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Come see my snippet on Exquisite Quills' Sunday Preview! http://exquisitequills.blogspot.com/ #AuthorRT #Romance #EQuills
Sunday, April 13, 2014
NEW! Sunday Preview
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Excerpt from CONVINCE ME, COWBOY a work in progress.
Danita’s author page: http://www.amazon.com/Danita-Cahill/e/B009NF74I4/
From between two parked cars, a cowboy stepped off the curb into Shay’s path. She rammed on the brakes. Her tires squealed as the rubber dug into the pavement and skidded to a stop.
The cowboy put out a hand and slapped the hood of her truck – she’d come that close to hitting him.
But why slap her truck? In surprise? As punishment? He was the one who stepped in front of her.
Shay’s head echoed with the sound of the slap – big hand against sheet metal. Her heart thumped with adrenalin. Close call. Too, too close.
For a moment she could think of nothing else but what had almost happened. How she’d nearly run him over. How her weekend, and her life, was nearly altered. Nearly ruined in the blink of a second.
The cowboy tipped his head back to look at her from under the brim of his battered, sweat-stained hat. His eyes met hers. They were an incredible, intense azure blue. They held no fear, no surprise, only heat, and they drilled deep into her soul. Warmth spread through her arms and legs.
Shay’s heart changed rhythm, thumping with a different sort of fear, and awareness. An awareness she’d known before, but now felt entirely uncomfortable with.
With a shiver of breath-holding anticipation, and a touch of panic, Shay wondered if her weekend *had* just been altered.
Opening excerpt from SINGER IN RHUNSHAN. a M/M/F fantasy adventure work in progress.
Author's blog and links to original fiction: www.cranehanabooks.com/blog
Almost completely hooded by a fabric cover, a four-inch-high suncrystal prism cast slivers of white light from the bedside table. The rumpled sheets smelled of sex and spilled melon-wine.
Eridan rested his head on his naked wife’s thigh, his wet fingers splayed over her hip. Sfassa’s taut belly looked like hammered bronze in the scattered light. Even marred by one old scar, her skin made a lovely contrast to the narrow line of silver hairs running from her navel down to her cleft, where they widened to a luxuriant triangle of white curls. Eridan’s mouth was rich with her salt-sweet musk. He watched her ragged breathing settle.
“Ha, you only think you’ve worn me out with that golden tongue, little Dana bard,” she rumbled, half-laughing, her head still thrown back on the pillows. Her snow-white hair coiled in glinting spills over the gray linen. “Let me get my breath back. I’ll return the favor.”
“You’ll have to catch me first, you hulking Sirrithani barbarian.”
“You’re on a houseboat, husband. You hate swimming. Gangplank’s the sole way off, and I have only to stand guard over it. You’ll scamper into my arms again soon enough.”
“Mmmm, so I’m trapped,” he said, crawling up over her long, lush body and tucking his face against her shoulder. “How about I just don’t leave, then?” Her legs opened again. He flexed his hips, sought her familiar warmth for the second – or was it the third? – time since they’d got happily tipsy the night before.
Sanity straggled back an hour later, when Sfassa trailed her bronze fingers through Eridan’s long tan hair. She caressed the pointed tip of his ear. ”You don’t want to travel, ever again? This city is enough? When we first met a hundred years ago, you never wanted to return here.”
Opening excerpt from INTOXICATED (A Felony Romance) available on Amazon http://amzn.to/1d8XTAJ
A few minutes past midnight on a hot June night, Ally Taylor turned out the lights of her office at Reyes Corporation, caught a cab to the seamier side of town, and slid onto a barstool at Felony. A notorious underground club with a reputation for heavy metal music and brawling, Felony was her favorite guilty pleasure after a week of stuffy boardroom meetings, financial statements, and patronizing compliments from men in conservative blue suits. Nothing took her further from oppressive corporate life than this edgy bar tucked down an alley like the city’s dirty secret. Its eclectic mix of leather-clad bikers and metal heads appealed to her secret desire to be someone – anyone – other than the boring accountant that she was.
She watched with envy as dancers bobbed and swayed to the raging music like an undulating wave in an angry sea. Pungent odors of sweat and incense mingled with the less obtrusive smells of whiskey and flash pots from the stage. Laser lights and strobes flashed like lightning in time to the thunder of heavy bass and drums. The whole place thrummed with energy as if on the brink of an explosion.
Hi! Nice to be back at Exquisite Quills. Here's a little snippet from my WIP tentatively titled ONE MORE SECOND CHANCE, a small town, second chance romance. Alex McKenzie is a doctor who has recently moved to a small town in Maine. Julia Stewart's mother is exhibiting signs of Alzheimer's. In this scene, Julia notices Alex as something other than a doctor for the first time:
Glancing toward the house next door, she saw Alex McKenzie’s car in the carport. On impulse, she headed across the lawn to his front door. She rang the doorbell once, then again, and was about to leave when he opened the door, his shirt wide open and his dark hair slick and dripping onto his shoulders.
“Mrs. Stewart, hi. Sorry I didn’t answer the door right away. I just got out of the shower.”
As Julia stared at the dusting of dark hair across his broad chest, down to a flat, muscled stomach, she had a sudden vision of him stepping naked and wet from the shower, all hard muscle and sleek, lean power. She had to blink a few times to dispel the scene in her head.
“I’m sorry to intrude on you at home. I was at my parents’ house and I saw that your car was home…” What was she doing here? Alex McKenzie didn’t want to hear her problems. She took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You’re not bothering me. Come inside and tell me how your meeting with your parents went.”
She looked at his hand on her arm, at the contrast of his olive skin against the paleness of hers. She felt the warmth of his hand, the strength of it. She so desperately needed to borrow some of that strength, needed someone to talk to. Looking up into his dark eyes, she nodded her assent.
Thanks for reading. You can find me at my website, www.janarichards.com or at my Amazon Page.
Excerpt from "Over the Edge", a work in progress. An Ellora's Cave Erotic Horror (M/F) by Gail Bridges.
Gail's Amazon author page: http://www.amazon.com/Gail-Bridges/e/B00HCRT8G6/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1
Excerpt, "Over the Edge"
***
"Can you feel my heat?" Gage asked, pressing down slightly.
"Yes," I breathed, feeling much better about the whole thing now that we were actually doing it. I liked the feel of his hands on my stomach. I liked his gentle touch, his caring smile. I liked him.
I did. Really.
"Now…you do it. But you need to put your hands under your shirt. Skin on skin. It works better that way."
I put my hands where I thought they should go. He carefully nudged my left hand a bit higher in relation to my orlex, and spread the fingers of my right hand, just a little. How would I ever remember this?
"Just feel it," he said. "You'll know when it's right. There…that's it. Can you tell?" He put his hands on top of mine, a sandwich. "Close your eyes."
I closed them, barely breathing, because something was happening in my midsection. And it was nice. So…very…nice.
"Are your hands getting warm?"
"They are!"
"Does your belly feel like it's melting?"
"Yes!"
"Good." He waited a moment. "There. You've got it. I can tell. This is Position One. Remember it, okay?" He smiled down at me, his caramel candy eyes full of pride.
I smiled back, my anxieties gone as if they'd never existed, wondering—if this was Position One, what would Position Two feel like? And Position Three? Dare I wonder? Would they feel as amazing as this?
It was so intimate, that first Practicum.
And we hadn't even taken our clothes off yet.
Gage helped me through the entire two-hour-long exercise, demonstrating, correcting the placement of my hands as I moved slowly through the seven positions—and yes, each was better than the last, especially the one where my hands rested atop my breasts. He frowned slightly, commenting, taking notes, wholly wrapped up in the business of teaching and learning. Through all of it, I lay passively on the massage table, marveling at the heat that spread slowly yet inevitably through my belly and into my chest, into my shoulders, into my legs. And—it must be admitted—seeping warmly into my most private places, although I never would have told him that, not in a million years. By the time we were done with the homework packet, I was flushed with pride and accomplishment.
And flushed with something else too.
***
Thank you for reading!
Evelyn Arvey / Gail Bridges
This is from THEIR TEMPORARY SUB (The Doms of Club Mystique 3) which is scheduled for release on April 29, 2014.
“Sugar, can you tell us what happened?” Logan asked.
Cassie shook her head and another tear fell. Never, never, never, she thought.
Luc shifted from one foot to the other. His hands clenched and relaxed, then finally he stepped forward, picked her up, and sat down with her on his lap. He surrounded her with his arms and signaled Logan to continue.
“Sugar, can you tell me who made you cry?” Logan asked. “We’ll have Thor and Jackson kill them for you.”
“No. I’ll kill them,” Luc said, his voice deadly.
Logan dabbed at Cassie’s face. He caught a tear on her left cheek and then a tear on her right cheek. “I’ll help you.” Logan wiped away another tear. “How do you want to do it? Guns? Knives?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of tampering with their car. You know, all covert like Cade and Thor—make it look like an accident.”
Logan nodded his head. “That would work. We could cut the brake line.”
“Do you know where the brake line is located?” Luc asked.
“No, but you can google it,” Logan said.
Cassie snorted, then giggled.
Logan smiled at her. “There you are, sugar. Better now?”
Cassie nodded, then sniffled. “I’m sorry. I never cry,” She shrugged. “Well, unless someone spanks me.” She sniffled again and looked up at Luc through her lashes. “Then, I cry a lot.”
“We’ve got gags.” Luc slid her off his lap and patted her bottom. “You’ve got two minutes to clean up.”
Cassie nodded then fled to the bathroom.
Logan propped himself up against the headboard, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the bed, the other on the floor.
Luc copied Logan’s posture with his back against the post at the end of the bed.
“So, what do you think is going on?” Logan tossed the washcloth back and forth between his hands then tossed it to Luc.
Luc snatched the cloth out of the air then tossed it back.
“I think whatever it is she’s not going to tell us.”
Buy 04/29/14 at www.bookstrand.com/Mardi-Maxwell
Website www.mardimaxwell.com
Sunday Preview, excerpt from, These Loving Lies by Patricia Pellicane
She couldn’t talk, couldn’t tell him what she needed, not when he kissed her like this, not when he stole her ability to breathe, to think. “You,” she gasped mindlessly as seconds later his mouth released hers. “I want you.”
His hand was on her leg, moving under her skirt. Mattie knew she should stop him, but she couldn’t. There was promise in his hands and she needed to know this, needed to know where this wanting would lead. More than she could ever have imagined, she needed this man’s touch.
Her heart turned to thunder, her pulse almost closed off her ability to breathe. “Zachary,” she gasped as they each watched the other. In the dark, eyes glittered with hunger all the while his hand slipped closer, closer to her heat. Closer again, above her stocking now, his fingers warm against her naked thigh, inside the leg of her drawers.
Her breathing grew rough, ragged, her body trembled as she allowed the gentle, sweet discovery. Then his hand was there, where he wanted it most. She felt the last of her resistance fall away. “You’re so hot. Mattie, my God, you’re burning hot.”
“Am I,” she asked with a smile, feeling suddenly bold and somehow beyond powerful, knowing this man helplessly lusted for her, caused her to love it even more. “I thought that was you.”
He smiled in return. “Like it, do you?”
“I suppose you could say I like it,” she returned.
He smiled; his teeth white as they caught his bottom lip. “Are we growing sassy now?”
“Stop talking.”
“It’s better if I talk.”
Mattie breathed on a sigh. Her eyes fluttered closed, her head fell back. “Oh my God, it couldn’t be better.”
But it was.
These Loving Lies is due to be released May 14, 2014 Resplendence Publishing
Website, www.patriciapellicane.com
Sunday Preview, excerpt from The Ghost Who Loved Me, Release date summer 2014. (I'm hoping for June!)
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, after I pulled out my checkbook, a packet of pink tissues, and a paperback with an almost-naked man on the front cover and piled them on the corner of his desk. His mouth twitched. “Have you made any new enemies recently, Miss Duprie?” I guess he got my message about the terms of our relationship.
“Besides a certain insufferable cop?” Even in the artificial fluorescent light, I saw the red rising in his cheeks. I could almost hear him counting to ten as I pretended to consider the question. “I think Larry, the florist, is ticked off that I’m not receiving flowers anymore. And Bart at the grocery store yelled at me last week when I went through the ten items or less line with fourteen items. But what does that have to do with someone stealing and wrecking my car?”
He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and exhaled. “Bear with me a moment. Did you go anywhere today?”
I couldn’t figure out where this line of questioning was going, but I answered anyway. “No, I woke up with a killer headache, realized it was going to rain, and decided to stay home and work.”
“And when was the last time you saw your car?”
“This morning. I planned to go to the library, but it started to storm as I was leaving. Why?”
He swiveled his chair so he was facing away from me. I fidgeted in my suddenly uncomfortable seat and waited. He turned back around and leaned forward with his elbows on his desk. “Your headache may have saved your life. We've asked for help from the state police to verify our theory, but our preliminary investigation and accounts from a few eyewitnesses indicate your car exploded.” Rubbing his forehead, he added. “A tall man in a brown suit was seen in the vicinity.”
I sputtered. “What do you mean my car exploded?”
“In a fireball. Burnt to a crisp. If you had been in the vehicle, you’d be dead."
My Amazon author page is http://www.amazon.com/P.J.-MacLayne/e/B00HVE8WZI
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