you?”

“More like shocks me,” she said, grinning. And then she laid her head on his shoulder once more, finding she liked it more and more there in his arms. She stepped slightly closer and his arm tightened about her.

“Well, after a while I thought lilac seemed too girlish. I like the vintage scents, so in college I wore Wind Song. Then Shalimar was the scent Brad liked me to wear.” She felt Jonah stiffen when she mentioned her ex, and really she didn’t blame him. “But when I grew up enough finally to take charge of my own life, I started wearing Chanel No 5. A complex fragrance for what I hope is a complex woman.”

“It suits you. Complex and beautiful.” He kissed her temple. “Want to step outside for a minute?”

“Sure. It is a little warm in here.”

On the patio, they could hear the sounds of the people from the television networks packing up equipment, chatting and laughing. Stars shone brightly in the clear night sky. Wood smoke from someone’s fireplace wafted through the air and static electricity fairly crackled in the crispness of the autumn air.

“This is my favorite time of year,” Kelly said. “The heat of summer is gone and winter nights curled up with a hot drink and blazing fire are ahead.”

“Not me. I’m a summer boy all the way.”

“A hothead you mean?” she teased.

“Oh, I’m hot all right.” He waggled his brows at her. Kelly laughed.

“I do seem to remember that about you.”

“You used to be pretty hot yourself. Still are.” He leaned in. His eyes flicked down to her lips.

Kelly sucked in a breath. She should stop him, she really should.

Buy links:
One Woman Only: https://amzn.to/33tDt4i
Only a Good Man Will Do: KU https://amzn.to/2q7ovi4

About the Author

A few years ago, Dee S. Knight began writing, making getting up in the morning fun. During the day, her characters killed people, fell in love, became drunk with power, or sober with responsibility. And they had sex, lots of sex. Writing was so much fun Dee decided to keep at it. That’s how she spends her days. Her nights? Well, she’s lucky that her dream man, childhood sweetheart, and long-time hubby are all the same guy, and nights are their secret. For romance ranging from sweet to historical, contemporary to paranormal and more join Dee on Nomad Authors. Contact Dee at dsknight@deesknight.com.

Author links:
Website: https://nomadauthors.com
Blog: http://nomadauthors.com/blog
Twitter: http://twitter.com/DeeSKnight
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/DeeSKnight2018
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/265222.Dee_S_Knight
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B079BGZNDN
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/h8t2y6
LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/dee-s-knight-0500749

I have a new release! WARNING: This one’s not for the faint of heart. However, if you’re ready for a very spicy ménage that involves some beasty-demon sex, this one’s for you! Hope you enjoy it! And remember, if you do read it, reviews are always appreciated!

Harvest Moon

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives.

Five witches…Too many demons to count…

Radha’s sister witches become concerned when her health begins to fail. Her sleep is never restful, but they are unable to pinpoint what is wrong.
Khan, a jinn who’s been tasked to serve as her guardian, has watched her restless sleep and believes he knows the answer. Her dreams may be haunted by a demon set on draining her of power. As much as Khan loathes the idea, he seeks an old enemy, a vanir, whose magic should allow him to enter Radha’s nightmares to slay the Mare, an enemy bent on taking advantage of Radha’s vulnerability to make her his own.

Until the vanir arrives, Khan and the satyr who is her other guardian must keep her safe—even from their own lustful natures.

Get your copy now!
FREE to KU subscribers!

Whoa, this was supposed to post yesterday, but something happened as I tried to include the cover. Or rather, nothing happened. No internet connection. Which, when you live rurally and have the same company providing your TV, telephone, and Internet, means you have no connection with the outside world. So, I thought I just needed to reboot the system—something I have to do every other day. I sought out the box unplugged, replugged, then waited half an hour… Nothing. Huh. Just to check whether anyone else was in the same boat (and not at all because I wanted a cup of joe with my dd after all my frustrations), I headed to her place across the street. She had no connection either and had been WTFing for an hour, too.

When her cop hubby came home, we found out that every business and residence in the area using that same service was out as well. A construction crew had severed their fiber optic cable. And that’s technology for you. You’re dead without a backup solution. I did however get to bed super early because I was bored out of my mind.

And I’m rambling again. It’s 6AM, and I just checked connection. It’s back! So, I had to vent before I hit PUBLISH! 🙂

This book’s coming next Tuesday! I wrote it when I was sick as a dog, which somehow translates to “I wrote nothing but sex.” If you love a paranormal where a satyr (horse-man) and a jinn take a witch for a mate, you know this one is full of kink and a naughty ménage.

Harvest Moon

In Jefferson Parish, deep in the bayou, is a place called Bonne Nuit. Off the beaten path, isolated by swamp and connected to the sea, there the Beaux Rêve Coven thrives.

Five witches…Too many demons to count…

Radha’s sister witches become concerned when her health begins to fail. Her sleep is never restful, but they are unable to pinpoint what is wrong.

Khan, a jinn who’s been tasked to serve as her guardian, has watched her restless sleep and believes he knows the answer. Her dreams may be haunted by a demon set on draining her of power. As much as Khan loathes the idea, he seeks an old enemy, a vanir, whose magic should allow him to enter Radha’s nightmares to slay the Mare, an enemy bent on taking advantage of Radha’s vulnerability to make her his own.

Until the vanir arrives, Khan and the satyr who is her other guardian must keep her safe—even from their own lustful natures.

Pre-order now!
FREE to KU subscribers!

Excerpt

The door opened behind her, and she turned with a smile. Only it wasn’t Ali.

Nikon gave her a wink. “Don’t look so disappointed.”

“I’m not dis—”

He cut her off with a quick rise of his brows.

Radha rolled her eyes. “I’m feeling a little restless.”

“If you like, we can walk into the village. We need to restock the refrigerator. We need more meat.”

“I thought horses were herbivores,” she teased, knowing his love of beef.

“Only half horse, here.”

Radha gave a glance in the mirror, decided the long work apron she wore over her wrap-around sari skirt would have to do, and grabbed a large tote as she headed toward the door.

Nikon held it open but stared down at her feet.

“What?” she said, staring at her toes. “I’m earthing.”

“As much as you witches like to be barefoot, it’s a wonder you don’t all have calluses as thick as hooves. Or how you don’t find every pebble in your path. And it’s October.”

She slipped past him and skipped down the porch stairs to the grass, chuckling softly. “October in the bayou isn’t that cold. Besides, the Goddess protects us. Without shoes, our feet connect more directly with her. It gives us a recharge.”

His long legs brought him quickly to her side. “Have you ever actually talked to her? Or seen her?”

“I’ve heard her. Not as clearly as I hear your voice, but like an echo inside my head. And I feel her when I stand in the moonlight.”

She gave him a curious sideways glance. Nikon really was a handsome man. Bright glints of red and gold shone in his brown hair. His hazel eyes were more green than brown. With a rugged body and square chin, he looked the part of a guardian. Her guardian. Why hadn’t she experienced more of an attraction for him? Her life would be a lot less complicated with someone like him rather than her tricky jinn. “Do you plan to stay here in Bonne Nuit, long-term?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I like working for Vindlér Construction. Ethan’s a fair boss, and he encourages his employees to move up. I hope to run my own crew someday.”

So, he had ambition. “Where are you from, originally?”

He grinned. “Kentucky,” he said. “I was raised on a farm. Not some little operation. Our horse clan owned a huge tract of land, a grant from some governor when Kentucky was being settled, so we were free to be ourselves, hidden away.”

“Why did you leave?”

He grimaced and glanced up at the sunlight peeking through the tree branches. Many trees were already losing their leaves. “Wasn’t by choice. The council demanded more tribute. More than we could sustain. So, we disbanded quickly, before they had a chance to claim a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the land. Every family took its cut and fled. My father moved us to Oklahoma. When Katrina hit, I was looking for work and saw that Vindlér was hiring more people to expand their operations during the cleanup. That’s how I got here,” he said, flashing her a toothy smile.

“Did you know Ethan was Other?”

He shook his head and smiled. “Not until he shook my hand and gave me a quick flash of his troll eyes.”

She nodded. “A human would have thought it was a trick of the light.”

“Ethan had a knack for finding those of us who were living outside of council control, even when we were doing our best to blend in.”

A sudden cool wind sifted through the trees, and Radha was glad of the three-quarter sleeved shirt she wore beneath the apron. The wind blew again, a little harder this time, and she felt something drift across her arm, like a fingertip, only she was standing away from Nikon.

Nikon frowned and lifted his nose, scenting the air. “Something’s wrong.”

“I feel it, too,” she said, her teeth beginning to chatter.

“Hope you can ride,” he muttered then tore off his shirt, kicked away his boots, and dragged down his jeans. Before she had a chance to think about the fact he wore no underwear, he shook his body and transformed.

She’d forgotten how large he was in his satyr’s skin. He reached out a hand, and she let him swing her up onto his long horse’s back. Then she scooted toward his torso and slipped her arms around him, holding tight.

Nikon made a sound like a loud whinny and charged down the darkening path toward Bonne Nuit.

They skirted the village, keeping to the trees so the humans wouldn’t see them. Unfortunately, they didn’t count on passing Gus Hearn, the local ferryman, who sat high in his deer stand in the woods.

When they were hidden again by brush, they heard cussing and a crash behind them, and then more cussing as he shouted to himself, or into a phone.

“They’ll think he drank a little too much of Ole Winnie’s hooch,” Nikon muttered, sounding not a bit out of breath although he galloped like a racehorse.

They passed the trail leading to the bed & breakfast, and Radha didn’t say a word, knowing he was likely heading straight for Vindlér, where there would be less chance a human might see them. She held on, her knees gripping his sides, her arms tucked under his, and her palms clutching his chest.

“I don’t feel it anymore,” she shouted. When the fear dissipated, another emotion rose, bringing with it some very confusing sensations—like the way her breasts tingled as they rocked against his back, and how the coarse hair on his horse’s body abraded her inner thighs.

“I don’t feel it anymore, either,” he said. “But I’m not taking the risk. I promised I’d protect you.”

His pace didn’t slow until they entered the clearing. To the left was the large oak, the witches’ sacred tree. To the right stood the building that was still partially under construction because they kept expanding.

Before they came to a halt in front of the steps leading into the building, men flowed from the sides of the building and through the front door.

Ali and Ethan raced toward them, Ali extending his arms to catch her when she unwound her arms from the satyr’s torso and dropped.

“Was there trouble?” Ethan barked out.

“We were walking to town,” Nikon said, his chest billowing. “The air grew suddenly cold, and both of us felt a presence.”

Ali hugged Radha against his chest. “You did right bringing her here.”

“Were you seen?” Ethan asked.

Nikon grimaced. “By Gus Hearn at his deer stand.”

“Then I think we’re safe,” Ethan drawled, aware of the ferryman’s penchant for booze. “Hit the locker room and get changed.”

Radha glanced to the side to see Nikon shake. A millisecond later, he stood nude in his human flesh and walked up the steps—after giving her a wink, because he’d caught her staring at him.

Ali tucked a finger under her chin, raising her face. “Did you enjoy your ride?” he asked, his dark eyes narrowing.

Busy Bee, here! You know, when I was in first grade, the summer reading program at the air base’s library was called the Busy Bees… Don’t know why that popped into my head. I was very competitive and read a ton of books. Think my favorite was about a Siamese cat named Ping…

Anyways, here’s a puzzle. It’s a huge hint about what’s coming your way next week! Love shapeshifters, witches, and things that go bump in the night? Yeah, this is a sexy one, y’all!