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New Release coming 09.29.16 THE PHOENIX SYNDROME Women's Fiction
I don’t quite know how to describe the concert. I can say it was as stimulating visually as it was to my ears. The band—four guys and a girl—all had hair longer than mine, which was well past my shoulders. All except for the keyboardist, whose head was shaved, although he sported a long, red beard parted into two straggly plaits.
But then there was the drummer. If not for the overhead monitors panning in for close-ups during the performance, I might never have known he existed. What a travesty that would have been.
In a word, he was . . . magnificent. He sat like a king on his throne at the elevated rear of the stage, sparkling silver-flake drums surrounding him like loyal minions. The monitor directly over our seats focused on him often, so close and so clear I could see the sweat glistening on sculpted upper arms, bare beneath a black muscle shirt stretched taut across a broad chest. Some sort of ink crawled over one bicep. A black-and-white paisley bandanna covered most of his head, but long, dark curls framed his face and clung damp against his neck. His facial hair, limited to a sparse mustache and goatee, was chocolate brown. I indulged in the fantasy that his eyes were that same sweet, smoldering color.
His passion for his work was palpable. Hands flying, head bobbing, he was completely engrossed, as if the music were a drug he was tripping on. His hooded eyes gave him the look of a sleepy lover, but when he did open them, I could swear he was gazing directly at me.
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HELLHOUND BOUND
It’s a helluva job, but someone has to do it, and for Rhune, it’s a small price to pay for his past sins. He’s taken a new name and a somewhat normal life. Except at night, when he transforms into a hellhound to take souls to Gehenna, the City of the Dead, for purgatories legions to deliver them to Hell where they belong.
For fifteen centuries he’s lived in happy solitude, until a paralegal, with the most amazing eyes, rear ends him in the small town of Rio Morden. He’s seen those eyes before, but it’s been years since the last time. Now she’s all grown up and involved in a murder trial that has its sights set on her becoming its next victim. What’s a hellhound to do? Surely not fall in love—and certainly not with a Dreamwalker.
Mix in a diabolical lawyer and his lover, some Voodoo magic, and it’s a recipe for mayhem and murder.
Can Rhune keep Hanna safe or is she destined to be Hellhound Bound?
Morgan D'Arcy: A Vampyre Rhapsody - now available from The Wild Rose Press:
“I have a date,” she said coolly.
A vision of Isabeau dressed for a night out on the town blinded me. Was she wearing one of the lovely dresses I’d given her while we lived our idyll in my house on the Battery? The Rover House overlooked the ocean. She’d left her Orange Street home to come to me. For five short months, we’d lived in a dreamlike state of bliss...together at last.
“A date with that bastard John Payne.” My hand fisted at my side. I wanted to strike something or someone. Tonight, the Royal Pain would join his ancestors.
“It’s none of your business.”
“You’re carrying my child, Isabeau. That makes it my business.” I washed to a halt by the bed. “You love me.”
“Don’t start,” she snapped.
www.lindanightingale.com
from Beachcomber Heat by Stephanie Queen
Dane watched Shana reach back with both hands and lift the heavy mane of hair off her neck, arching her breasts forward and exposing the glistening pale column of her throat. Her head was thrown back, supported by her long bare arms gleaming with a film of perspiration. He stared and held himself as still as a mountain—with an effort. He wished they were anywhere else on the planet.
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Windmaster - Now Available From Books We Love Ltd.
“You could be a wizard,” Dal persisted. “The power is within you. Deny you feel it.”
Ellspeth looked over the busy deck, anywhere but at Dal. She knew every crewman. She could tell the depth of water beneath the ship’s hull just by the sound, and the amount of sail needed for any given wind. The Sea Falcon was her ship.
“It was your magic combined with mine that saved the Falcon,” Dal persisted. “And, it was you alone who brought me back.” Ellspeth focused on the pennant flying from the center mast. Only the slap of waves against the bow broke the silence between them.
She stood, breaking the magic that held them private. “I’m Ellspeth of the House of Cszabo, daughter of Mirim, granddaughter of Rima. I am captain of the Sea Falcon. I am not a mage!”
Whatever else she would have said died with the look of disappointment on Dal’s face.
“You can’t deny,” Dal started. His voice faltered at Ellspeth’s icy glare. “I’m sorry. Captain. I did not mean to intrude on this lovely evening.” He pulled his hand back from its gesture of entreaty.
The next morning, Dal did not resume the discussion, and in fact, avoided all contact with her. Even though he didn’t pursue the matter, his words haunted Ellspeth. At times only the feel of the sun-warmed gold of her bracelets, the goal she had worked so hard for, enabled her to regain her equilibrium. No matter how hard she forced down the urge to feel the touch of magic or Dal’s hands on hers, it kept returning. The impulse to reach for him surged forward every time she saw him at his usual spot at the foredeck rail. His feet slightly apart as he leaned upon the slick wood, his gaze focused out to sea.
Magic and the sea don’t mix, Rima had always said. Ellspeth sighed, her grandmother had been right. Magic almost sank the Sea Falcon.
An inner voice countered for the side of magic. Dal had saved the Falcon at the risk of his own life.
No, his presence is a threat to the ship. I can't wait to have him ashore.
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Available at helenhenderson-author.blogspot.com
BLACK CAT BEAUTY, a Halloween Paranormal Erotic Romance ~Now being revised-expanded for re-release~
Chapter One:
Magickal Seduction By a Black Cat
"Bored." Sable tossed back her auburn waves of thigh-length hair, then sauntered inside the main ballroom of the privately owned gothic mansion.
"Flat." She wrinkled her nose and wished she could flip her own tail, instead of being stuck with the fake, listless cat tail of her costume. With casual flair, she set the champagne glass on the first passing tray, waiter attached, and kept on gliding into the main party area of the monstrous mansion.
Remembering not to pivot her ears in search of Yisbet's high-pitched signal, a keening sound beyond human hearing, Sable surveyed the Halloween crowd of black cats, and decided Halle Berry's version of Catwoman won out as the most favored costume—with the Eartha Kitt costumes coming in a close second. If it hadn't been for the fact that most of those present were humans encased in their second-skin black cat costumes, Sable would have felt right at home.
"Ooooh, Dracula black cat," she cooed to a tall man who was obviously gay. His gaze slobbered over the boy-toy waiter passing between them. Yet he grinned at her, his fake whiskers at odd angles on his artfully painted face.
Listening for Yisbet, her long-time friend and surveillance partner, Sable wove through the crowd of partying black cats. Given the night was still young, with midnight several hours away, those around her flirted in a *keep it trendy and shallow* manner.
"Felix, the cat," Sable teased with her tone. She tweaked the paunchy man's black fur cheek. He was one of the few guests with extra love handles showing on his short frame. Likely a producer invited to this celebrity shindig, she thought.
"Yeah, honey, you got some cat scratch fever for me?" he asked like Mel Brooks.
~~~
HAPPY READING!
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~savannakougar.com~ and ~shapeshifterseduction.blogspot.com~
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