Taking over the world, one book at a time
Meet Auralee Fraser and see into her life as it is in 2012. As a history major doing Scottish research (and fluent in Gaelic) she feels misplaced – perhaps born in the wrong century. Butshe is still a woman and her over-protective brother is on her last nerve.
Buy Links: No Boundaries Press – Amazon – Barnes & Noble – ARe
It’s Thyne & Adison’s 5th wedding anniversary.
Adison has always known that Thyne had an interest in men. She could tell by the way he looked at them. Rather than be offended when he finally told her three years into their marriage, she found it arousing. Now, on their little getaway for their 5th anniversary, Adison wants to make things memorable for her husband. She wants to continue their great sex life and also wants to watch him with another man–hoping that maybe, in the end, he’ll let her join in with them.
Excerpt Knowing Thyne:
Adison smiled as she grabbed the keys from the counter and drug her wheeled suitcase behind her. She had started planning her sixth anniversary only several months after she and Thyne celebrated their fifth.
She’d booked the exact same hotel as last time. Why not? It held some great memories.
Smiling, she remembered the fun and excitement of the last time they were at the hotel. Would Thyne expect the same thing? They’re relationship had flourished since their getaway. And, to her surprise, Thyne hadn’t mentioned a desire to be with another man.
That had been her anniversary gift to Thyne. After five years of marriage, he’d never told her that he was bi. She had assumed it for a while and then suddenly, she had just been positive. It caused her to invite a beautiful gay man named Seth into their anniversary suite.
Even now she could feel herself getting wet remembering Seth and Thyne together.
Hurriedly, she deposited the suitcase into the trunk where Thyne had put his that morning. Always a workaholic, he wouldn’t take the Friday off to start the weekend away early. He had said that his work ethic was why they could take these getaways.
Smiling to herself, she headed back in. Wheels crunched on the driveway. She turned and watched Thyne pull up to the house. Maybe he was looking forward to the weekend as much as she.
****
Adison could tell Thyne was anxious from his chipped greeting and speedy shower.
Much as the previous year, they were silent on their drive to the hotel, simply holding hands. Check in was also went much the same and Adison was pleased to see Thyne’s reaction to the same suite.
“How did you manage the same room?”
“I booked it three months after we were here,” Adison replied with a smile.
When they entered the room, in yet another repeat of their first visit Thyne asked, “Want to go down to the beach before dinner?”
She smiled and shook her head.
“So then, tell me, Adison, what do you have planned for our weekend this time?” Thyne had an amused look on his face, as though knowing her reply would be to bypass the beach once again.
“Oh hell.” Adison tossed her hands in the air. “You know I wanted to wait a bit to get into this part. If you think for a minute I can top last year, you’re going to be very disappointed. You know, you’ve not mentioned wanting to be with another man either. Nor have your brought up Seth.”
Adison watched Thyne for some kind of reaction. No matter what she thought she might see, it wasn’t there. He simply sat waiting for her to continue speaking.
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the strap on she had brought with her last year. They’d never used it.
“Remember this, Thyne? And how I asked if you’d let me use it on you?”
He gave a slight nod.
Buy Links: No Boundaries Press – Amazon – Barnes & Noble – ARe
Another year has passed and Adison has planned an anniversary treat for Thyne that she hopes will surpass the last one. But in pushing her boundaries to outdo herself, will she push the limits of Thyne’s bounds?
Excerpt Having Thyne:
This was the weekend. Tonight she and Thyne would go away for their fifth wedding anniversary. Well, not really away as in exotic location, something had to be saved for their tenth anniversary, but to a beautiful resort hotel about an hour from home. She had them both packed and was ready to enjoy it. Would her surprise be too much?
After what seemed like forever, Thyne finally arrived. Adison had played this out in her head over and over. Now that the time was here, she was nervous. As he loaded their luggage into to the trunk she occupied her mind with different versions of how the weekend might play out. Would he enjoy her surprise?
Suddenly, this weekend gift looked like a huge risk.
Though they held hands all the way to the hotel, they rode in silence. Could her husband feel her panic? Or was it guilt? Was she doing the right thing?
Once in their suite, Adison relaxed. The view was breathtaking. The beach was stunning with its crystal clear blue water. The hot summer weather was perfect, a light breeze flowing into their room from the open balcony doors.
“So, what do you want to do first? Go down to the beach for a swim before dinner,” Thyne asked, snapping her from her enjoyment of the view.
“No, I don’t think so. Maybe in the morning, a day on the beach sounds nice.” Adison’s reply was deep with thought. She fidgeted within her suitcase simply moving items back and forth, even though there was nothing she needed. How would she start the evening?
“Alright then. So, what is it that you do want to do? Maybe we could go to dinner and have an early night?”
Thyne’s brow creased with his confusion. He had her number. That was certain. Normally she’d be dragging him to the beach to get the sand under her feet. She loved the beach; the sand, the sun, the water, time slowing down.
“Thyne, take off your clothes.”
About the Author:
Ten years ago, Kharisma traded in snow, ice and tornadoes for sun, heat, sand and mountains. She now lives in beautiful Arizona with her husband, 4 kids & 9 rescue dogs and 5 goats.
Now, in her eleventh year in Arizona, she is once again braving new terrain and has moved up into the White Mountains. This will be the first year that she will see freezing temperatures and snow.
Her love for nature and animals is well known and she gets to indulge it in her new home with wolves, coyotes, snakes, and various other creatures as her nearest neighbors. Living in the middle of nowhere is something she wouldn’t change for the world.
Dabbling in writing through Junior High and High School, Kharisma officially got her start writing LGBT, BDSM and erotica. Never one to slow down, she started writing several additional genres including crime, medical, historical and paranormal. Her latest adventure is a dark horror.
When you pick up one of her books, she wants you to walk away turned on and inspired! Come take a stroll into Kharisma’s worlds of ecstasy, love, adventure and fear.
Web – Blog – Facebook – Twitter @KharismaRhayne – Goodreads – Amazon
Laura DeLuca
Joshua Handover had it all. He was handsome, rich, athletic, and had always been popular with the ladies. Yet, until he gets paired up with his beautiful but shy lab partner, Rosa, he never allowed himself to fall in love. As the chemistry between them grows, Josh realizes that his player days have come to end. But it seems his change of heart has come too late. Not only is Rosa leery of his bad boy reputation, he has four vindictive ex-girlfriends who are on a rampage. At first he doesn’t take their threats seriously, but then his tires are slashed, someone tries to poison him, and one of the girls turns up dead. Josh doesn’t know who to trust, but one thing is certain. It definitely isn’t worth the price he’s paying to be a player.
Excerpt:
Someone else came over to offer Nadine their congratulations, so Josh said goodbye and went to his locker to get his backpack. He figured he would meet up with Andrea and Rosa in the parking lot. He fumbled with the combination before finally getting the door to swing open. Something glittered on the top shelf and caught his eye. He reached for it, and a small scrap of paper fluttered to the floor.
At first he wasn’t sure what he was holding. It was a pink plastic tiara with some big gaudy plastic jewels. It was the type of thing he had seen in dollar stores for little girls’ birthday parties. It was practically broken in half, and the edges were sharp. Josh pricked his finger on the jagged point, and a few drops of blood welled from the small wound. He put his finger in his mouth as he bent to pick up the paper that had fallen. When he read it, the broken crown suddenly made sense and he wondered how he could have been so naïve. He should have realized from the instant he saw it what it meant.
“Josh decided to play around
Now one of his girls is under the ground.
Another has a big bump on her head.
And by the end of the dance, the queen will be dead.”
About the Author:
Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan and Player.
Buy Links: No Boundaries Press / Amazon / All Romance Ebooks / Barnes & Noble
For weeks, college student Casper has been the victim of sail-by goosing and groping. The problem is that Casper would very much like to get more than groped by those wonderful, big, hot hands. With a journal full of clues, he sets out to discover who his mystery groper is. However, he may be in serious trouble once he discovers the ominous identity, and it’s not because of the light bondage the groper seems to like.
Excerpt for Hot Hands:
I try to act casual as I walk down the empty hallway, plotting a way to counter Joey’s attack. But when I stop by a small dark space ready to twist around and tackle back, I get pushed into the darkness with speed I didn’t know Joey possessed. My school bag drops to the floor with a thud.
“Joey!” I yelp in surprise as my face is pressed against a wall.
“Joey?” a deep voice vibrates from the back of my neck.
I gasp out loud. This isn’t Joey. Joey’s voice is much higher.
“What do you want?” I ask through rattling breaths and a heart that’s ready to pop.
“What do you think I want?” he growls into my ear.
Oh God, when he says it like that, it’s pretty clear. I can’t believe this is happening right here in school. With my mind going numb, I try to escape, but he’s a good six inches taller than me and he’s strong. He pins my wrists to my back and pushes me into a dark room. I’m about to scream for help, when I feel his big hand on my ass. Hot and gentle.
Hot-Hands.
I take a few calming breaths as he pushes me against another wall, his front firm to my back. All I can smell is detergent and his tantalizing cologne mixed with his own unique man-smell. The combination has my mind reeling.
When I try to twist around, he covers my eyes with his big hand.
“I want to see you,” I complain, still panting after my initial shock with the cold wall pressed against my cheek.
“I’m not ready to be seen,” he says in that drool-worthy voice of his, so deep and sensual. “Would you like me to leave?”
“No,” I nearly shout. “Please, I need to know who you are.”
He doesn’t answer, but instead pulls a strip of cloth over my eyes, obscuring the little I could make out in the dark.
“Do you mind?”
His whisper in my ear makes me shudder.
“No,” I try to say firmly, but the insecurities make my voice tremble.
Hot-Hands ties the strip behind my head and brushes his soft lips against my bare neck.
“I’ll need to tie your hands too,” he whispers.
I don’t struggle while my wrists are being secured with the soft fabric.
As he runs his finger from the top of my spine to the small of my back, my body convulses in shudders. Instinctively, I try to free my wrists. I hear his deep chuckle, but there’s no way I can get free.
Hot hell, what have I done? I’ve given a complete stranger permission to tie me up and now I’m at his mercy. I have no way of defending myself. Although the thought sends winged beasts of terror fluttering in the pit of my stomach, my heart is hammering with an odd thrill as well.
Buy Links: No Boundaries Press / Amazon / All Romance E-Books / Barnes & Noble
When College professor Daniel Corrigan was brutally kicked out of his home after revealing his true sexuality to his wife, he had to make a whole new life for himself. For the first time in two years Daniel’s main heartache isn’t the none-existent relationship with his two kids, but the fact that the grade-A-sex deal with his student Troy Anderson is about to expire. After a whole semester of office fun, Troy has managed to squeeze his way into the core of Daniel’s soul. Daniel, however, is positive he’s nothing more to Troy than a teacher who can modify a grade.
Excerpt for Grade-A-Sex-Deal:
A light knock on the door brings me out of my misery. The only perk of this job is about to enter, and perky he is indeed.
Troy Anderson pokes his beautiful face into my office, swings his slim, athletic body inside and locks the door behind him.
“Come in,” I say calmly to the young kid who only ever wears skin-tight jeans and sleeveless tops. My guess is that he does it just to tease me. I can’t take my eyes off his thin waist and nicely toned biceps and whenever he catches me ogling, he shoots me a smirk.
“What can I do for you, Troy?”
“You can give me an A on that exam you’re making,” Troy replies in his low, seductive voice. His blue eyes scan the table in front of me. Out of habit I pull a folder over my notes.
“And why would I do that?” I ask in my monotone teaching voice.
Troy’s full lips quirk into a smirk. “Because we have a deal.”
He walks to my desk and traces the edge with a long finger. My eyes follow that finger where it slides off the wood and lands on his growing bulge.
“The deal’s off,” I state matter-of-factly.
An old magazine lies on top of my screen. I grab it and pretend to sink my consciousness in the wonders of the South-American rain forests while everything within me is fantasizing about what he keeps hidden in those jeans.
“No way,” Troy says with a confident smile in his voice. “I haven’t been coming to see you every week for you to bail out now. The exam is next week.”
I count down a full minute before I lower the magazine to answer. “I’m very well aware of that, Mr. Anderson, but you didn’t show up last Monday night. You broke the deal.”
“Oh come on, I was studying,” he says and for the first time I hear a crack in his resolve. It surprises me so much that my eyes fly up to meet his. That gorgeous, sandy-blond hair half covers one of his blue eyes and sweeps the curve of his neck. His slender jaw flexes on his tanned face as he swallows.
“What do you propose?” I ask calmly, trying hard not to reveal how much he affects me. His mere presence is enough to have me jumping hoops. Yes, we do have a grade-A-sex deal, but the more we meet the more I like having him around.
He resumes his calm nature, leaning over the end of the desk with his perky little ass in the air. “Well, I’m here now. You can do me twice.”
He has my undivided attention for a few seconds before I toss away the magazine, grab a pen and start flicking through the Webster’s.
“Oh come on,” he murmurs, edging himself a little farther towards me. “I know you have other guys knocking on your door every night. It’s not like you didn’t have anyone to play with. How many guys have you fucked this week?”
“Several,” I reply with a shrug. “How many teachers have fucked you this week?”
“Several,” he echoes with a carefree grin and adjusts his perfectly shaped elbows on my desk.
Those white teeth, that full, hot mouth around my cock has me gasping for air every time. The reason this Adonis is so skilled at giving head is that he fucks around a lot and has done so for years. Troy’s not even discrete about it. He tells me about his conquests every week after our meetings. Teachers, students, career men, club guys. Basically whoever he thinks is hot – and Troy, being so impossibly hot, can pretty much have whomever he wants. It has always bothered me, even at first, when all I felt for him was deep dark lust.
Looking down at my dictionary, I mumble to myself, “If you used the time to study, instead of fucking, you’d be able to earn your A’s the right way.”
Even if that meant I wouldn’t be having these magnificent hours with him every week. I’d trade it all if Troy would just settle down a little and stop messing around so much. I even find myself glaring at guys in the hallway, wondering if they’ve fucked him.
Troy sighs and rustles with his belt. I glance up from my volume. He buttons down his jeans and slides them off his hips, thrusting his tout ass further up.
I take a few calm breaths before allowing myself to fully rest my eyes on the glory that is Troy’s perfect ass, all without moving my head an inch.
He places his head in the palm of his hand with a smile and uses the other to pluck off my thick-rimmed glasses. I allow him to lean over and press his lips to mine. The feeling of the soft, slippery texture of his skillful tongue is euphoric. My brain is plunged into a cloudy haze. It becomes hard to think straight. I take his face in my hands to pull him closer, diving him into a deep, lingering kiss before breaking for air.
“Please, fuck me, Mr. Corrigan,” he whispers breathless against my lips. “You don’t have to prepare me, just shove it in and take me hard.”
Now, how am I supposed to say no to such a request?
Buy Links: No Boundaries Press / Amazon / All Romance eBooks / Barnes & Noble
Short and scrawny college student Harley Santos has a strange relationship with the guy on the other side of his bedroom wall. For weeks, the two have been masturbating to each other’s voices, but they have never met in person.
When Harley’s roommate (Ryan) is asked out on a date by one of his neighbors, Harley is devastated that his wall-mate mistook not-hot Harley for super-hot Ryan. Helping Harley through his heartache is Tasha Novokov, the other neighbor, who is tall, dark, and impossibly handsome.
Excerpt The Walls Have Ears:
The walls have ears, or more like, the guy on the other side of the wall has ears…and a lovely voice. His moans are deep and sensual. They drive me nuts every time I masturbate to his grunts, like I’ve been doing almost every night since moving in.
I had been dreading going off to live with some stranger in the deep, dark forest that is Philadelphia. The rustle and bustle of city life was scary for a small-town boy like me. It didn’t help that the people I knew, who’d been to Philly, took great joy in stuffing my head full with stories of serial killers, mobsters, and nasty dorm mates. That last part scared the hell out of me, because I was a green-horned little girly-guy. I was sure I’d be pushed down and fucked by the first guy to cross my path. Of course, the idea of being fucked wasn’t all that unappealing, but I didn’t want to be made into the dorm’s butt boy or anything.
Naturally, nothing of the sort happened and I really hit the jackpot with my roommate Ryan. We don’t really run in the same circles. It’s not that he wouldn’t hang out with me if I asked; it’s just that he’s a very busy guy with his sports and other multiple after-school activities. The guy is so busy he barely stays in our small dorm apartment, so it’s almost as if I have it all to myself, which is another plus.
However, it isn’t Ryan who’s moaning so deeply on the other side of the wall. There’s a whole living room-slash-kitchen area between mine and Ryan’s rooms. No, the neighbor is one of the two smoldering hot guys who live in the apartment next to ours.
On my first night here, I was just about to fall asleep on the wooden bed, under my green comforter, when I heard these low, sexy grunts coming from the other side of the wall. He wasn’t alone. In between his deep groans were low gasps and moans coming from another guy. My cock immediately perked up at the sweet sounds. I jerked off as quietly as I could and came hard just about the time the owner of the deep voice did.
There were more nights like that. The guy had a lot of partners, and sometimes it was just him alone. Lately it’s just been him and me. See, one night, about a month ago, we were both getting off on each side of the wall. When he let out a particularly long and sensual groan, my own voice slipped with a low moan. I practically heard him stop for a few seconds, but then he continued and groaned again, only a little higher this time. I was curious, embarrassed, and thrilled all at the same time. Instead of stopping, I kept at it and let out an experimental moan. My neighbor’s voice grew louder and from the sound of things he was definitely masturbating. We ended up fisting our cocks, vocalizing our pleasures with moans, groans, grunts, and gasps until we climaxed. I hid under the comforter after that with a mind spinning like a hula hoop. I thought he’d want us to talk and that would only get me embarrassed, but he never said anything. We did, however, repeat the game every night after that.
With knees pressed in the thick mattress, I lean my head against the red wall with labored breaths. I yank on my cock so fast my vision goes blurry. He breathes equally hard on the other side. His forehead bumps against the wall, right against mine with only the thin wall between us.
“Fuck,” I whisper when the wonderful tightness in my balls gathers in a knot.
He groans deeply in response, which coaxes out a moan from me just before I cry out my groin-twisting ecstasy. His lovely voice lets out a series of deep grunts as he comes. We know each other’s voices so well now that we automatically tune in on each other’s rhythm and almost always come at the same time.
After my boneless body slumps down on the bed, I reach for tissues to wipe myself off. My neighbor runs his fingers along the wall and rustles about, maybe wiping himself off too or getting comfortable on the bed. When all is quiet again, he strokes the wall and whispers good night to me.
“Good night,” I murmur back just before curling up and dozing off.
About the Author:
As a teen, Erica spent hours at a time lying in bed. Some would have called her lazy (though her very supportive parents never did), but she’d disagree. It’s not like she wasn’t doing anything, she was busy daydreaming! You’d have thought the daydreams would lessen as she got older, but that wasn’t the case. Since these are the kind of dreams that can’t really come true, Erica decided to make them come alive on paper.
She lives in Iceland with her adorable little twin boys, and is happy with what she has. She often says that her real name sounds like Klingon to foreigners. Seriously, if “Eyjafjallajokull” looks like someone fell asleep at the keyboard, Erica’s real name could leave a non-Icelander in a zombie-like stupor for days.
She’s been writing for several years, or ever since reading became an obsession. Aside from a business degree, Erica has taken English courses at the University of Iceland and gulped down anything that might help her in her career as an author. She takes great interest in English, but will break every single grammar rule for the sake of the voice.
Erica loves hearing from her readers. She’s a friendly, easy-going (if a bit silly) person who doesn’t mind talking about herself in third person.
Laura DeLuca
Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Smashwords
Shuffled from place to place in the foster system, Morrigan doesn’t know the meaning of home. Plus, she is different. She has power over fire, the ability to move objects with her mind, and glimpse into the future. Just when she believes her life can’t get any stranger, she discovers her true identity.
Filtiarn, a knight with a dark past and a surprising secret, has been tasked with guiding the heir of Tír Na NÓg through countless perils to be returned to her family. Once Morrigan has been reunited with her mother and grandmother, their triad can save the forgotten land of magic from being devoured by an ancient evil.
Excerpt:
“Guardians!” A low snarl emanated from the back of his throat. “What are you doing with Guardians?”
“Stop it! Sit down!”
Morrigan wasn’t sure who she was addressing, the man or the animals. Luckily, they both obeyed her command. She stepped in between them to avoid any further confrontations. The cats took a seat on either side her legs, but their posture hardly relaxed. They still glared warily at the newcomer, even though their hisses died down to an occasional soft growl.
“Dirty, filthy beasts!” Tiarn snarled as he climbed to his feet. “I hate Guardians.”
“They’re just little cats,” Morrigan told him. “What’s the big deal?”
“Just cats! Hah!” He was standing at a careful distance, even though they had started licking their paws nonchalantly. “They are much more than simple cats! Though even those I find distasteful.”
Morrigan narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. It does not matter.” Tiarn dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. “They are not coming with us.
“They most certainly are coming!”
Tiarn growled again. “I beg to differ with you, Your Highness. They would only get in the way. Possibly even get killed.”
Danu raised her head from her grooming to hiss at him again, as though she had taken that last statement as a personal threat. The strange reaction of her faithful sidekicks made Morrigan wonder again just how much Tiarn could be trusted. She also wondered why, when she wasn’t sure she could trust him, she still felt the undeniable urge to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him.
“If they stay here alone, they’ll definitely get killed or at least sent to the pound,” Morrigan told him. “I can’t let that happen. So, they’re coming. End of story.”
Tiarn’s eyes flashed dangerously, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but thought better of it. “Very well, Princess. Bring your mongrel felines. Just keep in mind that Guardians and lycans do not mix well.”
“Lycans?” Morrigan repeated.
A sick feeling started to settle in her stomach, as the truth of his words sunk in. It all started to make sense—his hairy arms and chest, his reaction to the cats, even his earlier comment about smelling her out. Her dark knight had a much darker side than she had ever seen in her dreams.
“Why yes, Your Majesty. Did you not realize? You are a witch and a sorceress. And I, your faithful traveling companion, am a lycan—a werewolf.”
About the Author:
Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan and Player.
Clay never stopped thinking of Maggie. Even after ripping their lives apart and leaving her behind to get the help he so desperately needed. He is healing…slowly. But his heart still belongs to the girl who tried to save him.
When a sudden tragedy brings Maggie and Clay face to face again, nothing is the same. Yet some things never change. Can the darkness that threatened to consume them be transformed into something else and finally give them what they always wanted? And can two people who fought so hard to be together, finally find their happiness? Or will their demons and fear drive them apart for good?
The thing about love, is even when it destroys you, it has a way of mending what is broken. And in the shadows, you can still see the light.
Laura DeLuca
Buy links: Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Smashword
The “Phantom” was a musical phenomenon that Rebecca had always found enchanting. She had no idea that her life was about to mirror the play that was her obsession. When her high school drama club chooses “Phantom” as their annual production, Rebecca finds herself in the middle of an unlikely love triangle and the target of a sadistic stalker who uses the lines from the play as their calling card.
Rebecca lands the lead role of Christine, the opera diva, and like her character, she is torn between her two co-stars—Tom the surfer and basketball star who plays the lovable hero, and Justyn, the strangely appealing Goth who is more than realistic in the role of the tortured artist.
Almost immediately after casting, strange things start to happen both on and off the stage. Curtains fall. Mirrors are shattered. People are hurt in true phantom style. They all seem like accidents until Rebecca receives notes and phone calls that hint at something more sinister. Is Justyn bringing to life the twisted character of the phantom? Or in real life are the roles of the hero and the villain reversed? Rebecca doesn’t know who to trust, but she knows she’s running out of time as she gets closer and closer to opening night. Only when the mask is stripped away, will the twenty first century phantom finally be revealed.
Excerpt:
The orchestra tuned for its virtuoso, and Justyn stood ready. But no one else was ready for the magical performance he began. Beside her, Carmen was rambling on about something mundane. Rebecca elbowed her to silence so she could listen to the perfectly thrilling tenor. As she listened to the song unfold, the world around her started to slip away. Gone was the high school auditorium. Gone were the rowdy teenagers. The Gothic stranger on the stage had become the embodiment of Erik, and Rebecca watched him in all his dark glory, belting out his tormented love through the words of his song. And she was as breathless with wonder as Christine herself must have been when the masked stranger serenaded her in the candlelit labyrinth of the opera house. In that moment, Justyn wasn’t just portraying the phantom. Justyn was the phantom.
“Let the music touch your soul.
Let the darkness make you whole.
Do not fear what is unknown.
Your true path has now been shown.
Listen to the words I sing.
Embrace the peace that night will bring.”
As he continued to sing in his deep but somehow angelic voice, Rebecca found that she couldn’t tear her eyes away from him. With every line, her heart began to beat faster. She truly felt the arms of night wrapping her in a warm embrace. She could almost feel the hands of the phantom glide along her body as the words poured forth. The music caressed her. It possessed her—mind, body and soul. Each word left her longing, yearning for more.
She was gawking so obviously, it was hardly surprising when Justyn felt her eyes on him and steadily met her gaze. She realized her mouth was hanging open in stunned awe, and she quickly snapped it shut. His lips moved into just a small hint of a smile. He never took his eyes off her while he sang the final verse, making her cheeks flush to the point that she felt almost feverish. But it wasn’t embarrassment but excitement, arousal even, which was sending her mind spinning in so many directions.
When the song was over, and Rebecca had recovered just a hint of her composure, she couldn’t help but burst into a healthy round of applause. A few scattered people joined in, including Debbie and Carmen after she nudged them in the ribs. But only Miss King seemed to truly appreciate the brilliance of his talent as much as Rebecca did.
“That was amazing, Justyn!” the teacher gushed.
“Lord Justyn,” he corrected as he stepped down from the stage.
A few others complimented him as well, but he took in all in stride. In fact, his serious expression never faltered as he stepped down from the stage. He seemed almost bored, like it was all he could do to hold back a yawn, despite the smiles and words of encouragement.
But not everyone in the crowd was pleased as Justyn glided down the aisle, so ethereal in his dark garments that he still resonated the spirit of the Opera Ghost. Miss King might have been excited about the newest male addition to her cast after being limited for many years, but Tom and his group of boisterous companions glared at him as he passed them by. Jay sneered and tossed a balled up piece of paper in Justyn’s direction, but the Goth was quick, and caught it in his hand without missing a beat.
“I think you dropped something,” he said.
His speaking voice was no less melodic than his singing voice, but something about his tone made Rebecca shiver. He tossed the paper back at Jay, who was nowhere near as coordinated as Justyn. He practically fell off his seat in his efforts to catch it.
“Hey vampire,” Tom called when Justyn went to walk away. “Are you sure you can handle the competition?”
Justyn smiled, a cool, sarcastic half-smile, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you?”
Miss King didn’t notice the short confrontation, and Justyn vanished from the auditorium as quickly and mysteriously as he had appeared. Only Rebecca had noticed the very real tension between the two boys. She wondered if it was a bad omen for them to start off the production with hard feelings and envy. That could only lead to trouble. The kind of trouble that could end with someone getting hurt. The kind of trouble that Rebecca would do whatever it took to avoid.
About the Author:
Laura “Luna” DeLuca lives at the beautiful Jersey shore with her husband and four children. She loves writing in the young adult genre because it keeps her young at heart. In addition to writing fiction, Laura is also the sole author of a popular review blog called New Age Mama. She is an active member of her local pagan community, and has been studying Wicca for close to eight years. Her current works include Destiny, Destiny Unveiled, Phantom, Morrigan and Player.
Selah Janel
Publisher / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Novelnook
What kind of a rock star lives in a small town in the middle of nowhere and plays at weddings and funerals? That’s what Jeremiah Kensington is thinking after an unsuccessful bar gig one night. Then Jack Scratch comes into his life, ready to represent him and launch him to stardom. Jack can give him everything: a new band, a new name, a new life, a new look, and new boots…although they aren’t exactly new. They once belonged to The One, a rocker so legendary and so mysterious that it’s urban legend that he used black magic to gain success. But what does Jeremiah care about urban legend? And it’s probably just coincidence that the shoes make him dance better than anyone, even if it doesn’t always feel like he’s controlling his movements. It’s no big deal that he plunges into a world of excess and decadence as soon as he puts the shoes on his feet, right?
But what happens when they refuse to come off?
Excerpt:
They’re mine. I’m really holding them, Jeremiah realized. I’m holding history that isn’t supposed to exist. When The One took the stage, any competition turned tail and ran. It was said that the one time the singer revealed what he looked like the crowds were moved to tears by his beauty and sophistication, and tore each other apart because they couldn’t get to him. Some said it was a conspiracy that complete copies of his songs didn’t exist because the music was too potent to release to the public. There were people who still worshipped the mystery, the music, the outfits, and the boots.
And now those people would come to him.
“Go on. Try them on,” Jack encouraged. Jeremiah nodded and carefully put the platforms on the floor. Shaking with nerves, the youth sat and guided his feet into the cherry red sheaths. Electricity crackled along his instep and through his toes. He tugged the vinyl up over his calf and gasped. Jeremiah was overtaken by a sudden burn, a sudden ant-crawling of power that worked its way through his skin and into his very soul.
“What the—” he choked. The plastic spasmed, tightened around his foot, and then relaxed. The left boot stretched itself a little higher up his calf and extended its sole and heel a little more to adapt to his needs. Jeremiah thought he had imagined it, but the right boot immediately followed suit. The matching sets of the laces squirmed and rippled, settling into a slightly different pattern than when they were taken out of their box. A quick look around proved that while everyone in the room was looking, Jack was the only other person that actually saw. “Did they just…?” Jeremiah couldn’t bring himself to say something so bizarre. He barely managed to hold back a cry when a thousand tiny needle teeth nibbled his skin from toes to knees. A tingling sensation spread under his skin and Jeremiah was filled with a rush of violent confidence that almost made him swoon.
“Good. They fit,” Jack said. Only his tiny, mysteriously cruel little smile hinted that he was aware of the boots’ strange behavior.
The longer Jeremiah looked at himself the more he realized that he could do no wrong. My life just changed. With these on my feet, my past is gone. I’m going to be better than I ever thought possible.
All around him the yes-men and hangers-on gaped.
“You look so good!” the store footman practically swooned. His vinyl and lace frock coat danced under the fluttering movements of his hands. His sharp, pale face flushed with excitement underneath the stylized Victorian wig.
“I’m gonna cry you look so good!” the blonde assistant squealed, gripping Jack’s knee as if she’d keel over if she didn’t have it there to support her. “It’s like I’m witnessing history!”
The faces that surround him were positively thunderstruck and at his mercy. The camera kept right on clicking. Jeremiah got to his feet and struck a few more ambitious poses, dropping into a low crouch before kicking a leg up in an insane bastardization of a round kick. It didn’t matter that he’d grown up looking like every other average guy in Middle America. It didn’t matter that he’d been more accustomed to cotton T-shirts and washed-out blue jeans than the clothes Jack had him wearing. The overall look wasn’t complete, but the boots pulled everything together. The added height evened out his lanky proportions. In some unlikely way the platforms made his stubble-sporting, angular face look downright exotic. His eyes blazed liquid brown heat and his dishwater hair almost glowed under the dressing room lights.
Jeremiah sashayed around the tiny space and leapt onto the low podium at the room’s center, full of a burning drive to do something. He wanted to sing. He wanted to rock. He wanted to dance, and he’d never had that sort of urge before in his life. Every school dance he’d ever gone to had involved him either playing in the band or drinking contraband beverages with his friends outside the building. “Guess I’m a natural!” he laughed. He knew he was lying, Jack knew he was lying, but there was no reason for anyone else to know the truth. Why bother with the truth when the image in the mirror was so much better?
He had expected his balance to be shaky in the tall platforms, but it was like the boots were built for him. He hadn’t thought to check the size. Maybe The One wasn’t the original owner; maybe they conformed to whoever wore them. Jeremiah’s face glowed when he looked at his mirror image. His reflection looked as giddy and ecstatic as he felt. Why do I care what they are? If they work, they work! His eyes dropped to the new footwear. He was just able to see the tiny, warped image of his face in the shiny toes. Everything’s going to be amazing from now on. As he admired his distorted image via his feet, all of his hang-ups and personality drained out of him. Who needs a personality with boots like these?
Jack Scratch watched his protégé glided round the room, that same tiny, dangerous smile just barely curling his full mouth. “Just think. What you have on represents everything that you want to be,” he coached. His words drilled through the rocker’s ears and hardwired themselves into the deepest parts of Jeremiah’s heart and soul. “They’re everything you want on your side. These boots are temptation and chaos, just like you. I’ve got it,” he declared. “I’ve got your name.”
“Give it to me,” a raspy voice in front of the mirror breathed.
“Forget Jeremiah Kensington: folk singer, blue jean rocker, country boy, small town loser,” Jack breathed, his giant hands fervently patting down his front until he found which jacket pocket his cigarettes were hidden in. It was amazing that he didn’t gouge himself in the chest given the sharpened tip of the massive silver ring that enveloped his right forefinger. The manager leaned back against the sofa and lit up, never once taking his eyes off his new golden boy and meal ticket. “From now on you are J.K. Asmodeus, rock star and corrupter of the masses.” A thin plume of smoke stretched up to frame his intense expression.
J.K. looked from Jack to the man in the mirror, saw how the red glitter of the boots was echoed in his eyes. “Yes.”
The two ignored the gasps and commentary around them as everyone texted photos and alerted the necessary paparazzi. The pair shared a slow smile as Jack inhaled another draw of nicotine. “It’s time to sign,” he murmured. The smoke crept in front of his face and turned his pleased expression into something that bordered on animalistic. He removed the top sheet of the stack he’d been examining and held it out to the younger man.
I should wait and consult a lawyer. I should take my time. These things need to be done with care, a distant echo of a Midwestern conscience chided. J.K. ignored it, grinned back at his manager, and reached for the fountain pen the manager handed him. His expression was almost as malevolent as Jack’s, though there were still traces of wholesomeness that had yet to drain away. “Let’s do it.”
About the Author:
Selah Janel has been blessed with a giant imagination since she was little and convinced that fairies lived in the nearby state park or vampires hid in the abandoned barns outside of town. Her appreciation for a good story was enhanced by a love of reading, the many talented storytellers that surrounded her, and a healthy curiosity for everything. A talent for warping everything she learned didn’t hurt, either. She gravitates to writing fantasy and horror, but can be convinced to pursue any genre if the idea is good enough. Often her stories feature the unknown creeping into the “real” world and she loves to find the magical in the mundane.
She has four e-books with No Boundaries Press, including the historical vampire story ‘Mooner’ and the contemporary short ‘The Other Man’. Her work has also been included in ‘The MacGuffin’, ‘The Realm Beyond’, ‘Stories for Children Magazine’, and the upcoming Wicked East Press anthology ‘Bedtime Stories for Girls’. She likes her music to rock, her vampires lethal, her fairies to play mind games, and her princesses to hold their own.
Blog / Fandom Scene Column / Facebook Author Page / Facebook Book Page /
E. Jamie
Buy Links: No Boundaries Press / All Romance Ebooks / Amazon / Barnes And Noble
The O’Reiley’s and the Dardano families have always despised each other, turning New York City into a war zone and dividing the loyalties of the biggest families in organized crime. When mob princess Brianna O’Reiley’s husband is murdered under the patriarch Bernardo Dardano’s orders, she vows vengeance on the family that has destroyed hers.
Trying to regroup after her loss, Brianna leaves her young son William with her family and leaves the city to spend some time alone. A snow storm blows in and she crashes into another car on the road. Both she and the other driver are unharmed and take shelter from the storm where Brianna allows herself for just one night, to forget her tragedy in this stranger’s arms.
They part, neither knowing the other’s identity only to discover in a cruel twist of fate that the passionate stranger who helped her through her grief is none other than Alessandro Dardano, the eldest son of Bernardo, returned to New York from running his father’s business overseas to now take his place as Bernardo’s successor.
And Brianna is now pregnant with his child.
Excerpt:
Oh, come on! Her body whimpered. He stood there in black boxer briefs that hugged the tight cheeks of that ass she knew so well. In a tickling fit, she had bitten the right cheek playfully and the noise he had made was so hilarious that it had sent her into a fit of giggles. His lean waist grew into a broad, muscled back. She remembered feeling the shift and bunch of those muscles beneath her fingers, digging into the skin with her nails as he thrust powerfully above her.
He turned and went still when he saw her. His brown eyes held hers for what felt like a breathless eternity. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t look away.
Alessandro took a step towards her, and Bree jerked backwards, coming up painfully against the refrigerator door handle. He winced and moved to her side.
“Are you all right?” He asked, his fingers rubbing the sore spot in the center of her back.
Bree moaned in reply and shifted her body without thought so that his fingers lowered to the small of her back. He pressed there, bringing her body closer to him as a result.
“There?” he asked pressing in firm slow circles.
She nodded silently, feeling too good to ruin it with pesky things like arguing with him and remembering that she didn’t want him to touch her.
“I imagine carrying a baby is hard on your spine, eh?” He whispered, his breath caressing the top of her head.
“Mmm,” she said.
“Here,” he turned her around so that she was facing the wall and moved both hands to her hips, using his thumbs to massage his way upwards along the small bones of her spine.
She practically purred at the luxurious feeling, swaying a little bit so that she fell against him. She felt a very hard bulge against the cheeks of her ass and the memory of his hips snapping with relentless speed against her filled her pussy with wetness and her heart with want.
And her head with panic.
Bree pulled herself away from his fingers and jerked away from his body. Her blood raced and if her face was as flushed as Alessandro’s was, he knew what she had been remembering because he’d been recalling it too.
He lowered his head and shook it from side to side, giving her a rueful smile. “I find it so ironic that someone I think of as sometimes so brave to the point of stupidity could be so terrified of her own happiness,”
Bree felt the shot hit home, and she couldn’t look at him. She ran her finger along the marble topped of the island. “That’s ridiculous. Who in their right mind is afraid of being happy?”
“Someone who has lost too much,” he moved slowly towards her in gentle careful strides as if he was afraid of startling her.
Fair enough, she did tend to attack him when he tried to corner her, but for some reason, Bree just couldn’t tonight. The much too relaxing bubble bath must be making her sluggish.
“Someone who is so used to being told she caused too much pain to others to ever be worthy of happiness herself,”
Bree closed her eyes. “Shut up. Please, Alessandro.”
“No, darling,” A hand came up to cup her face. “I don’t dare shut up because you’re too important to me. What we feel is too important.” He tilted her head up to look at him. “My God, but you are the most exquisite thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t you know I would give up everything for you? Anything you wanted would be yours. Even my life, Brianna. I would willingly give up my life for yours. I love you that much,” he ran a thumb along her bottom lip. He lowered his head to hers. “We could be so happy, darling,” he gingerly kissed her, testing her.
Bree’s heart was too full of his words to stop him.
“I never feel half as alive as I do when I’m with you.”
He deepened the kiss for a moment, just enough to make her whimper when he withdrew. His hand moved to her breast, cupping it, running his palm against the too-sensitive nipple.
Bree felt heavy, drugged, open and wet…so wet.
“Let me make you happy, Brianna,” he sighed into her mouth, caressing the seam of her lips with his tongue.
Bree shook with the force of her need for him. Oh God, resisting him was so hard. He was so beautiful, so much stronger than she was, so determined.
And she didn’t feel half as alive when she wasn’t with him either.
She lowered her hand to the bulge in the tight material of his boxers, feeling the warm heat of his cock through the fabric.
Alessandro growled into her mouth and pinched her nipple with his thumb and forefinger.
“Yes…” she sighed arching backwards against the island, cold and hard compared to the warm solid body in front of her.
The only sound in the dark room was their breathing and the low hum of the refrigerator.
Alessandro gave a soft grunt of triumph before capturing her mouth for a thorough, devastating kiss that shook Bree all the way to her toes. His hands dug into her hips and he lifted her onto the island, pushing the robe up her thighs. Her breasts were closer to his mouth at this height, and he watched her eyes as he lowered the material of her robe off her shoulders, waiting for her to stop him. To say no.
Bree didn’t say no. She’d lived in a miserable fog for too long. It was as if Alessandro’s hands on her, his body on hers was the only thing that sent her blood pumping.
She bit back a cry when his mouth took her nipple with delicious, sinful determination. Her sleeping son briefly tickled the edges of her lust hazed mind, and Bree pressed her lips tightly to keep quiet. Her pussy opened greedily, waiting, demanding. Her legs locked around Alessandro’s waist, drawing him closer. He angled his hips so that his cock could rub against her center.
“Brianna,” he groaned against the damp skin of her breast as his hand moved down her swollen belly, caressing it for a moment. They both stopped when a soft flutter responded to his touch. Alessandro met her gaze. “How beautiful to feel one’s own child,” He dropped a kiss to her belly. “I can’t wait to meet you, my baby,”
Oh, God, he was killing her. Her pussy actually gushed a little at the sweet passion in his voice.
Bree wrapped herself in the warmth of his words and the love in his eyes.
At the considerable impediment, he had to pull back. His fingers caressed the soaked petals of her pussy, and he looked up at her hesitantly. “I’m not…sure…If I…well, is it gonna hurt the baby?”
“No. No it won’t. Please…” Bree sighed greedily for his finger to push into her.
He slid a finger into her, and Bree arched backwards so that she was practically laying on the island. He moved slowly, rubbing her clitoris in slow circles.
“Alessandro,” she sighed, putting all of her love and desire into that one name.
He gave a short chuckle as he pumped his finger. “It feels like I’m saying hello to him,”
Bree’s burst of laughter was choked off by the tight hiss of her approaching orgasm. “Oh…” she moaned then bit her fist to keep from crying out when his mouth joined his thrusting finger. He pulled his finger out right before she went over the edge, leaving her panting and desperate. His hands cupped her bottom, lifting her slightly to his mouth.
“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he whispered before thrusting his tongue into her pussy.
She wished she could reach down and grab his head and keep him there forever, but then she was spinning and falling over the edge and using all her willpower not to scream.
His tongue fucked her with growing speed and his lips sucked at her as he pumped her with his mouth, making her nerves scream in delight.
You love him, you love him. Let yourself love him. Nothing else matters. Tell him you love him. Her heartbeat pounded out the words in quick relentless beat. Let the two of you fight your obstacles together.
“Alessandro, I…I…,” she shivered as panic warred with her soul.
He stepped back and gathered her up against him.
Still, Bree couldn’t say the words. So she did the next best thing, she eased her hand past the waistband of his boxers and ran her mouth along his jaw as she cupped his thick cock. “Your turn,” she whispered in his ear before motioning for him to help her off the island.
Reviews:
“The foreplay between Alessandro and Bree is ongoing with each argument, glance across a room, or thought and the sex between the two boils over as soon as they make physical contact.” –Just Erotic Romance 5/5 stars http://www.justeroticromancereviews.com/book-review.cfm?bookID=988436381&reviewID=8967&sNav=nav03-06&CFID=64317832&CFTOKEN=98067190
“How can these two heal the blood feud and have a normal life together when Bree knows Alessandro’s family killed her husband, the father of her son Will? How can Alessandro keep his somewhat psychotic brother from harming Bree and Will? This is the background for this unconventional love story…”-Manic Readers Reviews 4.5/5 stars http://www.manicreaders.com/index.cfm?disp=reviews&bookid=25291
About The Author:
E. Jamie lives in Toronto Canada and loves roaming the streets of her vibrant city to feed her muse. She loves penning passionate tales across all erotic sub genres from contemporary to historicals that leave the bedroom door wide open! She’s always thrilled to hear from her readers at her website www.authorejamie.wordpress.com
Ellie Potts
Buy Links: Publisher / Amazon / Barnes & Noble
Princess Morgan, wild and fiery, heir to her father’s throne, can best any man with a sword. Now a woman she is fearful of being Queen and marriage. But when visitors from a different kingdom show up Morgan is faced with big changes. Faced with loss, love and some touches of magic Morgan has to become the Queen she is meant to be or succumb to a life worse than death.
Excerpt:
“Out here is the training area,” Cormack said, opening the old wooden door and walking onto a small wooden platform. They all looked down, watching the two fighting in the ring.
“King Cormack, your man is fighting in a dress,” Prince Philip said, stunned.
“Watch,” he said, as Morgan threw the helmet from her head.
“I will make you wear it, Ryan,” she said, angrily. She spun in a blur, sword hitting against Coyle’s.
The women gasped and the men stared in shocked silence. The guards and Morgan all went still, looking up. Ryan took her sword, and they all bowed, except for Morgan; she gave a slight nod of her head.
“Hello, Father, will you join us?”
“No. You know I do not fancy the sword as much as you do. And do not let us stop you,” he said.
“You let her play with the men?” King Henry asked, not holding the shock from his voice.
“She is my second,” he said.
“Because she is your heir?”
“Because she is the best sword fighter ever seen,” he said, smiling down at his daughter. She gave him a small salute with the sword, to thank him for his praise.
“But she is a woman,” Henry said.
“A girl? And you say she is the best of all your men? That does not make them seem very good, does it? I mean, a woman cannot be better than a man at many things, other than music and sewing,” Philip said.
“You can ask all my men. They are all very good with a sword, but they will tell you she can beat any of them. She has been fighting since she was a child.”
“You let your daughter fight?” Queen Jaylene said, stunned.
“I gave her a wooden sword. It was carved by my great-grandfather and passed down from father to child since.”
“I have never been beaten by a girl. And will never, for the sake of our sex, let it be said that a girl can beat a man,” Philip said.
“I should have died if I were to have a girl and find her fighting,”
Jaylene said.
“She does carry herself very well,” Cormack said.
Prince Philip looked down at the woman with curly, auburn hair. She watched them with dark emerald eyes that sparkled like jewels. He saw a fire in those eyes he did not agree with. He felt a need to tame her like a horse. She would make a wonderful trophy; even if, perhaps, she was not as beautiful as some of the other women in his circle. It would mean more land to add to his Father’s, one that produced very well.
“I challenge the princess,” he said. “I wish to see if she is really as good as the praise.”
The guards all murmured below. Coyle nudged her. “You have been challenged,” he whispered. “Will you accept?”
“Have I ever turned down a challenge?”
“Not once.”
“I accept your challenge, Prince Philip.”
About the Author:
Somebody told Ellie Potts you had to be rich to be eccentric otherwise you were just crazy. She set out to prove them wrong doing things she was told she couldn’t do like dressing like a pirate, get her books published, playing video games, planning to survive a zombie apocalypse, and other antics most women stay away from. Her love of books motivate her and movies captivate her. She loves almost everything from Disney to George Romero. She lives in California’s Central Valley where most of her stories and books take place. Her and her husband are owned by their attack Bugg, and her two red eared slider turtle minions who live in the backyard.
Her Wolfen Destiny
Dakota Trace
Braden Donnghal, the first American born, Irish-Scottish werewolf is packless after the death of his parents. In an effort to get back into the good graces of his parents’ former pack, he has to prove his worth by escorting the Alpha’s intended mate back to the pack. It seems easy enough – all he has to do is deliver her untouched by the next full moon for her claiming. He’s prepared to avoid the roving enemy soldiers, bombs and even Emma’s father, the feared MacDonald, but what he isn’t prepared for his reaction to the high-spirited but seductive Emma MacDonald. Or his unrelenting desire to claim her as his own. But if he does, he’ll be exiled if not killed on sight.
Emma MacDonald has been told since birth that her destiny is to give birth to the saviors of her race, twin russet wolves, in an upcoming racial war with the humans. But being a woman raised in the midst of the Great War, she is tired of war and vows to flout her father’s decree that she marry the neighboring Alpha of the Donnghal clan. When Braden arrives to escort her to the Donnghal Alpha she unprepared for his awakening of her wolf, which can only mean one thing. He’s her mate and her escape from her betrothal. If he mates her she doesn’t have to marry his uncle. Her hopes are dashed however when Braden cruelly rejects their bond. But that ceases to matter when the pack which Braden hopes to join turns on him.
Excerpt:
Moving further into the solar, Emma looked around apprehensively, taking in every minute detail of her surroundings. Sniffing the air, she could scent nothing more than old books and the wood stacked next to the fireplace. Her father hadn’t been in the room for several hours it seemed. Thank God, because the book lined solar was her refuge from everything – the one place she could find peace. Latching the door behind her, she slipped around one of the two high winged back chairs. Tossing the thick lap-robe up and over her body, she settled into the chair. Her plan had seemed so simple when she’d plotted with Lettie – find a wolf to mate with – one that would bind her to him, but it seemed that each man she approached did nothing for her wolf. The bitch continues to lay dormant no matter which male comes sniffing around. If I didn’t know better I’d think she’s an omega – hiding from all. The low growl erupting from her throat told her of her wolf’s obvious feelings on the matter. She sighed – tired of trying to find a solution to a problem which wasn’t solvable. Perhaps running away would be best.
But even as she thought it, her wolf grunted. Strong and pure, the alpha bitch residing inside her would run from no man or beast – even if she didn’t deign to meet any of the prospective suitors Emma had paraded in front of her.
Snuggling deeper into the plush cushions, she continued to study the flames in the fireplace, and was just dropping off to sleep when the most intoxicating smell she’d ever scented teased her nostrils. With the hint of nutmeg and pine, her inner wolf’s ear perked up as she sniffed the air. Mate? Exhilaration chased away the lingering weariness. Turning her head, she got her first glimpse of the man who was her mate standing next to her father.
Tall and broad shouldered, his closely cropped dark hair and neat appearance smacked of time spent in the military but the bruising and swelling around his left eye and nose attested to the fact he’d been in a recent altercation. Then the scent of another female hit her nose. A low growl built in her throat at the idea. Her wolf began to pace in agitation and it was all she could do to keep her from springing on the unsuspecting man.
The Great Mac’s head swung in her direction.
“Emma-girl, there you are. Your mother has been looking all over for you.”
She rose with a low snarl before skirting around the wingback chair. The rumbling in her chest grew louder the closer she stalked to the pair. The stranger shifted a bit as he took in every detail of her. She felt the heat of his eyes stroking over her form and if she’d been a normal woman she’d have preened under his gaze. But she wasn’t, and with the musky scent of another aggravating her wolf, all Emma wanted to do was mark the man. He was hers and soon he’d accept the fact. She watched as his nostrils flared before he inhaled sharply. Immediately the knowledge of what they meant to each other washed over his face. His fists clenched as she closed the distance between them, but he held his ground despite the increasing noise her bitch was making.
“What’s wrong, lass? This is your betrothed’s surrogate. He’s here to marry you in his Alpha’s stead. You have no reason to be hostile.”
Her father’s whisper was ignored as she stopped with only inches separating her aching body from the male in front of her. She looking up into deep blue eyes, her fingers curling hesitantly against the broad expanse of his chest. He relaxed under her touch as she gave him a warning smile – his first mistake. One she was sure he’d be leery about in the future. Everyone in her pack knew to tread softly when Emma smiled in a certain way. It usually meant she was plotting bodily harm – and this time was no different. Her mate had allowed another to touch him – to take what was rightfully hers and it didn’t matter to her wolf that it’d been before her – she demanded that Emma show the man the error of his ways.
With her wolf’s first heat upon her, triggered by her mate’s presence, her fingernails grew into razor sharp talons as her voice became raspier. “Mine!” she hissed, before piercing into the heavy chest muscles under her palms – marking him. He stiffened as if he’d been hit by lightning as a low moan passed his parted lips. She flexed her fingers, digging deep – needing to impress upon him severity of giving another what she considered as hers.
“Fuck.” His head tipped back as his torso arched away from her – his lower body swayed towards hers. Against her stomach she felt an unfamiliar hardness – one which would’ve had her wolf purring – if wolves purred.
“Emma Rose MacDonald! Release him!” Her father moved closer – too close for Emma’s wolf’s comfort. She bared her teeth at her sire. As an alpha bitch, she cared less about pack policies when it came to her mate. He had no right to interfere.
“Mine!” She snapped at Liam. He froze before a low rumble of his displeasure filled the room.
About the Author:
Dakota is a simple Midwest girl, who has found her passion in storytelling at a young age. Her father always said she made up the craziest stories. Most remained unwritten though as writing wasn’t Dakota’s strong suit. That all changed in junior high when she took her first typing class. Problem solved for the dyslexic Dakota. There was no stopping her after that. She wrote her first novel her freshman year about a girl who could speak to animals on an old electric IBM typewriter her dad found at a garage sale. Now writing in several different genres, she is a published author with multiple books under her belt. When she isn’t writing, she’s the crazy mom of three wild Indians who are posing as her children, a loving wife to the man of her dreams and a full time Graphic Design Major at IADT.
