Sunday, December 28, 2008
The author of SHE Of The Forbidden Zone, Nera Ragno has loved science fiction movies since seeing ‘The Blob” and ‘The Thing”. Interestingly, Nera Ragno means ‘black spider’ in Italian and the beast within the Fahdian race is a black widow spider. The females tend to get fangy when maleness makes the scene. A male needs to possess exceptional attributes to mate with a High Priestess — any normal dude will just get fanged. Combining a fangy black widow with a cocky playboy in an erotic romp was fun.
The author's alter ego has written over a dozen screenplays, but this is the first venture into campy science fiction comedy. Additional novels are underway in the universe, with an interesting twist. Stay tuned to discover what it is.
SHE of the Forbidden Zone
In a universe controlled by women, the GRAND FAHD reigns supreme over her HIGH PRIESTESSES, whose bellies display the red hourglass of the black widow spider. Each High Priestess reigns over her clan for a specified period during which time they mate within a cycle to produce a child - for what woman can be the mother to her clan if she is not a mother to a child. Fahdian women can only conceive if they take a capsule of Essence, which simultaneously seduces their partner. Once they conceive, they can remain a High Priestess, but if they remain virgins or fail to conceive, they are removed from their obligations to the Sisterhood & another takes their place. Males are groomed as studs & bring a dowry. Only the most skilled & wise can evade the fangs of a High Priestess & live on as her beloved Consort - even then more protection is desirable.
SHE, the Grand Fahd’s right hand High Priestess, is a virgin at the end of her reigning cycle. She has promised her younger sister, VASHTI, the next mating choice, but the Grand Fahd forbids it, planning to mate her own son, cocky ARKOS, whose sperm only produces highly prized females, to She. But Arkos is injured & instead She will mate with JOX. Fortunately the mating goes awry. Cat burglar NIRVANA, hired by Vashti who can succeed She as High Priestess only if She remains barren, steals Jox’s dowry of diamonds. Vashti is secretly in league with other High Priestesses who need her deciding vote for war against the CONFEDERATION OF QUEENS. The Grand Fahd learns of the scheme & prefers subterfuge to confrontation, especially when Nirvana ultimately answers to the Grand Fahd. She’s passion turns to rage when Jox deflects her question about the dowry. Jox is fanged & dies. She looks forward to the next phase of her life: retirement as a High Priestess, able to explore the galaxy & no longer answer to the Grand Fahd, though she wonders about the missed sexual delights. The Grand Fahd has other plans & encourages the recovered Arkos to explore the Forbidden Zone, where he can choose to mate with a High Priestess, if pursued. Arkos is confident that he will not be fanged; he has his FATHER’S Anti-Essence & his father still lives!
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Monday, December 22, 2008
by Kiki Howell, Author Of Magical Erotic Romance
Available Now from eXcessica!
Click on a Link to Purchase at
eXcessica or Fictionwise
Melissa at Paranormal Romance Reviews said of The Healing Spell,
“Kiki Howell wove a story of magic that drew me in on the first page. I was impressed with Samantha and how well she knows herself and her craft. David is like most of us; he has lost his way and does not know who he is or what he wants any longer. Kiki’s use of words and descriptions is indescribable and weaves a kind of magic around the reader. This is my first experience with Kiki Howell, but after reading The Healing Spell, she is now at the top of my to be read list!”
Samantha, a confident witch, is eager to help David, a creatively frustrated ad executive she happens upon. She proposes a daring venture in which she will lead him through the steps of a sexual magic spell with the intent to heal him. Instantly mesmerized by her beauty and knowledge, he soon learns that pleasure is magick as they create an energy circle by bathing, massaging and arousing one another in various positions.
Yet, once the spell has been completed, he finds he cannot just take his talisman and walk away from her, and the witch finds her carefully protected heart on the line. When the tables turn will David be able to teach the teacher a thing or two about romance…
It wasn’t so much the voice, as the sound breaking through the silent stillness that made his breath hitch and his body jolt. Reacting on instinct, his hands braced in front of his body hunching his shoulders. He rounded on the source of the words.
The rapid beat of his heart gave way to a burst of boyish laughter as the voice emerged in the form of a woman just wanton enough to look like she belonged in the foliage that still partially concealed her.
She seemed to take no offense to his folly standing there braced against a tree. A thousand tiny fibers in her cloak shimmered in the moonlight. The waves of her fair hair formed an aura lighting her skin to a satin-like sheen.
“Sorry, you scared me. I thought I was alone, and then I saw…” He paused, distracted as she slithered from the tree. With her hands on her hips, the curves of her body were revealed. She fit with the forest, a combination of soft shapes and drastic edges.
“I have watched you hovering over this small stream of water listless, barely living at the survival level of existence.” The trim fingers of her hand came to rest on his still thumping heart. “I can help you remember that pleasure is the magick of life, if you are daring enough to follow me.”
Before he could try to make sense of her poetic proposal, her fingers strummed over his cock. In their wake, a flow of vibrations prickled into his skin then streaked through his veins. He was incapable of a reply. The words she uttered and the senses she invoked intermixed into a blissful confusion.
“Come with me. I can only help you if you come of your own free will.” She pivoted and blended into the woods. His body lurched forward as if drawn by a magnetic force. He scrambled to keep up with her leaving behind his occupational worries to drown in the shallow stream.
“You have no idea of the great venture awaiting you. You shall learn creativity can be renewed once the body is gratified. The benefits of sex are numerous. I promise you it will be worth your time.”
Monday, December 15, 2008
Erotic Romance: Contemporary
Cover Artist: Ash Arceneaux
Editor: Brissa Lyons
Word Count: 8,820
Release Date: September 11, 2008
A night out on the town with a friend ends up bringing Serene to a tattoo parlor. There she discovers a tattoo that takes a hold of her. Something about it calls to her. Body art can bring pleasure to its owner but this tattoo brings more pleasure then Serena ever imagined.
Will Serena's tattoo give her more pleasure than she could imagine or will it be a fleeting moment of pleasure after the pain?
Once more, Jack lifted up his head from what he was doing and looked my way. His glance made me nervous, and scared.
“Is something wrong, Serena?”
“I want you to ink me.” The words just flew out of my mouth. I didn’t even regret saying them. At that very moment, I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted him. Anyone else would think that it was probably a hasty decision, but I didn’t. This was what I was searching for. I’d held out for the perfect piece of art and I knew that he was it.
“From what I remember, you said you hadn’t found anything you wanted.. What changed your mind so fast?” He began making his way towards me.
“The drawing that fell out of the book. That’s what I want. I know it sounds stupid, but something is drawing me to have him. I can’t explain it. All I know is I have to have him on my back, the same place he has his tattoo of the sword.” I held my breath, waiting his answer.
From the look in his eyes, I could tell he knew exactly why I had returned, but he didn’t mention a word.
Standing there, I knew that by the time I left this place, I would have him branding my body and the thought aroused me, like nothing had ever done before.
“That design is not for tattooing. I don’t even know how it ended up being in that binder anyway. You have all these other designs on the wall to choose from. Why don’t you pick from there?”
I didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal out of the picture.
“I don’t want anything else. I want you to give me him.” I had come this far and there was no way I was going to back down. Not now.
He sat at the computer quietly for a few seconds, contemplating an answer. I didn’t know what he would decide, but if he wouldn’t agree, I would keep pushing until he did.
“I’ll tell you, this is one of a kind, and I’m not just saying that. Nobody’s ever had him inked on their flesh. I was told once that the tattoo is magical.. There’s a legend about a warrior who’d been cursed. His punishment was to live eternity in the form of a tattoo. So what makes you think I’m going to ink him on yours?”
It was kind of strange for him to tell me something like that. There was no such thing as magic. Was there? Everyone says that something is one of a kind, but that’s never really true. I didn’t know the guy, yet something about the way Jack said it, this time I actually believed he told the truth.
“I want that on my body and I will pay double for it. Magic or no magic, I want it.”
His eyebrows arched in surprise. He wasn’t expecting to hear that.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
My addiction is commas. I noticed when I was editing some of my work last night. I put commas everywhere.
Now I'll be the first to admit that grammar is not my forte, I'm getting better at it, but I'm still not great. I also have issues with spelling, but that's another post.
Yeah I hear you. "So why did you become a writer?"
Because despite these things I'm good at it. And these things can be learned, if you really put your mind to it. Also doesn't everyone make grammar or spelling mistakes every now and again.
Now what do I plan to do about my little problem.
My very first editor suggested I buy a book called Eats, Shoots, & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation. Which of course I did.
I've also discovered a podcast called, Grammar Girl's Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing.
And of course the internet is full of useful sites, like these.
How To Use The Comma: Simple rules and hints that help you stop comma abuse
The Blue Book of Grammar and Punctuation
The Guide to Grammar and Writing
Basically I'm going to teach myself high school English, but hey at least I'm trying to fix my comma addiction. Now quick question how many times did I misuse a comma in this post?
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
I keep assuring her I’m fine. We’re still standing in the hallway, I in my flimsy dressing gown, my sister in her party finery, and it’s beginning to dawn on Gina that I’m not going to ask her to make herself at home the way I usually do.
“Look,” she says. “The reason I came…. I’m not sure how to say this. It’s just that there was somebody else asking about you when you left, somebody totally unsuitable. Your phone is off so I thought I’d come by to warn you. He’s not the sort -”
Suddenly I hear a sound from the bedroom. He’s switched on the DVD!
I’m going to kill him, I think.
Gina’s cheeks color slightly.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I didn’t realize you were… entertaining.”
I smirk as I think back to the last few hours.
“I’m not. Entertaining, that is,” I say truthfully.
Even in her unease, Gina is all prim and proper. My perfect parents’ perfect daughter, with perfect manners and perfect composure. I can bet anything that she didn’t used to sneak around behind their backs sucking off lodgers. And when was the last time anybody drank champagne out of her pussy?
Suddenly I feel almost sorry for her. Poor perfect Gina. She doesn’t know what she’s missing.
“Well,” she says, “I think I’ll be -”
Just at that point, he opens the bedroom door and joins us in the hallway. His chest is bare, but, thank goodness, he’s put on his jeans.
His very tight, very black jeans.
Gina gasps. I wonder whether she too has spotted the tell-tale swelling behind the zipper.
He flashes me a cheeky grin. “Is there a fire yet?” he asks. “You said I could come out if there was one."
Friday, December 5, 2008
Thursday, December 4, 2008
We are happy to announce that there will be four competitions, each will be made up of eight questions and there will be at least eight prizes for the winner of each competition.
Yes, one lucky winner will win eight prizes and there are four chances to be a winner! So four competitions and four winners of at least eight prizes each!
Details on how to enter are over on the RED ROSE PUBLISHING'S Blog
Monday, December 1, 2008
Sam reached down and peeled her wet suit from her body. He stood there gazing at her. “You are magnificent.” Lying down next to her, he pulled her in for a deep kiss.
Natalie reached down to touch his arousal. She could feel it straining against the confines of his wet shorts.
He was partially lying on top of her, his hands on either side of her head. He kissed her jawline. Natalie tipped her head back, allowing him access to her neck. He kissed his way down her neck and between her breasts.
Her nipples were hard with excitement. He flicked one tight bud with the tip of his tongue. She moaned and grabbed his hair, pulling him closer. Her body ached for his touch. He licked her nipple, circling around the hard pebble with his tongue. He caressed her other breast with his hand. Using his thumb and forefinger he teased her nipple.
Natalie began to arch her body into him. She wanted to feel more. God, she wanted to feel him inside her.
She moaned. “Now. Sam. Please. God, now.”
“No. You need to know what it’s like to want, but not to have.” His blue eyes were dark with passion. He caressed his hand down her ribs and over her hip. Inch by inch his hand slid down her thigh. With his arm at full length he slowly brought his hand up her inner thigh. Lightly, he touched her. Moaning again, she tried to move her hips closer to his touch.
As he suckled her, his hand slowly began to massage between her legs. She was wet. He grunted. “God you’re hot.” Sam clung to his last thread of self-control. Teasingly, he pushed the tip of his finger inside her. Natalie groaned, moving her hips up to meet his hand. He pulled back before she could force him deeper. He took great pleasure in watching her squirm.
“I want to make you come. I want to watch your body dance with desire.” He teased his finger inside her.
Natalie opened her legs wider for him, not wanting him to stop, begging for more. Her body began to quake. She arched up, her eyes rolling to the back of her head, colors exploding in her mind. Her body quivered as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her body.
When she regained control of her muscles, she grabbed at his shorts, rending seams as she tore them off. With his body free, she grabbed him and pulled him towards her. She lifted her hips to meet him. He slipped the tip inside and then pulled it out. She grabbed his back, thinking, he’s trying to drive me insane. She wrapped her long legs around his hips, forcing his hard shaft back into the warm confines of her body. She began to rise and fall with his movements. The more desperate she became, the faster he moved.
Natalie clung to him.. Her nails dug into his back, clawing for deeper, harder, faster. She could feel her body peak again as he erupted inside of her.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Offer for Jade Twilight’s viewers:For the next 30 days, Angela’s offering JADE’s viewers a special chance to win a copy of Nocturne. To enter, just post a comment in response to the spotlight. A winner will be chosen at random.
About the Author, Angela Cameron:
A native of the Deep South, Angela lives near Birmingham, AL with her wonderfully supportive husband and their beautiful daughter. After years in more “responsible” jobs like accounting, she indulged her muse and returned to school to complete an English degree. Now, she happily spends her days recording the fascinating lives of her characters.
Angela is the author of several published works that bridge the genres of erotic romance, urban fantasy, and the paranormal, with a focus on sexy, dangerous fiction. Visit her site at www.Angela-Cameron.com for more information and to chat with your favorite characters.
Released: Halloween 2008
Back Cover Copy:
Newspaper reporter Alyson Wingate's life is comfortable. Safe. She likes it that way. She supresses the "talents" she's inherited, and ignores the precognitive dreams she shares with the other Wingate women. She likes having a normal life. Even the late night work and cheating ex feel right.
Then she finds a corpse on the road with its throat torn out. When she begins to investigate the death, she finds herself running for her life in the middle of a werewolf-vampire turf war. And the only place to run is to Wil, her ex, if she wants to stay alive.
Aly's a fighter. She fought to be normal. She fought to be safe. Now she's fighting for her life. Maybe she'll win this one, but the odds are against her...again.
ALYSON WINGATE TWISTED THE WIPER SWITCH ON HER STEERING COLUMN and the metronome-like click of the wipers quickened. Driving in the rain always made her nervous, but doing it in the middle of the night, when the darkness of the Appalachian forest drowned what little moonlight did peek through, was moving to the top of her list of things to avoid. She flicked off the radio and leaned toward the windshield, squinting.
As she rounded the bend, a blue streak of lightning cracked to her left and jerked her attention away from the road. When she looked back, she saw something stretched across her lane, just yards ahead. She shrieked and slammed her foot down on the brake, gripping the steering wheel hard as the car slid a little to the left on the rain-slick road. She eased up on the pedal instinctively and then pressed again, trying not to over-steer. When the car came to a stop, Aly leaned over the wheel, pushing back the hair that had fallen forward into her face with shaking hands, to peer through the gloom at the road ahead. Her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest.
Just a few feet from her front bumper, illuminated by the car’s headlights through the driving rain, lay the shape of a person—a woman with long slender legs and bare feet. She wore a thin, light-colored dress that clung to her body in the rain. Her skin was pale, and dark hair stuck to her face. She looked like she’d passed out on the road except for the blood that decorated the cloth on her upper body and ran off in rain-diluted streaks.
Aly couldn’t see movement. Her stomach flipped as she grabbed her cell. With a deep breath to steady her courage, she opened the door and stepped out into the rain. The pink silk button up she’d worn to the meeting would be ruined, but dead bodies trumped style any day.
She glanced behind her to search for headlights. She was on a blind curve, and trees spread their branches over the narrow road. A car coming around at full speed wouldn’t see her, much less be able to stop in time to avoid another catastrophe. Aly leaned in and flicked on the hazard blinkers, then slammed the door shut.
“Hey!” she yelled. “Hey, are you okay?”
The loud static of raindrops pounding leaves was interrupted only by the sound of distant thunder.
She jogged over to the body, careful not to slip on the wet pavement, and knelt down to examine it. She teetered on her toes and caught herself, careful not to get water and blood all over her pants.
The chest didn’t move, but only a pulse would tell for sure. She pushed up her sleeve, grateful for the experience she’d gained with her job at the paper. She didn’t have the calm that seasoned cops and paramedics had, but she wasn’t panicking either. Panic made things go wrong and people look foolish. Aly was no fool.
She leaned over, placing two fingers on the woman’s neck. Her eyes widened, and she jerked her hand back. Even allowing for the cool fall rain, the skin was startlingly cold.
Aly swallowed hard and reached out, brushing the woman’s hair back to reveal a face twisted in horror. The movement jostled the body, and the flesh of the woman’s neck gaped open to show meat and bone.
Aly stumbled backward onto her feet, her heels clanking against the wet pavement. She turned and hurried to the car and, once safely inside, thumbed 9-1-1 on her cell.
She propped the phone on her shoulder and rubbed her hands together. The sensation of bugs crawling over her skin would fade, she knew, but it didn’t stop her from making an exaggerated shake to try to stop it.
She breathed in deeply through her nose while the phone rang. She was a reporter. She’d heard hundreds of dispatch recordings and there was no way she was going to sound like some panicked citizen reporting a cat in the tree. She did, after all, have a reputation to maintain.
After two rings, a female voice with a southern twang answered, “911, what’s your emergency?”
“Hi. This is Alyson Wingate with the Hayden Chronicle. I’m on Oak Mountain Road, just west of the state park entrance, and there’s a woman’s body in the road.”
“Hey, Aly, this is Danielle Smith. Did you say a body? Do you need an ambulance?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s dead.”
“And it’s in the road?”
“Yes. Lying in the westbound lane. It’s in a curve.”
“Hold on while I dispatch this.”
Aly rubbed briskly at her soaked arms. Even her insides were shaking.
“Okay, I’ve got people on the way out there, honey.”
She cringed at “honey” but didn’t argue. Instead, she glanced in the rear view mirror, hoping a car wouldn’t come around the curve. “Thanks, Danielle. Oh, and tell them to hurry. I’m sitting in a blind curve, trying to make sure no one runs over her.”
“All right. Do you need me to stay on the line?”
“No, that’s all right. I need to call Kayla and tell her I’m not going to make it for dinner.”
“Aww. Well tell her I said hello. Okay?”
“I will. Good night.” Aly fought the urge to laugh. She’d tell Kayla, but she was sure that her sister would roll her eyes. She thought Danielle was fake.
“Night,” Danielle said.
Aly dialed her sister’s number. She had already canceled three of their after work, midnight dinner dates in a row, but surely, Kayla could forgive her this. It wasn’t as if bodies dropped in front of your car every day. Unless you were aiming at pedestrians.
“Hey, sis.” Kayla’s voice was chipper. “Are you almost here?”
“No. Actually, I’m stuck in my car on Oak Mountain waiting for cops to get here.”
“Why? Did you wreck?”
“No. They’ve got to get a body out of the road.”
“Should I ask?”
“It wasn’t my fault! I just found her lying here.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. Some woman. Looks like a murder. It’s pretty bad.”
“Are you there alone?”
“Lock your doors, Aly.”
“Are you kidding me? The killer could still be there. Maybe he’s watching you.”
“You’ve been watching too many movies.” Aly flipped the locks and glanced out the windows at the trees that lined the road on both sides.
“Aly, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m—” She’d planned to say she was thinking, but she caught movement out of the corner of her right eye as someone banged on her passenger side window. She screamed and jumped, banging her elbow against the console.
Wil Clark laughed so loud that she could hear it though the closed windows as he leaned over to look in. His gold curls were starting to wilt in the rain. “It’s just me.”
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to hold in the heart that was fighting to escape. “Don’t do that to me.”
Kayla’s voice hit a high note on the other end of the phone. “Aly? Aly, what’s happening?”
“Open the door,” Wil said, giving the handle a tug. “It’s raining.”
She unlocked the doors, refusing to smile at him. “It’s just Wil,” she said into the phone. “He scared me.”
His green eyes held that twinkle of mischief that little boys get “Just Wil? You want me to leave?”
“No. I just meant you’re not an ax murderer.”
“How do you know?” He smiled again, and Aly groaned, whacking him in the stomach with the back of her hand.
“Kayla, I’ve gotta run. I’ll call you later and tell you what’s going on.”
“All right. Be careful.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Talk to ya later.”
She flipped the phone shut and turned toward Wil. His hair had grown longer and his tan was darker than it had been the last time she’d seen him. “What are you doing here?”
He turned his body toward her as much as the small seat would allow. “I heard the dispatch and your name. Since I was right down the road, I thought I’d come to your rescue.”
Some things never changed. The earth turned, seasons came and went, and Wil thought she couldn’t do anything without him jumping in to take care of her. “I don’t need rescuing.”
He rolled his eyes toward the side window and let out a loud breath that meant he thought she was being unreasonable. “All right. I came to keep you company then.”
She folded her arms across her chest.
“Come on, Aly. I didn’t think you’d want to sit on this stretch of road by yourself. It’s late and there’s a dead body in front of you.” He turned and grabbed the door handle. “But if you don’t want me here, I’ll go.”
He did have a point. She didn’t want to sit here alone, not after what Kayla had said. She grabbed his elbow. “No, wait. I don’t want you to go.”
He let go of the door and relaxed against the seat. “So, do you know who she is?”
Wil always did have a way of dropping the subject when he knew he’d won. At least talking about the body was better than arguing.
“Not a clue. She was just lying there when I drove up.”
“Couldn’t have been here too long. This road’s pretty busy until about eleven.”
“Well, it’s twenty after twelve. Have you looked at her?”
“No. I didn’t want to get soaked.”
“Where’s your car? I didn’t see you come up.”
He cut his eyes toward her and grinned. He’d enjoyed scaring her. He always had. “It’s back a bit. I saw your lights through the trees and stopped far enough back that people didn’t get stuck trying to turn around here. There’s a side road there that should give them plenty of room.”
She glanced back toward the body. “It’s bad. Her throat is ripped out, and her face looks like someone scared her to death.”
He didn’t speak, and after a few moments of silence, she looked at him. He gave her a hard stare, and then turned to look out the windshield again.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, following his glance.
“Nothing.” His lips were tense. “Was there anything else?”
“No, that was it as far as I could tell.”
He looked out each side window, into the woods.
A flash of electric heat passed through the car and over her skin. Aly rubbed her arms to make the prickling sensation ease. “What is that?”
Wil looked at her, his brows high and eyes wide. “What?”
“That. That feeling. Like static shock. Don’t you feel it?”
He shook his head as the feeling faded. “Nope. Not a thing.”
“Why is it that you’ve never felt the same things I do? You never have and it makes me feel like a freak.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t.”
“Couldn’t you at least pretend?”
His eyes narrowed. “Would that have made a difference? If I pretended to feel what you felt, would you have married me?”
She dropped her gaze and looked at the phone in her hands. She flipped it open and began to fumble with the buttons. Wil placed a warm palm on her upper arm and her heart fluttered. Sure, they’d broken up months ago, but she still had feelings for him.
“I know it wouldn’t have, Aly. But if you’d just give me one more chance, I think you’d see that I’m not what you think I am.”
“You cheated on me.”
“Aly, listen to me. Once-and-for-all, I never cheated on you.”
“But I saw you.”
“No, you saw me helping a friend who needed a shoulder to cry on.”
“Is that what you call it?” She let out a sharp sound that resembled a laugh. “What exactly had her so upset that she had to wrap her arms around your neck and bury her face in your chest?”
“I really want to tell you. I just can’t.” He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. He swallowed hard and trudged on. “Why can’t you just trust me?”
“There it is.” She pointed her finger at him. “Who am I going to tell, Wil? Nobody, that’s who. But, here you are, wanting me to trust you, when you don’t trust me.”
He didn’t answer.
It would never work. It never had. They were just too different, and the more he stayed around, the angrier she would get. Why hadn’t she just let him leave when he’d tried?
Flashing blue lights illuminated the car, and when she glanced behind them, she could see a police cruiser rounding the curve.
She turned, watching the cruiser pull up beside her. “We’re friends, Wil. We always will be.”
“I love you, Alyson.”
She glanced out at the approaching officer and mashed the button to roll down her window. The rain had almost stopped.
“No, you don’t.”
“Evenin’, Miss Wyngate.” It was Samuel Parrish. “You sure picked a good night to find a body.”
She smiled. Sam was nice, even if he was a little hokie. “Hi, Sam.”
“Detective Nichols will be here in a few minutes. You just sit tight and we’ll let ya go after you two have a chance to talk.” He bent a little, trying to see in the cab. “Is that Wil? Hey, man.”
“Hey.” Wil tried to look friendly.
“Man, I thought you broke up. Glad to see you’re still gettin’ along.”
Wil elbowed her, and Aly let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Thanks.”
Sam glanced behind them. “Here he is now.”
The unmarked car, single blue light flashing, pulled up behind the cruiser.
* * * *
Wil wrapped his arm around Aly’s shoulder to block the wind coming down the mountain and she snuggled in gratefully, despite the distraction. Aly tried to listen to the Detective’s gravelly voice, but Wil’s arm and the chills that ran over her body made it difficult. The rain had mercifully stopped, but she was still soaked and cold.
“Miss Wingate, are you certain you saw nothing else here?”
She looked at him and wondered if her impatience was beginning to show. She hoped it was. “Yes. How many times do I have to tell you?”
Wil pulled her tight. “We just need to wrap this up, Detective. It’s late, and we haven’t had any sleep yet.”
“I’m sorry. We just have to be sure.” Nichols closed his note pad and stuck it in his blazer pocket. “I’d say this was an animal attack. Probably a wolf or coyote.” He pulled out a business card from his pants pocket and handed it to her. “But if you think of anything else, be sure to call me at the office.”
“I will.” She took it and tucked it into her pocket without looking at it. “Can we go now? It’s almost two-thirty.”
“Yeah. Go ahead,” Nichols said and turned his back on them. “Just don’t forget to call.”
Ali slipped from beneath Wil’s arm and walked toward her car. She had to get away from him. He was starting to feel way too good.
He jumped ahead and opened the driver’s door, his eyes trained on something behind her. When he looked at her, she forced a smile and slipped into the seat. He leaned in toward her between the door and frame. The warm scent of his cologne filled the car. “Let me follow you home.”
She reached for the ignition and cranked the car. Her headlights spilled light across the now empty road. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s late. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Wil, you’re not staying over.”
“That not what I’m asking. Just trust me.” His eyes were clear and pleading. Something seemed urgent.
“All right. Let’s go.”
He shut the door and she watched him jog back toward his vehicle. What was she thinking? Wil had been so hard to get over. He was still hard to refuse. Lately, it seemed that every time he came over, they ended up in bed.
She put the car in gear. Not this time.
* * * *
Aly turned the key in her front door and looked over her shoulder at Wil. “I’m safe. You can go home now.”
He put his hand on the door beside her. “I’m not leaving until I look through the apartment.” His eyes were narrowed and serious. She’d seen that look a thousand times and knew it meant that nothing would dissuade him.
“Because that wasn’t an animal attack. I know what animal bites look like and that wasn’t one.”
“You’re saying a human did that?”
“What do you think happened?”
Wil glanced around quickly as he said, “Let’s go in if you want to talk about this.”
She laughed, pulled her keys from the lock, and swung the door open. Her solid black cat, Ophelia, darted out between their legs. “You’re not staying.”
He smiled that knee-quaking smile again. “You must want me to stay pretty bad if you feel the need to keep saying that.”
“Keep telling yourself that.” Aly rolled her eyes and headed up the stairs at the other end of the foyer. “I’ve got to change. Yell if there’s an intruder.”
She turned left at the top and slipped into her room, slamming and locking the door when she heard Wil’s footsteps on the stairs.
“Hey.” He banged on the door. “I haven’t checked in there. What if someone’s in your closet?”
“Then they’re about to get a show.” She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto the double wedding ring quilt, the one her grandmother had made, that rested across the end of the bed. “I’ve got to warm up.”
“Well I’m coming in there.”
“No, you are not.” She pulled open the top drawer and tugged out a white, oversized men’s button up that doubled as her favorite sleep shirt. She tossed it on the bed just as the doorknob jiggled. “Ha. Told you.”
“Aly, let me in.”
“Give me a minute. I’m changing.”
“I’ve seen you naked before.”
“Yeah, but we’re not together now. You don’t get that privilege.” She laughed and stripped off her bra, tossing it onto the bed.
“If you get killed in your bedroom, don’t blame it on me.”
She heard his footsteps move down the hallway and back. He was pacing. She shed the dress pants and replaced them with her favorite gray cotton shorts.
“Aly, answer me!”
Suddenly she heard a heavy thump and the door crashed inward, splintering the frame.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Shy and serious by day – insatiable by night.
Betrayed and abandoned by her first lover, shy and studious Miranda Cahill freezes in response to any sexual attention from someone she knows and likes.
During the day, she works diligently on her doctoral thesis. At night, though, she finds herself drawn into increasingly extreme sexual encounters with strangers. Her anonymous secret life begins to take over when she discovers that the masked seducer she meets in a sex club and the charismatic young professor courting her are the same man.
Excerpt – Rated XXX
Mark’s voice was quiet but intense. “My first priority has always been not to hurt you. That very first day in your office, I sensed your conflict, your duality. I wanted you badly, but I could tell that you were going to have to work out this conflict in your own way and in your own time.” He paused, searching her face. “Tonight, I have the feeling that something has changed. That maybe you are finally ready for me.”
He did not touch her, but Miranda felt enfolded by his warmth, his scent, his brash, boyish sexiness. His shorts bloomed with an incipient erection. She was suddenly acutely aware of the polished wood beneath her bare buttocks. Her cross-legged position provided an excellent view of her naked sex, she realised, were it not for the table between them. In any case, Mark was not looking at that shadowy space between her legs. His eyes searched her face, trying to read her response. Emotion flooded in her, admiration, affection, gratitude, spiced with a good measure of lust.
She rose, circled the table, and sat down beside him, taking his hand. “I’m more than ready,” she told him. “But since we are playing Truth or Dare here, I have to be honest about what I have been doing the past few weeks.”
Putting aside her embarrassment, she recounted her amorous adventures since their meeting. He knew, of course, of the ménage à trois, and tonight’s kinks. She told him about coupling in the alley with the Japanese businessman from the subway. She described her experiences with Big Daddy’s discipline, her frightening delight at being spanked and sodomized. Wincing internally, watching his reaction, she confessed her risky debauchery on the billiard table. Mark’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.
“Finally,” said Miranda, “this sexual frenzy is intruding into my work life. You remember that day you found me in the library? If you had arrived only a few moments sooner, you would have found me with my fingers in my pussy, grinding away in orgasm.”
“Yes,” said Mark, amusement in his voice. “I knew about that. But these other tales—Miranda, you amaze me!”
“You’re not angry? Or shocked?”
“Of course not.” He pulled her close to him and whispered in her ear. “I’m delighted that I’ve finally found a partner as adventurous and horny as I am.” He nipped at her earlobe. Sparks leapt up between her legs. Miranda’s whole body sprang to attention, nipples alert, straining to be touched, clitoris equally insistent. His mouth captured hers in one of his fierce, all-consuming kisses, while his hands wandered over her silk-clad torso.
“Let’s go into the bedroom,” gasped Miranda, when she could breathe again. She ached to lay down with this man, to open herself to him.
“I have a better idea,” said Mark. He stood and stripped off his shorts. His erection stood proudly, bobbing in the candlelight. Miranda pulled her dress over her head and tossed it in a corner. The remains of her hairdo disintegrated, ebony locks tumbling over her shoulders.
Moving to one of the windows, he threw it open. Before Miranda grasped what was happening, he stepped through, and held out his hand to her. “Fire escape,” he said with a hint of his usual grin. A thrill passed through her as she understood what he had in mind.
She followed him through the window. A cool breeze off the harbour caressed her bare skin. The wrought iron platform was rough under her feet. She smelled fried batter, rotting fish, incense, anise. A neon sign on a neighbouring roof painted her body in lurid reds and greens.
The apartment looked out on an alley. It was nearly three in the morning. Still, if anyone were to pass by, she and Mark would be completely exposed.
Miranda realised that she loved that thought.
Mark positioned her with her back to the iron railing. “Spread your legs, and hold on.” He crouched before her, gazing at her moist folds arrayed before him. He blew lightly on the delicate flesh. She twitched and trembled in response. “Oh, Miranda,” he sighed, and buried his hungry mouth between her thighs.
There was no tentativeness here, no teasing touches designed to arouse her. In one swift movement he sucked her throbbing clitoris into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. Miranda’s knees buckled. She forced a fist into her mouth to stifle her moans. Mark ate her pussy the same way that he kissed, forcefully, ferociously, with a single-minded intensity that left her dizzy and weak.
Now he used his hands to open her labia wide. He fastened his mouth on her inner lips, applying a delicious suction as if he were devouring the sweet pulp of some juicy fruit. Meanwhile, his tongue probed her deeply, setting up echoes of his studded cock earlier in the evening. Mark’s saliva felt scalding hot on her sensitised tissues, still inflamed from their earlier battering.
The memory of his leather-clad erection superimposed itself upon the current scene. She felt his tongue grow longer and thicker, until it seemed to fill her completely. She pushed her sex at his mouth, her hips tensing as she tried to drive him deeper. She smelled his sweat, and hers. Faintly, as if in the distance, she heard again the snap of the lash and the ribald encouragement of the audience.
The iron railing bit into her back, awakening the sting of her welts, but Miranda hardly noticed. All thought, all attention, was focused on the glorious play of sensations between her legs. She sank her fingers into her partner’s hair and pulled his face into her crotch. He changed his technique in response, sweeping his tongue along the length of her crevice, from her clit to the tender edge of her rear hole and back. Faster and faster he stroked, while Miranda felt orgasm coiling within her, wound tight, waiting.
The aching need suffused her flesh. Her body was strung like a harp, every nerve stretched toward elusive release. She was so close. It seemed that the merest touch would topple her over the edge, and yet she hovered there, seemingly forever, while Mark plied her sex with fingers, lips, tongue and teeth. Her pleasure was tinged, however slightly, with frustration.
Suddenly, Mark rose from his haunches and stood before her. He brushed her lips with his. Miranda felt stickiness, knew the salty seaweed taste of her own arousal. “Relax,” Mark murmured, cupping a breast while he nuzzled just above her collarbone. “Just relax, and trust me.” Miranda felt something shift at the warm sound of his voice. A clenching in her chest, of which she had not been consciously aware, loosened and then seemed to evaporate. “Give yourself to me, Miranda, all of yourself. Don’t hold back.”
As he uttered these words, he reached down and thrust four fingers into Miranda’s cunt. She convulsed around him, finally released. The orgasm went on and on, waves of delight radiating from her centre. Fingertips, toes, earlobes, nipples, tingled and sparked as electric pleasure surged through her. Dimly, she heard herself scream, harsh and shrill as some exotic bird in the night. She would have fallen to her knees on the wrought-iron platform, if Mark had not caught and held her.
Friday, November 14, 2008
BID FOR LOVE
Genre: Romance/Contemporary Length: Short Price: $2.50 Publication: August 18, 2008 Cover art by Renee Rocco
Monday, November 10, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Frustrated when none of the real newspapers will hire her as a reporter, Eliza Bradley takes the only job she can get – at a paranormal magazine. Her first assignment takes her to to investigate the possibility that a werewolf has killed two local hikers.
She forgets about the story, however, when she meets Hunter McCall, a local college professor and an expert on wolves. The man is an absolute hunk, and she finds herself spending more time in his bed than worrying about werewolves. That is, until Eliza finds out that Hunter isn’t just an animal in the sack, he’s an animal out of it, too - of the werewolf variety! Talk about a complicated relationship!
But Eliza can’t dwell on Hunter’s little shapeshifting issues. There’s another werewolf out there with a taste for human blood, and she and Hunter are the only ones who can stop him.
“Anything else I can get for you folks?” the waitress asked.
Eliza glanced down at the table before looking up at the waitress again. “Ketchup?”
The woman nodded. “There’s a bottle on the table right behind you, sugar. Enjoy your dinner.”
Eliza had expected the woman to bring her a new bottle of ketchup, or at least grab the one off the other table for them, like waitresses in most restaurants would usually do. Maybe it was a diner thing, Eliza thought. Or an Alaska thing. Either way, it seemed she would be going to get her own bottle of ketchup.
Taking her napkin off her lap and placing it on the table, Eliza pushed back her chair and got to her feet. When the waitress had told her that there was a bottle of ketchup on the table behind theirs, she had naturally assumed it was unoccupied, so she was surprised to see a man sitting there. And not just the average, run-of-the-mill guy she’d expect to find in a diner either, but a mouth-watering specimen of a man. Her breath caught as she found herself stopping right there in the middle of the diner to stare at him She had read in Cosmo once that there was something different about Alaskan men, that living in the great white north made them more masculine and sexy. Staring at the man seated at the table, she could well believe it.
Thank goodness he was intent on whatever he was reading on the laptop in front of him, because he would surely think she was a freak standing there staring at him with her mouth hanging open. But good heavens, with that thick, dark hair, chiseled, hair-roughened jaw, and wide, sensual mouth, how could any woman not be mesmerized?
Abruptly realizing how idiotic she must look just standing there, Eliza finally forced her feet to move. As she neared his table, the man looked up from his laptop and she felt her breath hitch as his gaze met hers. She’d never seen eyes like his before. Not quite brown, but not really hazel, either, the only way she could think to describe them was gold. And the sexiest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The heat from them mesmerized her, pulling her into their depths, and suddenly she found it very hard to breathe.
When he lifted a brow in question, she finally managed to break out of her trance. “I, um, was wondering if I could steal your ketchup,” Eliza stammered, her face coloring. “We don’t have any,” she added, glancing back at her table.
The man followed the direction of her gaze, his gold eyes settling on the photographer for a moment before he gave her a smile. “Sure.”
Picking up the bottle, he held it out to her. As she reached for it, her fingers brushed his and she almost gasped as the most amazing sensation swept through her. It was like she’d just gotten completely and thoroughly kissed. Her knees felt weak and there was a delicious little flutter in her tummy that left her breathless.
It was then that she realized she hadn’t actually taken the bottle of ketchup yet. She was just standing there touching him like a dufus. She tried to cover her bizarre behavior by grabbing the bottle, but all she did was almost knock it out of his hand. They both fumbled with the thing for a moment before she finally gained control of it.
Could she be any more lame? She could already feel the heat rushing to her face.
“I think your boyfriend’s waiting for the ketchup,” he said when she continued to just stand there.
Eliza’s brow furrowed in confusion at the word “boyfriend,” but then she realized he must be referring to the photographer. She forced her attention away from the pleasant warmth that still swirled between her thighs and gave him a smile. “Oh, you mean Andy. He’s not my boyfriend. We just work together.”
One eyebrow rose. “Really.”
Oh God. Did he think she was trying to come on to him? Crap, she really needed to go back to her table before she did something else to embarrass herself. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She had a crazy urge to reach out and touch him again to see if that same sexual spark would happen. Resisting the impulse, she instead reached up to tuck her long, dark hair behind her ear. “But you’re right. He is probably waiting for the ketchup.”
Giving the man another smile, she forced her-self to turn and walk back to her table. Halfway there, however, she couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder to take one more look at him. He was regarding her with those incredible golden eyes of his, and her pulse fluttered wildly at the intensity in his gaze.
What was going on with her? She’d never experienced anything like this in her life. She had to get control of herself. Giving him one more look over her shoulder, she turned and stumbled back to her seat in a daze, clutching the bottle of ketchup in her hand.
Across from her, Andy lifted a brow as if to ask, what the hell is wrong with you? When she didn’t say anything he prompted, “You just going to sit there and hold that all night or can I use the ketchup?”
She blinked. “What? Oh, yeah. Sorry,” she mumbled, handing it to him.
Eliza watched as the photographer dumped ketchup on his onion rings, and then began to dig into his meal. She knew she should be doing the same, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. Her heart was still racing as if she’d just come back from a run. Or had just gotten done having some really great sex. Good heavens, and all of that was from a mere brush of the fingers. She couldn’t keep herself from wondering what it would have been like if he really had kissed her.
It was a long time before Eliza could focus on her food, and by then, she realized she wasn’t really hungry anymore, at least not for food anyway.
"ANIMAL ATTRACTION is one hot read. Ms. Tyler knows how to mesmerize an audience!"
"ANIMAL ATTRACTION by Paige Tyler is one of those books that you just can't put down once you begin reading it, it is just that good!"