Selena Blake's Blog, page 30

Winners of the Wolfpack Starter Kit Giveaway

Congratulations.  My assistant will be following up with you shortly to get your address so I can get the prizes out to you!

Happy Halloween!

And the winners are:

Shadow Kohler

Jessica Palestrant Garcia

Diana Subsits-Lynch

Jessica Markley

Carol Russell Mccard

Patricia Cochran

Lisa Errion

Eunice Kipte-Balangue

Ashlee Applebee

Rebecca Edlin

 

 

 

Lissa & Selena Get Together–RSVP

Let’s get together!

Lissa Matthews and I are hosting a small get together for our readers, November 9th in Charlotte, NC. If you’re in the area, please RSVP as space is limited. Dinner’s on us at the Panera Bread Company on South Tryon Street, 5:30pm.

Can’t wait to meet you!

Hot Halloween Heroes Giveaway Hop

I’ll be giving away one copy of Fangs, Fur & Mistletoe:

Vampiress Coco Jeffres has one week to get her mojo back. After a long sexual drought, Mystic Isle, the exclusive pleasure playground for paranormals, is just what the doctor ordered. For once she’s choosing lust over love.

Tall, dark, and oh-so-handsome werewolf Grayson West is well versed in the arts of war and women. He’s got one week to blow off some steam before he heads back into the field and he’s more than willing to help a lady find her inner vixen.

Especially when she’s the same beautiful blue eyed vamp he met one hundred years ago and has never been able to forget. They were once sworn enemies, pulled apart by war. Now they’re lovers. But history has a way of rearing its ugly head and their new relationship will have to stand up to the test of loyalty, friendship and even time itself.

*Warning: includes a sexy werewolf, a slightly exhibitionist vampire, hot beach sex, seductive sex against a palm tree, and a scorching hot 100 year old romance in the making.*

A | BN | ARe | S | K

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Comment below and tell me about who your favorite paranormal heroes are….and what makes a great hot paranormal hero?

 

Find the other Hoppers here:

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list…

Review of Games Demons Play

Evampire at Night Owl Reviews Said: “I was intrigued from the very first chapter and could not put the story down until the spectacular ending that had me clapping and cheering for Izzy and Shade. This author continues to impress me with her entertaining and engaging supernatural island setting and captivating characters.”

Big Cocks and Broomsticks Blog Hop

I’ll be giving away one copy of Fangs, Fur & Mistletoe:

Vampiress Coco Jeffres has one week to get her mojo back. After a long sexual drought, Mystic Isle, the exclusive pleasure playground for paranormals, is just what the doctor ordered. For once she’s choosing lust over love.

Tall, dark, and oh-so-handsome werewolf Grayson West is well versed in the arts of war and women. He’s got one week to blow off some steam before he heads back into the field and he’s more than willing to help a lady find her inner vixen.

Especially when she’s the same beautiful blue eyed vamp he met one hundred years ago and has never been able to forget. They were once sworn enemies, pulled apart by war. Now they’re lovers. But history has a way of rearing its ugly head and their new relationship will have to stand up to the test of loyalty, friendship and even time itself.

*Warning: includes a sexy werewolf, a slightly exhibitionist vampire, hot beach sex, seductive sex against a palm tree, and a scorching hot 100 year old romance in the making.*

A | BN | ARe | S | K

a Rafflecopter giveaway



Be sure to continue on with the hop, find the rest here.

And the grand prize is here

 

 

Book of the Week: The Cajun’s Captive

Find it free from most e-retailers this week. Links below.

The blonde peering into his bedroom window never heard him approach.

“Can I help you?” he asked mildly when he was within pouncing distance.

Shrieking, she whirled to face him, backing up at the same time. Her hands came up to balance herself, but it was too late. He made no move to rescue her even though he could have. Her momentum toppled her over the railing and into the soggy grass below. She landed flat on her back.

From the edge of the porch, he stared down at her not feeling the least bit sorry for startling her. What did a man have to do to get privacy?

Her wheat colored hair covered her face and the rain slowly soaked her clothes. She seemed too startled to move. Finally, she eased up on her elbows. Her breasts heaved and fell as if she might start crying. The last thing he wanted was a crying woman. Or a lawsuit.

“You all right?”

With a perfectly polished hand, she flicked her hair out of her face and glared up at him. The blue eyes that locked with his couldn’t have surprised him more if there’d been eight of them.

Amanda St. James. Alive and in his yard.

Couldn’t be. He narrowed his gaze and took in her features. Same cute pixie nose. Same rosy, heart-shaped mouth he’d longed to kiss. Same delicious curves that his hands itched to caress.

Suddenly he was transported a decade ago when they’d all been hanging out on a hot summer day. It had been August. Suffocatingly humid. Then Amanda had grabbed the hose and proceeded to drench him and his brothers to the bone. Her kissable mouth had laughed and smiled as they’d chased her. When they’d finally caught her, turning the hose on her, the water had plastered her clothes to her sweet young body.It had taken all his willpower not to carry her off that very afternoon. To kiss her all over—from that adorable nose, to those delicious berry pink lips, to her hot pink toenails.

The clap of thunder brought him back to the present. His eyes didn’t fool him. He sniffed the air and her scent filled his lungs. She smelled so sweet, so familiar, and so wonderful that he almost closed his eyes to savor it. Instead, he took in her pitiful form. She looked like a drowned cat. He watched as the rain molded her shirt to her breasts. Either from cold or, heaven help him, desire, her nipples beaded beneath the fabric and stood out like pebbles.

He clenched his fists. Long dormant need surged upward startling him with its intensity. Its rawness. He hadn’t seen or heard from her in nine long years but he’d never stopped wanting her. It was the reason he dated a long stream of women, never settling down. He’d never felt this kind of urgency with anyone else. Although he’d tried to wipe away her memory, none of them could compare to Manda. His Manda.

But her presence now reminded him of how she’d fled all those years ago. She’d gone off to Yankee country for school. Then she’d gone on to work for one of the biggest broadcast companies in the country. Never looked back. Never called. Simply fled. Ran from him.

His inner beast had been too proud to let him chase. Had been sure she’d come back in a week or two. Weeks had turned into years and now almost a decade. Now the beast growled deep inside, for the years he’d lost, for making him want her so, making him wait. It lay coiled, anxious and ready to spring to life and take what it wanted.

He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep the dangerous animal inside on a tight leash.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Amanda St. James.” He couldn’t keep the disdain from his voice. He hoped to hell she couldn’t hear the hurt, the yearning… “Did the Yanks kick you out? Get too cold for ya up north?”

“What a mean thing to say.” For a moment, she looked genuinely wounded. But he told himself that was part of her game. The network probably sent her.

“Then what are ya doin’ here?” Probably snooping for a story, he thought. Figured she’d use her looks, her connections, to get it. Like hell, she was going to get her story.

Her tongue slipped between her glossy pink lips to lick a raindrop. That simple movement reminded him of all the times she’d licked her lips, stuck out her tongue at him—reminded him of everything he really wanted in life.

And just how much he wanted to kiss her.

Once again, he took in her sad wet form and saw everything he’d wanted for hundreds of years. Everything he’d been denied and had denied himself.

Sebastian knew he couldn’t be angry; she was worth the wait. He couldn’t let her get away again. This was a sign from the Gods. She was meant to be his. He’d known it all those years ago when he’d watched her blossom in front of his eyes. While he’d waited for her to grow up. Waited for her to come to him.

He still knew it. Nothing had changed, he reasoned. Except that he wanted her more now than he had nine years ago.

And she was well over eighteen now. He would finally make her his.

With the effortless grace his kind was known for, he leapt over the railing and landed at her feet. Oblivious to the rain, he glared down at her.

“Get up,” he ordered. She started to crab crawl backwards but she couldn’t get away fast enough. In a lightning fast move, he hoisted her over his shoulder. She barely weighed more than a sack or two of sugar.

“What are you doing?” she cried.

“Taking what’s mine.”

He knew the instant she comprehended his words. She squirmed and wiggled like a bunny in a trap, but it didn’t matter. He had her where he wanted her.

For now.

Find it free from most e-retailers this week. Links below.

A | BN | ARe | S | K

Book of the Week: Ask For It

Ask For It is the featured book of the week.   Be sure to pick up your copy as it should be available on sale for just  $2.99 from most e-retailers this week.

“I’m really not here to do a story on you. Your life is your life. I just want my money back. And barring that…” She glanced toward the door. “And those shoes.” She offered him what he hoped was a warm smile.

“If you’re lying to me–”

So much for trying the sweet-talking Southern route.

JJ nixed the smile, put her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Just ring up my shoes please. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He searched her face. She saw his hands close at his sides, flex, and close again. How many times had she fantasized about those same hands and what they could do to her body? How much pleasure they could bring, teasing her nipples, fingering her until she was begging him to let her come…

She glanced up at his face again. What was he wrestling with?

And if he didn’t trust her, why was he staring at her lips the way a man dying of thirst stared at a glass of water?

Then in a lightning fast move that had made him a legend on the field, he wrapped his big hands around her waist and hauled her against him. Her breasts crushed against the solid wall of his upper abs and their thighs collided.

Gasping, her hands settled against his chest. The man was built. And ridiculously warm.

Staring up to meet his gaze she licked her lips. If he was hoping to startle a confession out of her, he’d be waiting a hell of a long time. But if he wanted to hear her beg…

He stared right back. The voice in the back of her mind whispered for her to kiss him. Finally find out what all the fuss was about and verify that he’d been worth every naughty fantasy she’d ever had about him.

As if the invisible force holding them apart snapped, she stretched up and he bent down, their lips meeting in the middle.

Her eyes drifted shut and her breath stalled in her throat. His kiss was hot, firm, rough… Yep, everything she’d always fantasized about. And like him, bigger and bolder than her ordinary ho-hum life. She thrust a hand through his hair, needing to be closer. His tongue speared between her lips and everything feminine inside her melted. She melted. Against him, into him, beneath his hot hands that seared through the thin fabric of her blouse.

Oh God. He felt so good. Getting lost in his kiss felt so good. So right.

As if suddenly realizing how much time they’d wasted over the years, his big hands moved to the buttons on her blouse, fumbling to get them out of the holes. She couldn’t be sure but she thought he was trembling.

That brought out her bolder side. The idea that this man, the man who’d run eighty yards to score the winning touchdown in the Super Bowl, could be unsteady, that there’d be any vulnerability in him whatsoever was awe inspiring.

JJ dropped her purse to the ground and then sucked on his tongue. His hands stopped their course as he groaned. But he quickly returned to the job, freeing her from her silken prison. After tugging the shirt out of her skirt he splayed his fingers around her waist again, making her feel small and feminine. Then, almost reverently, he slid his hands north and cupped her breasts, testing their weight, tracing the scalloped trim with his fingertips.

Her knees knocked together as he pinched the stiffened peaks. “Oh…” She gasped for breath, feeling a little light headed.

Trevor seemed to know instinctively what she needed and how very wet he was making her. He turned and her back met a metal shelving unit. She winced at the pain between her shoulder blades but didn’t stop trailing her fingers through his hair.

With his big body holding her there, locked in place, his thumbs continued to torment her nipples with slow circles and steady pressure.

When his lips moved down her jaw, chill bumps coursed over her skin like wildfire. She shivered against him, clutching him to her. He licked the hollow of her throat and she let out an honest-to-God whimper. Gracious, what was he doing to her?

“You taste like sugar,” he murmured against her skin. “You know what my favorite carnival food is?”

His lips nibbled their way back up to her ear. Oh my—

“Funnel cake?”

“Cotton candy. A mix of the pink and the blue.”

“Sounds sweet. Ahh…” He bit her earlobe gently, tugging just hard enough to bring another flood of moisture between her thighs. At this rate her panties would be soaked before he even got them off her.

“You taste sweeter than you look.”

“Gee thanks.” She slid her hands down the solid wall of his chest, relishing each wonderful muscle. After all this time, she was finally able to touch him.

“Have you seen yourself lately?” he whispered. “As much as I hate to admit it, I know a thing or two about women’s lingerie.”

JJ’s temper spiked. “I’ll just bet you do.” She pushed him away but he barely moved.

“Seriously.” He leaned back just far enough to stare down at her breasts. “Black lingerie. Scalloped edges. I can almost see through the cups, beautiful. A sweet woman does not wear underwear like this.”

She raised an eyebrow at his assessment. Did that make her a bad girl? She supposed there was a case for that considering her current circumstances.

“It makes me wonder…” He trailed a finger down the valley between her breasts. “…if you’re wearing matching panties.”

The look in his eyes was pure mischief. She forgot all about her temper as a sultry smile curved her lips. If she was going to be bad…she might as well go all the way.

Be sure to pick up your copy as it should be available on sale for just  $2.99 from most e-retailers this week.

A | BN | S | ARe | K

Snippet Saturday: In the Still of the Night

This week’s theme? In the Still of the Night.

I’m pulling a selection from Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf. Enjoy! And be sure to hop on over to the other authors participating in this Snippet Saturday.

Ultra sexy werewolf Laurent Deveraux thinks that Violet, the love of his life, died two hundred years ago until she shows up in New Orleans looking for him.

Violet, now a vampire, thinks she’s someone else. Her powerful and dangerous sire has bound her memories, taught her how to kill and Laurent is her next target.

Laurent is determined to awaken her memories and her undying passion before danger steals her away again.

New Orleans, present day

The Smokestack bar on the corner of Iberville and Decatur overflowed with locals, tourists, and thick cigarette smoke but Laurent Deveraux still felt alone. Seated at a small round table in the back corner of the dark room, he nursed a glass of whiskey. A moody blues ballad reverberated off the walls and soaked into his bones.

“Slow down there, buddy,” Burke said as Laurent drained his glass. “Leave some for the rest of us.”

“I doubt New Orleans is suddenly going to run out of whiskey, brother,” Laurent said wryly.

Burke cut him a look. “What crawled up yer butt and died?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

He envied his brother’s easy going attitude. Burke sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He moved his feet to the music and smiled when the waitress stopped by their table for the fifth time that night.

Laurent took another sip of whiskey. Would he ever be happy like that again? Most of the year he managed to shake himself from his funk. But not today.

His inner wolf felt caged. He wasn’t known for keeping his temper leashed. What he needed was a good fuck.

He surveyed the crowd, his gaze falling on the females. He worked his jaw back and forth as he looked them over and dismissed them all just as quickly.

None of them were her.

And this close to the anniversary of her disappearance, no one else would do.

With Sebastian and Jules mated, their pack was growing larger, and at the same time, shrinking. Each time he saw his cousins with their women, Dieu, they reminded him of what he’d never have.

It was damn near impossible to go a whole day without hearing the women’s laughter or see the love shining in their eyes. Laurent didn’t blame them, didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but he couldn’t help but think of everything he’d lost.

Laurent shoved the thought into the back of his mind and gulped down another sip of the amber liquid. Relishing the fire that scalded his throat, he prayed for forgetfulness. The band’s lead singer strummed the guitar with old weathered hands and sang from his soul—of loss, hope, and loneliness.

All things Laurent was intimately familiar with.

A mellow jazz tune filled the room and the hot breeze blew into the space like a blow torch. A single figure cloaked in darkness entered and crossed Laurent’s line of sight. The woman kept to the shadows and settled at a table in the opposite corner. She was dressed in black from head to toe, and Laurent immediately discarded her as Goth or a wanna-be vamp. Plenty of those lived in the city.

But then the scent of roses wafted under his nose, tickling his memory. He crossed his arms over his chest and pushed the recollection away. Only, it didn’t want to go. It remained as fresh in his mind as it had the first time he’d smelled that sweet floral scent. Two hundred years did little to erase the memory of that day.

Or of her.

Long brunette curls framed her angelic face, and she had the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They changed with her mood. And her smile, Dieu, her smile could charm even the most chaste saint. Her image flashed before him like a blip on the television screen.

Laurent shook his head.

“You all right, cousin?” André asked in that quiet, deep voice.

Laurent nodded. “You guys should go on home. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“You sure?” Burke finished off his beer.

He nodded. “I’ll get the bill.” After all, he’d done the most drinking.

They stared at him for a moment, and then got to their feet. He watched them depart. Lifted a hand to wave goodbye. Then tossed back another shot of whiskey.

Damn his high metabolism.

Laurent savored the darker hours, when he felt most at peace, closest to his true self. These were the hours during which he didn’t have to work so hard to hide.

Electricity sizzled through the bar, and cold fingers tried to reach into his mind. He slammed the door shut on his thoughts and looked around the room suspiciously, his gaze falling on the newcomer in black. A ray of light sliced across the room, briefly highlighting the woman’s face. Brilliant blue eyes met his, and he sucked in a breath.

No. It wasn’t possible. He struggled with the reality of what he’d seen…and of what he knew to be true.

And just like that, the light was gone—and so was she.

What the hell?

He narrowed his gaze on the empty chair, and then glanced around the room. Was it possible she wasn’t just a gothic chick? Was it possible…no, he wouldn’t put a name to it. Wouldn’t think that thought. It was better for his sanity if he told himself she was dead.

He finished his whiskey, tossed several bills onto the table, and headed for the door.

Even in the middle of the night, the streets of New Orleans were bathed in heat and humidity; both wrapped around him like a wet wool coat.

Sex, sweat, and exhaust swirled together in a combination that was distinctively French Quarter. Thunder rumbled overhead as he started down the uneven sidewalk and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled in warning.

He stuck to the shadows; his hands in his pockets, his pace decidedly laggard. Ever since he’d moved here from France, he’d been amazed by how alive the city was even after dark, with dangers lurking around every corner. Bars were open till dawn, and party goers danced all night.

Stepping across the street, he headed northwest through an alley. The wind picked up, and he lifted his face to the sky. It would rain soon; he could smell it and he welcomed it.

The city lights blocked out most of the stars, but he could just make out the moon as it danced through the clouds.

A raindrop hit his cheek. Then another. And slowly more and more droplets rained down. Big, fat, Texas-sized drops. Commotion filled the streets as people ran for cover. He forged on, not even bothering to quicken his steps.

As he crossed another cobble-lined street, a stealthy figure in his peripheral view caught his attention. He turned and took in the curvy form in the long black coat. The hood hid her face from the light, but two aqua eyes glowed at him from the inky darkness. Cool fingers tickled his mind again, and he decided to let her in just enough to find out what she wanted with him.

What do you want?

She said nothing. Not aloud, nor in his mind.

Instead, she stepped from the shadows and strode into the middle of the street, her boots coming together as she stopped with almost military precision. She seemed almost a silhouette. Not quite real, but not an illusion, either.

Laurent’s breathing quickened, as did his heartbeat. His body tightened, going on full alert, and his inner wolf crept forward, slowly taking over his human senses.

He couldn’t hear her heartbeat. Perhaps she didn’t have one. She clearly was in no rush to tell him why she was stalking him.

The rain fell in heavy drops, but she didn’t seem to notice. In the dim light of the street lamps, he could see her clearly now. Slowly, she lifted her hands and pushed back the thick fabric hiding her face. She was almost too beautiful to look at—and yet, Laurent couldn’t look away.

He knew that face as well as he knew his own.

His breath left his lungs in a rush. Her skin was still dewy and perfect, like that of a fine porcelain doll. Ethereal. Her brows were perfect arches, the same charcoal brown he’d been fascinated by all those years ago. Even in the darkness, he could make out the thick lashes that fringed her eyes.

Those eyes…so blue, so beautiful. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. Damn, she was beautiful.

What was she doing standing in the middle of a street in New Orleans when she’d died two hundred years ago in France?

His arms and legs felt heavy; he was getting drenched. But it didn’t matter. He’d stand in a hurricane if it meant finding out if she, if Violet, were real. Or if he’d finally lost his mind and was only envisioning her.

Her lips were just as rosy as he remembered; her nose as perfectly shaped, her face oval and oh so familiar.

She remained silent. Did she recognize him?

He stepped closer, silently praying to the gods, Fates, and anyone else who would listen. Sniffing the air, he tried to catch her scent but she was downwind.

“Violet?” He didn’t like the husky tone of his voice. Hated the weakness in his knees, the soreness that resided where his heart had once been. Loathed the desire he still felt for a woman long dead.

Could his eyes be playing tricks on him? Could this woman really be his little Violet? After all these years?

Not trusting himself or his luck, he took another step. She lifted her hands to her lips, almost as if she were praying. Her fingernails were long and polished a glossy red.

A sharp ache erupted inside his chest, and he reached up to rub it. His hand brushed something, and he looked down to see a dart sticking out of his skin. Plucking it out, he stared at the woman before him. Then she and the rest of the world went dark.

Get it: A | BN | ARe | S |

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Book Blogger Interview: Romance Book Junkies

Where are you from? Were you a big reader as a child?



I’m from Tampa, FL now living in Homosassa, FL. Since that first book I finished all the way till the end I have been reading as fast and as much as I can since.

What made you decide to start a book blog?

I started the blog because I thought it would be fun to share reviews about books I’ve read. Also I got the opportunity to talk to people who love reading and romance as much as I do.

What’s your biggest challenge as a book blogger?

My biggest challenge is making enough time for my blog and still do everything else in life. But its a labor of love.
Who are some of your favorite authors and why?

I would have to say J.R. Ward because her Black Dagger Brotherhold series has become a automatic buy for me. I have read them all except the latest. Jeanine Frost because she has wowed me in every novel of the Dark Prince Triology. Felecity Heaton because I’ve almost read all her books and she never disappoints. And finally Eve Langlias because she can heat up a room and then make you laugh out loud.

What’s your biggest book/story related pet peeve?

My pet peeve is love triangles. I hate guessing which man she chooses. But I have read a few that were good but for the most part no.

If you could only read one genre for the rest of your life, what would it be and why?

My favorite genres are paranormal and historical. But I would have to pick one it would be Paranormal because its always changing and fresh ideas a lot of historical novels become predictable with only so many plot ranges.



www.romancebookjunkies.com

Want to get together?

Lissa Matthews and I would love to get together with you next month. Just a fun, casual meet and greet with two of your favorite authors and a few of your fellow readers.

Location: Charlotte, NC

Date: TBD

Help us out by answering these two quick questions telling us when you can make it.