The Salvation Pack came howling into my life more than a decade ago. I’d originally planned a five-book series but ended up writing nine. I fell in love with them so much, I didn’t want to let them go.
After the original series was done, readers kept writing and asking about the children of the pack. I couldn’t stop thinking about them either. Now, they’re all grown up and ready to find love. I’m thrilled to bring you the Salvation Pack: The Next Generation series.
WOLF CLAIMS HIS PACK is the third book. Nicholas LaForge is the son of the alpha of the Salvation Pack. Talk about having big shoes to fill. I always knew it would take a very special woman to capture his heart.
Wolf Claims His Pack
Wolf Claims His Pack Salvation Pack: The Next Generation, Book 3
Half-breed wolf and blacksmith, Bailey Smith’s life is complicated. She’s alpha of a small pack consisting of her teenage brother and three other kids. Her grandfather—a pure-blood wolf—wants her and her brother dead. And now a confrontation with two human males has brought Child Protective Services to her door. If that wasn’t enough, she’s caught the attention of an unknown, sexy-as-hell, male wolf.
Nicholas LaForge has found his mate and purpose. Being a full-blooded wolf is a strike against him, but she marries him to protect her kids. He’ll use whatever sneaky methods necessary—including sex—to convince her they belong together. First, he has to deal with the threats to his new pack. That’s the easy part. Winning her love and trust might be impossible.
Excerpt from Wolf Claims His Pack…
The hot guy from the parking lot was a wolf. And what a wolf. He was huge and deadly and dangerous, no matter how tame he tried to appear. Yeah, that wasn’t something he’d ever be able to pull off. It was like a police-trained German Shepherd trying to pretend to be a teacup poodle. Or a tiger attempting to masquerade as a kitten. Not going to happen.
When he’d stripped out of his shirt, she’d almost swallowed her tongue. He was about six-four. All of it tanned skin and ripped muscle. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He didn’t have six-pack abs. He had an eight-pack.
Her cheeks were flushed. Her skin overly sensitized to the point the light breeze felt more like sandpaper against it.
Nicholas LaForge. The name was slightly exotic and suited him. His eyes were a deep golden brown that reminded her of a piece of precious amber she’d seen once in a museum. They were sharp and missed nothing. His shaggy brown hair fell to his shoulders, adding to his wild, untamed appearance. The multi-hued browns in his hair were reflected in his fur, with the addition of a few patches of black.
“You okay?” Emmett asked, concern deepening his voice.
“I’m fine.” Or she would be, as soon as she put Mr. Hot and Dangerous out of her mind. “We should go inside.” Standing outside, they were vulnerable. And their visitor was long gone.
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, assassins, 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.
Say the name Sojourner Truth and immediately I think of her iconic 1851 speech, “Ain’t I a Woman,” at the Ohio Women’s Rights Convention in Akron, Ohio (see below—it’s just 3 minutes long). But what never came to mind was the fact that she was the first Black woman to win a lawsuit against a white man. I didn’t know because her birth name is not as famous as her chosen name. When Sojourner Truth was born enslaved in Ulster County NY her name was Isabella Baumfree. By 1864 she was well-known for her abolitionist, suffrage, civil and women’s rights work. But it was in 1828 that she went to court to win the freedom of her five-year-old son, Peter, who had been illegally sold into slavery in Alabama.
In 1827 Baumfree ran away with her baby daughter, unfortunately having to leave her other three children behind. She found refuge with a nearby abolitionist family, the Van Wageners. They were able to buy her freedom from her enslaver by buying her services for $20. In 1828 New York State outlawed slavery but that didn’t mean the practice stopped. Her former master, John Dumont, had sold Peter to Southern slaveholder, Eleazar Gedney who then sold Peter to his brother Solomon.
As the children of slaves were born slaves, they were their owners’ property just as their parents were. However, in 1818 a state law had been passed that freed anyone born after July 4, 1799. Some sources cite Peter’s birth year as 1818, others as 1821. So having been born well after 1799, Peter was covered by this statute. Sources I found stated that he would have had to work as an indentured servant until he reached his twenties. Thus, Dumont had the right to sell his services but not sell him into slavery. That happened when Eleazar Gedney sold Peter to Solomon who made him his slave. With the help of the Van Wageners, Baumfree’s case went to the Albany Supreme Court. She won, and her son was set free. She was also awarded $500 in damages.
What I appreciate about commemoration months like Women’s History Month is the awareness and inspiration I receive from learning how people prevailed despite the odds and the circumstances of their times being against them.
For a chance at winning a $10 gift card, share in the comments about someone or some event that you can cite where the odds and the circumstances were against them, but justice was done in the end.
One Breath Away
Michal Scott
Sentenced to hand for a crime she didn’t commit, former slave Mary Hamilton was exonerated at literally the last gasp. She returns to Safe Haven, broken and resigned to live alone. Never having been courted, cuddled or spooned, Mary now fears any kind of physical intimacy when arousal forces her to relive the asphyxiation of her hanging. But then the handsome stranger who saved her shows up, stealing her breath from across the room and promising so much more.
Wealthy freeborn-Black Eban Thurman followed Mary to Safe Haven, believing a relationship with Mary was foretold by the stars. He must marry her to reclaim his family farm. But first he must help her heal, and to do that means revealing his own predilection for edgier sex.
Then just as Eban begins to win Mary’s trust, an enemy from the past threatens to keep them one breath away from love…
Excerpt from One Breath Away…
Home at last, she’d see if meeting Eban meant this night would be good.
Since her ordeal, her sex rivaled the Chihuahuan Desert in dryness. Yet Eban’s gaze had summoned the fragrant flow that even now moistened her core. Could it be her body had finally healed? She swayed, dizzy with expectation.
The squeak of the indoor pump provided no distraction from the lingering tingle where Eban’s fingers had rested against her spine, where his lips had kissed her hand. She focused on her task to temper her excitement.
Fill the bucket. Lift the bucket. Carry the bucket. Empty the bucket. Fill the bucket. Lift the bucket. Carry the bucket. Empty the bucket.
The pans she filled slowly simmered then steamed on her small, pot-bellied stove.
Her heart seized as she fingered the simple gingham curtains covering Harvest Home’s windows. Harvest Home’s humble kitchen contrasted sharply with the trappings that had graced Mary’s Manor, her Weston restaurant expansion.
She’d looked up the word manor and decided her place would imitate that kind of luxury as much as possible. Brocaded drapes and white, linen tablecloths had dressed up the Manor’s supper room. Slipcovers made from the same linen covered the cushioned chairs. White, bone china and delicate silverware completed the picture of elegant dining she hoped to draw.
A Franklin stove, indoor pump, double sink, polished counter tops and spacious storage cupboards made the Manor’s kitchen a dream made true. Nothing lacked for the grand opening. Picturing couples enjoying themselves in her simple but elegant setting had become her favorite pastime.
Then Judah Little and his lies thwarted her plans. Thwarted. A good word. A true word.
“But not for long,” she whispered. “That dream will come true just as this dream might come true tonight.”
So, St. Patrick’s Day was yesterday, but why not continue celebrating. And who doesn’t love a holiday that gives us a great excuse to get together with family and friends, attend the local parade, wear lots of green clothes, and drink beer. Oh, and dye rivers green!! However, there is a lot about this holiday which people don’t know. Stick around and read about five St. Patrick’s Day facts you might’ve not been aware of!
This holiday falls on March 17th each year because that is the traditional death date of Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland. Did you know that Saint Patrick wasn’t even Irish? He was actually born in Wales. He was held as a prisoner by Irish raiders shortly after he turned sixteen years old, and this is when he found his faith.
Green was not always the color associated with St. Patrick’s Day. For thousands of years, light blue was the color people used to celebrate this holiday!
The first St. Patrick’s Day parade was held right here, in the United States. The parade tradition originated in Boston, Massachusetts, in 1737. New York followed shortly behind them, launching their first parade in 1762.
From 1927 to 1961, St. Patrick’s Day was a dry holiday. The Irish government banned alcohol to enforce the religious aspects of the holiday. Pubs around the country were forced to close for this day. Nowadays, approximately 11 million pints of Guinness are consumed on this holiday.
Chicago dyes their river green for the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day. The dye they use is plant-based, allowing it to return to its normal color in approximately thirty hours.
Hopefully, you learned a few fun facts, and March 17th will have more reasons to celebrate in the future! Now I wish I could say I wrote a romance book about St. Patrick’s Day, but the closest I can come is my Navy SEALs of Little Creek series, where two of the heroines work at a local pub. Below you can find an excerpt from Issued (complete with a GREEN cover).
Issued
Excerpt from Issued…
I’m sorry.
Two words that should be simple enough to say. But putting my business on display for the public isn’t my thing. Though, after Brittney’s scene two nights ago, people who don’t even know a thing about me now know I’m broken. Leave it to my ex’s sister to tell the world I’m the emotional equivalent of Humpty Dumpty after his fall from grace. All of my pieces are glued back with such haphazard carelessness that I can’t remember what it feels like to be whole. Or what it feels like to go through life without falling apart, without being forced to admit my own weakness.
I drag my hands over my face, my heart in my throat, as I do my best impression of a kicked puppy in the middle of Shaken & Stirred. Taya catches sight of me, slams down her tray, and turns on her heel to stalk off in the opposite direction. My body trembles, and I dig my nails into my scalp, wishing for the hundredth time that my stubborn wife had acknowledged me when I’d tapped on her door last night. Or the night before. This whole thing could have been handled in private. Although, shit, guess that cat had gotten out of the bag two days ago. Until then, Bear had been the only one who knew about my TBI, but now everyone knows. Everyone who was within earshot of our table.
But the way Taya leapt to her feet to defend me. She’d been all fiery eyes and blazing cheeks, a hellcat ready to attack on my behalf. Hope bubbles in my chest for a second before I viciously squash the feeling. Taya deserves someone normal, someone who can stand up to the light of her scrutiny without cutting her on all his ragged, imperfect edges. She deserves someone better than me.
But right now, we need to put on a performance for my superiors and any of the committee attending the function later tonight. My jaw aches and I’m grinding my teeth together as I flag down the hostess. “Can you get her? It’s important. Please?”
She turns, flinging her hand at me in a dismissive wave. “Sure.”
Inara heads into the back. Despite her snarky claim that she cares more about cucumbers than what I think is important, a minute later, Taya makes her way toward me. I force a smile, but the muscles in my face tighten and twitch. Taya stops in front of me, her forehead a collection of unhappy little wrinkles. With one hip cocked and her arms folded beneath the small swell of her teacup breasts, she’s the personification of feisty disapproval in a server’s apron and non-slick shoes.
“What do you want?”
“There’s a mandatory work party and I need you to come with me.” Not the best start, but I’m fully prepared to apologize and grovel for a date rather than show up in front of my commanding officer without Taya on my arm. This is my shot to prove that I’m committed to the IPP program.
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
I want to turn around and leave, but I’m already down to the wire. Maybe I’ll just toss her over my shoulder and make a run for it. Taking a deep breath, I try again. “I know you’re mad, but I need your help. We don’t even have to talk or stand next to one another. We’re basically carpooling to an open bar. This is important. If my C.O. doesn’t think I’m trying to make the IPP program work, I’m screwed.”
Her body slumps, but her eyes remain locked with mine. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Are you serious?” Her voice is high pitched and more than a little accusatory. “You literally waited until the last second?”
“Not exactly.” I glance at the time on my phone. “We actually have about three hours.”
I’m busy writing to “The End” of No Tender Mercy! There’s no pressure like release dates to get my fingers moving!
If some of you missed the first Texas Vampires story, Her Sanctuary, it’s a great time now to pick up your copy. Kate and Ty are featured in this story too, but it’s Diego’s turn to find the human of his dreams. 🙂
Both are set in Post-Apocalypse Texas where werewolves and vampires are thriving during a nuclear winter. I had fun with book #1, describing ranch-life, cowboys on horses, trying to survive. This time, the gang is at Fort Davis, Texas. So—vampire soldiers protecting human refugees. Did I mention the stories are erotic romances? Yes, fun times. These stories are shorter (and cheaper) than my bounty hunters—a quick afternoon’s read!
Who says the apocalypse has to be the end of good times?
For Diego, the career his father had insisted was his destiny turned out to be the perfect preparation for the end of times. The Army made him a warrior—and then it turned him into a monster.
Excerpt from No Tender Mercy…
Diego Salazar strode through the Operations Building, needing to get outside, needing the night air to revive him. He felt edgy, bordering on reckless. Deadly emotions—for anyone around him, that was. Worse, he was bored.
He passed the Comms room but didn’t glance inside. Kate McKinnon was manning the radio, flipping through channels, trying to find other survivors, who’d been like her—needful of rescue and protection. She’d found her calling since arriving at the post; Diego didn’t feel the same sense of urgency about finding lost souls in the wilderness. Hadn’t he offered enough to mankind?
He kept moving, walking swiftly past the Ops conference room, where his best friend, Ty Bennett, was giving the nightly briefing to the roving patrol. Same ole-same ole: watch for breaks in the fences, report any signs of infiltration, make sure no vampires abused their hosts, blah-blah-blah. He pushed through the exit, stepped outside, and took a deep breath.
Instantly, he felt alive, alert. Freed by the darkness. His glance shot upward.
Moonlight glowed silver behind a black cloud, the only illumination in an otherwise dark sky. Although meager, the moonlight bathed his face, giving him calm as well as a surge of energy.
Diego stared at the sky, admiring the way the moon’s rays backlit the thinner wisps of cloud cover then disappeared completely behind the thick tufts of charcoal gray. Clouds that rarely held rain. He had always loved looking at the night sky. When he’d been younger, he’d owned a telescope and had spent many late nights searching for the objects on Messier’s list of astronomical objects, trying to tick them off because finding them all would’ve proven to himself that his future held more than his father had already decided. In this endless night, he missed seeing stars. Before the world had gone to shit, he’d taken for granted the glorious sight of the Milky Way stretched across the sky. What he wouldn’t give for a glimpse of that majesty…
Glimpses of a starry sky had been few and far between for years now.
Feeling tense again, Diego patted his jacket pockets, found his pack, and shook out a cigarette. Once it was lit, he took long drags off the cigarette, pulling until the glowing ring reached the filter. He didn’t like wasting a millimeter of a smoke because, soon, the stash he’d squirreled away over months of supply heists would be gone. Smoking was the one last guilty pleasure he allowed himself. A middle finger thrust straight into the air at life. Once upon a time, he’d denied himself this particular sin because he’d cared about his health. However, dying of cancer was no longer a concern—one good thing that had come of the decision he’d made in the final days before The Apocalypse had created an eternal night.
The career his father had insisted was his destiny as a Salazar had turned out to be the perfect preparation for the End of Times. The Army had made him a warrior—and then it had turned him into a monster so that he could fight other monsters.
He dropped the cigarette then ground it beneath the heel of his boot. He was sure Ty, the elected commander of this regiment, although they no longer used their military titles, would be looking for his sitrep soon. While no longer part of the U.S. Army, they had to maintain the same discipline and order. Without rules, they could easily devolve. Their altered natures already tempted them to push against the bounds of civilized behavior. More than one of their unit had been “put down” when they’d surrendered to their darker appetites.
When the keys to the fortress had been handed to them as the Army abandoned this western post, they’d made the decision to continue their mission. Partially to protect innocents trapped in this wasteland but mostly to give themselves a purpose, so they’d stay on the narrower path. They were the last outpost in the New Frontier. While the civilian populations had congregated for safety in the eastern cities, they’d remained to protect any last vestiges of human populations from the wolves and the human predators that roamed the West.
Just a week ago, they’d left the safety of their post to rescue stragglers to the south from a ranch near Tierney, Texas. Kate, a few of her ranch hands, and three families had accepted their offer of shelter. Kate was now Ty’s woman. She’d brought horses and a breeding pair of cattle to begin a new herd inside the fence. How they’d feed the animals was still to be determined. The sky remained filled with dark clouds, and the grass within the fort’s boundaries was sparse and withered. At least, the rabbits the mess unit bred in cages had vegetable scraps from the indoor greenhouse they kept lit in a helicopter hangar, powered by the wind. No humans would die from lack of food here. In addition to the rabbits and vegetables they grew, they had a storage warehouse full of old rations. The hope was that the skies would clear enough to let sunshine pierce the gray clouds, so that, one day, life could return to a semblance of normal for the humans. Then they could grow gardens and raise livestock in greater abundance to survive until civilization returned.
The thought neither Ty nor Diego ignored was that sunshine would likely spell the end of the vampires when humans no longer needed their protection.
The vampires outside the post’s fences weren’t winning any popularity contests. As feral as the wolves, their indiscriminate killing kept the humans inside from fully trusting the soldiers, even those who had remained human and understood why some of their brothers had been turned; they were all treated with suspicion by the refugees.
For now, the turned soldiers and the humans shared a symbiotic relationship. The living fed the vampires. The vampires provided their superior senses, speed, and strength to keep the humans alive.
Which reminded him that he needed to eat. His stomach felt hollow, which made his mood dark. Until he was replenished, he’d snap out of irritation at the slightest provocation. He strode toward the mess hall. A room to the side of the cafeteria was kept for feedings. Human guards supervised the vampires’ meals to ensure the safety of those who volunteered their blood.
He wondered who’d be available. Ty was fortunate to have his own blood whore, although Diego would never call her that in front of him. Kate provided some of his friend’s needs, but Ty still needed other donors so he didn’t sap her strength.
The families that had come from Sanctuary Ranch had been leery of the arrangement, at first, and since Ty had promised that no one would be forced to provide for them, they’d been slow to volunteer.
Until they’d learned from the human soldiers that there was pleasure in giving. At first, the males had volunteered, “sacrificing” for their families. Then one husband had brought his wife, and they’d shared the pleasure. Now, all three families donated regularly. Only the children were left completely off-limits. A rule that was strictly enforced. If a vampire were to drink from a child, the penalty was death.
The door to the “blood mess” was open, and light from a gas lantern beckoned. When he stepped inside, he found a lone female sitting in an armchair, a book opened on her lap. She glanced up as he entered, and a pretty blush crept up from her neck to fill her cheeks.
She was a plain woman—full hips, small breasts, hair neither blond nor brown. Late thirties, he’d have guessed, but knowing the hardships she’d faced to survive, she could be younger.
Already, her heart thudded loudly.
The guard was asleep with his head thrown back and his mouth open. Diego would make sure his squad leader handled that problem, but for now, he liked that they wouldn’t have a witness.
“Melissa, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
She nodded, glanced quickly at the still sleeping guard then back at Diego. Was she afraid?
When she tilted her head toward the doorway, he understood. She wanted a little something more in return for her “gift.”
His mouth stretched into a smile, and he held out his hand to help her up from her chair. The moment her warm fingers slid across his skin he started getting hard.
She’d showered. Her hair and body smelled like strawberries. Her blond-brown hair gleamed in the golden light, but he led her through the doorway into the darkened cafeteria.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said.
“It’s my first time,” she whispered.
He chuckled to put her at ease. “A virgin?”
“Hardly, but…yes.”
“I’ll be gentle.”
Her fingers pressed against his, and her pulse sped. “You don’t have to be.”
Diego grinned in the dark.
Sometimes, he enjoyed being the apex predator. Who said The Apocalypse couldn’t be fun?
When I was a teenager, I had a poster that said, “The more people I meet, the more I love my dog.” It was very true back then with Frankie — my Scottish Terrier cross Staffordshire Bull Terrier rescue who kind of looked like a very hairy black Pumba — and it’s still true today with my monster dog, Kalbati.
Most people agree that dogs are amazing, but Kalbati… She’s special. Kalbati has been with us for seven years. We were told she was about two or three months old, but when we went to pick her up, it was clear they had fudged the details over the phone. She was probably about six months old and double the size we were expecting. There was no way she could fit in the carrier we brought along, so she sat on my lap and vomited her way home. It was a really long drive and not the most auspicious start, but she quickly made herself at home in our chaotic house and our hearts.
Kalbati has the sweetest nature of any dog I’ve met. She’s a Labrador crossed with some kind of hunting dog, and she’s about 80 pounds of energy and love. She’s no pushover, but she has great energy and can calm down any scared or aggressive dog. She’s also the best mom to rescue kittens and takes the nightshift by letting them snuggle with her in her bed, which means I get some sleep.
Like Kalbati, Lic has a big heart and tons of patience. She’s much more friendly than her human, Matthew Thomas, the grumpy rancher who isn’t too happy when his sister’s best friend from college shows up on his ranch the same day Lic finds a stray puppy. Savannah and the rambunctious puppy disrupt Matthew’s organized, quiet life in the best way.
This story was so much fun to write, and I hope readers enjoy getting to meet Matthew and Savannah and their four-legged friends.
Excerpt from Romancing the Grumpy Rancher…
One of his eyebrows rose just a little, and those full lips pressed into a firm line. “It’s not muggers you need to be on the lookout for. This is not the city, where going out for a run is as simple as running ten blocks one way and then ten blocks back. We have spotty cell reception in places and critters who would gladly chase your pretty little behind down the trail just to see if you’re worth taking a bite out of.”
Hearing Mr. Stern and Studly talking about her behind shouldn’t make her pulse flutter. But it did. Even though flirting with her best friend’s grumpy older brother was probably the worst idea ever, a smile stole over her lips, and she couldn’t resist provoking him. “I’ve been told my pretty little behind is definitely worth taking a bite out of.”
Something flashed across his face—something predatory and primal—before he shuttered it back behind stark disapproval. Maybe Olivia’s brother wasn’t as stalwart as she’d described him. As fun as investigating that possibility might be, Savannah knew it was inadvisable. She didn’t want to be the cause of any drama between Olivia and the brother who’d all but raised her.
“While you’re here, you should stick to running along the drive and staying close to the main house where you’ll be safe,” he said. “That way, I won’t have to waste time sending anyone out to rescue you.”
“I didn’t need rescuing, Matthew.”
His eyes widened at her use of his name, and she realized they technically hadn’t been introduced yet.
Tamlyn Black is a mom to three amazing wildling kids, a monster rescue dog who sheds about a pound of fur a day, and two former feral cats who moved in and took over when they discovered they could have comfortable beds, free food, and endless snuggles.
The following is a character interview with Lucifer. He’s Quinn’s familiar, a snarky, know-it-all black cat.
Is your family big or small? Who does it consist of? Do you have siblings?
Pretty small. No siblings. For a while it was just me and Quinn. That was after her grandmother passed, but now Ian’s around. He’s pretty cool, for a mortal, I guess. Just don’t tell him I said so.
How well would you handle a long-distance relationship?
Quite well, I think, considering. I’m not admitting to anything, but I might see Rowan’s familiar from time to time. Okay, maybe more frequently than that.
What exactly is a familiar?
A familiar is an animal who has bonded with a witch. The bond creates a unique, strong friendship. The familiar is in tune with the witch’s feelings and our lifespan is connected to the witch’s, meaning we have long lives, hundreds maybe even thousands of years. We, the familiars, also have nine lives, regardless of species, it’s not just a cat thing.
Any type of animal can become a familiar, but not all animals can become one, it’s something you’re born with. Basically, if an animal can talk it can bond with a witch, though generally it’s cats and birds and small rodents or reptiles.
We’re here to provide guidance to the witch, which maybe isn’t a good thing for poor Quinn, since she’s stuck with me.
Can you lie easily?
Yes.
Have you ever done something illegal?
Of course not. What kind of imbecile admits to something like that? It’s not as though I killed anyone. Spiking Quinn’s tea with a love potion isn’t really all that bad, and I had good intentions. Intentions count for something, right?
Are you more likely to ask for permission or forgiveness?
Definitely forgiveness. If you ask permission, they’ll just say no. If I know I’m right, then I go for it. Even if they get a little angry about it, once it all works out for the best, they’ll see I was right.
What’s your favourite book?
Everard and Daphne. It’s a star-crossed lover’s tale. But it’s not some sappy love story. Nope. It’s got tons of action and fighting and ruthlessness, and did I mention fighting. It’s way more than just a kissing book, though there’s plenty of that as well.
How do you respond to a threat?
Eliminate it immediately. Getting out ahead of problems, threats and problematic people is the only way to survive in this world.
What living person do you most despise?
Right now, Draven is pretty high up on the list. He’s the alpha of the local werewolf pack and seems to have it out for Quinn.
Have you ever had your heart broken?
No. Well, yes. I suppose there’s more than one way a heart can break. So, yes. For example, watching Quinn mourn for her grandmother, feeling her pain as though it was my own, that was heart break. Romantically though, no. No one has ever broken my heart.
Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets
What do you do when your ex’s werewolf boss wants to feast on the mortal you’ve sworn to protect?
Quinn was unaware of the love potion her meddling cat dumped into her tea, so when Ian Hannigan ends up injured on her property, she thinks she’s dealing with another mortal, not the man who can help mend her heart. Her life becomes a balancing act as she attempts to keep him safe, while hiding secrets better left buried with the dead.
In a realm filled with things that go bump in the night, Ian didn’t expect to find security and happiness in the arms of a green skinned witch, yet for the first time since his parents tragic car crash, he’s found some measure of peace. The rumors he hears in Clayridge aren’t pleasant, but Ian knows there’s more to Quinn than what people would have him believe. If he’s placed his trust in the wrong hands he’ll be paying with more than just his heart. He’ll pay with his life.
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About Cameron Allie
Romance author Cameron Allie grew up in a small town north of Toronto. As a child she loved stories, and after reading her first romance novel at age fifteen, her dreams of writing became singularly focused on the love story. She is currently living in Ontario with her husband, their young daughters and with their cat, who is constantly trying to interrupt the writing process.
To celebrate the release of Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets I will be giving away a moon pendant with chakra gemstones. To enter follow the Rafflecopter link. A winner will be drawn on March 18th 2022.
The necklace was handmade by author Sean Kerr of KerrCards.
Excerpt from Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets…
Ian raced off as fast as he could, but she was faster. Of course, she was faster; she was a fucking vampire.
When she blocked off his retreat, he turned and started in another direction. Her laughter followed him. Like a cat with a mouse, she toyed with him. Mocking him, taunting him, and foiling each escape. He was under no false assumptions. She was playing with him.
“Little human, come with me,” she whispered. “I’d love to take you home for dinner.”
This time, when she spoke, no haze encircled him, just fear and dread. Her laugh was cut short when a wolf howled in the distance. Seeming on alert, her posture changed, and she lunged for him, all her teasing gone. He braced himself for her attack, sheltering his face as best he could, but her weight never hit him.
Mid-jump, something tackled her to the ground.
A beast, something definitely from a horror flick, rose up over her. It stood at least seven feet tall on its hind legs. Brown fur covered most of its body. It had a wide chest and wolf-like features but walked on two feet. Saliva fell from its mouth, dangling from its teeth like some rabid dog. Its attention turned to him but flickered back to the woman when she attacked it, kicking at its legs before launching nails-first toward the creature’s throat.
Movement behind him caused Ian to turn. More wolf-like creatures were barreling toward them, snapping tree limbs and leaving claw marks in the earth.
Abandoning the skirmish, Ian ran once more.
At one point, he’d been in fine shape, his body toned, his cardio excellent, but in the last year, he’d let physical exercise lapse, and now he felt the repercussions. His lungs burned, his legs ached. He wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace for long. He needed to find help or shelter. Somewhere to hide.
He didn’t bother to look back when he heard something, or more correctly, somethings, from the sound of it, in pursuit of him. He simply pushed on. Nightmare or not, it was his only chance. Praying he’d wake up, he tried running in a zig-zag pattern, but something threw him to the ground, and a second later, pain sliced across his back. Harsh, unforgiving, and deep, claws sunk into his skin.
He screamed in anguish, tears rushing to his eyes. Not a dream. So not a dream.
He was done for. This was the end.
Unexpectedly, the weight above him was removed. Ian pushed up a bit and watched as the vampire woman from before fought against the brown wolf creature.
Pushing to his knees, Ian felt blood dripping down his back. His shirt hung off his body, shredded by the wolf-man’s claws.
He staggered a bit, trying to get to his feet. That’s when he felt hot breath against his cheek. Twisting his head, he came face to face with another wolf-man. This one seemed bigger, its eyes black as night, as it stared at him, spittle hanging from its jowls.
Ian swallowed.
The creature opened its mouth and released a horrific roar.
Spit hit Ian’s face. The power behind that fierce sound moved Ian’s entire body, pushing him backward, like a fat pig blown from its straw house by the big bad wolf.
The creature stalked toward him, and once more, Ian’s legs propelled him forward. A few hundred yards, and he dove behind a pile of brush. He cowered there, knowing it was only a matter of time before they nabbed him.
With one hand, he reached back to assess the damage. The wound was deep. Three, maybe even four slashes across his skin. He’d need stitches or staples, and if he didn’t get help soon, likely a blood transfusion.
A low growl drew his attention. He peeked around the pile of twigs and leaves and spotted the two wolves pacing along what seemed to be an invisible line on the ground. Standing against a tree trunk further back was a woman.
“Why aren’t they attacking?” He wondered out loud as he used his sleeve to wipe sweat from his brow.
“Because they aren’t allowed to hunt on my territory.”
Ian’s gaze swung to the newest voice. This new being was just as shocking as the rest, with a purple and black dress that draped from her body, cut high in the front, revealing shapely thighs covered in torn stockings. Brown hair hung in ringlets around her shoulders, tumbling out from beneath a wide-brimmed pointed black hat. One hand was propped on her hip, and the other was wrapped around a corn broom handle. A heavy metal talisman hung around her neck. The green hue of her skin made her look as though she’d walked off the pages of a comic book and left absolutely zero question as to what she was.
A witch. Now there’s was a witch.
The vampire had been breathtaking, in a drugging sort of way, but this woman was stunning. Her beauty was raw and real. Or maybe that was just his loopy brain trying to make sense of this crazy world he’d stumbled into.
“Your territory?”
“Yes.” Her gaze dropped to him, and her mouth turned upward in a kind smile. “This is my land, and you are safe here.”
“You can’t keep him there forever, Quinn,” a deep voice spoke from behind the pile of forest rubble.
Ian took another look around the brush. Two men, both naked, one with raven hair and the other with sandy brown, paced that invisible line. “He won’t be leaving tonight, Draven. Go home.”
A snarl came from the brown-haired man. “I’ve tasted his blood, his flesh. Give him to me.”
The vampire, presently fixing her wild hair, sighed. “I’m going to find a new quarry. Enjoy your mortal, Quinn. You know where to find me if you want rid of him.”
Ian watched the exchange with interest. In fact, he was quite invested, as it seemed his life was being negotiated.
Faster than he could see, the vampire disappeared between the trees, but the men remained.
“I want him, Quinn. Give him back.”
“You’re wasting your breath, Draven. Leave now, or I will turn away all business that comes from your pack.”
Draven, the man who had taken a pound of flesh from Ian’s back, growled. “This isn’t over.” Then as Ian watched, he transformed back into a wolf creature and fled, leaving the raven-haired man behind.
He exhaled rather loudly. “I hope you aren’t making a mistake, Quinn.”
Ian glanced to the witch, whose eyes narrowed. “Think carefully about what side you’re on, Alec, and about what your conscience can live with.”
“The pack comes first. Always.”
“And you don’t ever let me forget it,” the witch—Quinn—said.
The raven-haired man looked as though he wanted to say more, but he merely shook his head, turned, and shifted into wolf form before following in the direction Draven had taken.
Blinking, Ian tried to make sense of any part of what had happened. One minute he was fighting with Priscilla, and now he was face-to-face with a witch.
He glanced up at her, wondering if he should start running again, but when he tried to move, his body gave up, collapsing in pain.
The broom dropped to the ground as Quinn came closer, tsking softly. “And just what sort of mess have you gotten yourself into?”
So happy to be back on Delilah’s blog. Today, I wanted to talk a little bit about my writing process. It’s what I have started following ever since writing Matched (book 2 of my Navy SEALs of Little Creek series). Hopefully, you might fight something useful or interesting that you may want to try with your own writing. (Or, for you readers out there, this gives you a view into how this author approaches her craft.) At the very end, there is even a bonus excerpt from Matched.
My writing process usually begins with me developing my premise. I try to figure out what will make it unique, what do I believe about some of the topics that occur in the story, and the biggest part of the chart—the one that is up at the top—is my why. Why is this book important to me, and why do I want to write this particular story?
From there, I move on to developing my characters, specifically focusing on their backstories, goals, motivations, and conflicts. Then comes the fun part…character profiles. I love looking at their quirks and how they dress and what they look like. Enter Pinterest!! I’ll admit some days I feel like going shopping after spending time “researching” the clothes my characters might wear.
Next comes working out my beats followed by creating my chapter-by-chapter outline. And because I am a super plotter, I have ended up with outlines that have been fifteen to twenty pages long. Luckily, this has come in handy once I learned how to fast draft. I find the hardest part of the process just getting that first draft out.
Editing comes next. Believe it or not, I actually love this step. There’s nothing like working on a story and making it better. Some of my favorite parts of editing come from ideas that are created with my critique partners. After a couple of rounds of editing I’ll send my book off to beta readers. This is a great time for me to disconnect from the story. Usually during this time, I try to take some classes and listen to podcasts on craft. I usually wait until I get feedback from all my beta readers before diving in. This way I can decipher issues that everyone had versus comments that might be more subjective. And even if they are subjective, they might spark an idea or a different path or even a new chapter to include.
Truthfully, I don’t think the need to edit ever stops. Even after a book is published, I’ve found areas I want to fix or things I should’ve included. But there comes a time when we must send our book into the world and apply things we wished we could fix to the next manuscript.
Everyone’s writing style and process is different. There is no right or wrong way, no way that makes it any easier. My best piece of advice would be to do what works for you but take time to understand your why. It will keep you going when you hit a point where you are struggling or are even contemplating giving up.
Matched
An excerpt from Matched…
To my credit—for which, I should get big kudos—I don’t point out that history and her birth prove her mother knows her way around a boner. Instead, I walk closer and reach around her for an apple sitting on the counter in a powder-blue fruit bowl that matches the wall color, the coffee maker and a stand mixer I can’t wait to show her I know how to use. Chicks love guys who can cook. It’s helped me score on more than one occasion. But while I’m ready to score with my new wife whenever she says the word, a part of me is just as eager to prove to her I’m good for more than terrible pick-up lines.
She gives a little gasp as my fingers brush against hers, and I shiver. Yeah, no. Getting to know my wife in the biblical sense definitely edges out proving my usefulness on the scale of things I’d like to accomplish today.
I could cover up. Could even take a piss and get rid of the problem, but this is more fun than I’ve had in a couple of days. More like months. And I’m not itching to hurry it away. “So, is this breakfast you’ve baked for me?”
Her eyes go dark, what could be classified as deadly, and she smiles slow, devious, a smirk of proportions so epic, I’ve never seen another like it. “Cold day in hell, mi esposo. And before you even think to open that stupid mouth of yours once more, for the indefinite future, your situations are your problem.” She wax-on/wax-offs her hands in front of her. “This is off-limits until further notice.”
Paris Wynters is a multi-racial author who writes steamy and sweet love East Coast stories that celebrate our diverse world. She is the author of Hearts Unleashed, The Navy SEALs of Little Creek series, Love On The Winter Steppes, and Called into Action. When she’s not dreaming up stories, she can be found assisting with disasters and helping to find missing people as a Search and Rescue K-9 handler. Paris resides on Long Island in New York along with her family and is also a graduate of Loyola University Chicago.
