I have something I need to admit. *looks around then leans in* I’m a people watcher. There, I said it again. I’m talking about this because I had a conversation the other day that somehow lead to my being a people watcher. Yep I’m a people watcher. In my conversation I explained what I meant and why. Simply, it’s this—sitting back and observing others as they interact, or anyway I can get it, makes my mind race with ideas. I like to observe them and build stories about them. Imagining all sorts of scenarios about what story will fit them. I get a lot of my ideas from my people watching. There is something that can spark an idea which will expand into so much more. 🙂

Recently, this happened to me as I was out doing errands. I was walking and, in front of me, I saw this couple. As I shopped, they were just ahead of me so I was in a great place to people watch. The more I saw them the more my ideas flowed. It ranged from a newly dating couple to a established one. Then something happened to fuel my thoughts. Suddenly, they stopped and their body language went from close to distant then angry. That’s another great tool of the imagination—reading body language. But that’s another conversation for another day. Curious about what was happening before me, I stopped. The couple was too far away for me to hear but seeing the way they were I was able to figure out they were having a fight. The man stormed off leaving the lady, and she looked sad. It was an intense moment. I felt bad for her and the man she had been with. No, I didn’t know what they had fought about, but the emotions from their interaction were there to see.

As I walked away, I was wondering and my mind was filling in what could have happened. I’m a people watcher.

Veils Rising

Veils Rising – Man with secrets.
A Zuri Maji on hunt for answers. Will they survive?
Universal Link for Amazon, Nook, iBooks and Kobo, etc: http://bit.ly/veilsrising

About the Author

Taige Crenshaw has been enthralled with the written word from time she picked up her first book. It wasn’t long before she started to make up her own tales of romance.

With interracial and multicultural novels set in today, in alternate dimensions, or in the future, she writes with adventure, fun sassy heroine’s, and sexy hero’s.

Always hard at work creating new and exciting places, Taige can be found curled up with a hot novel with exciting characters when she is not creating her own. Join her in the fun, frolic, interesting people and far reaches of the world in her novels.

You can find out more about Taige…
website: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com
blog: http://www.taigecrenshaw.com/blog
facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TaigeCrenshawAuthor
facebook group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/WordSlingerCafe
Or twitter: @ https://twitter.com/TaigeCrenshaw

NEWSLETTER! Want to get the latest information and from Taige’s writing projects, giveaways, contests, reveals and more? Click on http://bit.ly/taigenews and signup today.

UPDATE: The winner is…Nancy Gilliland!
*~*~*

I’m releasing a story I wrote a while ago that was part of a series, but I’ve revised it to stand on its own. It’s one I loved writing, because I let my imagination run wild inside the stories I read when I was a child and completely in love with mythology. This is mostly based on Greek mythology and, of course, the reader gets to meet the dark and dangerous God of the Underworld, Hades. Well, you get to see quite a bit of him, actually. 🙂

Be sure to enter to win the contest, and read the very naughty excerpt I’ve included below…

Contest

Comment for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card! 

Is there a particular country’s/region’s mythology you love best?

Gargoyle’s Embrace

Lust trapped them in darkness…only love can free them…

Petra Pedersen has lived as a recluse all her life thanks to a shameful power inherited from the father she will never know. The power to incite lust in men and women with just a touch.

Exploring the garden of the mansion she’s just inherited, she comes across a fascinating stone gargoyle whose raw, passionate expression draws her to caress its powerful body. Her imagination follows her fluttering fingers. As she closes her eyes and gives herself up to the arousal, something shifts beneath her touch.

Long ago, failure to stop a demon battle trapped Octavius in a prison of stone. Freed by the woman’s incendiary touch, he doesn’t hesitate to unleash his pent-up rage and desire in a blistering fury. Yet once the haze of lust clears, he discovers he isn’t really free after all.

They are both trapped in another realm where he must choose between his last chance for redemption or returning Petra home…

Warning: Sex with inanimate objects, lusty m/m/f ménages with gods… It’s all good when the reward is freedom.

Pre-order your copy here!

It will be free to KU subscribers for a limited time!

Read an excerpt…

At the end of the path, she exited the dense, tall foliage into a clearing. A gazebo, its lattices intact but in need of paint, stood against the darkening forest. To her left a stone bench sat next to a large statue. The fading sunlight limned the statue and lent its surface a pearlescent sheen. The figure of a winged gargoyle, its massive body upright, its arms and wings outstretched as though ready to take flight was so exact, so detailed, she couldn’t help but stare. “Oh, my.”

She crept closer. Oddly, the large statue wasn’t supported by a sturdy base. Instead, the feet of the mythical creature were mired in dirt and grass. Vines crept up the thickly hewn calves and thighs, curling around and around. Leaves like ivy and blooms of honeysuckle entangled to clothe his naked body, even twining around the masculine appendage rising between his thighs.

She wondered how such a large statue remained supported by only the two feet planted in the dirt and thought the artist must have been truly gifted to achieve the balance. Entranced, she could only stare in awe at the massive object.

Shadows accentuated the outline of the long muscles cloaking his legs; light sparkled on the bulging, straining curves; veins tracked along arms and thick, leathery-looking wings.

While she stared, she realized there was nothing stopping her from touching it with the bare pads of her fingertips. She’d touched intimately only one masculine body in her life and had learned to her dismay the dangers. But this figure carved in stone couldn’t respond to her curse, and she could indulge her curiosity about his masculine form.

Timidly, she touched his knee, opening her palm over the cap. Surprised, she pulled back her hand. The stone wasn’t cool to the touch. Perhaps it had soaked up the warmth from the sunlight. The surface was so smooth it had felt real, almost pulsating.

The allure of the forbidden was too great to resist, and she pressed her hand against his thigh, trailing it upwards, admiring the sleek, hard muscle. But vines impeded her exploration.

She reached up and took the uppermost strands and peeled them away, one by one, exposing his body to the fading light, unwinding them as she moved around him. “Almost like undressing a man,” she mused whimsically.

When the vines lay in long tendrils on the ground, she stepped between his bent thighs and stared into his face. Here wasn’t the bug-eyed gargoyle she’d expected, but rather he wore a warrior’s fierce grimace, frightening in its intensity.

She smoothed her fingertips over his heavy brow, caressed the sharp blades of his cheekbones and blunt nose, and traced the curve of his thinned upper lip and the surprising fullness of the lower.

“How would such a man’s lips feel beneath mine?” she whispered.

She glanced over her shoulder at the house that seemed farther away than it had when she’d first entered the garden but found no curious glance trained her way through the windows.

She shook her head, her mouth curving slightly. “If Mr. Spalding sees anything, I will tell them it must have been someone else.”

Turning back, she gripped the tops of the figure’s broad shoulders, stood on her toes, and grazed his mouth with hers. The texture of the warm stone was soft, deceptively malleable, but perhaps it was only the give of her own lips as she brushed over his again.

She dropped down, her glance following the flow of her hands as she cupped and molded the densely muscled chest, swept over the hard whorls of hair, marveling over the detail. The abdomen, a study of tautly ribbed slabs, caused her breaths to deepen and her imagination to imbue them with life that rippled gently beneath her caress.

Downward she trailed her hand, halting just above the whorls framing the phallus, and again, she noted the veins tracing along the long shaft, the finely carved cap, so smoothly sanded there wasn’t a single rough edge or bump to mar the surface. Her hand smoothed up, then down, then dropped away. She’d gone too far.

The engorged state of the statue tempted her beyond common sense. Beyond her own natural modesty. Moisture dampened her sex. Her heart fluttered. Her breaths betrayed a ragged texture.

Waning sunlight glimmered through the trees, flashing bright orange, then faded. Darkness settled around the garden, and still there were no lights beaming from the house.

No one could see her in this dark, lonely garden. No one would be disgusted or repulsed by the impulse that burned inside her.

She’d lived alone so long, repressed desires that were natural for a woman, due to the curse that kept her separate from others.

Her touch couldn’t arouse this beast-man, couldn’t incite him to rape. For once, she could pretend she was any other girl, learning the wonder of completion with something other than her own fingers. She could pretend she held a lover inside her embrace, one who wouldn’t be so consumed with lust that her pleasure was forgotten. She could take what she desired to serve her own needs.

Petra stepped backwards and dropped her gaze from his stony, unseeing glance, nevertheless embarrassed by what she contemplated. Just once, she’d heed the urge. Just once, she’d dare something indescribably erotic. Tomorrow, she’d be surrounded by the workers the executor had hired to complete refurbishing the house, and again, she’d hide her true nature within gloves.

She opened her blouse, her fingers gliding down the row of buttons. Her bra opened with a deft twist, and she dropped both items onto the ground beside her. She stepped from her slide-on mules, unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them down her hips.

When she was naked, she succumbed to the urge to cover her breasts as she approached the statue. At the last moment, she reached behind her head and removed the clasp, letting her hair fall like warm silk between her shoulder blades.

The bend of his upper thighs made a convenient perch, and she stepped onto one thigh then slid her left leg around his waist. Holding his shoulders again, she squatted over his cock, finding the nudge of the warmed marble, and circled her pussy over the blunt tip.

The feeling was indescribable. And almost enough to send her over the edge. She did it again, moaning when liquid seeped from inside her to anoint the rigid tip. Growing more breathless, she knew she must slow down, must breathe, must savor this moment because she didn’t know if she’d ever find the courage to try this again.

Wrapping her hands around his thick neck, she leaned toward him, kissing his open lips, sucking on the lower, pretending he was alive and responsive to her overtures. And she sank, slowly, her slick folds consuming his cock, inch by inch, her moisture and warmth heating up the thick phallic stone she rode as she began to move on him.

Her heartbeats quickened, growing louder. “Can you hear them?” she whispered. “Can you hear my heartbeats? How they tremble for you, my gargoyle?”

Petra rose and fell, her body melting inside and out, growing slick with desire and sweat. Her breasts rubbed against his stone chest, chafing softly, her nipples blooming. Her belly undulated, rocking slightly forward and back as she thrust downward, her inner walls stretching to surround him.

He filled her, the notches of his hips and the strength of his shaft supported her as her limbs weakened the closer to release she climbed.

Her eyelids fluttered downward, and her mouth gaped open as fine ripples began to climb along her inner walls, vibrating around his solid cock. And then her mind flew, imagining a pulsing tension emanating from the cock lodged so deeply inside her, imagining that the stone gave slightly as she sank then rocked, shallowly stroking inside her.

It wasn’t until something soft caressed her shoulders and back that she opened her eyes.

The expression of her stone gargoyle was no longer gray and frozen, but dark and taut; his dark eyes stared back at her. The wings were no longer spread, but folded forward, surrounding her in heat and trapping her against his body as he brought her to the ground.

But it was too late to scream because her orgasm erupted, bowing her back, shoving her pelvis hard against her demon lover’s as the rhythmic pulsing swept over her body, causing her to tremble and moan.

With the corners of his lips curving upward, Petra’s heart thudded against her chest. Indeed, her curse was so vile she’d incited lust and awoken a stone god.

UPDATE: The first 7 commenters are all winners!

*~*~*

Sometimes, an erotic romance author has to write a story with a six-person ménage. It’s a rule. I swear. Sometimes, the author doesn’t even know it’s going to happen, and then…boom! It’s there on the page, and there’s just no way she can cut those very naughty words.

Well, love it or not, this is my six-person ménage. And I love Tetrick and Mora, They’re both strong personalities, although she doesn’t realize it until she meets him. And oddly, it’s a sweet story. Go figure.

If you comment below, you might be one of three people who will win a free download of this story. I know you want it, if for no other reason than to see how it works. Keeping track of all those limbs and, um, appendages takes some skillz, y’all. 🙂

Warlord’s Destiny

Mora has no illusions she’s anything other than the sacrificial lamb to ensure peace between her peace-loving planet and the warlike world that demands a royal union with one of their own. However, when she meets the rugged warlord who will be her husband, Mora decides in that moment to win his heart—she’ll settle for nothing less.

When Lord Tetrik suspects his wife harbors tender feelings, he wonders if he can be the husband she desires. After all, love for a woman is a frivolous thing—and not a warlord’s destiny.

Warning: Readers should beware. Wedding customs on other planets do not resemble tender newlywed customs on Earth! Expect a smidge of voyeurism and a 6-person ménage. And yes, Kronaki warlord’s bed is built large enough for just such an event!

From the opening…

So, that’s what Kronaki warriors look like!

Every story ever whispered about the fearsome warriors came rushing back to set Mora’s body trembling. How they fought like ravaging beasts, cutting bloody swaths through Graktilian mercenaries during the war. How they lived in rough, stone fortresses made of blocks carved from their frozen mountains. How they fostered their children to rival clans so they would be raised without gentleness.

How they fucked with such fury their women’s screams echoed throughout their valleys.

Mora felt a tremor rumble beneath the polished, marble floor of the great hall, so explosive was the swell of conversation that arose at the warriors’ arrival.

They were seven, dressed in furs and leather, armed with bows slung across their shoulders and scabbards at their sides.

She couldn’t drag her gaze from the man at the head of their formation, striding toward her—her husband in name, if not yet by deed. Although she had never seen him before this day, she knew it must be him, for he looked the fiercest, the strongest—only one such as he would be chosen to rule from amongst their ranks.

He was from a race of barbarians, seemingly as proud of their reputation for brutal warfare as their orgiastic sexuality. The latter, Mora could well believe for the man stalking her now looked every inch a sensual marauder. Read the rest of this entry »

According to the calendar it is officially spring. The bitter winds have subsided and the snow has begun to melt. Even if  winter is still lingering in my neck of the woods, the hope for warmer days, for daffodils and crocuses is there.

I’m like a bear—once winter comes I want to hibernate. And like the bear, I wake in the spring, look outside my home, and wonder what’s happening in the world. The longer days make me want to go outside and do more instead of scurrying from place to place as fast as I can. Being able to leave the boots, scarf, heavy coat, ear muffs, and gloves behind is a sign that the worst of the winter is behind me. I doubt I’ll get quite to that stage for another month or more, but I’ll be able to start shedding some layers as the days progress.

Opening the window on a warm day and allowing the breeze to freshen the air, not having to turn the lights on until much later in the day, watching the birds come back. These are the things I love most about spring.

It won’t be long until the lawn chairs come out and I can sit out on the patio at night and watch the world go by. I live in an apartment, so I miss that during the winter months.

First we have to get through the dirty stage of spring, where the snow melts to reveal all that’s been buried over the past few months. But clean up will begin, the sun will shine, and the warm days will be welcome.

In the meantime, when the days are still chilly, I’ll curl up with a good book. If you’re looking for something to read, you might check out my Blood of the Drakon series.

Drakon’s Past

Blood of the Drakon, Book 4

Constance Owens has a gift for finding unique items in the most unlikely places, which comes in handy since she buys and sells artifacts and antiques for a living. When she purchases a set of four dragon statues, she has no idea just how unique they are, or that finding them will thrust her into a world of secret societies, men who think nothing of kidnapping and murder to get what they want, and dragon shifters.

Nic hasn’t survived for four thousand years by letting his guard down, and he doesn’t trust anyone except his drakon brothers. The loneliness haunting him has been getting worse since all his brothers have found their mates. And when he finds the woman his drakon recognizes instantly as his fated mate, he doubts he’ll ever have what his brothers have, because it seems she’s involved with the secret society of hunters who have been hunting and capturing his kind for hundreds of years.

Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0786R7LSM/
Entangled: https://entangledpublishing.com/drakon-s-past.html
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/drakons-past-nj-walters/1127620047?ean=9781640634695
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/drakons-past/id1324091386
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/drakon-s-past

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 Group: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/awakeningdesires/info
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

Bewitching Myself: Everything Old is Wonderful Again

Nearly a decade ago, I sat next to the swimming pool attached to my fitness gym in the faint shade offered by the umbrella on the table. My then-eight year old child splashed in the water, slid down the water slide, and called to me repeatedly to “Mom, watch!” It was next to this pool that I wrote the first of a trilogy, and that book would later be sold and published and as has a way of things—the rights reverted to me last year.

Reworking the Past

I debated what I wanted to do with the trilogy, it’s different from my current work and yet, it’s an old, familiar friend. I debated, then I went for it. It was so weird to read through the manuscript, to see where my writing faltered and the tips and tricks I used then versus now.

Weirder still…technology has changed so much in less than a decade, everything needed updating. Fortunately, my editor and I went line by line, we tweaked the technology, the pop culture, and the writing. When we were done, we had Hers to Bewitch and I gotta admit, it’s been one of my favorite pieces to work on.

Growing, Changing, Moving Forward

I have a 300-page manuscript written when I was 16. I have short stories and novels I wrote in my 20s. This book—this book I wrote in my 30s, and now in my 40s, I’ve polished it. Writing, like wine, gets better as we age. I believe it! Do you ever look back at what you’ve done before and realize where you went wrong and how you can do it better today? Take the challenge and may you discover the magic of you!

Hers to Bewitch

Available now!
All Buy Links: https://books2read.com/HerstoBewitch

A woman on the edge.

Cassandra Belle is about to break the story of the century, but one well-placed bomb devastates her plans. She’s on the run, in a fight for her life and her heart. Caught between wild allure and primal need, Cassie struggles to reclaim her life even as she’s torn by the desire to submit to the two handsome strangers invading her life.

Enemies on a mission.

The sexy Fae lord Helcyon wants to protect her, but his pleasure leaves her quaking at the loss of control. The dangerous Wizard, Jacob wants to save her, but his war with the Fae frightens her, even as he captivates her with passion.

With her enemies closing in, Jacob and Helcyon must challenge everything they’ve ever known to work together or risk losing her.

*Previously released as Cassandra’s Dilemma, Hers to Bewitch has undergone significant edits and a new cover to be re-released.

Check out more Heather Long:
Website: https://www.heatherlong.net
Facebook Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/HeathersPack/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor
Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/HVLong

This was new for me as a writer. The first thing I realized as Book One developed was that I needed a map. I started out with a couple of countries in the story, but that quickly grew, and the map kept me straight on where I was—literally.

Now, I publish it in the front of each book, because readers say it has been very helpful. My daughter has drawn it for me, and it grows, depending on where I get in the next book.

The next thing I worked on was a list of names. Many people have noted the names in my books are unique, in that they often reflect the character’s occupation. That has been fun, but it’s still hard to keep track of all these people in a whole new world.

The third thing is a compendium of new words. Again, I began to develop a list, just to keep the words and definitions straight to ensure I use them the same way each time. All of this information is in my Last War bible. Each new book adds characters, towns and villages, devolving use of languages. It’s been a lot of fun.

Prince of Jiran

A Penrhy prince caught between duty and desire. Can he win the impending battle?

Shandro, Prince of the Penrhy tribe of Jiran, disagrees with his father, Sovereign Pollack, on nearly every issue that arises between them. But his goal is to uphold the family values in spite of Pollack’s conniving moves as he deals with the hotbed of competing nations surrounding them.

Then Shandro is sent on a mission across the mountains into Khandarken to bring back Princess Chinata, a bride for Emperor Carlton’s Advisor. In exchange, Jiran and the Penrhy tribe are given a peace agreement, protection against invasion by the Emperor’s troops. This seems a good trade, as Carlton is hovering on their borders with his need for more land. However, not far into the journey, it becomes apparent someone is not adhering to the terms of the peace accord.

Near the tribal border, Shandro and his troops have come under direct attack from unknown forces. He digs deeper into Chinata’s background to find strong ties to the New Empire. Is it too dangerous to bring Princess Chinata into Jiran? Or as her escort, does Shandro become her defender against the Emperor’s troops?

Get your copy here!

When I wrote the first book of The Last War series, I expected there would be two or three books. Here we are at Book Five, and Six is just hovering at the back of my brain! It has been a lot of fun to write this fifth book. It dives into the culture of Jiran, a loose collection of tribal families that travel the plains across the mountains to the west of Khandarken. These people don’t have good relations with the other countries around them. They stayed out of the Last War, keeping to the sidelines and refusing to take part in the struggle between Emperor Aqatain and the rebel forces that finally defeated him. Thus, the Prince of Jiran is stuck with trying to mend relations at a time he is suffering an assault of his own and needs support. And of course Princess Chinata has caught his eye, and that complicates an already complicated situation!

Read an excerpt!

It had begun to snow again and the flakes were coming thicker, a steady silent fall that muffled sound and blinded them as they rode. The air was icy against China’s skin. Soon the wind picked up and it looked like another blizzard setting in. She watched Prince Shandro ride ahead to consult with his commander, then rein in and wait for Haggskyll and Boz to catch up. She studied him as he talked with the men, first gesturing toward the women and then ahead to the trail leading through the trees.

He was a handsome man in a very physical way with his broad muscled shoulders, lean frame and golden-brown skin. The attraction to him only got stronger as the days passed. What would she do when they arrived at their destination? How to concentrate on being bride of the ancient Judson Lanser when this virile young man had guarded her through the mountains, and looked at her with such focused attention her breath caught in her throat?

There was a muffled shout up ahead, then a sharp bang. The men halted immediately, all attention focused on the trail before them. More loud roars, and the guards were galvanized into action.

Everyone rushed to pull weapons from their harnesses or behind their saddles, and crowd in around the women as others galloped forward into the blinding snow. Shandro moved quickly, riding in her direction and waving at his men.

“Go back,” he yelled. “We don’t know what’s ahead.”

The men were milling in a circle now, trying to herd the women back the way they’d come. Horses neighed and reared in the confusion. China grabbed her reins in one hand and the saddle horn in the other as her mount sidestepped swiftly and plunged into the mount beside her.

Suddenly new riders appeared on both sides of the churning group. They materialized out of the trees, riding low in the saddle, weapons in hand.

Mass confusion ensued. One of the guards grabbed her bridle, dragging China’s horse around to go back down the trail the way they’d come, and she clung desperately to the horn as she swayed in the saddle. There were more sharp sounds, what must be the firing of weapons although it seemed muffled by the falling snow, and in the milling of bodies she couldn’t see where they were.

Then something hit her, knocking her sideways in the saddle. She reached for the horn but her hand didn’t work. The pain arrived in an overwhelming wave and she cried out low, unheard in the rush around her. Looking down, she saw blood bloom on her cloak and ripple in a slow wave down her arm.

She was falling and someone was bellowing in surprise or rage, a wild cry that followed her down.

About the Author

Sylvie Grayson loves to write about suspense, romance and murder and has published contemporary romantic suspense novels, all about strong women who meet with dangerous odds, stories of tension and attraction. She has also written The Last War series, a sci fi/fantasy adventure, the fifth book, Prince of Jiran, newly released.

She has lived most of her life in British Columbia, Canada, in spots ranging from Vancouver Island on the west coast to the North Peace River country and the Kootenays in the beautiful interior. She lived for a year in Japan. She has been an English language instructor, a nightclub manager, an auto shop bookkeeper and a lawyer. She lives in southern British Columbia with her husband on a small piece of land near the Pacific Ocean.

Sylvie loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at sylviegraysonauthor@gmail.com, on her website at www.sylviegrayson.com or on Facebook.

It’s cold outside. Just the mere thought of going through the door makes me shiver. I live in Canada where winters are long, winds howl, and snow is plentiful. So here are the best ways I know how to survive winter.

1. Blankets. I’m bundled up in one practically all day long. Because I sit at a desk most of the day, my legs get cold. So I wrap them up. Actually, I wrap the blanket around me and wear it like a long skirt, but don’t tell anyone.
2. Flannel. You must have flannel or jersey cotton sheets for the bed. Regular cotton or satin are way too cold. At night I snuggle under my cozy sheets along with one quilt, two blankets, and three comforters. I also have an oversize men’s flannel shirt I wear over my turtleneck sweater during the day. Did I mention that I hate the cold?
3. Hot Beverage. Tea, coffee, or hot chocolate. It’s all good, especially when it’s been spiked with alcohol. Or maybe just have the alcohol.
4. Movies and TV shows. This is a great time to binge watch your favorite shows or maybe try something new. The nights are long and if you’re snuggled up on the couch at home you don’t have to go out in the cold.
5. And my favorite, of course, is books. Winter is the perfect time to curl up in a cozy chair with your favorite hot beverage and a blanket over you while you read. And old favorite or a new book…it’s all good.

And if you’re looking for something to warm you up during these cold days and nights, you might try my drakons. I mean what’s hotter than a practically immortal hunk who can spew fire when he’s pissed off.

Drakon’s Past

Blood of the Drakon, Book 4

Constance Owens has a gift for finding unique items in the most unlikely places, which comes in handy since she buys and sells artifacts and antiques for a living. When she purchases a set of four dragon statues, she has no idea just how unique they are, or that finding them will thrust her into a world of secret societies, men who think nothing of kidnapping and murder to get what they want, and dragon shifters.

Nic hasn’t survived for four thousand years by letting his guard down, and he doesn’t trust anyone except his drakon brothers. The loneliness haunting him has been getting worse since all his brothers have found their mates. And when he finds the woman his drakon recognizes instantly as his fated mate, he doubts he’ll ever have what his brothers have, because it seems she’s involved with the secret society of hunters who have been hunting and capturing his kind for hundreds of years.

Buy Links:

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0786R7LSM/
Entangled: https://entangledpublishing.com/drakon-s-past.html
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/drakons-past-nj-walters/1127620047?ean=9781640634695
iBooks: https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/drakons-past/id1324091386
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/drakon-s-past

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 Group: https://groups.yahoo.com/neo/groups/awakeningdesires/info
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
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