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Here’s something to fill those hours of the holiday when you need an escape from the hustle and bustle and need to claim a little “me-time”! This story is loosely based on a Russian fairytale about a snow maiden who didn’t get a very happy ending. I had to change that. 🙂

Escaping her destiny for a day in the human world, a snow maiden, is rescued after her horse bolts, and then is brought to an isolated cabin by a recluse—a handsome, gifted artist, living alone in an arctic wilderness…

Headstrong, and seeking a little respite from a suitor’s relentless wooing, Queen Larikke rides the arctic wind far beyond the bounds of Northland, only to have her horse bolt at a shot from a hunter’s gun. Her rescuer is a handsome, mysterious man who lives alone in the wilderness, his cabin filled with erotic images of women. Rather than fearing her fate, Larikke sets out to seduce him, hoping for one last fling before she settles down to do her duty and wed.

Thinking he was saving a life, Drake dragged a very strange woman home, stripped her, and warmed her by his fire. Now, he finds his long, self-imposed isolation may have made her allure impossible to resist, and Drake fears he’ll harm her if he shares his special kiss.

Get your copy here!

Read an excerpt…

A blanket of fresh powder muffled his footsteps. For a moment, the bitter-cold wind died down. The stillness invited him deeper into the clearing, but something in the air alerted him; an intuition that was part of his true nature told him to wait.

Wind had blown snow against large tree trunks, forming deep banks where the tall green sentinels stood close together. Everywhere, pure pristine white dusted the tops of branches, cloaking them in rich, thick wonder. Precious sunlight peeked from behind a dark gray cloud and refracted like a billion tiny prisms on frozen crystals that gilded the uppermost layer of the snow.

His breaths seemed loud, intrusive, and he concentrated on being quiet so that he didn’t disturb—not that anyone was would hear him this deep in the wilderness.

Rather, all was hushed, expectant. Quiet, like he preferred now. Content at last with his own company.

The first few months of his isolation had been the worst. The silence had nearly driven him nuts. Now, he barely noticed. Sounds other than voices, the hum of electricity, or the roar of a passing engine were replaced with softer, more predictable ones—the rustle of pine needles as a breeze swept through outstretched branches, the resonant creaking when snow weighed the branches down.

The rustle of animals as they scratched in the snow for food.

The voices inside his head had also faded—the strident ones that had called him a freak and the startled screams—well, they couldn’t reach him here.

If he missed the company of a woman—so be it. Other parts of his existence flourished in the solitude. Almost filling the aching void. The decision he’d made had been the right one. He’d spend the rest of his life—however long—alone.

Do no harm.

He lived by that rule now. At least, in regard to people.

For now, he had a stew pot to fill, and he’d tracked a lone deer through the forest to this spot. A soft snort sounded, and he found the doe digging with her hooves to uncover whatever she could still forage beneath the fresh snow.

Drake tugged off his mittens and raised his rifle, setting the stock snug against his shoulder. He had the doe in his sights and slowly pulled back on the trigger, when an unexpected tinkling sound, like bells carried on the wind, drew his attention. His gaze strayed for only moment. As his attention returned to his quarry, a sudden icy wind swept up snow, obscuring his view.

The shadow of the deer still in his scope, he pulled the trigger, jerking the barrel upward at the last moment when he realized he wasn’t looking at a doe at all—but a woman on a bay-colored horse.

What the hell?

The shot went wild, but the horse gave a high-pitched whinny and reared, dumping the woman to the ground before bolting.

Drake threw down his rifle, swearing silently as he clomped on unwieldy snowshoes toward the figure lying like a spill of red paint against a white canvas. Her fur-lined scarlet cloak fanned around her slender body. He knelt in its folds to reach for the woman who had yet to open her eyes.

He ran his hands over her body, checking for broken limbs, cursing himself for a horn dog for noting generous curves beneath her dark gold and blue gown. But it had been a long time since soft curves had yielded beneath his palms. Not much in the way of padded layers of clothing protected her from his inspection, just the soft fabric. What in hell was she doing wearing some princess costume in the wilderness in winter, even one made of heavy velvet?

Finally, she stirred, moaning softly.

He sat back on his haunches, noticing at last the luster of her mink brown hair and brows and the thick lashes that fanned the rims of her delicate eyelids. They fluttered then lifted, revealing gold-flecked brown eyes.

Struck by her beauty, he stared. Her eyes were wide-set and large; her nose elegant and straight. The shape of her face was slightly triangular with a small chin that took no attention away from the sweet curves of her soft, plump mouth. She was perfect. His hands itched to mold her shapes again.

“Who are you?” she asked, with a voice as light and sweet as the bells he thought he’d heard before.

He shook his head to clear away his lustful thoughts. “The idiot who nearly shot you,” he said, his own voice thick and rusty from disuse. He cleared his throat. “Can you move? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, I think.”

“What the hell were you doing out here?”

She gave him a distracted frown. “Riding.” Then rising on her elbows, she glanced around her, blinking. “My horse, Windancer…”

“He bolted when I fired.”

Her confused stare returned to him. “He’s gone?” Her eyes widened until the white surrounded the brown iris. “We must find him.”

No “I must find him”. She’d included him, without even wondering if it was wise.

Snow had begun to fall again—thick, fat flakes that swirled in the rising wind, a blast of arctic chill. Knowing it was the wrong thing to do, but seeing no other choice, he said, “I’ll look for him after the snowfall ends. We need to get you inside.”

Oh, hell. He’d have to take her to his place. Something he’d sworn he’d never do. She might not be any safer there. He’d lived alone too long. With her lush beauty, she was too much of a temptation.

Her mouth opened, but then closed, her lips forming a thin line. “I have to find my horse. I can’t stay here,” she said, casting a wild glance around them.

He frowned. “In a few minutes, we won’t see more than a few feet in front of us. A storm’s coming in.”

“You don’t understand—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. Although, it was the last thing he should do, he held out his hand. “Come. We’ll talk later. After I get you out of the cold.”

* * *

Larikke stared in dismay. She couldn’t go home with him. They’d be alone. Her, alone with a human? Unthinkable! Humans were so short-lived and violent. Think of the scandal it would cause!

“We’ll both freeze if we don’t get out of this weather,” he said slowly, as though speaking to a child—one not so very bright.

Only she knew she wouldn’t. Freeze, that is. This is what she got for her stubborn bid for freedom. Stranded in a wild land—with a man. Her mage would no doubt cluck like a hen when she recounted the tale of how she’d ridden the wind and landed on her backside in a snow bank before a human as handsome as any damnable frost faerie.

She’d only wanted to put Thure firmly in his place. Remind him who was in charge of her destiny—that she had a will of her own.

And maybe to inspire him to anger so that he might let go of the firm hold he kept over himself whenever they were together. She wanted to see the powerful male beneath his princely trappings.

Rather like the prime specimen before her.

Oh, why couldn’t this human have been as hairy as a polar bear? Or as ugly as a walrus? Oh no! His eyes were a crystalline blue. His hair was silvery blond and fell well past his broad shoulders.

Clean-shaven, his jaw was sharp-edged and strong. His brows, although drawn together in a fierce frown, were full and nicely shaped but hooded piercing eyes. Despite the layers of clothing he wore, she could tell his frame was tall and thickly muscled.

The few humans she’d met long ago, thickheaded and thick-bodied warriors stopping on their journey to Valhalla, didn’t compare. A crude, ungifted species, they’d never aroused much interest. But this one, with his rumbling voice and burly frame, nearly stole her breath away.

Perhaps she was simply addled by her spill. Or maybe she was just feeling the familiar, deepening need for something different from her proscribed future—something wicked and deplorably wrong. She cleared her throat. “I must insist we find my horse.”

He rolled his eyes and tugged her to her feet. Then before she could brush away the snow clinging to her mantle and give him the set down he deserved for daring to handle her so familiarly, he bent and swept her over his shoulder.

Larikke’s mouth gaped. Now, this was a view of the world she’d never seen.

UPDATE: The winner is Debbie Watson!

* * * * *

I’m all about the movies this holiday season.

Still have to see Bad Mom’s Christmas and Justice League.

Can’t wait to see Downsizing AND I’M DYING TO SEE THE NEW JUMANJI!!!

A set of movies I just bought to watch over the holidays is Tomb Raider with Angelina Jolie. Haven’t seen them in forever, but not too long ago I wrote a story about it! “Her Heart’s Tomb” was featured in the Rogues anthology put together by the ever lovely Delilah Devlin! Here’s the AWESOME cover designed by Elle James! And a little tease from “Her Heart’s Tomb”.

When an international tomb raider finds herself trapped with the enemy, she unearths her most precious discovery in the only man she’s ever loved.

The tomb raider, Sonya, needed nothing but the pack on her back and the next treasure drawing her forward. She certainly didn’t need a man to help her. Absolutely not the one man she ever cared about. Jack.

Jack couldn’t let his heart get involved with any woman. Especially not a raider after the same jobs as him. He certainly couldn’t let his guard down around the one woman he wanted more than his next prize. Sonya.

Falling for each other was the last thing either of them wanted, until they’re trapped in a tomb together with no place to go but into each other’s arms.

Amazon – http://goo.gl/iUXaiZ
B&N – http://goo.gl/g0GR6J
Kobo – http://goo.gl/jV8QAu
Smashwords – http://goo.gl/LTaoHR
Are Café – http://goo.gl/hrIXSS
Ibooks – http://goo.gl/v8fJQc
Website – http://www.jenniferkacey.com/books/her-heart-s-tomb.html

GIVEAWAY

In honor of the above sexiness I’m having a giveaway for one lucky commenter!!

**GIVEAWAY – US ONLY** – Just look at all the awesomeness you could win!! Including a full print copy of the Rogues Anthology! So tell me a movie you can’t WAIT to see right now!!

I’ll pick a winner on Monday the 18th!! Good Luck!! PS –It’s always great to leave your email address in your comment so I can contact you! Hate not being able to give winners their goodies!!

Decadently Yours,
Jennifer Kacey

About Jennifer

Jennifer Kacey is a writer, mother, and business owner living with her miniman in Texas. She sings in the shower, plays piano in her dreams, and has to have a different color of nail polish every week. The best advice she’s ever been given? Find the real you and never settle for anything less.

Website – Newsletter – The Decadent Divas– Amazon Page
Facebook – Facebook Author Page – Twitter – Goodreads – Pinterest

Popping in just to say—Woot! WMR is out! I’m on to the next project before I can circle back and think about what happens next in the series. I kinda know now, but I’m letting it stew. There will be fairies!

I hope you love this story! One reader has already said: “It is full of surprises. Very sweet, very sexy and very mysterious.”

Wolf Moon Rising

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…

Aoife is the flightiest of the sister witches, and she has a secret, one her mother warned her to keep close to her heart. Her father was a fairy—which explains her quirkiness and her affinity for flowers. She lives in a cabin on stilts that juts into the bayou, and one of her demon guardians is a werewolf. She’s attracted, but how would he feel if he married her, fathered a child, and that child disappeared into the land of the fae? Desperate to find a solution to her dilemma, she flees her guardian’s protection. Her last hope is to enlist her father’s help. Plead her case. Her happiness, and that of her one true love, Sigurd, depends on whether she can escape this fairy curse.

Get your copy here!

Enjoy an excerpt…

For Sigurd, acting as guardian to the witch, Aoife, was both a blessing and curse. A blessing, because he’d never known anyone as innocent and pure, and a woman who truly didn’t know her own allure. A curse, because he had to guard her against his own lustful nature.

And again, he was thankful two other demons were assigned the protection detail, because more than anything, he wanted her kept safe. However, he was equally annoyed at having two competitors for her affection.

Of course, many more among the demons living around Bonne Nuit aspired to hear the “echo” of their bonding with a witch. Such a bonding brought power to the lucky demon—and demons were greedy about that sort of thing. They frequented Aoife’s small cabin poised on long stilts above the bayou on the flimsiest of excuses. One needed a fragrant oil to help him sleep. Another needed a healing balm to soothe a bruise. And they were constantly underfoot in her garden and her workshop, interfering more than helping—at least, to his mind.

However, Aoife appeared blissfully unaware of the males’ attempts at garnering her exclusive attention. Her radiant smile flashed indiscriminately upon her pursuers, never mind their unsuitability as possible mates. And despite the fact they’d done nothing to earn the right to call her wife.

Unlike Sigurd, who suffered her proximity and who stood ready to serve her in any way she pleased. Who quietly stood guard over her while she slept, losing his sleep and his pride because she slumbered so soundly, completely unaware of his constant state of arousal.

Sigurd wasn’t naturally a patient man, but he had withstood the torture of being close day in and out for seven months. He was nearing his breaking point. If something didn’t happen soon, he would press their leader, Ethan, to ask his pretty wife for help. Bryn liked him well enough, always turning to give him a wink when “family” dinners took place, and one of Aoife’s admirers fought for the privilege of sitting at her side. Sigurd preferred to sit across from her at the table anyway—the better to glower at his competition. And perhaps raise a lip in a menacing snarl.

Bryn seemed to be in his corner. Perhaps she would be eager to see her sister witch settled. If something didn’t change soon, he’d speak with her.

On this evening, Sigurd wore his wolfskin and lay curled on the wooden floor beside Aoife’s bed. Just before she’d begun softly snoring, she’d reached down and scratched behind his ears. Probably not an act she was even aware of doing. She was kind to all creatures and seemed especially fond of his wolf form, sometimes taking a brush to his fur or giving him a bath in the large metal tub on the porch. He lived for those moments.

He shook his head in disgust. What a sorry excuse for a wolf he was. Wolves weren’t pets. They were pack animals who needed to belong to a family and a mate. A male needed to dominate his bitch, but he didn’t think Aoife would ever agree to be his bitch.

However, the thought did stretch his wolf’s mouth into a feral grin. He laid his head atop his paws and settled with a disgruntled whine.

Minutes passed, and he was nearly drifting off to sleep when the bed creaked and feet softly lowered to the floor. He perked his ears and pushed up to peer over the mattress, just in time to see Aoife slip through her bedroom door.

He followed, freezing when her steps paused, ducking behind corners when she glanced around. Something was afoot, and his hackles rose when she reached for her cloak and a small bag from the hook beside the front door.

Was she meeting a lover? Or were the witches gathering in secret? Somehow, he doubted the latter because Bryn was very pregnant and couldn’t slide gracefully from Ethan’s bed. And Miren would have to escape three mates, and that could never happen. Which reminded him, where the hell were the other two guards?

When Aoife opened the door and crept outside, closing it behind her, he drew up short. He hadn’t considered how he would exit the house, so he quickly shook free of his wolfskin and strode onto the porch. His glance went to the steps at the side of the porch, but then a sound, a soft splash, pulled his gaze to the canal flowing past her porch. She’d taken a boat. The fact she was already on the water meant she’d been in a hurry.

What the fuck?

Footsteps sounded from inside the house. A door creaked open then slammed shut. So much for stealth. Hamdir, also a wolf, walked to his side, scratching his chest. “Where’s the witch? I was sleeping on the couch. Thought you were watching her.”

“I was.” I watched her escape. “Go back to bed. I have this handled.”

“Sure about that?” Hamdir yawned. “Don’t know how you aren’t dead on your feet. You really ought to let us have turns inside her bedroom.” His large hand patted Sigurd’s shoulder. “Driving to New Orleans in the mornin’, or I’d join you on this hunt,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

His gaze followed Hamdir as he stepped back inside. Their group had grown complacent since Ethan defeated the council’s champion in battle and no retribution had been settled upon their unbanded group. Most presumed the mere presence of so many demons, concentrated in their small town, was deterrent enough to rogue demons seeking to steal a witch for a mate.

Sigurd was reminded he’d have to enlist another guard from among the bachelor demons during Hamdir’s absence.

A cool wind wafted against his skin, raising chill bumps. Early Winter in the bayou was mild, but he couldn’t easily follow Aoife on foot.

Instead, Sigurd shifted again and fell to his paws. With a single quick yelp, he leapt past the stairs to the bank. Lifting his nose to the breeze, he followed Aoife’s delicious witch’s scent through the murky, shadowed bayou. If he startled a gator, the bastard better move out of his way.

If you love my naughty Lone Star Lovers series, you’ll love my sister’s Ugly Stick Saloon stories! Check this out! ~DD

Amazon | Nook | Kobo | GooglePlay
BOOTS & TWISTERS
UGLY STICK SALOON BOOK #11

Lucky Albright’s unlucky streak is so long and wide that she’s been run out of one town and it looks like it may happen again.
When she finds herself out of money and out of gas in Temptation, Texas, a part time job from the kind owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon gives her a glimmer of hope that this time things will be different. Landing a fulltime job at a local ranch may just be her new beginning.

Trent Jameson and Isaac Moore have always believed you make your own luck, but a black cloud of disaster seems to hover over their new hand. Under a tumbling stack of hay, Isaac discovers what Lucky’s hiding beneath baggy clothes and a tough exterior. Enough sexy curves to satisfy both men’s appetites.

But it isn’t long before Lucky’s history starts wreaking havoc all over town. It’ll take a force of nature to help the ranchers convince the law, the Garden Club—even Lucky herself—that now is no time to hit the road.

Merry Christmas, dear Delilah fans! The air is filled with the scent of sugar cookies warm from the oven. With a hint of cinnamon. Pine boughs and red ribbon line the mantel where a fire licks at the grate. Sparkling ornaments drape the fresh-cut evergreen that reaches the ceiling, its wide fragrant branches sheltering stacks of gaily wrapped gifts.

It’s the holiday vision, the perfect scene where Santa will stop briefly to drop magic into stockings. Loved ones will gather to smile, share delicious food, and part with tearful hugs. We believe it, expect it, and as adults try to recreate it for our children—and for ourselves.
There is nothing in the vision about bickering spouses, too much alcohol, or racking up credit card debt we can’t afford.

Sorry—but sometimes reality sucks. We’ve all experienced the let down when our expectations aren’t met. It’s not just others who sometimes don’t measure up—we often disappoint ourselves.

Well, I say it’s time to kick that whole sick set-up out of our lives. We’re grownups and we’re in charge. We know nothing is perfect. So why do we expect it?

A little child still lives inside us, never quite able to let go of those promises, not just for a perfect glowing Christmas.These fairy tales that we learned as a child sit deep in our hearts, murmuring at us in quiet moments about what we wanted and couldn’t have. If only…

As adults, each of us in our own style finds ways to comfort that little child in us. We hang up pretty sparkling lights, even if it’s just one strand over a doorway. One rainy cold Saturday, we bake cookies and take half of them to an ailing neighbor. We watch the sunset in late afternoon, its orange rays penetrating the windows, and think of other holiday seasons and congratulate ourselves that we’ve lived another year, that progress of some kind has been made, that life surely goes on no matter what.

We thank ourselves for our strength and courage. We acknowledge our frailty and suffering. We make promises to ourselves about one thing (or more) we can do better, what we can hope for, work for, and what we can care about.

It’s the biggest gift that money can’t buy—taking care of ourselves. Understanding. Acknowledging. Once we’ve clasped that warm fuzzy to our chest, we can open our arms to others who also suffer the human condition, who like us hold a dream that can never quite be fulfilled. Give it to yourself and then give it to others.

It’s in that spirit that I extend these stories to you. Share them with friends. They’re free at Smashwords or 99¢ at Amazon.

*~*~*~*

A Taste of Love: Yuletide in Roman Camp (Caerwin of Britannia series)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077LRJ9SH
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/759904 no coupon needed

A cruel wind blows across the midwinter lands of Northern Britain, flapping Senna’s cloak as she hurries inside the praetorium on the heels of the blustering Tutonius, legion cook and dear friend. In Rome, Saturnalia would last a week and include a day of relaxation for all the slaves. But, she sadly acknowledges, this is not Rome but a miserable outpost on the westernmost boundary of Roman-occupied Britannia.

Senna does her best to relieve some of her friend’s staggering workload as he prepares the holiday meal. The governor of all Britain will feast here tonight along with officers of three legions. Hurrying outside the fortress to the sprawling campgrounds of refugees, camp followers, and traders of all kinds, Senna shops for last-minute gifts for her enslaved Briton mistress Caerwin and food supplies Tutonius must have.
Upon her return to the kitchen, Senna blushes as Teutonius shares a moment of personal pleasure.

*~*~*~*

His Only Love – Novelette in the Caerwin of Britannia series (Gay Erotica)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077LJN49T
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/759899 no coupon needed

As Saturnalia dawns and Rome’s Legio XIV Gemina prepares for the midwinter celebration despite their station on the far western border of Britannia, Greek slave Antius faces the disaster he set in motion involving his beloved master and legion commander, Marcellus. He takes refuge with his young lover even as an intimate betrayal unfolds between trusted friends.

*~*~*~*

Christmas Hideaway

An Erotic Contemporary Romance Short Story
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B019LLDAV4
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/685194 Use coupon code VC59V
Coupon good thru Dec 25

Caryn hadn’t expected a snow storm when she hid away in a remote cabin to lick her wounds. She also hadn’t expected an overbearing park ranger to confront her. But the snow kept falling and the temperature kept dropping, trapping her at his cabin. What could possibly go wrong?

*~*~*~*

Holiday Journey

An Erotic Contemporary Romance Short Story
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B019VLNZUU
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/675289 Use coupon code EC65A
Coupon good thru Dec 25

Flight delays, bad weather—what’s not to loath about holiday travel? Except this time there’s a man daring Giselle to do something she never imagined, something that exceeds her wildest fantasies. Is the temptation worth the risk?

About the Author

Please – if you enjoy these stories, lend a friendly hand and post a review—a few words helps other readers. Meanwhile, I’ll be up here in my home office staring out the window at the Ozarks woods, watching the wind in the trees and listening to my hound dogs bark at the deer. Voices will whisper in my ears as my hands move over the keyboard, and I’ll be thinking of you, dear reader, as I channel more stories onto the page. It’s a hell of a life, but somebody’s got to do it.

UPDATE: The winner is…Jennifer Beyer!

* * * * *

I love the run-up to the holidays! Everyone’s so busy! For the first time ever, I have all my gifts purchased in advance. I have a few left to make (I dabble in jewelry!), but that’s part of the fun, too—trying to figure out what will please the women and girls in this family. But then I wondered what I might do for my online friends and readers! Here’s what I came up with! (Lots of exclamation marks here, I know, but I’m excited!!!!)

Anyway, here’s the deal. Throughout the month on the Delilah’s Collections website, I and some of the wonderful authors who’ve appeared in my collections will be giving away our stories! My suggestion, if you’re interested in collecting them, is to subscribe to the Collections blog. Look for the sign-up in the right column. It says “Subscribe To Blog Via Email”—easy-peasy, right? That way you won’t  miss a single offering. And beware! These free stories will only be available for a short time, so jump on them!

So, here’ the first…

All you have to do is click on the cover above, and you’ll head to Instafreebie,
where you can download your copy.
Don’t know what a Skjaldmaer is? It’s a Shieldmaiden!

This story first appeared in the Conquests anthology, which features 13 stories by some very talented authors. The entire collection is just $.99! So, if you’re in the mood to meet a slew of sexy, very alpha Viking warriors, check it out: Conquests!

And let me know in the comments below whether you’re subscribing to the Collections blog and intend to follow the authors as we provide you samples of our story-telling abilities! One lucky commenter will receive her choice of one of my recent releases!