Another Deal, by Jude Mason, Available NOW

Book #2 in The Dealing Trilogy
By Jude Mason
Publisher: BWLPP Spice
Genre: m/f, vampires, fiction, erotica

Sabrina and Matt have got to leave LA. There are too many opportunities for someone to recognize him. Neither seems to really care where they go until Sabrina has a dream/vision of her sire, Brand, being chased and brutalized by a mob. She recognized the place as Whitby England from the Abbey in the background. She also sees how her sire is murdered and the faces of those responsible.

The decision made, they pack up her casket and head for England. Once in Whitby, the pair shelter in the ruins of the Abbey while looking for the culprits. Will the vampire pair find the vengeance Sabrina so desperately seeks, or will the murder escape? Will their love hold them together in their hunt? 


His eyes flew open. A scream, her scream woke him. She stared at him. Terror, pain, panic—all written on her face, blazed in her eyes—held her frozen in his arms.   
"Brand!" she sobbed. Matt pulled her close; gasped in shocked confusion at the horrible vision that filled his mind. She clung to him desperately. He'd do anything to protect her from whatever had robbed her of her peace, but he was still partially lost in his own nightmare. She trembled in his arms. Tears wetted his chest as she gazed off into some distant memory he couldn't see, and from the look of horror on her face, he was glad he couldn't.
"Sabrina, what is it?" He managed to ask; his voice was still rough from slumber and his own mysterious visions of death and hate. He wrapped his arms around her and soothed her, tenderly stroking her hair. He pulled her against him, molding her body to his in an attempt to take her obvious pain into himself and away from her.
"My sire," she whispered.
Matt didn't understand. Sire—what an odd thing to call a father. "Your sire? What do you mean? Your father? What about him?" He urged, confused but needing to know what had frightened her so badly that she lay trembling in his arms.
Sabrina pulled away from him, just enough so she could look up into his eyes. Sadness, deeper than any he'd ever seen before, darkened hers. "He's gone. Dead. Not my father, he died hundreds of years ago. My sire, the man who created me as I am now—he's been killed this night." She shuddered and again leaned against him, as if taking strength from him. "We're going to England." There was no question in her tone; she would allow no argument on this it seemed. They would go to England.

- - -
*Jude Mason – Readers needed: Come, explore with me…if you dare*
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A Knight's Enchantment - new excerpt

Here's a new excerpt from my historical romance 'A Knight's Enchantment' where Joanna is trying to escape from the hero Hugh.

Rushing past the beds of spring-time flowers, all silver in the moonlight, Joanna spotted Peter the page, hiding from sight of the castle and kitchen windows. He was crouched behind a stand of hyssop and thyme, playing a solitary game of dice.

Seeing him, Joanna recalled Hugh's previous comment and greeted him at once. "Peter, well-met! Will you fetch a box of white powder from my chamber and deliver it here to Sir Yves? He has asked for it most urgently."
"Unnn- " Peter assented, coming slowly to his feet, his face a beacon of shame at being discovered.
"And hurry," Joanna pressed, keen for the lad to be away.
As Peter slouched off to do her bidding in some fashion, she scanned the high walls of the castle garden. If there was a gate, or a tree close to the wall she could climb, she might escape the keep. She had her own pitiful share of Orri's gold with her - she always had her gold on her - so she would have something to give the bishop. Pray God it would placate him for a space, and win her more time.
Why not wait to see what the messenger says? Her reason argued, but her feelings were all urging her to flee. The truth was, she did not trust Bishop Thomas. Hugh had taken her as a valued hostage, but what if she was not? What if the bishop did not care? He could get other women to share his bed, and other alchemists to try to grow him gold. At least back at West Sarum she could be useful in many ways: making rose-water, elixirs, sweets, helping in the kitchen. Now she was away from him, Thomas might forget her altogether and her father would be left to rot in the donjon, or worse.
"Let me find a gate," Joanna panted, as she traced another high wall without any opening.
Her prayer was answered at once. No gate, but a wild crab apple that must have seeded itself from the woodland outside and was now growing beside the wall. Its sturdy branches reached beyond the huge, smooth stones and a wide canopy of blossom gleamed as beautiful as stars in the deepening twilight.
"Thanks be to God," Joanna murmured, stretching her arms up to the tree. Its bark was grainy under her hands and a piece flaked down into her face, but she was too jubilant to care.
"Are you not old to be climbing trees?"
Hugh's question startled her and she lost her grip, scrabbling for a hold as she plummeted toward the swathes of violets, pinks and black-looking speedwell.
Hugh caught her and silenced his dog's howling abruptly. "Enough, Beo! She is not hurt." He gripped her more tightly, his arms as firm as a ship's ribs beneath her trembling legs and shoulders. "She is safe."
He touched her face, lightly brushing away the scrap of bark from her lips. "You are as light as a moth." His blue eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "And as treacherous ."
Joanna found her voice again in her raw, dry throat. "I was merely examining the blossom."
"That is an idea, but I have a better one. I will assay you for cuts - have I the word right? - and examine you to ensure you are not bruised."
He was enjoying this, the devil, but even as he spoke, Joanna found herself imagining Hugh studying her. It was the kind of game she had never played with a man, but how might it be with him? To be touched and touch in return...
Joanna wrung her mind from a disturbing mêlée of images, desperate to fob him off somehow. "I must - I must use the garderobe," she whispered.
"I am not surprised, after such excitement. I shall escort you there and thence to your chamber."
It seemed he meant to carry her to both places.
"We shall be quicker if I walk," Joanna said.
"But not if you run. You may run too far." Hugh allowed that none-too-subtle hint hit home and then changed the subject. "My men speak highly of your white powder. It soothes their aches better than any other tincture they know. I have found the same."
He raised his arms slightly, to lift her smoothly over a rosebush.
"I am most intrigued as to what it is. Can you speak of its basics? How did you make it? How did you choose its parts?"
Had she not been trapped by him and the bishop's deadline, she would have been glad of, even a little flattered by his interest. As it was, feeling aggrieved with all men and their power-games, she answered sharply, "All my work is secret."
"A way to keep control. I understand."
His soothing reply exasperated her more. "Do you tell other jousters how to win? It is the same for me."
"Competitive alchemy?"
"We all have exacting patrons."
He shrugged. "Find some other labor if you dislike it so much."
His smug, overweening, ignorant superiority made her burn with rage.
"As you would, if you did not spend your days dashing out your opponents' brains? And what new labor would that - ?" Joanna began, then snapped her teeth together. She would not give him the satisfaction of a waspish answer. Besides, they had passed up the outer stair of the keep and were heading rapidly for the inner staircase and she was anxious as to what Hugh might do next, faced with the tight narrow spiral.
“I can walk ahead of you upstairs,” she said quickly.
“No, you are plainly overset. We will keep as we are.”
“Do not put me over your shoulder!” Joanna warned, shaking a finger at him.
“To carry such a wee bag of bones as you? I think not.” He lowered his head, kissed her finger and now bore her in one brawny arm up the spiral, shielding her head against the stones with his shoulder. The smooth, steady rush would have been exhilarating, had she not been so irritated.
Finally he set her down, outside the door of the garderobe. She knew he would be lurking when she came out again and so he was.
“Stay with her, Beowulf,” he told the wolfhound. “Guard.”
Instantly the dog began to pace to and fro, exactly like a human guard, and Joanna realized what would happen if she attempted to move along the narrow corridor. Staring out from an arrow slit at the dark garden, she relieved some of her feelings by cursing Hugh, Sir Yves, Bishop Thomas and even David.
“I wish I was a unicorn,” she grumbled. “Too magical to hold.”
“I would have had you for a lioness,” said Hugh behind her. “Valiant as a queen.”
“And you would be the lion?” she asked archly.
“A phoenix,” came back the prompt, unexpected reply. “Then I could burn away to ash and be reborn with no hurt to anyone.”
Joanna thought of Hugh's mother, dead in childbirth, bearing him, and said nothing. She had heard of fathers blaming offspring for the deaths of their spouses but had not witnessed its raw pain until encountering Hugh and Yves. A memory of her mother, more precious than gold, shimmered a moment before her eyes. Miriam had been small and dark as she was, merry and chattering and with hands softer than silk. She had loved to comb and dress people's hair, even her husband's own sparse locks.
"What are you thinking?" Hugh asked softly. "You seem far away."
Joanna shook her head. To speak of her mother when he had never known his was unkind. To talk of Miriam was to invite questions and she was not ready yet to answer the worst one - how her mother had died.
"Do you have no other captives to pester?" she demanded.
"No," he said, without apology. Instead of drawing back as she wanted, he stayed where he was, absently rubbing his lower back.
"Long hours in the saddle," he remarked, catching her look. "How are your legs now?"
"Better. Why do you ask? Are you thinking of riding me into the ground tonight? Riding with me?" she amended, horrified by what she had just said. A picture of her and Hugh, rolling together on the soft earth, slammed into her head and stayed there.
"You need not fear me, you know."
What did he mean? Had he noticed her mistake? Joanna did not hit back with the obvious answer, that she did not fear him. She lifted her head and looked at him directly, spearing her eyes at him, facing down him and her own imagination. So she had day-dreamed of his touching her, of him embracing her as a husband does a wife. Could she not enjoy that notion?
Even as she admitted to herself that she did, Joanna knew she was torn between wanting to touch Hugh and wanting to escape him. She made a mummer's show of a yawn, hoping he would take the hint and leave her on the corridor. Then she would try again to weave her way out of this castle keep.
"If your legs are well now," Hugh went on, seemingly oblivious to her inner turmoil, "then I can help you."
"To do what?" Joanna asked.

A Knight's Enchantment
Reviews for this and my other novels, plus covers, buy links and more excerpts can be seen at my website

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Giselle Renarde's 1st Novel is "Anonymous"

Giselle Renarde

Hannah and her husband Nathaniel have always shared one particular fantasy—he wants to make love with another man, and she wants to watch.

When Hannah loses her job to a crumbling economy, she soon finds that an idle mind is indeed “the devil’s playground.” She latches onto the delectably naughty idea of bringing a third into the bedroom, but inviting a man they both know to join them could have far-reaching negative consequences. What they need is someone else. Someone anonymous.

After a hot night of ménage sex with a stunning escort, Hannah becomes obsessed with finding out the identity of their mystery male. Even when Nathaniel unexpectedly introduces another vibrant young man into their relationship, Hannah remains possessed by her fixation.

To what lengths will Hannah go to discover the real identity of "Mr. Anonymous?"

Genres: Contemporary / The Arts / Ménage (M/M/F) / Group Sex / Bisexual (M/M) Content / Interracial / Multicultural / Voyeurism
Heat Level: 3
Length: Novel (57k words / TBD paperback pages)

Read a short excerpt...

...“I want to suck another man’s cock,” he said.

She smiled. “I want to watch you.”

“I bet you do.”

After setting her glass down on the coffee table, Hannah crossed her bare legs over her husband’s lap and laughed. “I can’t believe we’re talking like this. It’s so naughty!”

She ran her fingers down the front of his already unbuttoned shirt and leaned in to kiss his neck. He smelled like wet pine after coming in from the rain. She kissed him again, kissed his cheek this time. Every peck left a pink mark on his flesh. Tonight, she’d paint him with lipstick. Her lips would be her brush, and his skin her canvas. She’d been waiting all day, and now this dirty talk was gearing her up for an evening to remember.

“Sorry again about dinner,” she said with a deliberate pout.

Nathaniel shrugged. “Hey, it’s not your fault the power went out. I wasn’t all that hungry anyway.” Leaning toward the coffee table, he stacked some cheese onto a cracker and popped it in his mouth. Hannah felt awful that finger food was the best she could do after promising him a meal to die for. She nuzzled his chest as he chewed. From the time he’d walked through the door, she suspected it wasn’t food Nathaniel had on his mind. Her husband wasn’t usually a dirty talker, but he’d sure gotten into it tonight. Maybe it was the candles. The whole atmosphere of the power outage fostered creativity.

“What else do you want?” she asked. “If we had another man here right now, what would you do to him?”

Nathaniel made an Mmm sound deep in his throat as Hannah pulled his shirttails from his navy blue trousers. “Are you undressing me?” he asked.

“Are you avoiding the question?” she answered.

He kissed her forehead, leaving a dab of wet warmth in his wake. “Have you ever known me to avoid questions?” He chuckled as she pushed his shirt down over his shoulders and teased his pert nipple with her tongue. “Oh, you do have a talent for that.”

“You like it, huh?” She leaned across his chest and bit the other nipple as it stood erect. “Well, then, you’d better keep talking, mister. I want to see it in my mind.” Sitting up beside him, Hannah looked out across the candlelit living room. Her gaze fell into the rocking chair under the vast window of the sunroom extension. “If there was a handsome young man, like that guy Jameson from your office…if he was sitting in that rocking chair over there, what would you do to him?”

“What would I do?”

“Yes, what would you do?” Hannah chuckled as Nathaniel rose from the couch and wandered toward the window. “I’m waiting for an answer, Mister ‘I’m secure in my masculinity.’ How would you make that boy come?”

Nathaniel set his thick fingers against the shining oak of the rocking chair. With his back to Hannah, he raised his head to the raindrops drizzling down the great window. She hoped the electricity would never come back on; this naughtiness was much more entertaining than anything on television. Her insides sizzled.

Turning, Nathaniel met Hannah’s gaze from across the room. “If he was sitting in this chair right here?”

Hannah squirmed in her seat. Her panties were wet just thinking about charming Jameson, the young gay go-getter in the grey cubicle across from her husband’s. “Yes, if he was sitting there naked, all dark and delicious, what would you do to his flesh?”

“The first thing I would do,” Nathaniel replied, walking around the chair, “is touch his face.”

She squealed like a schoolgirl. “You would?” Grabbing a throw pillow, Hannah hugged it close to her chest. “Oh, I’d never have guessed that. Where on his face? And what would you touch him with?”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “With my finger, you little minx.” He looked down into the rocking chair as though Jameson were really seated there. “I would brush my index finger down his cheek.”

Hannah cooed at the thought. “I’ve never touched a black man’s stubble. I wonder what it would feel like. Would it be fuzzy, do you think, or sharp like yours?”

“I imagine it would feel like mine,” he said, running a hand across his blondish five o’clock shadow. Nathaniel had an exquisite face: a squared jaw, a dimpled chin, a Greek nose, and a scorching look in his grey eyes every time a dirty thought crossed his mind.

“What would you do next?” Hannah asked, squeezing the square pillow closer to her chest. “I’m sure you wouldn’t spend the whole night touching his face.”

Standing upright beside the rocking chair, Nathaniel stuck his thumb in the air and wriggled it. “I’d put this in his mouth.”

“Oooh…” Hannah chuckled. “I thought you were going somewhere else with that.”

Her idea seemed to bring a blush to her husband’s cheeks. Swinging her feet up onto the couch, she hid her smile behind the throw pillow and let out a throaty giggle. “Nathaniel, you’ve gone all shy on me!”

“Never,” he said with a wink...

The ebook is available now at and the paperback will be out in May. Consider buying the ebook immediately for "New Release pricing"!

Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!

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Anniversary Post: College professer by day...

... erotic romance writer by night. What happens when Professor Jane Renard's "secret" life becomes public knowledge?

This is the 1st anniversary of the print (and digital) release of my 15th book!


Setup: Jane is talking with Marcus Sloan, a detective she wants to hire to help her prove her innocence in the murder of Jane's ex-husband.

Then Marcus looked at me again. I had the feeling he knew I was attempting to avoid revealing anything more. The man was too perceptive by half. “And your late husband? The thing you need to see Sam about?”

I hesitated. “I feel I need to try to explain about Toby.”

He nodded. His white hair was standing up in little spikes from the sweat. He obviously hadn’t shaved yet for the day because his cheeks were heavily stubbled. I had a hard time not staring at him as I talked.

“When Toby left me, I was so ashamed. I didn’t want to tell anybody. My brother Robbie knew something was amiss, though. I was in Pittsburgh by then, teaching at Westmoreland. He’d taken a job in New York, but he came out to see me. I told him all about...”

I stopped myself in time. I almost revealed my Big Secret. How did Marcus Sloan do it? I barely knew him and I almost unveiled the biggest secret in my life. I backpedaled.

“After Toby was gone for two years, I could legally file for divorce in Pennsylvania, where I lived. I did so, receiving what appeared to be quite legal documents in return, which stated my divorce was final. I didn’ I handled it all myself. My parents had warned me against marrying him in the first place and I wanted to show how independent I was by handling the mess I made of my life.” I blew out a long sigh.

He smiled. I noticed for the first time he had a little scar running along the side of his face and onto his chin. It rippled when he smiled. “I know how that goes.”

“Robbie tried to find Toby, but he’d vanished. It was Robbie who told the family what happened.” I sipped my coffee. “I have a very large, extended family so everyone had to get involved. My uncle Phil, my cousin Petros, my uncle Vanya, my dad Walt—all the male relatives wanted to track down Toby and make him ‘do the right thing’.” I laughed shakily. “I wasn’t sure I wanted Toby back, though. So I filed the papers.”

I paused to order my thoughts and Sloan didn’t pressure me. He just waited. It was very soothing. I struggled to make him understand without making it look as though I was hoping for a reassuring compliment. “I’ve always known I’m not the type of woman—” I stopped and started again. “I don’t make men—” I stopped again. “I mean, I’m not terribly sexy. Toby was very sexy and sophisticated. When he paid attention to me, I was so flattered. And I was unsure about my future. I was starting a new job, but wasn’t sure if it was the right career path for me. Toby lied to me. He told me he’d be deported unless I helped him. He told me he was here on a graduate student visa and...” I looked at Sloan, expecting to see pity at my stupidity.

Instead I saw compassion. It gave me the courage to continue. “Then, a few days after we got married I found he was sleeping around. Maggie—you met her? She saw him with another woman. I confronted Toby about it but he just laughed it off.” I ran a hand through my hair, tugging at my curls in agitation. “It mattered a lot to me. I trusted him.”

“I can understand how that must have made you feel,” Sloan said quietly. “You trusted him and he threw it in your face.”

I looked into his eyes but didn’t see a hint of condescension or laughter at my naiveté. This was a man who understood trust and the converse of that—violated trust.

I believe it was at that moment that I decided to convince Marcus Sloan to introduce my virgin body to the joys of sex.

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Inked: Rough Waters

by Kate Hill
Format(s): Ebook
Heat Level: Erotic
Pairing(s): M/F
Genre/Themes: Vampire
Length: Novella
Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Art: Karen Fox
ISBN: 978-1-60521-483-2
Purchase Link: Changeling Press
Related Books or Books Set in the Same Universe: Inked, Mate Marks, Mate Marks Cursed, Prowleryns
Related Free Stories: Goodnight, Diva


One moment Samantha is admiring a tattooed man at the gym and the next she's aboard a private yacht with no idea how she got there. Faced with two mysterious men -- one she trusts and one she fears -- she experiences mind-blowing sex with a vampire while avoiding death. A night of heaven and hell...

Lured onto his estranged creator's yacht, Geoffrey meets a woman he can't resist, but is Samantha part of a scheme to tempt him into indulging in his long-repressed bloodlust?

The following excerpt from ROUGH WATERS is for readers 18 and over.

"I don't know what's going on, but--" The shipped rocked violently and Samantha stopped speaking and focused on keeping her balance. It was impossible. Once again they lurched on the waves. She tumbled onto Geoffrey who landed flat on his back, Samantha on top of him.

Instinctively her thighs clasped him. Straddling him, she braced her hands against his chest. Their startled gazes locked.

"What's going on?" she asked breathlessly.

"Feels like a storm to me," he said, grasping her waist.

The shipped tossed again and Samantha let go of a little shriek at the same moment Geoffrey gave a masculine shout. They rolled across the floor and landed with their positions reversed. Geoffrey's long, hard body pinned hers to the carpeted floor.

Bracing a hand on either side of her head, he raised himself slightly, relieving her of a portion of his weight.

"Something isn't right here," he said gruffly, his lips centimeters from her. "It feels like we're in the middle of a typhoon but all I want to do is fuck you. What did John do?"

Again they tumbled across the floor. This time she landed on top.

"How should I know?" she panted, torn between fear of the ship sinking and the most intense arousal she'd ever felt in her life. "He's your family, not mine!"

The ship rocked so hard she thought for sure they'd capsize. She screamed and Geoffrey's arms tightened around her as they rolled again. Before they struck the wall he managed to turn his body so that he took the brunt of the blow. He grunted on impact.

"You okay?" she asked. Why did she care?

"Yeah. You?"

"I think so, but I'm not sure it matters. Do you think we're sinking?"

"Not sure."

They stood, steadying each other.

"We better find out what's going on," he said, taking her hand.

Instead of pulling away she clung to him. No sooner had he opened the door than John appeared drenched in seawater and looking disheveled. He pushed tendrils of black hair from his forehead.

"Are we going down?" Geoffrey asked.

John shook his head. "No, but we're off course and our communications have been knocked out."

Samantha, girl, don't panic.

"Do you need help topside?" Geoffrey asked.

"The captain has everything under control. We lost a couple of guests overboard, but it's no big deal."

Samantha stared at him in horror.

"Don't looked so worried. They won't be missed," John told her, a wicked grin on his full lips.

Geoffrey glanced at Samantha and said, "We're probably better off without them. Believe me, this isn't a group you want to be lost at sea with."

"We can keep her safe. Right, Geoffrey?" John said.

The men held each other's gazes--John with an antagonizing smirk and Geoffrey with his jaw set in anger.

"I need to get back--"

"No, John, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on." Geoffrey grabbed his arm and pulled him into the cabin.

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EXCERPT - R16 - Elevator With A View

Blurb: She hates elevators and Christmas. To escape memories of her ex husband, she books a Christmas cruise around the Caribbean Sea, only to get stuck in the ship’s glass elevator with a sex-on-a-stick stranger.


Just her luck, she thought, to be spending Christmas Eve stuck between floors.

At least it was on a cruise ship, and not with her ex.

In fact, the man slouched against the mirrored wall of the elevator was his direct opposite. Young, younger than her, with that palpable aura of fuck-you that was both an attitude and a proposition. His shoulders were broad, twice as broad as the hips. A strand of hair just above the dark brows shimmered glittery purple.

Great. Christmas Eve, a broken elevator playing an instrumental medley from the eighties, plus a punk with purple hair. A punk whose hard jaw made her yearn to run her tongue along its line…. Halt! Where did that come from?

The punk unpeeled himself off the wall and pushed the alarm button. Nothing happened. He held his cell phone above his head. Angelica stood on tiptoe to look. No signal bars.

“Hi.” His grin flashed a row of teeth, pointy and white, a wolf’s mouth. A vertical groove bisected his lower lip di Caprio style. “I guess it’s too much to expect even a miracle like the iPhone to work in the middle of the ocean.”


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The Promise is Out!

Just as she stepped off the bottom step, she heard a noise at the front door. She hesitated, unsure what to do. Who could be visiting at this hour? Just when she expected to hear a knock, she heard something else instead. A key was being inserted into the lock, and right before her startled eyes, she watched the knob turn and the door open. Her gaze landed on a pair of army boots and slowly traveled upward, taking in the muscular body in military fatigues. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Ohmygod! Ryan had come home!

He appeared just as startled as she was. Halting in the threshold as their eyes meet, his rugged expression carved in granite. Only his eyes, those piercing blue orbs, showed any sign of life, if you could call it that. Shannon had a feeling that Ryan Hayes didn’t reveal any emotions that weren’t hardened by years of combat. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to speak and half expected him to back out and leave.

“Do you mind if I come in?” His deep voice was just as Shannon remembered. “It’s damn cold out here.”

For the first time she realized she was blocking his way. Swallowing, she stepped back enough for him to enter and close the door behind him. He dropped a large army bag on the floor by his feet, and shook off the snow onto the floor mat. All the while keeping his eyes trained on Shannon, as though she were the enemy. She took a nervous step further into the foyer, directly into the soft glow of the lamp that had been left on in the living room.

Ryan looked just like he did the last time she saw him. Big and tall, cloaked in that attitude of quiet strength he seemed to possess. His black hair cut in military fashion and suited his strong, square boned face. Though sporting a tiny scar over his left eyebrow and another, bigger one halfway down his left cheek he was still a handsome man. He eluded danger in practically every move he made, every glance. His eyes dropped, running over Shannon rapidly, making her painfully aware of her disheveled state.

She refused to reach up and smooth her hair back, knowing that it would do no good. The tiniest quirk on his full, sensuous mouth revealed he found her condition amusing. Quickly, his lips thinned almost menacingly when his gaze narrowed on her breasts. It was then that Shannon reached up and pulled her ruined blouse together where the buttons had come off. She finally found her voice.

“Welcome home, Ryan.”

“Where is everyone?” His tone seemed hard, gruff, more commanding than inquiring. He slipped off his jacket and hung it on a peg on the back of the door, and then bent to slip off his boots.

“Mom went to bed with a headache. Sheila must be putting the kids to bed. The rest won’t get here until tomorrow night.” Shannon couldn’t help but notice the quick glance he shot her way when she called his mother mom. She watched quietly as he set his boots against the wall and stood, towering over her again.

“It’s just as well. I’m tired as hell and want to turn in early myself. But first, I want to find something to eat. I’m starved.” Closing the distance between them, Ryan halted when he reached Shannon. “Is that okay?”

Shannon felt a telltale heat rush up to her cheeks when she realized she was watching Ryan’s mouth form the words. What the heck was wrong with her? Jet lag, that’s what. She gave her head a little shake. She must be more tired than she thought. As his words became clear, it dawned on her that she was once again blocking his way.

“Oh! I’m, ah sorry.” Instead of moving to let him pass, she turned and began to walk in the direction of the kitchen. “I’ll be glad to fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary.” He was right on her heels.

“That’s okay.” Shannon pushed the kitchen door open and flipped on the light switch on the wall next to it. “Sheila put a plate for me in the oven and if I know her, she left enough for two. I don’t mind sharing.” Not waiting for Ryan to acknowledge her, Shannon took the potholders from the counter by the stove, opened the oven door and retrieved the plate. “Just as I thought.”

She turned and showed him the full plate of corn beef hash. But the expression on Ryan’s face almost made her drop it. Sweat had broken out on his forehead and he’d turned pale, his lips were thin as a muscle twitched in his jaw that had hardened in an effort to hold back that he was in obvious pain. Intense pain. He was clutching the island counter in the middle of the kitchen as if it alone was holding him upright. “Ryan!” Shannon set the plate down and rushed to his side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He held a hand up in a silent warning for her to back off. She stopped immediately and waited for another sign from him, afraid he was having some kind of attack. After a few more seconds, he sucked in several deep breaths and released them slowly. It was clear by his expression that he hated showing her even that one small weakness. It was very clear that he didn’t intend talking about it. Shannon knew the moment the pain left his body when his expression relaxed.

“You said something about sharing your dinner?” He pulled out one of the barstools from around the island and sank down onto it. Shannon hesitated for a moment, fighting the urge to question him. Something was terribly wrong, she just knew it, but she didn’t know Ryan well enough to feel she had the right to ask him anything personal. The look in his cold eyes warned her she’d be shot down before she managed to speak the first word. Forcing a smile she was far from feeling, she turned to get a second plate.

“I’ll thank you not to mention what just occurred to my family,” Ryan surprised her by saying while her back was turned to him.

“If that’s what you want,” Shannon responded, opening a cupboard door. She glanced with surprise at where the plates were usually stacked. Glasses had replaced them. Marsha had obviously done some rearranging since the last time Shannon had been there. She opened up several other doors before finding the plates, stacked on the second shelf. Standing on tip toe she strained to reach them.

“Here, let me help you.”

“Oh!” Feeling Ryan brush up against her, Shannon spun around before she could think. Suddenly, it wasn’t her backside feeling his hardened muscles. Since he was in the process of reaching over her head for a plate, they were now flush against each other. Her breasts flattened against his hard chest, the lower halves of their bodies were shockingly aligned, and their thighs were touching. Mouths within inches of each other, their breath mingled. It was crazy but Shannon was sure she felt their hearts beating in rhythm. She began to tingle everywhere and held her breath.

Their gazes met and held and Ryan became motionless, his arm still above her head reaching for the plate. It struck Shannon that she was seeing the dangerous side of him, the soldier sizing up the situation and preparing for action. Only in this case, what would that be? She refused to let her mind go there.

Liquid Silver Books :
Tory Richards:

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New Release: Charmed Lover by Zenobia Renquist (R)

Save 5% off your entire order with coupon code SISpring. Expires 30 April. Only for use on Changeling Press site once per account.

Caveat Emptor 1: Charmed Lover
by Zenobia Renquist

Changeling Press

eBook ISBN: 978-1-60521-615-7
Genre: Paranormal Erotic
Themes: Interracial, Vampire, Magic
Length: Novella
Price: $3.49

Ryver is one of the many humans who owns a vampire. She purchased Theron for home security. When the magic charms keeping the vampires docile and subservient suddenly start failing, Theron goes from protector to threat. A nationwide, mandatory recall of all vampires is in effect. Ryver is ready to comply, but a night of passion spent in Theron's arms changes her mind.

It's only a matter of time before someone figures out Ryver and Theron's secret. With the threat of mages bearing down on them, Ryver has to decide if she's willing to give up her lover or her freedom.

Ryver came awake with a startled scream. The man touching her inner thigh moved his hand higher. She struggled against him and tried to get away but he had hold of her ankle.



She froze. In the darkness she could just make out Theron's features on the man attacking her. The glint of something red at Theron's throat caught her eye.

The docility charm was red.

It had failed.

The complete horror of that realization kept her paralyzed.

Theron smiled at her, flashing his fangs in the dim light. "I do believe you asked what I would do to you if I were free. Shall I show you, Ryver?" He used her ankle and pulled her closer to him.

Fear kept her from answering or even trying to escape.

The charm had failed.

Theron was loose.

She should have taken him back. She shouldn't have trusted some stupid green glow over her common sense. She should never have gotten him in the first place.

Theron leaned into her. Only then did she try to move away.

She pushed at Theron's face and kicked her free leg, hoping to hit something sensitive. He still had one of her ankles trapped in his grip, and her body was half pinned beneath his, though he braced most of the weight on his other hand which was planted firmly on the bed next to her waist. Her struggles didn't faze him. Theron chuckled as he continued his descent. His mouth was aimed for her throat.

He planned to bleed her dry.

At least it wouldn't be a painful death.

She hoped.

Coming Soon: Caveat Emptor 2: Trapped Lover

Zenobia Renquist
Discover Different and Unique Romance

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I'm thrilled to announce the release of Blood Sin, the second book in my vampire romance trilogy, Awakened by Blood. Here's the blurb and an excerpt!

BLOOD SIN: Awakened by Blood 2
NAL - Signet Eclipse

Even if you walk in the light, you can dwell in the dark.

Months after her dangerous encounter with vampire overlord Saloman, Scottish academic Elizabeth Silk is still trying to cope with both the demands of her ancestral bloodline—which marks her as a vampire hunter — and the overpowering desire she feels for the immortal she brought back from the grave. But she is not alone in her fascination with Saloman.

When Elizabeth tracks down a distant cousin from America, she learns he possesses an antique sword that has caught the interest of the Grand Master of the American hunters. It is the ancient and mystical sword of Saloman — a treasure of vast occult powers and a prize beyond measure to both vampires and humans. Now the race is on for possession of the sword.

Even as her enemies and allies shift their allegiances and battle for supremacy, Elizabeth must decide which will rule her own perilous fate: unwanted loyalty or unholy love.

“My,” Travis said, moving around the table toward them. “My, oh, my. What do we have here?” He sniffed the air around them, and Elizabeth was suddenly reminded of her first encounter with the Hungarian vampire Zoltán, who had behaved in much the same manner and then laughed, as if he’d recognized her by the very smell of her blood. Although Travis didn’t laugh, there was no doubt of his recognition.

“Powerful human blood,” he observed, his mouth so close to Elizabeth’s ear that she wanted to scream. She held herself rigid, unmoving. “Elizabeth Silk, the Awakener . . .”

Josh yanked her away from him, staring down his nose at the vampire, who paid him no attention whatsoever.

“Okay, boys,” Travis said. “Two descendants to play with, and the victim was Saloman, so no gulping. Share the boy and hold the Awakener for me.”

Josh, who seemed to have finally picked up that the “men” surrounding them were dangerous, took a step backward. Before he could draw too much attention, Elizabeth glared at the vampire who grasped her arm.

“Gulping?” she said. “Without an introduction, I don’t even allow biting.” And she whipped out the stake, plunging it into his heart. At the same time, she spun in the cloud of his dust and kicked the vampire nearest Josh hard enough to knock him into the table. “Josh, run!” she yelled, and lunged at Dante, grabbing his wrist and yanking him after her. “Go!”

It was desperate; it probably required a miracle to make it work; but at least its suddenness gave them a chance. Unfortunately, Elizabeth had reckoned without Josh’s recent skepticism, which she’d just blown sky-high with the vampire. He stood rooted to the spot, blinking at where the creature had last stood. His lips moved, making no sound.

“Get them,” Travis snarled. Elizabeth gave Dante one last tug after her to make her point and grabbed Josh’s arm instead. She couldn’t drag both of them and fight at the same time.

“Josh!” she cried. “Move!”

He stumbled in her wake, but she had to punch the vampire who had hold of him and dragged him to the ground. As Elizabeth leapt and staked the fallen vampire, she could see that their moment had passed. The vampires were closing in on all sides. More were emerging from the office beyond, from the doorway to the car park. Wildly, she scanned the room for an escape route, holding fast to Josh’s arm. He was breathing like a steam engine. Dante backed away toward Travis, who, however, ignored him. The vampire leader’s attention was all on Elizabeth.

“Sir, do we have an agreement?” Dante shouted.

“Not now, Senator.” Travis smiled and walked forward into the circle. “It’s feeding time.”

Dante strode the length of the room toward the exit, and began to run, shoving past the vampires who were not remotely interested in him when the blood of two descendants, one of whom was also the Awakener, was up for grabs.

“I’ll fight, Josh,” Elizabeth said shakily. “But I can’t win. If you can manage it, get out—they want me more. Find Adam Simon and tell him what happened here. Do you understand?”

There was no time for any reply. The vampires approached, beginning at a walk and advancing quickly to a run. Elizabeth raised her stake and released Josh in order to have both arms free.

“Straight ahead,” she breathed, and launched herself at the first vampire with a scream of pure rage.

But something was louder than her cry—the crashing of falling masonry as the ceiling began to cave in. Her chosen victim’s distraction gave her an easy kill. Whirling, she spun to face the vampires closing behind her, and found their backs to her. They were watching in stunned amazement as someone fell—no, stepped—through the hole in the ceiling as if descending a staircase.

He still wore the business suit, minus the constricting jacket. From his long, loose black hair to his shining shoes, he was dazzling. He advanced on those who stood between him and Elizabeth and Josh.

“I’m Saloman.”

Thanks for reading!

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Anniversary post: One of the first books I ever wrote

Yep, I drafted this, my 11th book waaaayyyy back when. Of course, I had to rewrite it when I finally sold it and it released 2 years ago today, in digital form.

Here's an excerpt:

Setup: retired sheriff Harry Mortonson is helping M.C. ("Mac") Shefflington, a woman who's afraid Tom Donaldson, the man who assaulted her years ago, is back ... and looking for revenge.  If she's not careful, Harry or she could become Donaldson's next victim.

Harry's not going to let that happen. He's just found the woman of his dreams, and there's no way in hell he's letting her get hurt -- or get away from him. He's got ideas about a future with her and they don't include a stalker.

Next to his bed, Harry’s land-line phone rang. He peered at the illuminated face of his bedside clock. Midnight. He threw back the covers and raced downstairs to the den. He got to the phone on the fourth ring, pressing record on the old tape machine as he picked up.

“Mort here.”

“Listen, Barney Fife. I meant it. Stay away.”

Harry sat down behind the desk, tucking his feet up on the wheels of his chair and away from the cold floor. “Why should I? For all I know, you’ve gone into hiding again. Why should I be afraid of you?”

“I know you’re not an idiot, so why are you doing this?”

“Maybe I like Mac.”

Donaldson made a dismissive noise. “You just met her. I don’t believe that.”

“Maybe I remember ’Nam, too.”

There was a pause. “You weren’t in the same war I was.”


“You weren’t captured and tortured. You weren’t held in a cage for months. You weren’t—” The voice stopped, then resumed in a calmer tone. “Stay out of it. I don’t plan to hurt Mac. I just want to finish what I started.”

Harry pulled over his Happy Bunny memo book. Donaldson? POW? “What does that mean? If you finish what you started, she’ll be dead.”

“That was an accident. It wasn’t supposed to get out of hand. It was a mistake. I was doing some serious drugs then and it got out of hand. No, I just want what’s coming to me, then I can go back. My pawns are in place, the rooks are dead and the knights are hamstrung. Stay out of the way and you won’t get hurt.”

Pawns? Rooks? Knights? Damn. It had been years since Harry played chess. He remembered Mac’s words—Tom was a math genius. It would make sense the bastard played chess. Harry struggled to remember the pieces and their allowed movements. “What about the bishops? I suppose Mac is the Queen?”

Donaldson laughed. “Sure, she’s the Queen. You can’t have a King without a Queen, right? And I suppose you could say the bishops are wandering around, mostly blocked.”

“King?” Harry was writing frantically, scribbling notes as Donaldson talked.

“It’s all up to Mac. Once she puts him into play, we can wrap this up. But she has to move him out of hiding. So stay out of the way and you won’t get hurt.”

“Who am I?” Harry looked down at his notes. “Looks like all the pieces are accounted for.”

“You’re just another pawn, Mortonson. And you know what happens to them.” He hung up.

Harry touched the stop button and the old answering machine shut off. He went to the bookcase next to the window and peered up at the shelves, touching various book spines before pulling down a tattered copy of his old Boy Scout Handbook. He carried it back upstairs and tucked in under Order the cat’s warm bulk, finally finding what he was looking for.

Pawns could change roles during the course of a match.

Maybe not all of Mac’s knights were hamstrung.

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The All New, All Dancing, Singing, Performing Blog!

Come one! Come all! ;)

It's time to celebrate the "re-re-creation" of my blog!

To see what I've been up to lately on Goodreads, Facebook, Amazon, etc., and to find out more about my upcoming releases, what happened to me just today, and which lucky reader recently won a free e-book, all you have to do is read my blog at--

And for a re-cap of the incredibly erotic adventures of Brandi Whyne, be sure to drop by--

Become a follower and who knows? You might just become a winner. :)

Celine (aka Cynthianna)


Boldly going where no genre has gone before...
Twitter: cynthianna3
Amazon Author (Kindle) page:

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Adam's Treasure by Diane Wylie(Excerpt contains some explicit language)

Master of disguise, Adam Skelding, is a Pinkerton agent on assignment. His mission: Find the missing gold and stop the secretive Knights of the Golden Circle before they gain power. The future of the country depends upon it.

All Marilla Logan wanted was a way to escape from her life as a tavern wench. A dark stranger who breaks into her room offers her only chance. Swept up into a life of intrigue, she becomes ensnared in a tangled web of clues, danger, and emotion to break the code.


Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine witnessing something like this. Seeing the four naked Indians toss Adam off the bank and into the river had frightened her beyond measure. When she saw that he could not swim, she had considered saving him, but the Indians had pushed past her.

In moments she realized that they had decided, for some unknown reason, to teach Adam Skelding to swim. The rest of the afternoon she sat under the oak trees and watched the antics of five very naked men.

Now, the man who captured her attention the most lay next to her. Water glistened on his olive skin. She couldn’t keep her gaze off the hills and valleys of the muscles across those broad shoulders, back, and tight rear end. He breathed hard, making everything ripple just slightly. Entrancing to witness. With effort she focused on his face, but he had closed his eyes.



“Why did they do that?”

The Indians had also emerged from the water and donned their loincloths and moccasins once more. The eagle, which had remained perched in one of the trees nearby during most of the day, lifted from its leafy shelter and circled the group of Indians.

First one blue eye opened and then the other. Rolling on his side to face her, Adam propped his head on his hand, resting his elbow on the ground.

“Because I could not swim. Black Wolf and the others knew this.”

“How did they find out?” Marilla hoped he would confide in her enough to tell his story. Curiosity just about ate her up.

He sighed and rolled onto his back, totally distracting her once more. His manhood grew stiff…and big…and swollen, unlike the Indians. She swallowed hard. He appeared not to notice her interest and seemed very comfortable lying nude.

“During the war, my partner, Pamela, and I worked in Richmond. We discovered that the Confederates had built a secret weapon. We had to get that information to the North. But after learning about this weapon, Pamela disappeared. One of my agents saw her leaving town with a Confederate officer. I thought she had been kidnapped, so I rode to the rescue, fool that I was. In the struggle I ended up in the river. Black Wolf and his friends arrived in time to pull me out of the water.”

Sitting up, Adam reached for his shirt, which Marilla had spread to dry on the grassy bank, and started to dress. She found herself wishing he wouldn’t cover his magnificent body, but said nothing to stop him. The idea would be unseemly.

Adam turned away and headed toward the Indians, who had gathered around the wagon to feast again, feeding scraps to the bird on Black Wolf’s arm. Marilla watched him walk away. He had loved Pamela. His obvious pain said so.

A combination of guilt and self-doubt hit her hard. Her Carl was gone, too. It had hurt at the time to lose him in the war, but her grief had faded quickly…too quickly. Maybe she didn’t really know what love meant.

I hope you enjoyed this excerpt.


Links to purchase: Purchase Adam’s Treasure from Amazon

Purchase Adam’s Treasure from Barnes and Noble

Purchase Adam’s Treasure (ebook) from The Wild Rose Press

Purchase Adam’s Treasure (print) from The Wild Rose Press

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