Thank you for having me today! I’m a huge fan of Delilah’s books, so I’m a bit giddy being here.

Today, I bring you a character interview with Henry, the immortal, talking pet pig in WITCHWOOD (Witch & Stone), a paranormal tale I co-wrote with the wonderful Candace Sams. Henry is a secondary character who plays a major role in DIRE AND DREAD, the WITCHWOOD prequel. But he makes an appearance in WITCHWOOD. This is his take on the main characters of that book.

Angelique Armae: How long have you known Sienna Stone?

Henry: Sienna is the twenty-nine-year-old American-born great-niece of English/American witch—Davinia Stone—who rescued me in 1963. Sienna is a hoot. She’s one of the most powerful witches in both England and the US. But she’s having a bit of a problem with her magick at the moment, much like her Aunt Davinia suffered more than fifty years ago. I’ve been sleeping at the foot of Sienna’s bed since she arrived on Davinia’s doorstep when she was five years old, after her father was murdered.

Angelique Armae: Sienna’s romantic interest is Matthew Witchwood. What can you tell us about the man?

Henry: For starters, I don’t like anyone who poses the threat of taking away my Sienna. But for Sienna’s sake, I have made peace with the fact she might one day end up married to Matthew. I do have to admit, though, it would be a good match as Matthew comes from one of the most prestigious witch families in England. He’s an ex-military guy who underneath his tough surface is a softie with a kind heart. I also like his Gran, Henrietta Witchwood, matriarch of the Witchwood clan of witches.

Angelique Armae: I hear a bout of turmoil struck the Witchwood estate recently.

Henry: Terrible thing, to be honest. Bertram Witchwood, Henrietta’s brother-in-law, gambled away the Witchwood gargoyles that guarded the castle’s front entrance. He lost them in a card game to a powerful two-bit dirty witch, named Ozmodius Fennel. The gargoyles—Dire and Dread—contain remnants of Davinia’s untamed magick. If they fall into the wrong hands, disaster can strike. And that is precisely where we are currently heading.

Angelique Armae: Having been around magick your entire, immortal life, what advice would you tell a witch with wayward powers?

Henry: Always believe in yourself. Your magick is an extension of yourself, and therefore it can be tamed when need be.

Angelique Armae: Do you have any magickal powers, yourself?

Henry: Well, I’m not a hex breather like Davinia. And since I have hooves instead of hands, I can’t shoot streams of stars and magick through my fingers like can my precious Sienna. I also don’t mess up magickal potions and teas like Matthew does. Nor can I magickally run a slew of charities—that’s Henrietta’s strength. But I am an immortal, talking, pet pig. I think that says it all.

WITCHWOOD (Witch & Stone)
(exclusively available in SOULS AND SHADOWS Boxset)

Buy link: https://books2read.com/u/4AJgrJ

About the Author

USA TODAY Bestselling Author Angelique Armae is a native New Yorker who loves all things royal, can trace her Irish roots back to the Scottish Highlands, is half Italian, and is owned by a long-haired Tuxedo feline. She spends most days writing, unless her cat deems otherwise.

Website: https://angeliquearmae.com/
Newsletter: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/c6u8g7

How can a writer cope when her publisher closes? Over a span of fewer than four years, three long-running publishers have folded under me. Fortunately, I found an excellent new home for one batch of horror, fantasy, and paranormal romance novels (plus my nonfiction monograph Different Blood: The Vampire as Alien) with Writers Exchange E-Publishing. They don’t handle erotic romance, though, so what to do with the stories, novellas, and one erotic paranormal romance novel originally released by Ellora’s Cave? That’s where the Kindle self-publishing program came to the rescue, and I found it surprisingly easy to navigate, even for a non-techie person. I’ve sometimes used the Amazon cover creator and sometimes covers designed for me by a friend, with free stock images.

Publisher closure has at least one advantage to offset the negatives: The opportunity to edit older material to correct small errors, update obsolete references (if desired—in some cases, I’ve thought it better to keep a story set in its original time period), and make any other needed adjustments. For instance, I’m revising my erotic paranormal romances to tone down the level of graphic sexuality from erotic to spicy or steamy. Also, I’m deleting words that used to be labeled “unprintable” (in my youth, when dinosaurs roamed the Earth), many of which I didn’t care for anyway, but the publisher assured me readers of erotic romance expected them. Addressing a different type of issue, I realized that the portrayal of a walk-on character in one of my early vampire novels was rather cringe-worthy, and I was thankful for the chance to fix the problem. A scene in another vampire novel contained elements that might have seemed physically implausible, which I tweaked in accordance with research I’ve done since the original writing.

In addition to publishers going out of business, I’ve been hit by online magazines shutting down and anthologies going out of print, venues where I’d expected my works—given the long life of electronic media—to remain available into the indefinite future. So I’ve compiled two collections of my stories from the webzines Sorcerous Signals and Lorelei Signal and the Marion Zimmer Bradley estate’s “Sword and Sorceress” anthologies.

Harvest of Magic:
http://www.tinyurl.com/HarvestofMagic

Perilous Magic:
http://www.tinyurl.com/PerilousMagic

Wanting to present those two volumes as sort of companion books, I used the same Amazon stock cover image for both.

Another thing I’m free to do with stories and novellas now under my control is to combine related or similar works into themed collections. For example, Vampire Heat bundles two novellas in my “Vanishing Breed” vampire series that focus on characters from the novels Dark Changeling and Child of Twilight—although these novellas can easily be read on their own with no knowledge of the novels—along with a third, stand-alone story in the same universe.

http://www.tinyurl.com/VampireHeat

Earlier this year, in a completely unexpected move, the publisher of my first vampire novel, Dark Changeling, and its direct sequel, Child of Twilight (which had taken over the books from their original publisher, Hard Shell Word Factory), announced its closing. After light editing to correct some flaws in those older books, I combined them in a two-novel omnibus called Twilight’s Changelings:

http://www.tinyurl.com/TwilightsChangelings

My one full-length erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, Love Unleashed, was a paranormal novel about a man cursed into the shape of a Saint Bernard, aside from a few hours in human form each night. I toned down the explicitness of the sex scenes a bit but otherwise left the book substantially the same. It was published recently enough that the technology mentioned in the story wasn’t blatantly outdated. I enjoyed being able to include a new cover, because I wasn’t really satisfied with the original one. My husband and I have owned several Saint Bernards, and the dog the artist chose for the EC cover wasn’t a particularly good-looking specimen of the breed. I like the image on the current cover much better. Also, I changed the title. It’s mind-boggling how many books listed on Amazon have the title Love Unleashed! My novel is now called Enchantment Unleashed, which, as far as I could discover, is unique.

http://www.tinyurl.com/EnchantmentUnleashed

My next self-publishing Kindle project will be a themed collection of former Ellora’s Cave novellas, all featuring heroes who are shapeshifters or otherwise a blend of animal and human. Since “Beauty and the Beast” is my favorite fairy tale, and a couple of those stories actually follow the plot pattern of that tale, I plan to title the compilation Beasts and Their Beauties.

Although losing a publisher is often a severe blow, preparing older works for re-release can actually be rather fun.

Please explore love among the monsters at Carter’s Crypt: http://www.margaretlcarter.com

UPDATE: The winners is…Booklady!
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Click on the covers to learn more about these stories!

Have you read the books in my Beaux Rêve Coven series? The covers are gorgeous, aren’t they? (Thanks, sis!) If you love witches and trolls and werewolves and vampires, and…well, all those lovely beings who inhabit paranormal worlds, you won’t want to miss these stories. I have two more books planned in the series, and hope to get them both out before the end of the year. In the meantime, enjoy an excerpt from Wolf Moon Rising, and comment below for a chance to win a copy of one of the BRC books!

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.

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.

Aoife drew her paddle into the pirogue and stepped out onto the bank. She hadn’t rowed far, but she worried that her guardians would notice she’d eluded their watch. And that couldn’t happen. Tonight, she needed privacy to commune with the moon, and perhaps, coax a stubborn door to open.

As she stepped into the thick forest, she drew deep, calming breaths. She crushed the carnation she’d secreted into the bag inside the pocket of her cloak and whispered a quick, ineloquent spell.

“Goddess, though I walk alone,
your moon’s rays light my way.
Let nature’s bounty, your gift to us but still your own,
do no harm or deter me along my way.”

Despite her prayer, she glanced around the deepening darkness and hoped she’d recognize the tree when she saw it. The canopy above her allowed only dapples of moonlight through to the forest floor. She’d found the oak only days ago when she’d been searching for moss for a fairy house she was constructing to sell online. No one else would have noted it. The tree was old. Its bark thick and rugged. Although shorter and squatter than the lovely old oak in the open field the witches used for their rituals, this one appeared ancient—much more suited to her task. When she’d rapped on its bark to awaken its spirit, she’d felt the old oak shiver its branches and sensed its anger at her intrusion. Only a grouchy old oak would serve her purpose.

With the picture of the squat oak in her mind, she reached into her right pocket and crushed the dried honeysuckle there, letting its sweet aroma rise around her, and sought the oak with her other sight.

When she again opened her eyes, moonlight gleamed brighter straight ahead. She plunged forward but didn’t note the vine on the forest floor. Her foot snagged and sent her toppling to the ground. As she pushed upright, she thought she heard something rustling in the bushes. Not a small animal. Suspicious, she narrowed her gaze and stared in the direction of the sound, sure a certain wolf with better night vision than she had stared right back.

She waited, listening, but when no other sounds intruded, other than the rustling of dried leaves above, she continued her way. If Sigurd were trailing her, he would already have made his presence known. He was forever standing in her path, forcing her to raise her gaze to his. In those moments, she felt as though her lungs constricted, and her voice got very small. She wasn’t exactly intimidated, because she knew he’d never harm her, but his size and steady, all-seeing gaze looked right through her. Like he could read her mind. Which was impossible. Still, she found deceiving him very hard, which was why she’d decided to sneak away in the dead of night. As soon as he’d fallen asleep, she’d crept from the house. Yes, she’d heard the slam of a door in the distance, but she’d been well around the bend in the canal. No, he couldn’t have tracked her so quickly to this part of the woods. If she was successful, he wouldn’t arrive at her destination until it was already too late.

It was well past time she should have had this conversation, and secrecy was of the utmost importance. This situation wasn’t something she could talk to her sisters about. They’d be hurt, because she’d never divulged the truth in all their long acquaintance, despite their shared travails. This secret burned a hole in her belly and made her lose sleep. Worse, it kept her from Sigurd. She could never agree to be his mate—and she knew he wanted that—not until her problem was resolved. Inside her pocket, she crossed her fingers and hoped she’d found the right tree.

The golden light beckoned, growing stronger the deeper into the woods she went, until she entered a clearing. Light from a golden gibbous moon gleamed through the branches of the canopy above. Fireflies, out of season, hovered around the trunk, blinking out and on. Something about the air had changed. It smelled sweeter, and felt…thinner…warmer.

This was the place. It had to be. She’d felt this same trembling excitement the one time her mother led her into the woods to greet an ancient oak and attempted what Aoife had to accomplish tonight.

Closing her eyes, she reached out and laid a hand against the rugged trunk.

“Come fae and fair,
No need beware,
A daughter comes to greet you.
One knock you hear,
Two draws you near,
The third opens the door to meet you.”

Taking a deep breath, she rapped three times. Then she waited.

The wind picked up, dragging back her hood. Light gleamed between the edges of the bark, up and down the tree.

She stepped backward. Her breaths came faster, and then the glowing edges formed a rectangle, wider than an arm span. The dark bark at its center melted away.

Revealed inside the doorway was a tunnel formed by intertwining gold and green vines. She swept up the edges of her cloak and bent to step inside the door. As soon as her feet touched soft moss on the other side, she heard a crackling sound from behind and a long, lonely howl.

Five Vampire Myths Busted:

1. Vampires can’t enter unless invited.
   Lock your doors and windows, quick.
2. Vampires don’t have reflections.
   I get that mirrors supposedly reflect the soul. But shouldn’t their clothes show?
3. Vampires can be killed by a stake through the heart.
   Can’t everybody?
4. Vampires can’t stand sunlight.
   This is a modern myth that started in the film Nosferatu. Before then, they could walk in daylight. Ha! And you thought you were safe when you were sunbathing.
5. Vampires can be repelled by garlic.
   There’s nothing worse than garlic breath before you bite your dinner. Besides, it alerts the victim to the vampire’s presence. They’d run and the vampire would still be hungry.

Since my latest release, Taken as Theirs, features twin werewolves, why am I blathering on about vampires?

Well…guess who the bad guys are…? There’s kudos in being bad. Think about Jessie James or Butch Cassidy. They are the true anti-heroes. I can’t name any of Cowboy heroes, but do know the villains.

Taken as Theirs

As a fertile woman in an infertile world,
no wonder she was TAKEN AS THEIRS.

Buy links:
Amazon USA: https://amzn.to/2AB4Z3l
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2s95Q6O
Amazon Canada: https://amzn.to/2GZLI1f
Amazon Australia: https://amzn.to/2RvViwV

 Or READ FOR FREE ON KINDLE UNLIMITED

As a breeder–one of the few fertile women left in a ruined, plague-ravaged world–Cassie would fetch a handsome price at auction, and selling her to the highest bidder was exactly what her captors had in mind… until two fearsome beasts decided to take her for themselves.

Eli and Dane have chosen Cassie for their mate, and when she makes a foolish attempt at escape she quickly ends up tearfully promising obedience as her bare bottom is soundly and shamefully punished. Her body’s response to their stern dominance cannot be denied, however, and it isn’t long before she is screaming out her intense, helpless pleasure as she is roughly and thoroughly claimed. But will Eli and Dane’s pack accept a human girl or will Cassie be an outsider forever?

Publisher’s Note: Taken as Theirs includes spankings and sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

Excerpt

Goosebumps covered Cassie’s flesh. Tingles raced between her legs, tiny electric sparks that warmed her blood. One kind word and her good intentions would crumble—just like her sisters’ chance of freedom if she told this drop-dead gorgeous pair about them.

What with the vampire auction and that nightmare descent of the cliff, she couldn’t take much more. Cassie had been a fool to think she could escape. Completely drained, she was at the werewolves’ mercy

Her imagination worked overtime. Wolves were pack animals. Suppose they decided to share her around the crew? The vampires certainly would have, and she didn’t expect werewolves to behave any better.

She cowered when Eli pulled a knife, but he sawed through the wet rope binding her to his brother. Her legs folded, and only Dane’s strong grip kept her upright. Sheaving his knife, Eli swept her into his arms.

He gave her his best Pepsodent-white smile. “Foolish little princess, so eager to return to the vampires who will abuse you. You’re safe here, despite the unconventional start to our friendship.”

Like a half-drowned kitten, she dripped water onto his trousers. He smelled of summer breezes and crops ripening in the fields. So cold her teeth had stopped chattering, she let go of her fears and let Eli take charge. Heat flowed from his chest to hers, but it wasn’t enough. She felt like an ice cube lost at the back of a freezer.

He carried her through a narrow galley, and into the captain’s cabin. She’d expected twin bunks and a tiny space. Instead, this room reminded her of Nelson’s cabin on the HMS Victory. The back wall consisted of window panes, giving her a view of the distant cliffs. The view fascinated and delighted her but the cabin’s four-poster bed terrified her. It covered more than half the room and had enough room for three if not four.

Dane pulled towels from a trunk then tossed her one of his brother’s jumpers. “Get dry, princess then get into bed and warm up. We’re going to lock you in while we get underway in earnest, but we’ll be back with hot stew and a hot coffee soon.”

After living on half rations for a week, her mouth watered at the thought of a decent meal. That these dominant werewolves cared for her welfare stunned her. Then they offered her a coffee. Utter luxury.

Emotions set in, and tears filled her eyes. She broke into a cold sweat that turned her forehead clammy. She’d never felt so weary in her life—not even when she’d swum marathons.

Dane lifted her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Don’t cry, little human. You’re safe now.”

The intensity in his gaze felt like a shot of energy for her soul. It made her feel hot and tingly inside. She craved his touch, and maybe his kiss. A fresh set of shivers beset her. This time, they were more about her forbidden attraction for the werewolves than the cold.

About Kryssie Fortune

Kryssie lives by the beach and loses track of time when she writes. Her days are full of dashing regency rakes, former soldiers so handsome they make her drool, and the sexiest werewolves ever. The odd vampire makes it in there too, but when he does, he’s drop dead gorgeous.

Her pet hates are unhappy endings and cliff hangers. She guarantees you won’t find either in her books. Her books sizzle with sensual heat, but story always comes before sex. Even when part of a series, her books can be read as stand-alone romance.

Kryssie Fortune Social Media:
Website: http://kryssiefortune.wixsite.com/kryssie
Blog: http://kryssiefortune.blogspot.co.uk/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/KryssieFortune
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KryssieFortune
Pinterest: http://bit.ly/1OGFnjc
Goodreads: http://bit.ly/2kxqabJ
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/2hA0ZVO

I love this time of year. I live is a cooler climate, and we have a very short summer, so I like to get out and enjoy it as much as possible.

One of the things I like to do is head out to a local park. Most cities have green spaces, so even if you can’t get out to the countryside, you can enjoy some nature. I also love to get an ice cream from a specialty shop. If you’re going to have ice cream, make it count and splurge on the good stuff. Bonus if you walk to or from the ice cream parlor. Luckily for me there is a city park right across from an ice cream place.

Summer is also a great time to play tourist in your own city. There are so many things to do that we really don’t pay attention to because we live there. Tourists do and see things that we don’t. So look around your own city or town, pick at least one or two things, and do them. There are often free outdoor concerts, museums have interesting and changing exhibitions, and there are art galleries and shops to explore.

I love to sit out at night and look up at the stars. I live in the city, so it’s never really quiet or dark. But late at night it’s not quite so noisy and I can still see the moon and the brighter stars. If you’re outside the city, you have a much better view, so get outside and enjoy it.

I also enjoy sitting out on the balcony (or patio if you have one) with a cool drink and a good book. And if you’re looking for something to read, you might want to check out my latest release, Drakon’s Knight.

Drakon’s Knight
Blood of the Drakon, Book 7

Drakon Jericho Drake, the child of a pure-blood dragon and human, has a simple plan: Kill the leader of the Knights of the Dragon and start a war. Except, when he meets his target, Karina Azarov, she can’t remember who she is. Worst of all––he can’t kill her. His dragon side has just claimed the dangerous woman as his mate.

Karina has no idea why these Drakon’s have taken her to their home. And she most certainly does not understand why she’s so drawn to her captor. Maybe because he’s strong, intelligent, and caring, in his enigmatic sort of way. One thing she knows, he’s not going to hurt her. If only she could remember something from her past that would explain why these Drakon’s hate her so much.

But if her memory returns, mated or not, he may get his war.. And one of them will die.

Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07QZMKQP3/
Entangled: https://entangledpublishing.com/drakon-s-knight.html
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/drakons-knight-n-j-walters/1131299180
iBooks: https://books.apple.com/us/book/drakons-knight/id1460577344
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/drakon-s-knight

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Todaybestselling 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: http://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

I have something dark and sexy for you—if you’re not persnickety about a f/f romance. However, if you love something dark (it involves the Blood Countess, Elizabeth Bathory!), which depicts a witch and a vampire in a life and death battle for dominance, and takes place in New Orleans, you’ll love this. It’s intensely erotic with BDSM elements. So, be warned!

This is a story that was previously released through Ellora’s Cave but has been significantly revised. And there’s more in the series to come. It’s only 12,000 words, so not terribly long. I hope you’ll give it a try. And best yet? If you have Kindle Unlimited, you can read it for FREE!

A f/f paranormal novelette…

Since her turning, Elena Csintalan has wrestled her inner demon on a nightly basis. She never expects her limits to be tested—until she finds herself drawn to a tawny woman whose lush curves make her eyeteeth spike. Before she knows it, she’s dangling inside an iron cage, one that’s frighteningly familiar. And the punishment she endures is oh so divine…

Despite a surprising empathy she feels for the vampire she’s captured, Cassia proceeds with her coven’s plan—drain Elena of her blood at the height of orgasm to complete a potion that will protect them from Elena’s maker. Cassia scried the darkness coming their way, and the monster has a name…the Countess Elizabeth Bathory.

Get your copy here!

UPDATE: The winner is…Debra!
*~*~*

Note from DD: My scheduled guest was a no-show today, so I’m recycling a post from the Collections website that appeared there yesterday. I’m sharing excerpts from all the stories in Stranded to help you make the choice to purchase a copy of your own! There’s an amazing variety of themes, genres, settings, but all are very, very sexy. Enjoy the excerpt, enter the contest, then head on over to the Collections site to read more about this anthology and meet the authors! ~DD

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My writing journey resembles a spiral that took me from writing for newspapers through seminary and ministry to writing romance in retirement. I have a journalism background and worked as a stringer for awhile. Writing fiction during that time had always been a way to make the world come round right after a day of covering stories when everything in the world was all wrong. When I became involved in the church, writing remained a hobby, but I did it less and less.

Then I became an X-Files fan, and I entered the heady fun-filled world of fan fiction under the name Rev. Anna. I really enjoyed myself making up stories again. A challenge from my mother-in-law to put my energy into writing my own characters came at the same time the radio program “This American Life” did a segment on Romance Writers of America national meeting in NYC. Jeanette’s challenge and that segment lit a “Why not?” fire in my writing soul. I joined RWA in 2003, joined chapters, entered contests, won a few, and finally got published in 2008. By then, I’d attended a retirement seminar that encouraged us to start thinking now about what we wanted to do in retirement. Another “Why not?” flame ignited, and now here I am an erotic romance writing retired minister.

Michal

Excerpt from “Put It in a Book”

Trapped in a book by a sorcerer for rejecting his sexual advances,
an ex-slave’s daughter discovers one hope of rescue – a nosy thief

Aziza, if you want to hide something from Black folk, put it in a book.

If her father had said this once, he’d said it a hundred times. As the daughter of a freed slave, Aziza Williams had resolved with every book she’d read, with every bit of content she’d memorized, no one would hide anything in a book from her.

How ironic the adage was being used against her now that she lived in the Free and Independent Republic of Liberia. Only someone as evil as Dulee Morlu could leave her stranded in a book.

Each time he removed The Story of Aziza from its shelf in his library, he’d badger, cajole, even plead with anyone present to read it.

“This book will change your life,” he’d say in a tone, always enticing, sometimes seductive, but never serious enough for anyone to take him up on the offer.

When they’d gone, he’d pressed his mouth to her image on the flyleaf. “No one will ever read your story,” he whispered with snake-like malice. His laugh bruised her heart each time he congratulated himself on his ingenuity. “You will remain hidden in these pages until you give yourself to me.”

Never had been her answer when he’d propositioned her a week after she’d arrived in Liberia. Never was her answer when he’d caught her pleasuring herself by the river’s edge after her morning swim. Never remained her answer from the day she’d awakened entombed within the pages of her own story to this.

How often had hope flared at the possibility of someone opening these pages and setting her free?

Too often.

How many times had Morlu’s possessive grip caressed her prison’s spine, his wet thumb sliding down the edges of its pages?

Too many.

“Everyone I’ve imprisoned yielded within a day. You’ve resisted for thirty,” he exclaimed. “I must dedicate a chapter to your resilience.”

He splayed his fingers across her prison’s pages, too accurately mimicking the spreading of her thighs. Her captive limbs shuddered. His calloused finger slid along the book’s gutter. Her inert hands tensed, unable to shield herself from the erotic—albeit vicarious—chafing his touch provoked.

“Your opposition makes your eventual capitulation that much sweeter.” He slid his finger faster, deeper between the pages. “And make no mistake…you will surrender.”

Each time he placed her back on the shelf, he planted a cold kiss on the book’s spine. Aziza quivered against the chill, unable to staunch the revulsion roiling in her throat—or at least, where she imagined her throat might still be.

“Until then,” he whispered.

Her spirit cringed at those words. She’d escaped from plantation owners eager to punish her for secretly teaching slaves to read. Her spirit had remained unbowed after fourteen harrowing weeks crossing the Atlantic. Even the hardships that had killed more than three-quarters of all who had emigrated to Liberia hadn’t vanquished her. If neither threats to her life nor dangers at sea nor the high mortality rate could defeat her, she’d be damned if this self-serving sorcerer would.

Still…

Her imprisonment seemed an unending stream of consciousness, punctuated only by Morlu’s uninvited intrusions. Thirty days. This sudden awareness of time weighed on her spirit and threatened to undo her.

How much longer could she hold out?

Get your copy of Stranded: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology here!

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Better to Marry Than to Burn.