Books-n-Kisses is super excited to have four of our favorite authors on the blog today to help promote their new release of  Masters of Seduction: Books 1-4: Paranormal Romance Boxed Set.  I, for one can’t wait to jump into this box  set and learn all about these Masters.   So what do you say we take a little look into the world of the Masters of Seduction.

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In the realm of the Incubi Masters, pleasure is to die for and love is the deadliest game of all . . .

Surrender to sinful pleasures and forbidden passions with Masters of Seduction, the sizzling new paranormal romance novella series from New York Times and internationally bestselling authors Lara Adrian, Donna Grant, Laura Wright and Alexandra Ivy.

This all-new, never-before-published boxed set contains the first four novellas in the Masters of Seduction series. Each book in the collection is approximately 20-25,000 words.

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Are you interested yet?

Lara, Donna, Laura & Alexandra were nice enough to not only share their new box set but they are giving us a closer look into each story.

So here is a look at each of the stories.

Enjoy!!

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Merciless: House of Gravori 

by Lara Adrian 

Seeking vengeance for the murder of his brother, Incubus Master Devlin Gravori demands justice from the high court of the Nephilim. But fury and retribution are no match for the consuming desire he feels for Nahiri, the beautiful Nephilim warrior he claims as his hostage.

Merciless Excerpt (Used with permission by Lara Adrian © Lara Adrian 2014): 

Nahiri awoke in the middle of a large bed in a strange room.

She shot upright the instant consciousness dawned, her hands reaching automatically for her weapons.

They were gone.

The leather sheaths that crossed her torso were empty.

No. That meant her nightmare hadn’t been just a dream. It was reality.

The Incubus in the temple…Devlin Gravori.

He really had taken her.

Nahiri’s eyelids snapped open in panic. Sunlight poured in from an open window across the room, blasting her vision.

Momentarily blinded, she squinted through her lashes, struggling to take quick stock of her new surroundings.

Creamy stucco walls. Dark hardwood floors and masculine-looking furnishings. Thick timber beams high above her head.

And beneath her, a massive bed. The mattress was as cushiony as a cloud, the cotton sheets and silken coverlet calling to mind all manner of sins.

All around her was the scent of intriguingly exotic spices and something even more enticing.

Him.

She sensed his presence even before she swung her head in his direction and found him seated in an upholstered chair beside the bed. No, not seated in it, exactly. Dominating it. The same way he seemed to dominate every space he occupied.

His big body lounged negligently where he sat, his powerful thighs spread, one arm draped over the side of the chair, the other propping his head up, fist curled loosely under the square line of his jaw.

He’d shed his suit jacket at some point, and now wore just his gray tailored pants and white business shirt. The collar was opened even farther than she recalled, just one more button loosened, but exposing enough of his tawny skin to make her mouth water with a sudden, unholy urge to taste him.

She wanted to dismiss the impulse as one he planted in her mind, but she could tell from the casual way he regarded her that any curiosity she felt in that moment was hers alone.

Nahiri scrambled off the bed. She backed into the farthest corner of the room, eyeing him warily. “Where am I? Where have you taken me?”

“You’re at Gravori House.” He cast a nonchalant look around the room. “More specifically, you’re in my bedroom.”

Even though she could have guessed as much, her heart still climbed into her throat. Since she’d gone to the temple to train at eighteen years old, she hadn’t left the sanctuary grounds even once. Let alone spent so much as a minute in a man’s bedroom.

She might be a virgin, but she had never been a wilting little girl. She was a grown woman. A skilled warrior. She refused to let him intimidate her.

“It was a bad idea to abduct me from the temple,” she informed him. “The Three will see you punished for this, Incubus, regardless of what you mean to do to me. And with or without my weapons, I am still a Blade. I will fight you every step of the way.”

“The same way you did in the High Chamber?”

Her cheeks flamed with heat at the reminder. With humiliation. Her weakness had shamed her in front of the other Blades, in front of the three priestesses who’d entrusted her with their lives. With their faith that she was the best, the strongest, of her peers.

And this demon had disproved all of that in a moment.

He would do it again if he wanted to. He could do anything he wanted to her. Nahiri could see it in the hard glint of his golden eyes.

No, for all her skill—for all her dedication to the teachings and training of the temple—Devlin Gravori could destroy her at his whim.

“I’m not interested in fighting you,” he murmured, as if he could read the troubled direction of her thoughts.

She swallowed, watching the way he stared at her from across the room. He didn’t move, and yet her body trembled as though his hands were already on her, as hot and roaming as his gaze. All the wicked, deviant things she’d ever heard about Incubi appetites poured over her in a rush of dread and terrible anticipation.

“In case you’re worried about it, I’m not interested in raping you either,” he drawled, the corner of his mouth curling around the sensual growl of his deep, rumbling voice. “Forcing a woman isn’t the Incubus way. Never been my way, at any rate.”

Nahiri hiked up her chin. “No, you’ll just bend my will until I submit. Or make me your Thrall so you can siphon my life’s energy for your own. Maybe you’ll manipulate my mind until I beg you to drain me completely. I suppose that would be more your way.”

He grunted, dark amusement in his tone. “I have plenty of women more than happy to slake my needs—all of my needs.”

As reassurances went, his did little to relieve her. He steepled his hands beneath his chin, his citrine gaze locked on her. Nahiri could hardly breathe. His dark energy was gathered about him, pulsating and vivid, but not the way she’d felt it in the temple.

He was holding his demonic allure in check now, despite the heat she felt licking along her limbs and putting a flame to her blood. He intrigued her as much as he unsettled her.

Heaven save her, but he tempted her.

Even as he terrified her, infuriated her…he stirred a dangerous longing in her.

And he knew.

The way he studied her, he knew she was struggling against an attraction she wanted desperately to deny.

One raven brow quirked nearly imperceptibly. “If I wanted to take you as my lover, Nahiri, or feed from you as my Thrall, I wouldn’t need force or Incubus magic to do it.”

The combination of her name on his lips and the terrible truth he spoke made her heart stumble in her chest. It beat shallowly, accelerating in time with her breathing.

And she tried not to notice how his gaze tracked every inch of her body, settling on her breasts as they rose and fell with each rapid squeeze of her lungs.

He got out of the chair and stood in place for a long moment. When he finally moved, his steps were measured, unrushed. So confident, as if doubt was something he never had to trifle with when it came to women.

Of course, he’d told her as much, so his arrogance shouldn’t surprise her now.

Nahiri stood, frozen, as he approached, his thick-muscled thighs carrying him in a slow prowl across the room. He paused an arm’s length away from her.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, grateful that the tremors of her body hadn’t found their way into her voice. She could not forget for an instant that she was dealing with a demon. “What do you want from me?”

His sensual mouth twisted in contemplation. “I haven’t decided yet. But let me be clear about one thing, little Blade. You may be pledged to the Three and their precious temple, but in this House, I am Master. So long as I have you under this roof, you will obey me. As of now, your well-being, your life—everything—belongs to me.”

She bristled, outrage shooting through her like fire. She welcomed the anger. It helped eclipse the desire that was still simmering inside her, unwanted and never to be admitted—especially to this overbearing heathen of a man.

Devlin Gravori was mad if he expected her to think of him as anything but her captor.

Her enemy.

And he might as well realize that now.

Nahiri peeled her lips back from her teeth in a furious smile. She squared off against him, ready to do battle even without the benefit of her weapons. “I would rather die before I give anything to you. Willingly or by force. I would see you dead before that day.”

He scowled as she hissed the words into his face. When he raised his hand, she thought for certain he would strike her.

Instead, his broad, warm palm came around the back of her neck. He held her in a firm grip, and brought his face terrifyingly close to hers.

When he spoke his voice was raw, as rough as gravel in his throat. “Be careful with your threats, Nahiri. Those are dangerous words. Particularly when my kin are already grieving the loss of one brother to your kind today.”

She stared up into his fierce golden eyes, transfixed by the power she saw there. By the pain and fury that hardened his handsome features and tightened the lush line of his mouth.

“On the other side of this bedroom door, I have a dozen Incubi brothers and cousins who might be tempted to take your threats against me to heart. They might be tempted toward other things too. But not so long as you’re under my watch. No one takes what belongs to me.”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted to her mouth. It lingered there, and suddenly Nahiri could hardly swallow for the lack of moisture in her throat. Her lips tingled under his gaze, aching for contact. Her temples pounded with her heartbeat, a rising, steady thrum that seemed to echo in the small space between her body and his.

Everything female in her was fixed on this man—this dark, deadly demon—and the unholy need he aroused in her.

“You will obey me,” he muttered, the command like velvet on her senses when it should grate like sharp stones. “As of right now, Nahiri the Blade, you belong to me.”

A little about Lara Adrian: 

Lara Adrian is the New York Times and #1 internationally bestselling author of the Midnight Breed vampire romance series and numerous other titles published independently. With nearly 4 million books in print and digital worldwide, and translations licensed in more than 20 countries, Lara’s books have been called “addictively readable” (Chicago Tribune), “strikingly original” (Booklist) and “a must-read” (Fresh Fiction). She lives in New England with her husband, where she is currently at work on her next novel. To learn more about Lara’s books and to sign up for her email newsletter, visit her here  Website| Facebook | Twitter @lara_adrian | Goodreads

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Soulless: House of Romerac 

by Donna Grant

Incubus Master Canaan Romerac is focused solely on revenge against those who betrayed him and put him in the Oubliette for five hundred years. That is until he sets eyes on Rayna. Can the beautiful Nephilim heal Canaan’s wounded soul before it’s too late.  

Soulless excerpt (Used with permission by Donna Grant © Donna Grant 2014):

There was a pause. “Your skin is flushed, but not from illness.”

Conceited prick. Of course a sex demon would know when she was aroused. “I know you won’t force me, and I’m not interested. So go away.”

She waited for his response, waited to hear the charm and seduction she knew was coming. Except there was nothing. Rayna counted to fifty before she opened her eyes.

And promptly gasped when she found herself staring into eyes of blue-green as fathomless as the sea.

Rayna tried to look away, but only managed to move her eyes to his chiseled chin and jaw that sported a shadow of a beard, making him even sexier. If that was possible.

She caught a glimpse of coal black hair against his shoulder and saw it hung loose, the waves begging her to slide her fingers into the thickness. A lock of that hair fell over his wide forehead to fall against the corner of his eye.

Once more she was caught in his gaze. A woman could drown in such brilliance. Between the brightness of his eyes, the long black lashes, his midnight hair, and his olive skin, he wasn’t just handsome. He was striking, breathtaking.

Magnificent.

“Not interested?” he said, a hint of a smile upon wide, full lips. Lips that no doubt kissed as heavenly as he looked.

Rayna had to try twice to get enough wetness in her mouth to swallow. Even then her voice wouldn’t work so she shook her head.

He leaned forward and ran his index finger softly down the side of her face before pushing her hair over her shoulder. “Say it again.”

Was he insane? Didn’t he realize she was barely holding it together? Or perhaps that was the point. He did realize exactly what kind of precarious situation she was in.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known pleasure. She’d had her share of lovers, but not a single one of them had heated her blood like the Incubi before her. And he hadn’t even kissed her.

Victory shone in the Incubus’s beautiful eyes, and the resulting anger was enough that she could remember just why she didn’t want him. She refused to be a pawn in the game played between the Nephilim and the Incubi.

“I don’t want you,” she said. It might be a hoarse whisper, but the words had come.

To make her point even more clear, she shoved past him. It was a mistake as soon as her hand landed on his chest. The resulting heat, the primal need that thrummed through her veins, halted her.

He moved behind her, his warm breath fanning her neck. Unable to stop herself, her eyes closed and her head fell to the side. Soft lips touched the place where her neck met her shoulders. It barely registered before his hot, wet tongue flicked over her skin.

“You’re correct, Nephilim. I won’t force you,” he whispered into her ear. “Your kind is normally so willing to couple with us. What makes you so different?”

Rayna turned to face him, wondering if she was a masochist. Why else would she willingly face someone so damned gorgeous again?

“I walked away from that world. I want nothing to do with it.”

Before she could get in another word, his lips were on hers. There was nothing soft or romantic about the kiss. It was all heat and desire, need and passion.

Lust and longing.

It sent her world spinning. Her body was scorched from the intensity of the kiss.

As suddenly as it began, the kiss ended. Rayna blinked up at him, unsure why he stopped. She licked her lips, liking the taste of him altogether too much.

“Farewell,” he said and disappeared into the night before she could utter a single syllable in response.

A little about Donna Grant: 

Donna Grant has been praised for her “totally addictive” and “unique and sensual” stories.  She’s the author of more than twenty novels spanning multiple genres of romance—Scottish Medieval, dark fantasy, time travel, paranormal, and erotic.  Her latest acclaimed series, Dark Sword, features a thrilling combination of Druids, primeval gods, and immortal Highlanders who are dark, dangerous, and irresistible. She lives with her husband, two children, a dog, and three cats in Texas.

To learn more about Donna and her books, please visit her here: Website | Facebook | Twitter @donna_grant | Goodreads

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Shameless: House of Vipera

by Laura Wright  

Sexy Incubus Master Scarus Vipera has grown weak, and the only thing that will strengthen him again is Rosamund, the power-rich female of the Harem. But the mysterious Nephilim is determined to leave the harem untouched, her heart intact.

Shameless Excerpt (Used with permission by Laura Wright © Laura Wright 2014): 

Rosamund gasped as the man ran his nose along the seam of her sex. Why couldn’t they go away? These stupid, silly Nephilim? Their opinions meant nothing to her. All she wanted was this male. His mouth on her. His tongue inside her.

“Rosamund, you must wake!” called the second female, more urgently this time. “Constance is on her way. There is to be an announcement.”

Rosamund drove her fingers into thick, soft hair in response. Yes! Yes! Right there, male, she urged, squeezing his scalp. He groaned, the sound vibrating against her heat as he nuzzled his way to her swelling clitoris.

The sound of a doorknob rattling entered her consciousness, but she pushed it away. It was the click of a lock being breached that truly yanked her from the rising pleasure, cutting into her dream like a guillotine to the neck. She came awake with a start, eyes flying open, body jackknifing upward into a sitting position. Breathing heavy, she glanced around, blinked. It was pitch black in her little anteroom—the space she’d claimed when she arrived in the Harem nearly one year ago. The space that was all hers. Every other Nephilim in residence lived in shared accommodations—very gratefully and happily. But Rosamund had wanted to be alone.

No. She’d needed to be alone.

“Rosamund, Constance will give you a week in the kitchens if you’re not in attendance,” Eva persisted, inching the door open.

Panic seized Rosamund. She couldn’t have them see her. Not like this. “I’m up,” she called, scrambling off her pallet and rushing to the door. She pressed herself against it, blocking their entrance. “I’m up. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

There was a momentary pause, then a sigh. “All right,” Eva said. “We will see you in the courtyard. And Rosamund?”

“Yes?” she said with a touch of irritation she wasn’t quite awake enough to hide. Sleep still clung to her mind. Wet heat still claimed everything south of her navel.

“Good morning to you,” the female called.

Oh great Goddess, it had been, Rosamund thought with a groan as she listened to the females’ retreating footsteps. Or could have been. She heaved a sigh and let her head fall back against the wood. She was truly dying to know how her dream ended. She’d been having it nearly every night of her three hundred and sixty one nights in the Harem. And each time, the intensity grew, the need intensified. Granted, she could never see the male’s face clearly, but she knew it was Roger. The human man she’d met and fallen for three months before she’d been called to the Harem. The human man who believed she was away on a yearlong animal research trip in the Australian bush.

The human man who had held her in his arms the night before she left and sworn that he would wait for her forever. But Rosamund knew forever was a relative term—and that waiting wasn’t easy for anyone. Normally a letter from him came once a week, forwarded from a post office box in Sydney. But in the past couple of months she’d received nothing at all.

Her heart squeezed as she pushed away from the door. Just four more days, she reminded herself, setting about lighting the three lamps that lined her tiny bookcase and clothing rack. Four more days until she was back in San Francisco, back to Roger—back to creating the life, the home, the family, she’d always dreamt of having.

With quick, seasoned hands, she performed her daily routine. Tying down her breasts and padding her middle. Applying powders to her face to make her appear sallow and tired, and oils to her long, pale blond hair to make it appear unwashed. And the one last accompaniment that was a guarantee to her continued success—the one she’d had made before leaving San Francisco nearly a year ago—a dental prosthetic that made her teeth look almost rotten.

After slipping on the large pumpkin-colored day robe, she made a quick inventory of her appearance in the cracked half mirror. She looked as she did every day. A younger version of the witch who’d sold Snow White her poisoned apple. She heaved a great sigh of relief. Perfect. No male on Earth would choose her over the stunning Nephilim females of the Harem.

A little about Laura Wright: 

Author of the Bestselling Mark of the Vampire series, Laura Wright spent the early years of her life immersed in the worlds of singing, acting and competitive ballroom dancing. But when she started writing, she knew she’d found her true calling. Laura lives in Los Angeles, California with her husband, two children, three dogs, two frogs and two fish. She’s been thrice nominated for a Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award, and loves hearing from her readers.  To learn more about Laura and her books, please visit her here: Website| Facebook | Twitter @LauraWriteRom | Goodreads

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Ruthless: House of Xanthe

 by Alexandra Ivy

Jian, Master of the House Xanthe, has devoted his life to returning his family to their former prominence.  When he’s offered a contract to hunt down the missing Sovereign, he’s eager to accept. The last thing he expects is to encounter a stunningly beautiful angel who stirs more than his lust

Ruthless Excerpt (Used with permission by Alexandra Ivy © Alexandra Ivy 2014)

Jian, the Master of the House of Xanthe, stood at the edge of the barren, uninhabited island in the middle of the Arctic Ocean.  He grimaced as he studied the jagged mountain of blue ice that soared toward the sky.

Despite the weak sunlight, the breeze was edged with a lethal chill and beneath his feet the ground trembled as the ice abruptly split open.  Only his swift leap to the side prevented him from tumbling into the deep fissure that formed.

Not the first place anyone would willingly choose to spend the night.

Not even a demon.

Thankfully, Jian wasn’t just any demon.

As a powerful Incubus, he could not only compel others with the force of his sexual enchantment, but he was physically impervious to the brutal elements.  He also possessed the unique ability to see through magical illusions.

Which was why he was the current Master of House Xanthe.

Unlike other Incubi Houses, Xanthe didn’t accumulate their wealth through vineyards, or sprawling hotel chains, or sex clubs.

No, their profitable spice trade had been destroyed, and worse, their lands stripped away, after Jian’s grandfather had stood against the House of Marakel and been labeled a traitor by the Council.  Now Xanthe depended on their own skills to rebuild their empire.

Two of Jian’s younger brothers were expert assassins who offered death for an obscene price.  And a handful of cousins sold themselves as mercenaries for other Incubi.

But it was Jian’s ability to gather and collect information that was slowly returning Xanthe to its position among the most respected Houses.

There was nothing in this world, or any other, that paid quite so well as secrets.

A wry smile twisted his lips as he recalled the extremely large fortune that had just been transferred into his account from a human politician who preferred to keep his habit of siphoning funds from his elderly donors from hitting the front page.

“This is a bad idea,” Taka growled.

Jian turned his head to study the large Incubus standing next to him.

The captain of Xanthe’s Watchmen, Taka looked exactly like what he was—a ruthless killer.  Dressed in leather pants and a T-shirt despite the frigid air, he was as large as an ox, with bluntly carved features and a smoothly shaved skull.  His skin was tanned to a rich mahogany, and his arms, which bulged with muscle, were tattooed with the Xanthe House emblem of a warrior.

Jian, on the other hand, was built along leaner lines, with the sleek muscles of a trained swordsman.

His skin was a smooth, unblemished honey and his straight blue-black hair was cut short on the sides, with the top long enough to fall over his wide forehead.  He had a thin blade of a nose and high, narrow cheekbones that whispered of his Far Eastern heritage.  His face was lean, with eyes that were faintly tilted and glowed like melted gold in the sunlight.

A little about Alexandra Ivy: 

Alexandra Ivy is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of the Guardians of Eternity series, as well as the Sentinels and Bayou Heat that she writes with Laura Wright.  After majoring in theatre she decided she prefers to bring her characters to life on paper rather than stage.  She lives in Missouri with her family.

Learn more about Alexandra and her books, please visit her here:  Website | Facebook | Twitter @AlexandraIvy | Goodreads

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