Selena Blake's Blog, page 43
March 1, 2013
Book Blogger Interview: Booked and Loaded
Were you a big reader as a child? YES! I became obsessed with Christopher Pike and Greek Mythology around the age of 9. I was pretty much a zombie at school most of the time because I would stay up finishing a book a night. I moved onto Piers Anthony and Stephen King soon after that until I read Geralds Game. That pretty much freaked me the hell out the point I have not read anything else by King since. However, I continued my love for fantasy, paranormal, and anything else strange and unusual. My poor father constantly tried to push classics on me, but I would have none of it. When I started Booked & Loaded I think he said “you always did like those strange stories”
What made you decide to start a book blog? Hmmm. This is a hard question to answer. I think many different things triggered the idea to start Booked & Loaded. I started attending some author signings and was having such a great time I upgraded to conventions. During that mix of events I started following various blogs and realized that I hardly ever read the actual reviews because they were so long and detailed. I have a short attention span at times and wanted an opinion that was to the point and short. That sparked the idea of Booked & Loaded.
What’s your biggest challenge as a book blogger? TIME MANAGEMENT! I work full time, have 2 younger children that play sports, run a small farm business, tend a garden, and have many animals. Trying to manage the time to read, blog about reading, and manage giveaways is a tremendous challenge. If it were not for spreadsheets I would likely go insane. However, the pay off I get from supporting authors and getting to talk about books with other like-minded people is worth every minute!
Who are some of your favorite authors and why? Yikes! This is karma biting me in my ass for all those hard questions to authors, right?!?!
Kendall Grey – her passion and style holds nothing back. This translates into beautiful characters that I connect with on multiple levels. Her characters just seemed to touch my soul and I enjoyed reading every page.
Illona Andrews – The depth of her characters, creative writing style, and world building is just fantastic. Her Kate Daniels series opened my eyes to the world of Urban Fantasy. Plus, she always manages to catch me off guard and give me the giggles.
Jaye Wells – Her scarred and conflicted characters hooked me with snark and originality, but the growth of the characters made them unforgettable.
Katie MacAlister – Two words – HOT. DRAGONS.
Also – anyone writing about sexy werewolves or men in kilts. *wink*
What’s your biggest book/story related pet peeve? Breaking world rules or changing them willy-nilly to fit the story. Drives me crazy.
If you could only read one genre for the rest of your life, what would it be and why? Paranormal Romance. The different elements that can encompass the genre amaze me and I couldn’t live without some heat!
If you would like to follow my unfiltered and somewhat unruly blog you can go to my;
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Thank you so very much for having me here today Selena!
February 28, 2013
The Reviews for AWTCHO Are Coming In
There’s a span of time between a book becoming available and the first review rolling in. Sometimes it’s a few hours, sometimes a few days. This span of time is akin to limbo, if you ask me. I’m not exactly flying through space, but I do feel a little weightless. Perhaps, more accurately, restless.
I’m a big believer in reviews. Yelp has saved my stomach certain food poisoning. 
And I regularly rely on amazon product reviews for all sorts of helpful information. But I digress.
I wait for those first reviews, alternately crossing my fingers and peeking past my hands to see the screen.
It’s always an exciting and nerve-wracking stretch simply because I take my job as an author seriously. If I do my job right, you should get swept away to a fantasy land and escape your real life for a few hours. You should fall in love and sigh at the end. You should believe in the power of love.
Those reviews let me know how well I did my job.
This time around, I think I got an A+.
lbassin says: 5 stars
This book is awesome!!! It is better than the first book in the series and I thought that was going to be hard to beat. I can’t wait for the third book. I love Cerra’s character and how strong she really is.
Arch_Angel says: 5 stars
OMG…….The second book is even better!
I thought Grayson West was awesomely sexy and totally drool-worthy in Fangs, Fur & Mistletoe.
I should have known from previous experience that Selena Blake’s books only get better and HOTTER as a series evolves and her male characters are always to die for.
In A Werewolf to Call Her Own; Maxim Ciolek will have you wanting to climb within the pages and devour him whole! He is gorgeous, sexy and honourable to a fault, while hiding his slightly dark and broody side.
Ms Blake provides everything that erotic romance readers want in their paranormal stories!
Don’t miss a single book in this series, it’s AWESOME!!!
Ready to get your copy? A | BN | S | ARe | K
Getting in Bed with Book Bloggers
I love bloggers. Seriously, some of the coolest people I know blog. I’m fascinated by this media, the frequent nature, length of posts, interaction with readers.
I especially appreciate book bloggers. Having a blog of my own means I respect the time they spend writing up interesting and informative posts. Coming up with new ideas to blog about is not an easy task, I assure you. For each idea you come up with, it’s probably been written about at least a dozen times before. And it’s up to the blogger to put a fresh, unique spin on the topic.
These book bloggers read and review countless books. They give up time with friends and family to spread the word about book, characters, stories.
Everyone has a story. Especially book bloggers. So I asked a bunch of my favorites to come sit down at my blog for a change and spill their story with my readers. I’m having so much fun getting to know them better.
Who’s On Deck?
Booked and Loaded – March 1st
All I Want And More – March 4th
The Jeep Diva - March 5th
My Reading Obsession - March 6th
Under The Covers Book Blog – March 7th
Book Lovin’ Mamas – March 11th
Riverina Romantics – March 12th
The Book Nympho – March 13th
Parajunkee – March 14th
Bitten By Paranormal Romance – March 15th
Cara Sutra – March 18th
Book Monster Reviews - March 19th
Fictional Candy – March 20th
Redheads Review It Better – March 21st
February 25, 2013
Book of the Week: Rescuing Natacha
A raygun blast whizzed by Hayln West’s right shoulder, and he spun and returned fire. The woman, a PrimeC soldier dressed in white, fell back against the wall, a gaping wound in her chest. The stench of fried flesh filled the ultra modern lounge, but he knew she wasn’t alone. He dropped to one knee behind a low slung sofa and took out two more PrimeC soldiers who hugged the walls of an adjoining corridor, his aim deadly.
Halyn closed himself off to the chaos reigning around him and focused on the shadows, using his gift to sense danger. His job was to get in, rescue Isis’s friend Natacha, and get out. In one piece. But the Federation army was early. Four weeks early by the sounds of the raygun blasts from the hallway behind him. The residents, women being brainwashed and held against their will, ran past him. They wore matching masks of confusion and terror, obviously stunned by the sudden appearance of armed soldiers and the sounds the ensuing gunfight.
When he didn’t see any more enemy troops, he rose to his full height and started for the wide hallway before him. With all the frightened women heading for the hills, the hall was eerily quiet. So quiet that he wondered if he was walking into an ambush. But he sensed nothing. Holding a gun in each hand, he aimed one left and the other right, walking sideways, his back to the wall. He counted each door as he passed and when he came to the fifth one, he stopped, turned, and aimed in both directions again. Next to the door, a digital sign read Natacha & Isis. He used the handle of his weapon to smash in the computerized panel below the sign and the door opened instantly.
He shifted the weapon in his left hand to aim directly in front of him as he stepped into the small, dimly lit space. Tension rippled through him, and his old should wound throbbed. The first room contained two gray chairs and a small center table. He stepped further into the space, and a feminine moan filled his ears.
He stepped right, his gaze sweeping the bedroom beyond. There on one of the single wide beds was a woman in the throes of a passionate dream. Eyes firmly shut, she lay twisted with the covers, her gown hiked up around her chest. She continued to moan as her hands roamed over her stomach, hips, and…
He swallowed hard. Isis was right. Natacha was chocolate in a vanilla world. Her skin was so beautifully dark against the stark white sheets. Her hair fanned around her, covering her pillow as she turned her head left, right, then left again.
Now was not the time to be transfixed but — he stepped closer, lowering the gun in his right hand. She rubbed her clit with four fingers, and her thighs spread wide as her hips tipped upward. Halyn cursed the blood rushing to his cock. He’d wasted too much time already, standing here watching some woman get off in her sleep.
Fuck. Her middle finger dipped between the slick folds and her hips tilted further, giving him an incredible view of the innermost folds of her pretty pink cunt.
The tip of her finger thrust inside her pussy, and a husky gasp escaped her lips. His gaze drifted up her body, over the heavy breasts beneath the sheer gown, the dark nipples poking the fabric, to her face. She was beautiful. Sensual, with a wide succulent mouth he had an uncontrollable urge to kiss. But he couldn’t. Not now. Now, he needed to get her out of this hellhole.
Tucking his guns back in the holsters, he adjusted his cock, giving it a firm squeeze before he started toward Natacha. He’d stop off somewhere once he got Natacha back to Isis and take care of the… tension.
As much as he hated to stop her show, halt her dream and ruin her orgasm, time was of the essence. Federation troops would be crawling over this whole compound in a few short minutes. He bent, tucking his arms beneath her writhing body, and lifted her high against his chest. Though it was warm inside the compound, her skin was icy against his. Her sweet scent filled his nose, and surprisingly, she didn’t wake. Did they drug the women so they’d sleep? Or was her dream really that powerful?
Looking down at the soft O of her lips he wondered what… who she dreaming about. Damn it, that didn’t matter right now. He turned for the door and saw a Federation soldier dart past.
“Damn,” he muttered and turned back toward the single square window between the two beds. Face the troops or take his chances on the ice? Without hesitating, Hayln swung Natacha up onto his shoulder, set his gun to blast and fired two shots. One at the top of the window and one at the bottom. Once the smoke died down, a gaping hole beckoned escape and a wall of icy air blasted him. “Freeze.” Hayln whirled toward the soldier in the doorway. A single shot to the center of the other man’s chest knocked him back into the hallway. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, Hayln turned back to the window and surveyed the icy landscape. The drop to the ground was about the same height as he was. This was going to hurt. But less than getting his ass shot. He jumped. The ice crunched beneath his feet, his shoulder screamed with pain, and Natacha came to life with a start. She screamed something he didn’t understand, but the knee to his gut told him she wanted down. “Hold on, honey.” Struggling to stay upright on the slippery ground, he gathered his strength and started toward the end of the building. All he had to do now was get to his ship. Another knee to the gut knocked his breath from his lungs. He dropped his hand from her hip to curl behind her knees, immobilizing them. All he had to do, he corrected, was get to ship, keep the girl calm, and not get shot. Or killed. Or kiss the girl.
Hayln found that most plans were easier on paper than in execution. But for once, karma was on his side. He made it to the end of the long building without freezing, losing his balls, or getting shot in the ass. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one had come after him out Natacha’s window.
The slender woman perched atop his shoulder beat her fists into his back. “Give it a rest, woman.” So much for her being thankful he was saving her ungrateful ass. With one hand still poised over his gun, he skirted another wall, still coiled for a fight.
The shelter of the spaceport was a welcome relief. The wind howled outside the massive doorway, blowing snow by in billowy gusts. If only Natacha would shut up. In the shadows, he dropped her to her feet and put a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide, her body trembling like a Federation rookie on his first mission.
He used his body to press her against the wall. Not wanting to attract attention, he tried to use his eyes to convey the seriousness of their situation. This wasn’t a simulation and sure as hell wasn’t a video game. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Isis sent me.”
Her mouth dropped open beneath his hand. “You know Isis?” she mumbled beneath his palm.
Hayln nodded. “Come with me.”
A rapid sputter of laser fire blasted through the port, and every muscle in his body snapped to attention, pushing her further into the shadows. Natacha squeezed her eyes shut, as if blocking out the world would keep her safe. Feminine and masculine shouts echoed across the space. Across the port, bodies littered the delivery bay and the scent of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air.
His gaze swung back to the woman in his arms. Her lips quivered and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. He wished he could be sure her terror came from the situation and not him. But that shouldn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting her out alive.
“Trust me, Natacha.” The tenuous connection lasted a few more seconds before she slowly shook her head. “I’m taking you to Isis. I’ll protect you. I promise.”
Halyn glanced over his shoulder at his ship. Just a short run straight up the ramp. He could make that no sweat. But would she come willingly? A quick glance back at Natacha told him he was going to have to carry her. She seemed to be hyperventilating. Or maybe she was just working herself up into a good tantrum. She wouldn’t be the first woman he’d rescued to have a meltdown.
But she was the first rescue he’d ever wanted to pull close, tell her it’d be okay and he’d get her out alive. Or slant his lips across hers, lick and nip his way over her sweet body, taste her most intimate delights. Fuck. His cock was hard again.
Obviously feeling the bulge, Natacha sucked in a breath and her gaze fell to where their bodies crushed against each other. Her head shook back and forth frantically.
“Damn it, woman, I’m not going to rape you.”
Not giving her time to react, he ducked and lifted her over his shoulder again. He sprinted toward his ship, just as she let out the first terrified scream.
The Federation guards only took a few seconds to spot him racing through the shadows. With no time to draw his own weapon, Hayln used his gift to shield them and ran faster. Blasts pinged the walls behind him and leveled the cargo boxes on the floor in front of him, but that only made him dig deeper.
One more step and he was safely behind his ship. Hustling up the ramp, he tried to hold the squirming woman atop his shoulder. “Hold still,” he ground out. He focused on the large button that would lift the ramp, and mentally smacked his palm against it. Natacha thrashed around, all arms and legs. Then he heard a sickening thud and her body went slack.
He rushed her to his empty bunk. “Natacha. Natacha.” Her jet-black lashes brushed her cheeks. He leaned down until his cheek was a scant inch from her nose. Still breathing. Straightening, he mentally jabbed a series of buttons in the cockpit. The ship whirred to life.
“Shields activated,” the computer said.
Hayln ran his hands over Natacha’s body, searching for her injury. His heart beat a thousand light-years a minute as he rolled her over. His hand came away from the base of her skull with a smear of blood. He pushed her hair aside to inspect the wound. “Damn it.” She moaned. “Crazy woman.” He’d told her to be still, but rather than listen, she’d whacked her head. Without a moment to lose, he strapped the sleeping beauty to his bed with wide, silky straps.
The blasts echoing off the shields surrounding his ship had him rushing forward to the cockpit and firing the engines. “I’ve got the package,” he said after pressing the comm button to connect with Isis. Another blast shattered against the invisible barrier.
“All systems go.”
Hayln grabbed the stick between his legs and sent the ship spinning left. Precisely timed movements let him squeeze past the Federation ships and zip out the port. He aimed the small craft at the horizon and gave it plenty of power, trying to get to the other side of PrimeC before he went into orbit in case any more Federation ships were waiting off-shore.
“Hostiles incoming,” the computerized voice told him. He glanced at the glowing black screen and the small blue icon closing in behind him. Damn PrimeC pilots. Isis hadn’t mentioned anything about that.
“How’s it going, Hayln?” Isis’s voice in his ear made him grit his teeth.
He hit the comm button that brought her up on a screen to his right. “Pilots. I’ve got fucking pilots on my ass.” In the background he heard Tristin telling Isis to leave Halyn alone to do his job. Hayln snorted. When had Isis kept her hands out of anything?
“Can you shake them?” she asked.
Adrenaline surged through his system, making him feel invincible. He started to smile and give her his usual cocky retort, but a blast zoomed by the starboard side and splintered an outcrop of rocks. Debris pinged off the shields as he flew through the dust cloud. “These bitches mean business.”
His ship was outfitted with stellar protection, firing capabilities and a top-notch medical kit. And though she was fast, she wasn’t the fastest ship in the galaxy. He pushed the stick forward, feeling the resistance from the planet’s gravity and air.
Another blast whizzed by. “That was close. Too fucking close.” Outrunning them wouldn’t work. He pulled the stick back and pressed a series of buttons. Flying straight up, his stomach dropped.
“Weapons armed.”
Hayln dropped behind the other pilot, locked onto the glistening ship, and fired.
The other vessel exploded into a ball of fire and metal. “Got ’em,” he called out.
“Is that Natacha? What’s wrong with her?” Isis leaned left, as if she could peer around Hayln’s shoulder.
He set his course for space, feeling the forces press down on his travel-weary body. “She hit her head on the way in. Feisty woman, that one.”
“Feisty? Natacha?”
“She almost nailed me in the nads, Isis. Feisty is the word I’d use.” The masculine chuckles from the sidelines of Isis’s comm made him grin. No doubt Rafe and Tristin had had their share of feistiness. Isis’s passion and temper perfectly matched her fiery mane.
“Entering space in three-two-one…” Blackness swamped the cabin, and Hayln stared ahead toward the stars. He relaxed into the seat and tipped his head back, closing his eyes momentarily. He was getting too old for this shit.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and punched in the code for Del Sorna.
“I’ll be in touch soon,” he told Isis before disconnecting the communiqué. She started to object, but the screen went black, cutting her off.
Safely in the emptiness of space, Hayln turned toward the woman lying in his bed. It wasn’t unusual for him to have a passenger; after all, the black marks on the wall above his bed indicated rescues, not conquests. But the quiet, peaceful beauty lying there, her hand draped over her midsection, one foot hanging over the side… she was… unique. Fire and ice. He shouldn’t feel the urge to slide in beside her and hold her. She was a rescue. A friend of a… was Isis a true friend?
Natacha made a tiny sound of distress, and that launched him from his chair. While he was sitting there oogling her, she was in pain. He had get his libido reined in and concentrate on getting her better. Getting her back to Isis. And forget the way his heart squeezed every time he looked at her.
He started the onboard medivac and moved to the bed. After unhooking the security straps, he picked up her hand. Amazed by the softness, he studied the perfectly shaped nails, the lines on her palm. Blood. He needed her blood. Focus, jackass.
The machine did all the work, he simply held it to the tip of her finger. It took a tiny sample of blood and began running a battery of tests. This machine had saved his life more than once and was worth the price. Next he repositioned her feet, trying desperately to ignore the sensations running up his arms every time he touched her satiny skin. After placing her arms at her sides, he lined up the ray-machine overhead. It took a full body scan, able to detect fractures, bullets, and an array of other injuries.
He stood to the side, his chest tight as he watched her. Watched the machine scan her from head to toe. What would it be like to sink into her heat, stare into those deep brown eyes as he thrust home over and over again? Would she be feisty in bed? Would she be demure?
Shy? Passion incarnate?
“Scan complete.”
He stepped up to the screen and read the printout. No internal injuries. No concussion. Poison present. Poison? He tapped the screen for more information. Natacha began to cough, and he darted a concerned glance her way.
Shit. She was having withdrawal from MalthonY, the gas they’d pumped into PrimeC. Quickly, he pulled up the symptoms and cure. Keep her cool and soothed until the gas worked out of her system. Exercise would help reduce the effects quicker. How the hell was she going to exercise in a vessel this size?
February 18, 2013
Book of the Week: Ready & Willing
“You’re not going to be Alpha,” the woman at his side said through her faux
smile.
It was almost like she could read his mind. He wished for a moment that he
could read hers.
Instead, he ducked his head closer, catching her subtle honey-vanilla
fragrance. “I’d say it’s a done deal, sweetheart.”
Those warm brown eyes flashed up at him with flecks of golden fire. Why
had he never noticed their exquisite color before? They were like cinnamon
and amber.
“The deal is hardly done. Why would my father hand over the
leadership of the pack to an outsider?”
The last word hung in the air between them. Kaden didn’t feel like an
outsider. He hadn’t for a long time. WhitePaw was his home. He had friends,
a nice house, and a good job in the city. And he was Beta of the pack, a
position he took seriously.
“Especially since he has offspring reading and willing to do the job.”
With the processional gathering in the lobby of the church, the photographer
began organizing people for the photos. Kaden quickly steered Ava into a
nearby room.
“What—“
He cut off her words. “Ready and willing, huh?”
Ava stared up at the insanely handsome werewolf as her stomach fluttered
like a wounded butterfly. Her reaction to him was nothing new. But the
intensity of it was.
How did he manage to make three little words sound so naughty? And why
couldn’t she seem to remember that he was the enemy?
She couldn’t, wouldn’t, tell him just how ready and willing she was when
it came to him. How she’d fantasized about kissing him more often than
was decent. Or how she daydreamed of running her fingers through his sexy
almost-shoulder-length-but-not-quite golden, brown hair.
February 11, 2013
Book of the Week: The Cajun’s Captive
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.
February 4, 2013
My 8 Favorite Super Bowl Ads
My favorite commercial of the year goes to…
Seriously. Doesn’t that make your nose twitch?
Love, love, love this wolfy commercial. I mean, come on. Are we the Wolfpack or are we the Wolfpack?!
Love, love, love this Audi commercial too. I’m a huge Audi fan (especially if Jason Statham is driving) and I love the confidence this kid gets from simply driving a car. Nice lip lock too.
We all know how much I like my action movies. Fast & Furious 6, Bay-be! Bring it.
For a little paranormal flair…go Mercedes. Do you think the Benz family ever gets annoyed that most people say Mercedes rather than the full Mercedes Benz?
This one had me giggling at the end. Also, I’m a fan of Naya Rivera and wish they’d given her more singing roles on Glee.
I like this one because I’m a big fan of Kaley. She’s such a cutie.
And…well, you knew this one was gonna make my list. Ladies, please test your fire extinguishers prior to viewing the following:
Book of the Week: 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.
Teaser:
“I remember everything,” she whispered, her fangs lengthening.
“This?” he whispered, a large hand splaying across her lower back. Hot. Strong. Possessive. Pulling her closer until their hips brushed.
“Yes.” The word came out as a hiss.
He took her hand and laid it over his heart. The organ beat out a steady rhythm against her palm. She soaked in the heat of his skin, the strength of his chest. “And this?” he asked, his deep voice seducing her as easily as his touch.
“Yes.”
She remembered the sound of his heartbeat thundering in her ears. His pulse, visible in the strong artery in his neck. She’d wanted to taste his blood, sink her fangs into him as he entered her.
She still wanted that.
He cupped her cheek with his other hand and dipped his head. The light from a nearby lamppost lit his eyes. Just as they had all those years ago, his irises flared, and for the briefest of seconds she thought that maybe he could see to the depth of her soul. No one, not even Valencia and certainly not Dmitri, had ever studied her so intensely.
“And this?” he murmured again, their lips less than a centimeter apart.
She smelled whiskey on his breath, one more memory of this night. All she had to do was close the distance and find out if he kissed as well as he did in her dreams.
Just like that night on the battlefield, his thumb traced her jaw line. And just like that night, desire warred with the knowledge that they were not destined to be together.
But she hadn’t come to Mystic Isle for together-forever. She’d come for hot-shout-my-name-sex. She’d come here… to come.
So this time when he glanced back and forth, staring so deeply into her eyes, gauging her response, she let her lips do the talking.
January 28, 2013
Book of the Week: Mated to a Cajun Werewolf
Torn apart…
The Deverauxs and Vassars have been fighting for hundreds of years, but somehow Andre and Juliette fell in love. More than that, they’re mates. Destined to be together for eternity until betrayal tore them apart.
Together again…
When business sends Andre Deveraux to Savannah he comes face to face with Juliette for the first time in sixty five years. Their crash course renews old memories and desires. With Juliette stranded and the hurricane of the century roaring to shore, Andre has no choice but to offer her a lift.
He’s in for the ride of his life.
Warning: Filled with desire that has built for two centuries, one raging hurricane, two passionate, headstrong werewolves and a ride you’ll never forget.
Teaser:
“I know,” she said quietly. She probably did. Angelica Humphrey was an amazing woman, easy-going, expressive, giving. Perfect in so many ways. And she fit seamlessly into Pack life.
“Any progress on the house?” he asked, hoping that questions about something other than him would ease some of the growing tension. When their home had burnt to the ground last month, Sebastian, his older brother and the Alpha of their pack, had declared that they would rebuild. Construction had already begun.
“Sebastian’s looking for a supplier of old flooring. There was a reporter snooping around the other day but Gin and Burke ran him off. They’ve almost got the roof on.”
She continued talking, telling him about the plans that Amanda and Sebastian, the pack’s Alphas, were making. Only half listening, he heard something about overstuffed furniture, rocking chairs and a nursery.
He watched the TV screen and the storm that was heading to shore. Just then a voice came over the loudspeaker announcing that all flights had been canceled due to weather.
“Angel…” he interrupted. She fell silent. “They just canceled my flight. I have to go. Talk to you soon.”
“Okay. Love ya. Be careful.”
“You too.”
He ended the call and stared at the phone for several seconds. That ache was still there nestled in his heart. He’d dwelled on their relationship far longer than he should have. The pact with Jules didn’t extend to mates. And even if it did, he just didn’t love Angel with an all-consuming passion. He’d only felt that with one woman. The one woman he could never have.
Gathering his luggage, he headed back to the rental car counter where he’d dropped off the keys to the SUV a few hours ago. Somehow, he had to get out of here. His business was rapped up. The sale was going to go through. Sebastian would be pleased. Negotiating the throng of people, he wondered what they would do once they were no longer the owners of Deveraux Shipping.
For the last decade they’d thrown themselves into their business and for a time it had made their bachelorhood tolerable. But lately there had been a gnawing at André’s gut reminding him that there was more to life than making money.
Maybe he’d travel. He’d never been to Canada or Antarctica. Maybe a world cruise was in order. He’d definitely have to consider that once he got back to Louisiana.
As he stepped up to the car rental counter, he caught a whiff of perfume mixed with warm, alluring woman. But it was distinctively werewolf too. The delicious scent teased his memory, tormenting him.
Man, he had it worse than he thought. White hot lust coursed through his veins and his cock twitched to life. Just being in the same part of the country and he was thinking he could smell her—
“What do you mean you have no other cars? As in none?” A feminine voice floated down the expanse to him. There was a trace of accent, French, and a barely controlled panic.
His head swiveled left toward the sound, and he caught sight of the woman in all her furious glory. A mane of long mahogany waves cascaded over her shoulders. The silky strands made his fingers itch to sweep them from her face. His gaze swooped lower, taking in the sophisticated charcoal gray dress that hugged her tall curvy frame like denim fresh from the dryer. Her legs, pale and bare of pantyhose, went on for miles. She wore ultra-sexy, black leather heels. And her toes, dear God, the perfectly painted red polish did crazy things to his mind.
At the same moment, his body tensed and his heart dropped. He knew the woman without having to look at her face. She’d have wide blue eyes, a perfect nose—minus the old break—and ruby red lips. She was pretty without being overly beautiful. Her special blend of quiet assurance and subtle seduction could have a man eating out of the palm of her hand with a single lick of her lips.
André knew that, knew her, all too well. Juliette Vassar was the one woman in all of Savannah, non…the world, that he’d hoped to avoid on this trip. He’d sworn to himself that he would not search her out and yet here she was. Were the stars in alignment? Were the Fates playing tricks on him?
She flicked her hair over her shoulder, showing off the creamy column of her neck. He swallowed a groan and slowly traced the profile he knew so well.
“Fuck me,” he muttered.
“Was that an invitation?” André jerked his gaze to the short blonde behind the counter. She gave him a willing smile.
He raised an eyebrow and then sat his briefcase at his feet. “I’m going to need the SUV again.” He tried not to notice the disappointment in her eyes.
How the hell was he going to get out of here without Juliette seeing him? Like him, she had a killer sense of smell, and he was willing to bet his life that she still felt the bond between them just like he did.
It would pull them together like magnets if he let it. All those years ago, they hadn’t just been in love. He hadn’t just worshiped the ground she walked on, adored and desired her.Non. He’d mated with her. For life.
Overhead a voice blared through a speaker. “The weather service has issued a voluntary hurricane evacuation—”
“Great,” André muttered as the crowd around him surged into chaos.
“If you’ll sign here, Mr. Deveraux.” He took the pen she offered and scrawled his signature on the line.
“What about you? Do you have any cars left?” Juliette’s voice was closer this time. André grabbed the keys to his rental and turned to gather his things. His gut tightened into little knots. Just turn around and walk away.
But he couldn’t. Sighing, he turned back to see her blue eyes glimmering with hope and a hint of desperation.
“No, ma’am. I’m afraid not,” the attendant said in a thick southern accent. André didn’t like the way the man behind the counter ogled Juliette. Didn’t like it one little bit. But he pushed the feeling aside and picked up his briefcase.
One by one the counters closed.
“I can take you wherever you need to go, cheri.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Inwardly, he grimaced.
Juliette turned toward the dreamy masculine voice. Deep, gravelly, she’d know it anywhere. That same voice had starred in all of her fantasies from the time she’d understood the attraction between men and women. Seductive words whispered in her ears as a young woman had caused her to lose her heart to its owner centuries before.
But that was a long time ago. She pulled her shoulders back and sucked in her stomach. Then she turned slowly, telling herself she would not cave in to him again. She would not forget what he’d done to her brother. She would not forgive him.
So she said the only thing guaranteed to put emotional space between them. “Aren’t you on the wrong side of the river, swamp rat?”
January 21, 2013
Book of the Week: Just a Little Taste
Seven thieves. Seven days. Seven priceless items.
Only one will be crowned the best of the best.
Braxton Hughes has seven days to complete his mission. His reputation is riding on his attention to detail and infallible focus. Not to mention the bet he has no intention of losing. There’s no time for distractions.
But then he meets beautiful Elise Savade. She quickly becomes a complication he can’t afford…and a temptation he can’t resist.
Teaser:
From: Zeus @ theblindbet.com
To: sevenofspades @ theblindbet.com
Subject: The Bet
1787 Lafite G.W.
You have seven days.
Zeus
Braxton Hughes stepped out of the limo and tugged his bow tie into place. Roger Savade’s enormous French chateau sat at the end of the cobblestone walk, looking regal and impenetrable. He held out his hand to the woman in the backseat, and she slipped her satin-gloved fingers into his.
For a woman pushing fifty, Claire Renaldae looked great in her lavender dress with her hair perfectly coiffed. He tucked her arm through his and started up the path with the other guests, anticipation sizzling through his veins.
“Thanks for bringing me tonight,” Claire said, her voice soft. Her silver gray eyes, rimmed with dark liner, sparkled up at him. There was an air of smoky sophistication about her, showing him that she belonged at parties like this one. Rubbing shoulders with the filthy rich, dancing until dawn.
Recently divorced, she was here to show up her ex-husband with a hot new stud on her arm.
Braxton was here for the wine.
He’d known as soon as he’d pushed himself out of the pool at Chateau Le Cannet four days ago that Claire was perfect for him. Perfect for the job. She’d been lying on a lounge chair, a black one piece showing off a trim, sun-kissed figure. The big, fluffy hat hadn’t been able to shadow the look of desire in her eyes when she’d glanced at his body glistening from his afternoon swim.
It had taken little effort to strike up a conversation and find out about her ex-husband and her invitation to the Savade party. Nor had it taken much effort to casually offer to escort her to said party.
“You’re welcome.” He glanced around at the other guests, nodding at the few who made eye contact. “Think he’ll be here?”
“Of course. He wouldn’t miss a party like this, or a chance to show her off.” The her Claire was referring to was her ex-husband’s new mistress, Scandinavian supermodel Mia Rassmusen. She’d mentioned the other woman several times, and he found himself wondering why a woman like Claire would waste her time and energy on a man like her ex-husband. She may not have been a hot, young supermodel, but she was smart and witty enough. And not at all bad on the eyes. Years of spa treatments had, no doubt, seen to that.
“Well, I seriously doubt she’ll look anywhere near as beautiful as you,” he said, playing his part.
Claire preened under his gaze, her spine straightening. “You’re so sweet.” She squeezed his arm.
The receiving line slowed to a halt.
Brax looked around the manor, noting the number of windows and doors and their locations. His gaze traveled over the shrubs and stone walls of the landscape. The large front doors were wide open, and golden yellow light poured out. He could hear music. Probably some lesser known French composer.
“Roger Savade is such a pompous ass. He hosts these parties to show off his money. His things,” Claire whispered. He glanced down at the necklace dripping with diamonds around her neck. Speaking of showing off one’s wealth…. “Just like my ex-husband.”
Brax stayed silent and watched as the hosts greeted the guests. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with her. Roger was known to flaunt his money and his possessions. Brax wondered if he’d have the 1787 Lafite on display in the dining room. That would sure make his job easy.
The line moved forward, and he saw their host nodding to a short, graying gentleman. By habit, Brax surveyed his surroundings for security, both electronic and hard, hired muscle.
Did Roger Savade even know the significance of the 1787 Lafite, or had he bought it just because someone had told him it was rare?
