OMGah!—yes, I’m channeling Jessica Simpson—I have Internet! And it’s fast! It’s only because EVERYONE’s downstairs dancing with the Cavemen. Yeah, it’s actually Friday night right now, but since I had connection, for once, I’m not wasting it.

I’m having a wonderful time. My daughter’s downstairs, pretty, and you know the guys are enjoying that—I don’t expect to see her until much later. My sister’s probably right up there on the dance floor with her, grinding on a Caveman. However, I shall remain virtuous. I have work to do. 🙁 Copyedits are due for Five Ways to Sunday.

I’m here with another excerpt, trying to whet your appetite for the book coming October 4th. One click on the cover will take you to Amazon.com where you can purchase your copy while it’s still being offered at a reduced price. And yes, it’s print and full length, and the sexiest thing you’re gonna read this Fall.

It was a long-standing joke among Ulfhednar warriors that when they perished on a battlefield, they would tell the Valkyries who came to deliver them to Odin’s hall that they’d prefer the fiery underworld of Muspellheim. For Icelanders had lived so long on their frozen world that searing heat seemed a more fitting paradise.

However, Eirik Ulfhednar knew the truth. The realm of fire wasn’t a mythical land. Due to one fateful error, he’d landed there, and the sultry heat of this godless place wasn’t anything to be envied.

Despite the fans circling high above the garishly appointed salon, the temperature of the room where he stood was sweltering, the air stifling and thick in his lungs. Sweat gathered on his forehead and glazed his bare chest.

For the first time, he was thankful for the inadequate and embarrassing clothing he’d been given. The linen garment draping his hips allowed air to cool his nether regions.

However, the fabric was so thin he might as well have stood naked before those gathered to examine the new arrivals—or “offerings,” as the whore-mistress called them. A term that somehow made him and the men standing in a straight rank behind him seem less human, more like a feast spread out on a banquet table to be devoured. A feast of twenty rugged Icelanders—all with their long hair slicked back in queues behind their heads, their muscular bodies oiled and perfumed like women, and wearing the same transparent swath of fabric about their hips and silver cuffs around their wrists that proclaimed them the lowest order of slaves—sex-thralls.

Every trace of their proud heritage had been erased except for their large, rugged builds—the very qualities that had precipitated their capture and enslavement.

“I count only two guards inside this room,” Hakon murmured beside him, lifting his chin to point toward the tall wooden doors at the entrance of to the salon.

Called Hakon the Bold on their former world, Eirik’s new comrade was just another of the captives being paraded to satisfy the lusty appetites of the Heliopolite elite. All female, thank the stars.

Eirik gave an equally subtle nod toward the windows overlooking the landscaped grounds. Lush green grass, oases of tall flowers and leafy trees, couldn’t hide the armed guards patrolling openly around the facility’s perimeter. “I’ve counted six soldiers so far. Armed with stunners. We haven’t shields to protect us should we try to make a break. They could take us all.”

Hakon grunted. “But we have hostages. Or are you too squeamish to harm women?”

Eirik gave him a narrowed glare. “I wouldn’t hesitate, not for a second, to do what I must to secure our freedom.”

His companion’s casual shrug belied his sharp scrutiny. “I thought I should ask, given how eagerly your body reacts to the vicious bitch that brought us here.”

Not accustomed to having his motives questioned, Eirik bristled. “If I grow hard in Fatin’s presence,” he bit out, “it’s because I envision all the ways I will make her suffer.”

Hakon chuckled. Suspicion cleared from his face. “Good to know you will not shed a tear over her death.”

However, as furious as Eirik was with the woman they discussed, the thought of standing over her lifeless body gave him a moment’s pause. His chest tightened uncomfortably.
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I’m in Akron, sitting in the business office of the hotel because the promised Wi-Fi connection doesn’t work. I missed blogging yesterday due to travel. By the time we all (sis and daughter) arrived here, I was too tired to care.

Anyway, I’m here at Romanticon, hangin’ with the supermodels, seeing old friends (writers and readers), and enjoying watching my daughter’s reactions to everything around us. She’s heard me talking about conferences for years, but this is the one she’s breaking her cherry on. 🙂

To celebrate the release of my latest “Vikings in Space” story, I’m going to give you juicy excerpts for the next few days. Comment and you’ll be eligible for a fun grab bag of swag from Romanticon! I’ve already been gathering trading cards, pens, bookmarks, and assorted “stuff”. I hope to get some autographed books along the way too!

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn’t want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn’t seen the other prisoners, not after they’d been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he’d shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He’d been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he’d been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they’d slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he’d been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He’d wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn’t know if anyone watched him, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he’d even suffer Fatin’s derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.
Read the rest of this entry »

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

Buy it now and save $4.80—at Amazon!

Read an excerpt…

Eirik tried not to breathe too deeply. The rotten, sour smells of his dark, dank prison already made his skin stink. He didn’t want the awful stench inside his lungs or belly.

He hadn’t seen the other prisoners, not after they’d been herded like cattle through a chute once the hatch had been opened at the side of the ship and his keepers applied their prods to their backsides to move them out in single file.

With only brief impressions of his new home, of searing heat and blinding, harsh sunlight, he’d shielded his arm over his eyes and stumbled down the gangway, through the iron-barred alley that disallowed any thoughts of escape.

He’d been led to this cell, deep inside an enormous stone building. A brief glimpse of an open arena, and then he’d been shoved down two flights of narrow stone steps.

Once they’d slammed the solid door and slid the eye-level window closed, he’d been left alone, no sounds penetrating his prison other than the hum of the light above him, and the sounds his own body made.

His thoughts drowned it all out, screaming inside him. He’d wanted to beat his fists against the door, rail at his captors, but he didn’t know if anyone watched him, and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how close to abject despair he was coming.

Hel, he’d even suffer Fatin’s derision, her cold, calculating touch, just to feel or hear another human being.
Read the rest of this entry »