Saturday, January 31, 2009

New Pen Name & New Release

Hi all you'll notice there are now two names I go by. Jade Twilight & Wynter O'Reilly. The reason is the money from the books done under Wynter will be donated to help my fellow authors. That's all I'm going to say.

My first book The Wingless Fairy done under this name is available from eXcessica.

The Wingless Fairy by Wynter O'Reilly
Length: Short
Heat Level: eXcess 3
Price: $1.99

Eiry, an icy fairy, had her wings savagely ripped from her leaving her almost powerless. Alone and powerless she is slated to become a sacrifice, but is saved at the last moment by Derian God of Lust and Pain. He makes Eiry his pleasure slave, teaching her in the ways of passion. Till Airyana, a creator Goddess, finds out and starts causing problems.
Will Derian be able to keep his wingless fairy? Or will Airyana take her from him?

Warnings: This title contains graphic language, sex, menage, spanking and light bondage.

To read an excerpt or buy click here

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Spotlight Tyree Kimber

Tyree Kimber was born in California, grew up in central Kansas, and currently live in Kansas City. Tyree has a Bachelor of Arts degree in Theater from Kansas State University.

"I have always been artistic and possessed of a passion for storytelling. Over the last ten years my interests have shifted increasingly from the performance side of storytelling and into the writing side. Love and sexuality have always fascinated me, as have the fantastical realms of the imagination. Realizing that perhaps these two areas may be two halves of the same whole, I made the decision a few years ago to enter the genre of erotica fantasy. APOCALYPSE WOMAN is the result of that initial foray and I have not looked back since."

You can find Tyree on Live Journal or Myspace.


Selkines Ondine, a minor noblewoman without the means to fulfill her hunger for knowledge and power, faces a lonely life in service to the Aratriconian Church.

To avoid this fate she makes a pact with Abryax, a fallen angel who defied the god Aratricon at the dawn of time.

In exchange for bearing the demon's child she will receive on wish for anything her heart desires.

Selkines plans to use this wish to gain the wealth and power that society denies her. But the archbishop of the Church has a secret agenda: an interest in Selkines that goes far beyond the religious. And the servants of Heaven will do anything to keep a soul they have set their sights on from Hell's grasp.

Meanwhile Selkines's long suffering admirer, the poet Erasmus sets out to win her hand as well, unaware that his competition is a creature of ancient and terrible power.

Abryax's motto is that Hell gives us exactly what we want. But Selkines learns that what we want may come in a form we never expected or desire. Heaven and Hell ultimately gather for a showdown with Selkines's body as the battlefield, but Selkines is shocked at the depth of her own capacity to love when Erasmus selflessly enters the conflict for her sake as well.


In that hidden vale, with the moon dark and her sins unseen, Selkines began to dance, or, perhaps it should be said, to writhe for her patron's pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, a chaotic series of movements, the best of which were utterly obscene. Yet Selkines continued for what seemed like hours, continued until sweat coated every inch of her painted body and her lithe muscles ached. All the while, she prayed, raggedly chanting dark words until her lungs burned and it seemed the voice was not her own. And then, after it seemed an eternity had passed, with a gesture as vile as it was climatic, the dark dance ended.

Selkines fell to her knees in the dirt, flanks heaving, body glistening, and all silent save for the crackling of the fire. She was utterly exhausted and yet terribly aroused. In truth, the level of sexual hunger she felt was unprecedented, almost painful. Alone with no one to see and no one to stop her, it took all of the willpower she had not to send one hand seeking a pert breast, the other the damp cleft between her thighs, and begin a frenzied effort to release this alien tension playing havoc upon her body and soul. But no, at all costs, she must wait. Still, no sounds came to her except the licking of the flames. But the ritual had to have worked. He had to have heard her entreaty. He must come!

Nothing. Silence. Selkines' heart grew heavy and her loins, ever more impatient. All in vain, then. Her cry had gone unheard. Now, truly, she was alone. And then the fire changed.

First, the bright, blinding white of burning magnesium, then the livid green of burning copper, then, the yellow of a sulphurous cloud. The flames changed, and changed again. And then he was among them. Instantly averting her eyes, Selkines caught only the barest glimpse, but Abryax burned in her memory like the fires of his eyes which sifted in patterns identical to those of the bonfire consecrated to him. Much taller than a man, the demon stood, its limbs and body clothed in a living blackness which seemed to devour all light that touched it. Its masculine face was handsome beyond measure, even in spite of its bone-white skin, small horns, and the bottomless flaming sockets of its eyes. Its - no, his- beauty in all its unholiness was frightening to behold. The hunger in Selkines' loins silently cried out to him and her body trembled.

Abryax emerged from the shifting fire and was immediately before her. Selkines did not dare raise her eyes. What had she done? What would the fallen one demand of her?

An elegant, clawed hand extended languidly toward her and took her by the chin, forcing her to meet the bottomless, beautiful hell of her demon's eyes. Those endless, colorful fires pulled her in, entrapping her in an enchantment of lust. It seemed the price would be exactly as she'd expected. Very well. The lust in her body, already unbearable, now redoubled tenfold at the demon's command. Almost of their own volition, Selkines' hands now moved to her most sacred regions and a blasphemous dance of a new kind now began.

Tuesday, January 20, 2009

Spotlight Savannah Chase

One Touch, One Glance: A Sweet Romance Anthology

Available December 9, 2008
by Various
Genre: Anthology/Contemporary/Time Travel
Rating: Sweet
Book Length: Humongous Novel
Price: $6.49

Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned romance? Remember reading about a man’s clothed physique, or how a fellow admired a woman in a pretty red dress? How about stories where couples fall in love with just one glance or that first gentle touch? Then open this anthology and enjoy 18 beautiful stories of love lost, love found, intrigue, heartache healed, the miracles of life, passionate admissions, and tearjerkers that make one sigh with longing. From best friends who find romance to time travel to a bit of Christmas magic, step into the realm of hearts on fire and love everlasting.

Authors: Gwen Hayes, M.E. Ellis, Maryann Miller, Adelle Laudan, K. Starling, Trinity Blacio, Debbie Gould, Ava James, Faith Bicknell-Brown, Savannah Chase, Lisa Alexander Griffin, Kensana Darnell, Brieanna Robertson, Nicolette Zamora, Kathleen MacIver, Missy Lyons, and Jambrea Jo Jones

He’s On The Menu by Savannah Chase
One Touch One Glance A Sweet Romance Anthology

All Jessie wanted to do was get home safe and sound from a shift at the diner, not crash her car into a tour bus that belongs to a mega star. Ian’s traveled the world and met lots of women but non like the one who’s crashed into his life. She’s different and unforgettable and now he’s ready to show her he’s perfect for her and just the thing she needs on her menu.


A sudden stop and the sound of crunching metal startled Jessie. She shrieked as her forehead cracked the steering wheel. Thank God she hadn’t been driving any faster or the airbags might have deployed. Rain washed over the windshield, the wipers struggling to keep up, but she couldn’t see anything beyond the car’s grill ornament.

“Darn it! No! Please don’t let me have hit someone.” She shifted the car into park and turned the engine off. Jessie swallowed a lump in her throat. Frantically, she reached for her seatbelt with damp, shaking hands. Once the seatbelt clicked, her heart raced a mile a minute. Tears streamed down her face. She didn’t know what she would do if she’d harmed anyone.

She opened the car door and got out. Dark clouds blanketed the sky, and the rain still fell fast, hard. Jessie inspected the damage and what she’d crashed her car into. Every possible thought ran through her head as she looked at the bus she’d just hit. It wasn’t just any bus. Oh, no…this was a large, black-and-silver tour bus.

This couldn’t be happening to her. How on earth would she explain this to her insurance company? How would she explain this to the owner of the bus?

Her shoes squeaked with every step she took. Water sloshed around her toes, and her running shoes were ready to fall off at any moment. She approached to knock on the bus’s door, but it opened before she touched it.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see your bus parked here,” she called out.

“My bus driver is going to kill you,” a voice said.

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Spotlight JC Natal

J.C. Natál has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pen. She wrote my first full length novel at 14 and there was a devout Pentecostal phase which produced some of the worst poetry (according to her) the world has ever seen. There have been short and novel length stories with a lot of dribble but a few gems emerged over time.

J.C. continued to work at honing her craft with various original projects then discovered the world of written erotica and the universe as she knew it changed. Even more so when she discovered that other people were turned on by the same things she was. And that, in turn brought her to Dark Roast Press.

With several interests, J.C. considers herself a sci-fi geek, loves to read, and falls in love with one or two television shows at a time. She has a huge crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan, loves music in all genres (except maybe hip hop/rap...which she tolerates) and of course, COFFEE.

Learn more about J.C at her Live Journal.


Rysykk's Rise


Alarin is a skid living in the dark and dangerous underside of Washington-America, where the sun can no longer be seen through the buildings and streets of the upper levels. He’s a pickpocket and a thief, and sometimes a whore when he’s hungry enough, until the night he picks the wrong pocket and falls victim to a vicious beating.

A mysterious benefactor whisks Alarin away from the mean streets and offers him a life of luxury, ninety floors in the sky…but who exactly is Maleus Bryant and why does he want Alarin when he could have his choice of companion? What is it he knows that Alarin doesn’t?

Adding to Alarin’s discomfort is the image in his mind of a killer with blood on his face, a Rysykk, rising out of the black of night and the legends of old to fill Alarin with fear. Could Maleus be a Rysykk, hiding in plain sight?

Even if he is, can Alarin turn his back on shelter and food and a life he’d never dreamed of, or will he stay, knowingly a Rysykk’s private whore?


By the time he was deemed well enough to get out of the bed, Alarin wanted nothing more than to get out of the pampered prison he’d found himself in. He’d eaten more food in the weeks he’d been awake than he had in his whole seventeen years. He would thank his host for the rescue and generosity, and find out what was required in return. Then get out as soon as he was able, beat it back to his own level. Back to the dark and grunge of bottomside.

“How long have I been here, Rose?” Alarin asked as he dropped sweating and breathless onto the bed after only a short walk, leaning heavily on the cane she’d brought.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at him. “Do you have somewhere better to be?”

He laughed and lifted his splinted leg up onto the bed while she poured him some water and set his little cup of pills beside the bed. “Yeah; ‘cause my flop hole and trash bed’s so much better ... and I gots stuff what needs doing.” He snorted and tossed the pills back, slamming down the water. He figured he should get as much of the good stuff as he could while he was there. Soon enough he’d be back down in the gutter.

“It will be a month tomorrow,” Rose said finally.

Alarin shook his head. “Long time.”

“Mr. Bryant will be home from his trip in a few days. By then we should have your strength up. He’ll want to see you. He’s been pleased with your progress.”

That made Alarin more nervous than he wanted to admit. He had nothing to offer this man. He couldn’t imagine what a man like Maleus Bryant could possibly want with a gutter-born bottom feeder like him. Well, he could imagine, but none of the things that came to him were pleasant.

A week later Alarin was given clothing – simple, but new, and better than anything he’d ever worn. He was led out of his room, into a bright, white hallway and over to an elevator that took them up ten floors. A whole level. As the doors opened, the servant escorting him gestured into the room. "Mr. Bryant is waiting for you, sir."

Alarin actually snorted at that. He'd never been called a "sir" before. He limped his way into the room, which was a stark contrast to everything he'd seen before. The walls were lined in rich wood paneling, dark and well polished. The back wall was filled, floor to ceiling, with books. The carpeting was nearly ankle thick as he stepped hesitantly onto it. A few steps further into the room, and he eyed the lush furniture-- black leather. It was more than a few moments before his eyes adjusted enough to see the eyes regarding him with cool amusement from the depths of one of the chairs.

"Forgive the lack of light. I'm afraid my eyes are sensitive." The voice was slightly accented, gentle, compelling.

"No problem. I come from the dark levels." Alarin responded reflexively, and he sensed, rather than saw, the smile.

"I recall. I trust you are feeling better?”

"Yeah ... you know ... thank you. I can’t pay you for this."

The shadows seemed to shift as Maleus moved forward in his chair. "There is nothing to repay. It was my pleasure."

In Service


In a modern world where rampant disease and prostitution has been dealt with through institutionalizing the sex business, and where American nobility, Lords and Ladies, hold significant power, Lord Elias Doherty is a man who has always had everything he ever wanted. Spoiled and arrogant, Elias thinks only of his upcoming twenty-fifth birthday and his only desired gift, a Servant of his very own.

When he spots Jared Karan, he knows exactly what he wants, but Jared is owned by another, a powerful British Lord with a reputation as a ruthless and unforgiving man, in business and in personal matters.

Elias gets what he wants through his father’s political and business maneuvering, and Jared is his. But Lord Stuart isn’t content with his defeat, and he uses his own power and influence to give Elias a gift, one that on the surface seems legitimate, but hides a very dark secret.

With a powerful enemy and a political climate that is more than a little volatile, falling in love with Jared could lead them both to destruction.


Elias realized he was holding his breath and let it out slowly. It was a beautiful thing to watch, the fingers disappearing into him and moving about slowly, opening him up. According to the paperwork, he’d never had anything near the size of an actual cock inside him. Fingers, dildos for training, but all small, all designed to leave him essentially a virgin for his Lord.

It made him sweat to think about it, that no one else had touched him the way he was about to. Jared finished and stood up, turning to Elias. “How do you want me, my Lord?” His eyes were downcast, his voice breathy.

Elias crossed to him, letting his fingers dance over the bare skin, over nipples and abdominal muscles, over hips, around to the rounded mounds of his ass. He slipped a finger inside him and closed his eyes, savoring the heat. “Undress me,” Elias said.

Jared hesitated only briefly, then his hands rose up between them, unbuttoning Elias’ shirt. His hands skimmed over Elias’ skin, up, under the shirt, over his shoulders, slipping the fabric from him as he circled around Elias.

Lips, soft and damp, moved over his back as the shirt fell into Jared’s hands. Kisses and tender touches made Elias close his eyes and relax. He never saw where the shirt landed, but he felt Jared’s hands, over his lower back, around his waist…his fingers at the button of his jeans.

It was so quiet in the room Elias could hear the denim slide through Jared’s hands as he opened the fly and guided the pants down. As they reached his ankles, Jared circled back around so that he was in front of Elias, on his knees, staring at the erect cock he’d released.

Jared steadied Elias with a hand on his hip and wordlessly encouraged him to step free of the clothing. Elias’ cock bobbed in front of him and after he’d pushed the jeans away, he looked up at Elias, eyes wide.

“May I, my Lord?”

It took Elias a moment to realize what it was he was asking. “Yeah…yeah…do it.”
Jared’s mouth opened and then his lips closed around the end of Elias’ cock, just the tip. He sucked in, his tongue sliding just under the head, then tracing it. He pulled back, kissing the end, before his tongue lapped over it, then under it, down the length and back. Elias hissed and barely managed to keep from thrusting in hard and fast when Jared swallowed him whole.

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Spotlight Jamie Lynn Miller

Jamie Lynn Miller has been writing male/male fanfiction stories for nearly fifteen years and decided to take the plunge and go pro in 2008. She’s a romantic at heart, and her stories reflect the desire we all have to find “the one”, persevering through trials and heartache for that happy ending.

Jamie has a degree in Fine Arts and has spent the last thirteen years working as a Graphic Designer. She was born in Chicago and still lives there today, with her husband and their furry, four-footed “children”.

Besides writing, Jamie enjoys traveling, softball, reading, science fiction, hanging out with friends, and just being creative.

She is eternally thankful for all of the love and support her husband has given her over the years with her writing and other endeavors.

If you’d like to contact Jamie Lynn, her email address is: or friend her Live Journal.


Burnin' For You


Lucas Taylor is a hard-working New York City fireman at Station 127, dedicated to his job, even though it has brought him heartrending tragedy - the loss of his lover, Ryan, in an explosion a year ago.

Evan Singer is the new guy in town, a paramedic transferred into Station 127 from San Antonio, and he sets his eyes on Lucas from the get-go.
Neither knowing who the other is, their first meeting is explosive, a night of passion and desire that awakens something inside Lucas he never thought he’d feel again.

But when Lucas discovers that Evan is a paramedic, it all comes crashing down. For despite the feelings he has for Evan, Lucas has vowed to never again get involved with someone on the job, after losing Ryan to it.

Can Evan convince Lucas to open up his heart and take a chance on love again, despite who Evan is?


Later the next night, Lucas was still nursing sore knuckles as he sat in his living room, beer in hand, watching the rain fall outside, thinking about everything and nothing, wishing it was more of the latter.

A knock at his door roused him from his musings and he set his beer aside, rising to answer it – and was startled to see Evan standing on the other side when he opened it.

“How did you know – ?”

“Tom told me where you lived. Can I come in?”

Lucas blew out a breath, hesitating, before reluctantly letting Evan inside.

“What do you want, Evan?” Lucas asked wearily, shutting the door.

Evan turned toward him, looking unsure, running a hand through his rain damp hair. “Who’s Ryan?” he finally asked, quietly. “Tom said I needed to ask you about him. That it would explain things.”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, Lucas could only stare at Evan for a long moment. An internal decision made, that it was time Evan did know, so he’d stop pursuing him, Lucas walked past Evan and picked up a photograph from the end table.

He stared at Ryan’s smiling face for a long time before walking over to the window, looking out at the rain, his back to Evan.

“Ryan and I – we loved each other,” Lucas started, still not looking at Evan, voice low. “We were together for almost three years. He worked at the station, on the engine with me. Things were great, they were perfect. He moved in with me here six months before – before it happened.” Lucas paused, taking a deep breath.

“We got a call for a warehouse fire this time last year,” Lucas continued. “Three alarm, close by the station; we were the first company there. Ryan and I were each on an inch and a half hose, Ryan in the lead. We were pretty deep inside the building when my air tank alarm went off. Someone had screwed up that afternoon and hadn’t checked them. The other companies hadn’t gotten there yet and I didn’t want to leave Ryan alone.” Again Lucas paused, swallowing past the lump in his throat and felt the first, silent tear slip free.

“But Ryan was yelling at me, that I wouldn’t be any good if I couldn’t breathe and to get out,” Lucas went on, his voice breaking. “I had just cleared the doors when the explosion tore the building apart. I felt the heat on my back before I was lifted up off my feet and thrown 20 feet. I tried to get back in the building, but the guys held me back.” Lucas’s throat worked convulsively. “Ryan was gone and there was nothing I could do,” he finished, pain and loss coloring every word.

He turned now to face Evan, not bothering to wipe away his tear tracks. “I can’t put myself through that again, Evan. What we do, it’s too fucking dangerous. I learned that the hard way, and I will NEVER go through that again. Losing Ryan, it damn near killed me. So please, just let this go,” he pleaded. “I won’t let myself fall for you. I can’t.”

“Lucas – " Evan took a step forward, his own eyes bright with moisture.

Lucas shook his head. “No. Please, Evan, just go. Please.”

The only sound in the apartment was the rain hitting the window as the two men regarded each other silently, hurt and pain radiating off of one, sympathy and compassion from the other, until Evan turned and wordlessly left Lucas alone in his apartment, holding Ryan’s photo to his chest.

Darkness Falls


Matthew Tucker is a successful actor on a hit television show, his career on the rise. Life is good. What more could he want?

Daniel Westman, that’s what – his co-star and close friend for the last two years.
Matthew desires more than friendship with Daniel, though, his attraction for the other man growing day by day. So much so that Matthew gives up the safety and security of his current long-term relationship for the slimmest chance of a relationship with Daniel, feeling there’s something between them, just under the surface. And he was gambling his happiness on it.

But months go by, with Matthew suddenly afraid to go forward, to make the first move, to tell Daniel he was falling in love with him. Because if he was wrong, and Daniel was just being his natural charming self and Matthew was looking too deeply into it…he’d lose his best friend.

So instead Matthew longs for his friend in silence, until an accident on set may leave Daniel permanently blinded. With his friend hurt, scared and confused, his life possibly forever altered, Matthew never wavers from Daniel’s side, no matter how difficult it gets.

His dedication brings them closer than ever before, but is it possible to find happiness, and love, in the wake of a tragedy? Or has Matthew’s hesitation cost him that chance and he’ll lose Daniel to the darkness instead?


Matthew reached out and took his friend by his wrist, pulling him closer, guiding him to stand between Matthew’s widespread legs.

Matthew took a second, and a breath, as his heart jumped a bit, having Daniel so close, naked from the waist up. He closed his legs, until they were just barely brushing Daniel’s, and he felt as if that drew Daniel even closer to him. Matthew swallowed, reluctant to release Daniel’s wrist, the skin of it so warm under his fingers.

“Hey, everything okay?”

Daniel’s quiet question broke Matthew out of the moment and he blinked, letting go of his friend’s arm.

“Umm, yeah, sorry,” Matthew stammered, and he turned his upper body toward the sink on his right, twisting on the taps. He adjusted the temperature just this side of too hot and soaked the washcloth, before handing it to Daniel.

Daniel wet down his face and neck with the cloth as Matthew first pulled up the stopper in the sink, then flipped open the cap on the shaving cream.

Face thoroughly damp, Daniel handed the washcloth back to Matthew, who laid it next to him on the counter, then turned off the taps on the sink. He squirted a small amount of shaving cream onto the fingers of his right hand, set the can down and rubbed the cream onto his left hand as well.

Reaching out, he slowly smoothed the cream onto Daniel’s face – under his cheekbones, above his upper lip, across and back on the sides of his face, over and under his chin, then a short way down his neck. He felt Daniel release a small sigh and saw his shoulders relax.

The water running in the bathtub was the only sound in the room as Matthew picked up the razor and began carefully shaving his friend. A slow swipe down, a rinse in the sink…repeat…repeat…repeat. It was sensual, almost hypnotic, as more and more of Daniel’s skin was revealed with each pass of the razor.

Matthew felt Daniel’s hand touch his leg, slide up, until his palm was resting high up on his thigh. Matthew breathed in at the touch, breathed in the warm steam enveloping them, felt his legs close a fraction more.

One last pass with the razor and Matthew was finished, Daniel’s skin pink and smooth once more. Eyes never leaving Daniel’s face, Matthew set the razor down on the counter. There was a spot of shaving cream on Daniel’s left cheekbone and Matthew reached up, palm resting against the side of his friend’s face, fingers curling around behind Daniel’s ear, his thumb sliding over Daniel’s cheek, clearing the shaving cream away.

Time seemed to freeze, catching the two men in the moment as Matthew felt his chest tighten, his heart pound, and he couldn’t breathe, felt lightheaded.

And this.

This feeling.

This is why he left his three-year relationship with his boyfriend Colin nearly four months ago. When he no longer got this feeling being around him, but around his best friend instead.

When he realized he was falling in love with Daniel.

His thumb caressed Daniel’s cheek again and Matthew desperately wished that he could see Daniel’s eyes, to see what he was feeling. God, was he alone in this madness? He needed to know…

Matthew felt Daniel sway towards him, his waist pressing against Matthew’s groin, his fingers flexing on Matthew’s thigh, and Matthew’s throat went dry.

Daniel’s voice was barely a whisper. “Matt?”

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Review for The Beast Within by Kelly Ethan

I bought this out of seer curiosity almost a year ago and just finally finished it. I had actually critiqued this many years ago for Ms Ethan. So I was kinda excited to see if the editors or Ms Ethan had made any changes, as well as the fact that Ms Ethan had gotten this published.

What’s a girl to do when she can’t change into the family wolf and Mr. Beast kidnaps her man? Take the evil on and kick some ass—with or without a furry coat.

Cassidy Quinn, Private Investigator extraordinaire, helps down and dirty humans and monsters of Memorial City…for a price. But when a friend phones with a puzzling medical case, Cassidy knows the big bad has come to town—in the form of a rogue Werewolf out for blood. Making herself known to the new evil, she fights against his web of deceit and lies, battling to save her friends, family and sexy police detective Patrick Logan.

One problem—the beast has targeted Cassidy for his mate and he has the upper fang since she’s stuck in human form. When Cassidy finds Logan an all too seductive distraction, the beast’s anger explodes and Logan is kidnapped by the werewolf.

Can Cassidy find Logan before it’s too late and he becomes the main course?

It's sold as paranormal romance and does have a lot of romance aspects. The chemistry between the main characters Cassidy, a private dick and werewolf with a change issue, and Detective Patrick Logan, the sexy cop, is great. They're constantly being thrown together and you get to watch the sparks and fur fly. There is one semi-erotic scene which is a fantasy Cassidy has, and Ms Ethan has you pulling your hair out when they get interrupted during a hot scene a little later at Logan's bachelor pad.

Ms Ethan also does a wonderful job getting The Beast's essence a crossed. She has a way of getting into the creatures head, showing you his base instincts. The way he thinks he feels about Cassidy then how enraged he becomes when she turns him down due to her feeling, albeit confused feeling, toward Logan.

The story pulls you in with either action or sensual intrigue around every turn, keeping you riveted and wanting to know what will happen, who the beast is and will Cassidy & Logan get together?

If you like your suspense with a little romance this is the book for you.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Spotlight Angelia Sparrow

Angelia Sparrow is a middle aged truck-driver, living quietly in the Mid-South with her husband, four kids and two cats. She's written numerous short stories and a few novels, both alone and with Naomi Brooks. In her spare time she crochets and reads porn in waiting rooms. She's still waiting to grow up to be Han Solo.
You can find Angelia on her personal website, her Yahoo group or Myspace.


Nikolai is a kinky gay Pygmalion set in a Dark Future America. James Ligatos is a man with an unusual hobby. He turns promising young criminals into world leaders. His latest project is Nicholas Boyd, formerly Nikolai of the Revenant street gang. But the little killer-turned-file-clerk is much more than Ligatos and his staff bargained for.
As Kentucky attempts to secede from the Confederated States of America and rejoin the United States, Nick's skills and the group's training are put to the ultimate test, and the price of failure is death


The street-preacher on the corner of Highland was harder to ignore than the newscreens. He towered over the passerby, black and frightful-looking, his hair a wild mass of dreadlocks, his filthy robe tattered with wear. He proclaimed the end of the world in his great deep voice that carried for blocks.

“Even now,” he intoned, “events rush to their conclusion. The demon that squats atop the world has called his Nikolai to him.” Nick startled a moment at the sound of his taken name and then saw an ancient battered copy of Nicolae: The Rise of the Anti-Christ in the preacher's hand. It was nothing, just weird coincidence. He had taken the name from the book, though, and something made him uneasy. Nothing had gone quite right on this heist.

He continued to the shop.

Nick opened the door of the pawnshop into must and dust and the smell of desperation. Old contraband computers, old televisions, prohibited fiction books, cheap jewelry all piled together with someone’s wheelchair and old forbidden movies in formats no one made players for any more. It didn’t look promising, and the feeling that something was going wrong only grew stronger.

He looked at the old woman behind the counter, taking in her short gray hair and overly applied make-up that enhanced her age rather than hid it. He decided she was probably old enough to be exempt from the appearance laws that prohibited cosmetics. He pretended to browse for a while. “I’m looking for Mr. Ligatos,” he finally said when he’d worked his way around to her.

She smiled and nodded. “Iakobos,” she called into the back of the shop, and followed it with a string of words in which Nick only caught about every fourth. An old man beckoned him into the back room. The filthy windows turned the light as yellow and nicotine-stained as the old man’s fingers. The heat of the room pressed in. The smell of insects and rodents, mold and dust made Nick want to sneeze. He was sure he saw something move in the half-draped, flyspecked mirror across from him.

“Sit. You have, for me, an item of value?” His command of English was better than the old woman’s. Nick smelled alcohol, cheap, homemade and raw, barely cut with licorice, on the old man’s breath. Yes, this would be the perfect place to fence his take.

“Guaranteed one of a kind. You had a deal with Vlad of the Revenants. Vlad didn’t make it out of the heist but he told me where to come.” Nick drew out the candelabra and set it on the table.

The old man looked it over, slowly and carefully. From the corner of his eye, Nick thought he saw movement, but when he turned nothing was there except the stacks of clutter in the dim, filthy back room.

“Yes, yes. I have a buyer. One who is much interested in such an artifact.” He prodded the item a few times with a gnarled finger. “It is what you say it is, boy.”

“If you can buy it, can you buy these as well?” Nick took out the small carvings he’d stolen. “Real jade, real ivory.”

Old Ligatos looked over the little statues. “Young jade. Not worth so much. Ivory, that, that is worth a fortune. I give you three thousand for all.”

“And for the candlestick?”

A voice from behind him said, “For that you’re going straight to prison, boy.” The cold metal of a gun pressed into the hollow of his skull.

What the Dark Diva's had to say about this book...
"I give this book four delightful divas for the sheer audacity of the author in throwing all that variety in there without throwing me out of the story. Good work."

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Vote For Me!

Yay!! My short story Mistress Of Tiethla is up for the Preditors & Editors Sci Fi/ Fantasy short story published in 2008 I would love for you to stop by and vote for me.