I’m Sierra Brave, author of the Horse Mountain Shifters series. I’m excited to be back on Delilah Devlin’s blog today to share an excerpt from my upcoming paranormal romance. Scarlett and the Big Bad is a fantasy Red Riding Hood retelling but also the first in a three-book series filled with magic, romance, danger, and angst.
Most everyone knows the original story of Little Red Riding Hood, but Scarlett Capuche, the heroine in my book, is a young woman, who in some ways is as naïve as the original. Imagine being raised away from society and only being taught what your captures want you to know?
I imagine everyone remembers the old lines of “What big eyes you have, Grandmother!” The only elderly matriarch in Scarlett and The Big Bad isn’t exactly on her side, but the (were)wolf is much more open with his intentions. He does reveal something huge to her though…but I’m getting ahead of myself.
Here’s a fun little compare and contrast:
Scarlett and the Big Bad
Fated Fairytales 1
What if Red Riding Hood invited peril, and the big bad wolf was the only hero who could save her?
Promised power and position, Scarlett Capuche left her tiny village to join the prestigious Order of the Phoenix.
Monty Blackwolf never wanted a mate, especially not a human raised on a hidden farm for blood-ritual sacrifice. But his werewolf’s heightened sense of smell drew him to Scarlett’s sweet fragrance from miles away.
Duty-bound to protect her, he will break her of her religious devotion to the magical terrorist group responsible for the murders of his parents and older brother, even if he has to put her over his knee and turn her bottom as red as her hair.
She belongs to him now, and he will claim all of her despite his affliction with a unique, third shifter-form he doesn’t fully understand and isn’t able to control.
Will Monty save Scarlett, or will he prove more dangerous to her than anyone else?
Author’s Note: If you’re offended by steamy fairytale retellings with graphic language, explicit put-you-in-the-moment love scenes, elements of power exchange, and domestic discipline, you might want to look for a different book.
As she relaxed against him, his heart drummed against her back, the beat syncing with hers. The lump in her throat dissolved as her chest rose and fell with his.
She stared at the ceiling. The lights appeared to blur as she mewed and groaned. His hands, big and rough, worshiped her skin, every inch touched, washed, tenderly explored but never exploited. After a while, Scarlett blinked and stretched, realizing the naked girl staring at her was her reflection. Monty patted her dry as she sat on the edge of the tub.
“What happened?” Her heart pounded as confusion nipped at her brain.
Standing with only a towel wrapped around his hips, his six firm abdominals close to her eye level, he shrugged. “We had a bath. I think you might have dozed off a little. It’s been a long day.”
She tapped her finger against her lip as he hung up the wet towels before grabbing a fresh one. She most certainly had not been asleep. Now back in her right mind, she remembered every slight movement of his hand, every turn of his fingertips, the coiling in her stomach as the tantalizing sensations coaxed forth primal feelings she’d never imagined she’d possessed. She recalled breathing in his scent so deeply she could taste it even as they laved the fragrance away, and she had fantasized about him manhandling her, forcing her legs open and entering her even though he had not.
About Sierra
Sierra Brave is a multi-published author of heart-pounding, blush-inducing romance with put-you-in-the-moment love scenes. She enjoys writing about a variety of gorgeous alpha males who can’t resist head-strong heroines. Curvy girls have a special place in her heart and often grace the pages of her books. Tales of shifters, cowboys, twisted fairy tales, space pirates, Amazon warriors, and vampires capture her imagination as do tempting spanking and ménage scenarios, but she also engages in more down-to-earth themes such as office romance. You’ll find lots of unique characters and humor in all of her stories.
UPDATE: The winners are…Misty, AnnaMarie, and Jennifer Beyer!
*~*~*
Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…
Answer me this for a chance to win your choice from among my many Night Fall titles!
Bounty Hunters or Vamps and Werewolves?
P. S. And be sure to check out the list of open contests you still have time to enter at the bottom of this post!
Wolf in Plain Sight
“A wickedly funny and passionate series, fans of paranormal erotic romance will enjoy [Wolf in Plain Sight] tremendously. Ms. Devlin has done it again!” ~ Romance Reviews Today
To Super-cop Max Weir, the only good vampire is a dead one. Since his special police unit integrated with vampires, he’s had to suppress his natural hatred to work side by side with the undead to hunt down and terminate the deadliest killers. Now the unit’s hot on the trail of a new menace in town, a pack of werewolves prowling for vampires who don’t care whether humans get in their way.
When a stakeout goes awry, Max enters a bar looking for a fight or woman to help him blow off a little steam. What he finds is a winsome siren whose sexual appetites match his own.
Vampire Pia D’Amato is on a secret mission to take out Max–either by seduction or turning him. He’s become a liability to the Masters’ Council setting up jurisdiction in southern Florida, and she’s not leaving until she’s done the job. But Max is more man than she bargained for with a deadly secret of his own.
Excerpt from Wolf in Plain Sight…
Max pushed through the door of the bar determined that tonight he’d either get shit-faced or fucked. Which, didn’t matter so long as he could blow off the steam that had been gathering a head since the botched mission hours before. The bar was a regular haunt—only a block from his house. If need be, he could crawl home. The smoky air, the loud grinding music, and the smell of stale beer appealed when he had an axe to grind.
The SU had swept the area for signs of the wolves that killed the vampires before turning on the humans in a mutilating frenzy. Their bloody paw prints lead beyond the house to a gravel road where they’d disappeared. The pack had made their getaway in cars. This hadn’t been a roaming band’s target of opportunity, but a takedown.
The grim faces of the vampires telegraphed their worry. He hoped they were shaking in their boots. Not that the thought of a rogue wolf pack wasn’t just as unsettling to Max.
But seeing the cock-sure Quentin lose his perpetual smirk was gratifying. Dylan had been grim-faced and pale. Perhaps the bastard saw his own fate in the house.
However, Joe’s silence had been the most telling. He hadn’t looked the least bit surprised.
Max made his way through the tables ringing a small dance floor. The place was nearly empty, save for the men hovering near the bar for the night’s last drinks. The tension in his shoulders knotted tighter. All it would take would be one smart-ass comment. He hungered for an excuse to drive his fist through something.
The crowd parted, and a flash of a slim white ankle snagged his attention. Every trace of anger, bitter regret, and frustration coalesced into a single, burning need.
The men blocking his view shifted, and the ankle drew his glance upward to a bare knee. The woman’s legs parted, and one slid atop the other. Her foot sawed up and down, and a slender, functionless sandal dangled from the tips of her painted toes. God, he wanted to help her lose the shoes altogether.
He advanced toward the men standing between him and his goal. Their faces registered annoyance for only a moment before they stepped aside. The hard hunger that rode his belly must have turned his face into an implacable mask.
As he drew near, her shape was revealed one tantalizing curve at a time. Sweetly turned hips were clothed in a stretchy black skirt that ended at the top of her thighs—not a hint of underwear marred the smooth fit. Conveniently tied behind her neck, a miniscule top bared the gleaming, supple skin of her back and midriff—again, no sign of a bra. Her nipples puckered invitingly against the black fabric that barely contained the apple-like curves of her small breasts.
Finally, his gaze rose to her face. She could have been a whole lot less than appetizing, and he’d still have wanted her on the merits of that ride-able frame. But her face only made him more determined to have her.
Large, doe-like eyes, framed by thick lashes, blinked as she caught his stare. Her upper lip was a fraction fuller than the lower and inspired delicious, succulent fantasies. Her face was round, her jaw small, and a thumbprint dimple carved her chin into two delicious halves. His tongue itched to slide along that little notch.
As he reached the bar, he drew a deep breath, eager to catch the scent of her perfume. He wasn’t disappointed. The woman smelled like sex. Hot, nasty, spicy sex.
His body hardened along with his intentions. With only a fleeting thought for how aggressive he might appear, he loomed over her, his gaze sweeping downward. When he glanced back up to her eyes, he schooled his expression into something shy of predatory. He didn’t want to frighten her away before he’d even learned her name.
UPDATE: The winners are…Colleen, Debra and Katherine!
*~*~*
Before I wrote bounty hunters, I wrote about vampires…
Contest
Answer me this for a chance to win your choice from among my many Night Fall titles!
Bounty Hunters or Vamps and Werewolves?
Truly, Madly…Deadly
Just this once…
On the trail of a serial killer, vampire Quentin Albermarle is mistaken for the killer by a police special task force. Once the smoke clears, Quentin finds himself in a delicious position—atop one of the unit’s crack officers, Darcy Henry. In need of Quentin’s access to the vampire sub-culture, the task force leadership invites Quentin to join the crime unit as a special advisor, much to the chagrin of the men in the unit, and especially, of Darcy.
Caught between opposing forces, vampire and hunter…
A no-nonsense cop with no time for romance, Darcy suddenly finds herself embroiled in a steamy love triangle between her mortal partner, Joe, and the handsome vampire. Going from abstinence to wantonness, she is unable to resist the two men’s relentless seduction or her own sensual curiosity about a vampire’s special “kiss”.
A hunger like no other…
When the real killer threatens the life of someone close to her, Darcy makes a choice that forever binds the three of them together.
Joe’s voice jerked Darcy Henry to wakefulness. Berating herself for dozing off during a stakeout, she fumbled for the switch on her night vision goggles. Instantly, the landscape before her was awash in shades of luminescent green. She scanned the water’s edge. The crests of the ebbing tides rolled onto the beach, unbroken by any sign of “Bat-boy.” Had she already missed her opportunity?
“Where do you see him?” she whispered into her headset, glad the roar of the incoming surf masked their voices.
“Ten o’clock. Get cocked.”
She reached for her crossbow, drew back the linen cord with both hands, and latched it in the spring clip. Then she slid a steel-tipped arrow onto the track. Sighting down the shaft, she braced the bow in her left palm and dug her elbow into the sand. With the stock snug against her shoulder, she slid her right forefinger around the trigger and turned her sights back to the water’s edge—just in time to see a tall figure stride out of the surf.
He fit the description she’d purchased from the barman at the “blood bank” of the new vamp in town. Only, the barman hadn’t filled in all the details. Darcy stiffened against her body’s sudden surge of attraction and firmly reminded herself the vamp’s body was like any other man’s. Yeah, right.
Her gaze flickered over him, inventorying his characteristics—for myAfter Action Report, of course. Broad-shouldered, leanly muscled, just over six feet tall. Blond, she could tell, despite the fact his hair was plastered to his head. Handsome, too, with broad, prominent cheekbones, a longish straight nose, and lips that appeared permanently curved in a smirk.
Unable to resist the temptation, she adjusted the lenses of her goggles to zoom, and her gaze slipped lower. His package was as fine arriving as his ass had been going into the water. His long, uncircumcised cock dangled between his legs. Something else not mentioned in the barman’s description—and definitely not something that would make it into her AAR.
“Hold up!” Impatience clipped Joe’s words. “A civilian’s in your line of sight.”
Darcy lowered the bow, cursing under her breath. “Where? And how the hell did we miss that?” she whispered angrily.
“She had to have been here when we arrived,” Joe replied. “If I hadn’t seen her hand rise above the dune…”
Nothing was ever as simple as it seemed. A vampire spotted on Vero Beach just happened to meet the description of a suspected killer they’d circulated that day.
This night’s stakeout might be a bust, after all. They’d have to track him to his lair and try to take him out while he slept. Dusting a sleeping vampire never sat well with Darcy. Too unsportsmanlike. Asleep, even a probable serial killer like this one who wore an innocent face.
She burrowed deeper into the wet sand at the bottom of her shallow foxhole, prepared to wait it out. This time she wouldn’t doze, no matter how balmy the November night grew. Too many late nights and too little sleep were taking their toll on the whole team. Instead, she concentrated on how uncomfortable she was with damp sand working its way into her clothing and the smell of rotting seaweed all around her.
Having a target to observe helped. Hopefully, the vamp wouldn’t make a meal of his host and force Darcy to intervene. Hand-to-hand with a vamp was a last resort. Humans almost always lost to their superior strength, no matter how many degrees of black belt one had earned.
Joe let out a low whistle. “Damn! How’d a ghoul like that get such a fine piece of ass?”
A woman sat up near the top of a dune, her arms outstretched, revealing a slender back, rounded hips and a cascade of long, dark hair.
The vamp went down on his knees and leaned over her.
Darcy tensed, ready to spring to the woman’s rescue at the first sign of fangs.
Instead, the woman’s back arched to offer her breasts to her lover. His mouth closed over a beaded tip, and the woman’s loud groan of approval was discernible over the rumble of the incoming tide.
Joe’s soft laughter sounded in Darcy’s ear. “Better take notes, Darse. See what you’re missing?”
Darcy knew better than to answer her partner. Any response would only add fodder to the ribbing she’d receive at the Special Unit’s morning briefing. Her lack of social life was already a favorite topic. As it was, she was glad the guys weren’t wired in to her goggles.
Joe’s fed the monitor in the van parked farther down the beach.
Maybe she’d get even luckier and the vamp would move his tryst indoors.
Instead, he released the woman’s breast. With his hands braced on either side of her, the tops of his shoulders rippling as he “walked” down her body, he circled his head as he kissed a path across her belly. Then he moved lower.
Darcy squirmed. When was the last time a man had buried his face in her pussy? God, had it really been three years since Manny transferred to Miami-Dade?
The woman’s hips lifted, and her hands dug into the sand. His face reached the juncture of her thighs, and she shouted and thrashed her head from side to side.
Darcy wished she could roll to her back and give the couple their moments of privacy—and herself a reprieve from an unwanted rush of desire. Tight as a spring, the yearning wound inside her belly. She was helpless to stop the flush of heat that swept from her face to her breasts, and thankful for the darkness so no one on her team would see her blushing.
When she saw the suspected vampire rise to kneel between the woman’s legs, Darcy’s heart thudded dully in her chest and increased in tempo. His cock fell onto the woman’s belly, engorged and enormous, just before he hooked his arms beneath her knees and lifted her buttocks off the sand.
The woman reached for his cock and guided it to her pussy.
Then his hips slammed forward, hard.
The woman arched into the sand and shouted again.
No man had ever made Darcy shout, a thought that niggled her feminine pride while it aroused her curiosity—although, with his super-sized hardware, the shout might not have been one of ecstasy. The thought cheered her for the moment, until she noted the woman slamming her hips upward to meet the vamp’s thrusts.
From Darcy’s angle, she had a perfect view of the long, gliding action of his hips as he pumped into the woman’s body. Darcy’s legs widened, and she dug her knees into the sand, shifting her hips to relieve the itch between her legs.
“I’ll bet you twenty she comes before he does,” Max’s voice broke in.
“You’re on,” said Joe. “What man wouldn’t come all over a woman like that?”
“Ahem. Just a little reminder, guys,” Darcy said, hoping to cut off this particular line of conversation. “Captain will be reviewing this feed, too. Joe, you better not have on your zoom.”
Soft chuckles sounded from the guys, but they soon quieted and hunkered down to wait—and watch.
Darcy’s attention returned to the couple farther down the beach.
The woman’s legs straightened, her toes pointing toward the moon, and her long moans indicated she was fast approaching the big O. The vampire ground his hips into hers, and the woman screeched.
Joe groaned.
“You owe me twenty,” Max said.
“Damn,” Phil whispered. “Wonder if the wifey will be up for a little tickle in the morning.”
“I’m telling Bets you called her that.” Darcy’s mouth was so dry the words almost cracked.
The woman’s legs jerked up and down.
The vamp flung back his head and thrust faster. Suddenly, he stopped, his nose lifting into the breeze.
Realizing the wind had shifted, Darcy hugged the sand and held her breath.
The vamp turned his head and stared straight at her.
Darcy froze, hoping he hadn’t really seen her. But a grin stretched across his face.
“Fuck, Darcy!” Joe shouted into her headset. “You’re made. Get out.”
Darcy couldn’t risk a shot with the woman downrange. She ditched her crossbow, ripped off her goggles, and sprang from the foxhole. Running straight for the road a hundred yards in front of her, Darcy felt the world slow. Her feet mired in the sand. Her heart drummed loudly in her ears.
Then she heard bare feet pounding in the sand and knew he was gaining.
“I’ll try to get off a shot,” Joe said, his breaths coming short and fast, “but he’s moving in on you. Pick up your feet. You’re running like a damn girl.”
Anger and a spurt of adrenaline increased her pace. She leapt over a hummock of tall sawgrass and hoped it scraped his balls. The road was fifty yards away. The headlights of the approaching van swept the beach in front of her.
“He’s too close. I can’t get off a shot,” Joe said. “Hold him off. I’m coming.”
Twenty-five yards and uphill now, she strained, her boots sinking ankle-deep as she climbed a dune. She reached the top, and then her feet left the ground as a heavy weight knocked her through the air.
They rolled to the bottom of the dune in a jumble of twisting limbs. When they stopped, his long, hard body stretched over hers, anchoring her to the ground.
Darcy opened her eyes, expecting a vampire’s mask and a row of jagged teeth. Instead, the vamp’s handsome face hovered only inches from her own. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“Well, well, well,” he said, his voice a low, rumbling purr. “A she-cop. A dangerous species, indeed.”
“You’re English,” she blurted. Something else not in the report. Was he even a vampire? Despite the layer of clothing separating their skins, Darcy burned from his heat. She struggled against his restraint.
He stretched and hooked his ankles around hers, and his hands held hers easily to the ground above her head.
Finally defeated, she let her head fall back in the sand. “So, how’d you know I was there?” she asked, already knowing the truth, but needing to distract him. His teeth were too close for comfort.
His face lowered, and he sniffed along her neck and the collar of her shirt. “My dear, I could smell your arousal. Delicious.”
Yes, I love getting to know the characters that slip out of the shadows at the back of mind where they’ve been living, sometimes for decades without my being aware of them. I enjoy the plotting process which consists of waking up in the middle of the night to mull over possibilities, running down roads both promising and dead-end, and throwing possibilities into a Word program called “Notes”, but I have to have a strong picture in my mind of where everything happens before I can write the first word.
I love going for solitary drives accompanied by Neil Diamond going full blast while the world around me becomes part of me. I’m a mountain gal born and bred. I don’t understand cities. They don’t speak to me. But give me the wilderness and I come alive.
That’s true even when I’m writing erotica.
Case in point, I’m in the process of releasing two self-published books. Cry of the Wolves will hit the virtual shelves on the 29th. I haven’t set on a release date for the companion novella Call of the Wolves, sometime in July.
The two connected stories came to me unbidden. I had no idea that’s what would happen when I went for a hike near Crater Lake at a place known as The Gorge. The Rogue River of southern Oregon flows through The Gorge, or rather it fights to. As I explain in the forward for the two Wolves stories, an ancient volcanic eruption sent molten lava to the Rogue. At one spot, the river was squeezed into a narrow channel. Every spring during snow runoff, the river screams and boils as it struggles through the lava.
That’s where I found my characters. Each in their own way, they listened to and watched the ageless battle between rock and water. That wild place impacted them as deeply as it did me and gave rise to the ghost wolves. I’m including a couple of pictures I took. I just wish readers could feel the spray and sense the ground shivering.
A big part of the writing business consists of getting the word out, which is what I’m doing right now via a couple of projects designed to try to garner reviews.
UPDATE: The winners are…gift cards: Colleen C and Mary Preston; and anthology: Debra Guyette and Becky Parsons!
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Hi! My name is Megan Ryder, and thank you for having me back on the blog for another chance to talk about my books. Today, I’m thrilled to talk a little bit about making the transition between contemporary and paranormal romance.
I’ve been writing for a long time (longer than I care to admit) and I’ve been writing contemporary romance for most of that time. I’m published with a few books including sexy baseball heroes, a matchmaking bride and her bridesmaids, and lately, cowboys. While I love all of those, my first love has always been paranormal romances, especially shifters, but I was always hesitant to make the shift (pun intended) to a new genre. When I heard about this anthology, my short story popped into my head completely formed as a prequel to my series and the perfect way to test my skills.
My story centers around a female shifter who is trapped into running from a group of alpha males who want to forcibly claim her as a mate, only to run into another alpha who offers to save her. The only problem is – he really IS her mate and she doesn’t want a mate at all.
In paranormal romance, I wanted to deal with the concept of consent, because “fated mates” being a trope in the genre often blurs the lines for consent. In this story, I wanted her to be a strong alpha female and her mate to be willing to see her that way and accept her and look for her consent, even as their natures want them to mate.
It was fun playing with the paranormal world, setting up the shifter structure and society, and dealing with the biology, too. And I slipped in something I thought was relevant to our current times.
Check out the snippet below and let me know what you think.
Contest
For my giveaway, let me know if you like the “fated mates” trope, where characters have one and only one mate for them (and often they know it and can’t fight it for long). I’m giving away 2 electronic copies of the anthology – First Response (given on release day) – and 2 $10 gift cards to Amazon.
Excerpt from “Claiming Lyla”
A she-wolf being hunted by pack males during a claiming rite is rescued by a rogue alpha determined to make her his own, despite her desire to be independent…
Lyla folded her arms in front of her, a defensive gesture, closing herself off from him, while plumping up her full breasts so they strained against the lace. “What do you want?”
He cocked his head at the howls growing closer. “You don’t have much time, or much of a choice, sweetheart. You either deal with me or them. And trust me, I’m the lesser of your evils.”
A laugh broke from her throat, a raw, harsh sound that held no humor. “I’d prefer none of you. Why can’t you leave me alone, you bastards? You want me to just roll over and spread my legs like a good little bitch. Well, fuck that.”
He winced at her harsh tone and steeled himself. A breeze picked up her scent and tickled his senses with it, and his cock hardened further, painfully. His wrists burned hotter under the skin, prickling like a thousand fine needles that made him want to scratch an itch. Nothing would appease the sensation, he feared. He cursed under his breath. Fuck. Not the best time to find his mate. Not here. Not in this goddamn situation. This night had just gone to shit, and now the bonds were pulling him in even tighter.
It was just published as the final book in the Be Careful What You Summon series. The first book, Vampire Vintage, came out a while ago, but the second and third books were long overdue. It was hard to get to my Indies when I had traditional contracts with deadlines, then first, second, and, sometimes, third edits, plus marketing, etc., demanding my time.
Pushing forty, Ronda Calhoun did a summoning spell with her single friends to find immortal mates, figuring they might appreciate women with a little more maturity and experience. For all the others, it worked! So why isn’t her immortal showing up?
Private investigator Nate Smith didn’t know what he had back when he and Ronda dated in High School. Now he knows she’s the one he wants to spend his long life with. Arranging to run into her isn’t a problem, but confessing he’s a werewolf could ruin everything!
But this article is about how readers helped me with all of this…
First of all, book 1, Vampire Vintage, needed a new professional cover. It was previously published by Ellora’s Cave and I had to update it. Amanda Walker did an awesome job, and even made bookmarks to go with it. (Email ash@ashlynchase.com if you want a couple! I’d be happy to send them. 🙂 )
One of my readers loved the first book so much, she became, not only a fan, but a friend. Knowing she was hoping for the other women’s stories to be told spurred me on.
Book 2 needed a cr*pload of editing, beta reading, and proofreading. Half the book took place in India, so certain words and phrases were checked with a West Bengal local. Most importantly I needed encouragement. My beta reader provided that with an enthusiastic, “It’s ready! Publish it!” So I had the cover made by the fabulous Syneca Featherstone of Original Syn and after a professional proofreading, that’s just what I did.
On to book 3. It had been previously published looong ago by another epublisher under a different title. I dusted it off, rewrote it completely and figured the five or ten people who bought the original version probably wouldn’t remember it anyway.
Then I needed a new title. I ran a few past my street team and one of my long-time members came up with a suggestion I hadn’t even thought of! Where the Howl Are You? was the PERFECT title, since our heroine, Ronda, had to wait so long to have her HEA, too.
Part of the fun (at least for me) is getting feedback from readers. A reader taking the time to express their thoughts in a review or word-of-mouth social media post is awesome! I take the good with the bad, and sometimes I’m able to improve a book if it gets a “second time around” publishing opportunity. Like Death by Delilah—a novella from my Ellora’s Cave days. There was a scene that awoke a reader’s “Ick factor.” That sometimes happens with erotica. The novella itself garnered a lot of contest wins and nominations, so when I had the opportunity to rewrite it, I changed that scene. It’s now part of an anthology with two other related novellas called Immortally Yours.
Sometimes, I get that feedback well before reviews. My proofreader Dianne Donovan is fabulous at catching every last pesky typo…and she doesn’t hesitate to give me her honest opinion of the book itself. I’m delighted to tell you she loved this one! However, I just got a “meh” advance review from a reader who didn’t like how the hero never shifted. That was one of the things that tickled me. He was so afraid he’d scare her off, he disappeared rather than let her see him shift. That didn’t mean he didn’t keep an eye on her. Wolves are by nature very protective of their chosen mates. And when she found out what he was, she didn’t get all girly and scared…she was more like; ”Why the hell didn’t you say so?” She had been waiting for her immortal for two years!
So, those are some of the examples right off the top of my head. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all the support, encouragement, and honesty of my readers. Have you ever wanted to write to an author about their book? What’s stopping you?
I love to read about werewolves. I could name all my favorite authors who have created rich worlds full of werewolves, but that would take too much time. They all write fantastic sagas about pack rules and the relationships between the fierce and furry. Consequently, whenever I considered writing about werewolves, I’d lose my nerve. I wrote cat shifters and science fiction, demons and elves, but I always lost my nerve when I considered penning the tale of a werewolf.
Then I finally decided to take the plunge. It wasn’t easy. (It never is!) First, I had to figure out the mechanics of a werewolf universe. How did the characters shift from human to wolf form? Would it be a bone-splitting painful wrench or just a beautiful shimmer of magic? Were new werewolves made or born as shifters, or both. If they were made, how did that happen? The always popular bite? Or something else? And of course, why would my world be different from those of the afore-mentioned great authors?
One big difference came to mind right at the start. The Northern Rocky pack in situated where I currently live, making it easy for me to describe background features. I have never read of another author creating a werewolf pack with its headquarters up here in the Rockies, so I wasn’t infringing on an existing series. You know how territorial a wolf pack can be!
Since I lived a good part of my life in Northern Ontario, I am well acquainted with how wolves look and sound. Packs of wolves carve out their territory there and hold it against invading newcomers. The sight of a dark shadow loping across a snowy field, or the sound of an eerie howl echoing in the chill of a fall morning is commonplace. A rock cave in the bush across from our home hosted a new litter of wolf cubs each year, and if we were very quiet and very lucky, we could perch on a hill above them and watch the young ones through binoculars as they tumbled and played in the spring sunshine. So describing wolf behavior wasn’t a problem for me.
There are distinctive differences between wolves and dogs. The way they walk, how they hold their heads, even their reactions to people and other animals differ greatly from our domestic friends. I hope I’ve been able to convey some of those in the descriptive passages of the two stories in this duet.
This first book consists of two stories which is a great way to meet the wolves of the Northern Rockies Pack. I hope you enjoy Seducing Destiny and Dark Kisses. The next book in the series will be released in January of 2020, and I will provide some tidbits between now and then. In the meantime, here’s a sneak peek!
Seducing Destiny
Jack, the alpha of the North Rockies pack, knows Destiny needs some time to come to grips with her werewolf heritage before he springs the whole mated for life thing on her.
Destiny has no intention of buying into the whole pack mentality, howl at the full moon thing. Sure, she practically drools at the sight of red meat, but that’s no reason to give up her comfortable life. Besides, she already has a boyfriend, a slick up-and-coming lawyer.
But when a band of rogue werewolves move into the area, Jack can’t afford to have his attention divided. He needs to convince Destiny that she belongs both in his pack and in his bed so he can concentrate on the new threat.
EXCERPT
Destiny stared in dismay at the box in the middle of her kitchen table. Her stomach lurched, a ball of anxiety settling in the very middle of it. Small by most standards, gold gilt covered the entire box, giving it an exotic look. An artfully tied crimson bow surrounded by curls of white lace sat cheerfully atop it, adding to the air of decadent luxury.
She knew who’d put it there, and she knew why. Jack. The Alpha of the Northern Rockies werewolf pack. The man who made her knees feel weak whenever she glimpsed him walking down the main street, or lounging at a local coffee shop. The man who’d made it plain that he intended to be her mate.
The absolute last man on the face of the planet that she intended to get serious about.
She had a boyfriend, one carefully picked with the future in mind. A trial attorney she’d met when she attended a convention in Calgary, Quentin Karnes had everything she wanted in a mate. On the fast track to a partnership in his prestigious law firm, he was cultured, rich, and moved in the highest social circles. Their children would grow up attending private schools, vacationing at the most prestigious resorts, dressing in the latest fashions. They’d want for nothing.
She’d worked hard to carve out a niche for herself in Riverton. Her accounting office catered to farmers and small businessmen, and she’d slowly managed to gain a reputation of being the person you wanted on your side when the government called to audit your tax returns.
She steeled herself and reached for the box. It wasn’t much bigger than a deck of cards, and she held it in her hand, somehow hoping that wishing would make it go away. When she’d moved here two years ago, she’d made it clear to Jack and every other member of the pack that she didn’t intend to join their little social group. She preferred to run alone. She hadn’t grown up in a pack, and if she could, she’d ignore her inner wolf entirely. So what if the sight of a full moon awakened an overpowering urge for a steak with the blood oozing out the sides? A girl needed to curb her baser instincts and make plans for the future.
No point in putting this off. Her sensitive nose could smell Jack all over the damn thing. She caught the trailing lace between a thumb and forefinger and gently undid the bow, dropping the cheerful piece of ribbon on the table. Taking a deep breath, she plucked the lid off.
Her breath caught in her throat. An exquisitely detailed chocolate wolf nestled in a cushion of crushed white velvet. Every detail from the tip of its muzzle to the dominant curve of its tail was perfect. Jack had reproduced himself exactly. She knew if she turned the little wolf over, she’d find a jagged scar running along its left flank.
“I suppose I could always bite your head off.” Destiny felt a wry smile tug the sides of her mouth. Although she didn’t like the idea, being the Alpha meant Jack had complete authority over all the werewolves in the Northern Rockies. Even those that didn’t want to accept him. The fact he’d chosen not to force her to take him for her mate didn’t mean he’d agreed to let her leave the pack. He’d said he’d give her some time to settle in. She’d hoped he’d forgotten about her and settled down with some other female. One who liked her inner beast.
She sighed and looked at the dark chocolate confection. The full moon was less than a week away. She’d been ignoring her darker side for a long time now, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid going into heat this month. What were the chances Jack’s timing was coincidental?
She jumped, startled by the sound of a loud knock on her front door. Quentin must have gotten out of court early. She hadn’t expected him to show up for at least another four hours. She quickly put the lid back on the box. Sweeping the ribbon up off the table, she stuffed the box and ribbon into a drawer and slammed it shut.
“Come on in, the door’s open.” She hoped Quentin couldn’t hear the guilt in her voice. Not that she had anything to feel guilty about. Damn Jack and his fancy little chocolate creatures! She smoothed her hands down her skirt and tried to look calm.
“I know, I was just being polite.” Jack strode into the room, a crooked smile on his rugged face. “You’re not usually this happy to see me.”
Destiny’s heart did a little flip-flop. Taller than her five-foot eleven, Jack’s dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck with a strip of leather, and his sapphire blue eyes sparkled with mischief. Thickly roped muscles stretched the tight shirt and rippled with every step he took. He looked every bit as yummy as the chocolate creations he sold in his trendy boutique.
“I thought you were my boyfriend.” She looked pointedly behind him as if she expected Quentin to materialize any second. “I’m expecting him to drop in after court today.”
Jack ignored her reference to Quentin and gave her a toothy grin. “I intend to be a lot more than a friend, and it’s been a long time since anyone referred to me as a boy.” He advanced, his eyes sparkling. “Glad to hear you finally think of me that way, though, because unless my nose is deceiving me, you’re going to be begging for my attention shortly.”
Destiny felt a surge of color flood her cheeks and she turned away so he couldn’t see her face. It mortified her to know he could smell her eagerness. “You wish.” Now that was lame!
He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to face him, his touch surprisingly gentle for such a large man. “No, I know. The full moon is on Saturday. You haven’t slept with that wimpy boyfriend of yours, and you’re not going to if you want him to live to see Monday. A human male can’t begin to satisfy your needs. I wouldn’t have to lift a paw; you’d tear him apart yourself. Your frustration level is about to escalate to hellish proportions.” A devilishly wicked smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Fortunately, I can help you deal with that.”
I love going for solitary drives accompanied by Neil Diamond going full blast while the world around me becomes part of me. I’m a mountain gal born and bred. I don’t understand cities. They don’t speak to me. But give me the wilderness and I come alive.
Lyla folded her arms in front of her, a defensive gesture, closing herself off from him, while plumping up her full breasts so they strained against the lace. “What do you want?”
