Selena Blake's Blog, page 59

I'm outta ideas…

I need to put together ideas for the Stormy Weather anthology cover and A Cajun Werewolf Christmas cover. *sigh* My creativity is running low. Enter my awesome readers. Send me your ideas via a comment to this post or via email and I'll include your name in the dedication.

For what it's worth, I normally search these three sites for photo inspiration: istockphoto.com, dreamstime.com, romancenovelcovers.com

Ready? Set? Go!

Link Round Up–November

I'm writing a lot these days so I'm taking the lazy way out and posting links to a few articles that I've found handy:

The Difference Between Your "Current Platform" and "Future Platform"
Buzz, Balls & Hype: Controlling the Future of Your Book(s)

Author Lucy Monroe – More than Five Senses: Writing with Visceral Impact

Show Vs. Tell

JACK CANFIELD'S SUCCESS: 10 Tips to Self Promote Like a Marketer

Ready & Willing Chapter 1

If you're not subscribed to my newsletter, you can still get access to chapters of Ready & Willing, my paranormal free read. Just click the link below. It will take you to Pay with a Tweet.

All you have to do is send a note to Twitter or Facebook, via the buttons on Pay with a Tweet, with the link back to this post. The website makes it a simple 2 step process.

And then you get to download the first chapter. Check back each Tuesday for a new chapter. Did I mention you're helping to spread the word about Kaden and Ava's romance? How awesome of you!

— Get Chapter 1 —

Double the Pleasure–available now

Fans on menage romance… I have a treat for you. A 2 – in – 1 special!

Included in this bundle: Surprising Darcy (contemporary erotica, 2010), Bitten in the Bayou (paranormal erotic romance, 2011)

All for $1.50 (that's $.50 off!) Get your copy at amazon.com | nook

Surprising Darcy

Two months ago Darcy Evans had a little too much to drink and during a night of hot sex, admitted one of her most secret fantasies… to have two men at once. Today is her 29th birthday and her boyfriend Aiden Sinclair is ready to help her celebrate. In fact, he has a surprise in store that will make her fantasy a reality.

Warning: Includes two hunky males, a blindfold, decadent birthday cake, and a night of fantasy come to life.

Bitten in the Bayou

Jules and Andre Deveraux have been hired to find wildlife photographer Angelica Humphrey. She's lost somewhere in the Louisiana bayou and there's a hurricane brewing. Angelica has never met anyone like Jules or Andre and she's instantly attracted. But she doesn't have time to act on her desire because she has to get away from the ex-boyfriend who stalks her. They take her back to their cabin, offering her protection and shelter from the storm.

But Angelica quickly finds herself falling under their spell and they happily show her that if one Deveraux is good, two are infinitely better.

Warning: Contains two sinfully handsome Cajun werewolves with voracious appetites, a splash of danger and a naughty game of scrabble.

Snippet Saturday: Setting–November 5

This week's snippet is all about…drumroll…setting! I love an incredible setting. A book that can drop me into a different time and place? Sign me up!

The settings in my books vary from French vineyards (Just a Little Taste) to outer space (the Deep Space Encounters series) to the bayous of Louisiana (the Stormy Weather series.) Today's selection is from Stranded with a Cajun Werewolf which is set entirely in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. I hope this bit will give you a hint at an incredibly beautiful setting.

The car came out of nowhere, horn blaring, bright lights reflecting off the curtains of falling snow. Burke Deveraux let out a curse as a streak of red passed him on the left. His wipers swiped across the windshield, trying in vain to keep the thick snow at bay. Didn't that lunatic driver realize they were in the middle of a blizzard? On a mountain road?

Despite the snow chains, the tires of his Land Rover slipped on the icy slush and his hands tightened on the wheel. Just ten more miles and he'd be to the cabin. Give or take a few. He'd driven this road for years, but with all the white stuff coming down, it was hard to gage exactly where he was. The only thing that mattered was that he was long gone from Louisiana and whatever was in the water.

There was no other explanation for four devoted bachelors to all find love in the span of five months. And while he was happy that they'd found their mates, and he couldn't wait to become an uncle, he much preferred his bachelor lifestyle.

His brother and cousins had started talking to him finding his mate the moment André and Juliette had gotten back together. And over the last few weeks, they hadn't let up. Even the women were in on it. The moment his favorite ski resort had announced an early season opening, he'd high tailed it out of there.

Burke didn't want a mate.

He just wanted some peace and quiet and to catch some fresh powder. And to forget the memories that clawed at him every time he saw one the women that had infiltrated Deveraux pack.

What he hadn't bet on was trading hurricanes for the blizzard bearing down on him now.

Or the flash of red that jerked his attention to the side of the road.

He stepped hard on the breaks, trying to avoid the red car and the snow bank. For a nauseating moment the world was a streak of white. Burke's hands strangled the steering wheel as he fought to keep the tires on the road.

The antilock brakes kicked in and the vehicle slowed, but Burke exhaled too soon.

In the blink of an eye the tires slipped in the slick snow and the back wheels swung right. Curses rent the air and his luggage rolled around like a pebble in a tin can. Gin let out a startled bark from the back seat.

Finally, when everything was still, the SUV was pointed down the mountain. A gust of wind cleared enough snow out of the air that he could see the bright red car half buried by a pile of snow/half dangling off the side of the mountain.

He unclenched his teeth, worked his jaw and huffed out a sigh. So much for a relaxing vacation.

The formerly groggy Labrador was now wide-awake in the backseat. Gin let out a deep bark and smacked Burke in the cheek with his tail. He let out another woof, his nose pressed against the side window.

"You all right?"

Gin sighed in that purely canine way that said he wasn't thrilled with the situation.

The other driver made no move to back out of the dune and Burke figured that the idiot had wrecked his car. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He'd report the wreck and wait until the wrecker got here. If the wrecker got here.

No signal.

Great. He tossed the phone aside and reached behind the passenger's seat for his coat. Maybe the lunatic in the other car had a phone that would work. Tendrils of snow swooshed into the car as he opened the door. Bracing against the icy wind he planted one boot in the ankle deep snow and then the other.

Tugging on his thick Northface coat he headed down the road toward the other car once again questioning his decision to try to beat the storm.

The collision had killed the engine, mangling what he could see of the front end.

Ah hell.

A blonde lay hunched over the steering wheel, not moving. Blood soaked the back of her grey sweatshirt. He knocked on the window and wished he'd tugged on his gloves. The woman didn't move. He peered into the car, looking for a phone, and saw a large purse wedged between her chest and the steering wheel.

He tested the handle of her door. Locked. Figured. The small window behind the driver's seat was shattered, half the glass missing. He reached through the gaping hole and flipped the lock.

Wrenching the door open he checked the pulse at her throat. Still thumping. He braced both hands around her neck and the base of her skull and then, as gently as he could, settled her back in her seat and took stock of her injuries.

And arrestingly adorable features. She looked like an angel, a cherub, with glossy pink lips. With a bloody gash across her forehead and — was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe too.

A fierce wind howled over head, making the trees sway and groan. She gave a soft moan, and then, as if she'd awoken, her body went rigid.

"You're okay, petit. Just relax. Where do you hurt?"

Stunning aqua blue eyes met his for an instant before she closed them again, wincing. The fear he'd glimpsed there shocked him. "Please," she said, her voice hoarse and barely a whisper. He leaned toward her to hear over the roar of the elements. "Don't let…him…take me."

There was a raw desperation to her plea and somehow he knew that this woman had rarely, if ever, asked for help. But she was asking now. No. She was begging.

He pivoted to look back down the road. Aside from the brilliant white snow, all he saw were boney grey tree trunks. It wasn't fit for man or polar bear out here. Who the hell was chasing her? Better question, what was she doing in this storm?

The woman didn't answer. She passed out cold, her body limp in the seat again. Gritting his teeth he surveyed the damage to her car. He'd be surprised if it wasn't totaled. Much less ran.

What he needed was a cell phone signal.

Hoping she didn't wake up, freak out, and deck him in the balls, he leaned into the car and unzipped her purse. Using her door as cover from the wind, he squatted down and opened the bag. He'd never snooped through a woman's purse before. Had never had any need to, until now. And though he wasn't sure what he'd expected to find, he had at least hoped it would contain a cell phone.

Or a flare gun.

Hell, at this point, with cold snow biting his ass, he'd settle for a homing pigeon.

But what he found inside her bag was baffling. A curling iron that had seen better days, half a bag of Doritos, and a smorgasbord of cosmetics. Mostly lip gloss. In every shade and flavor imaginable. But no cell phone.

Is this how she planned on protecting herself? Distract the guy with a flash of Berry Tasty lipstick and the scent of flavored corn chips, then beat him over the head with the curling iron before choking him with the frayed wire?

He would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire. The car let out an agonizing groan as another blast of air hit them, whipping her hair away from her face.

Maybe he could head back down the mountain for help but in this weather, who knew how long it would take him to return. She'd have frost bite by the time he got back. No, he couldn't leave her.

What the hell are you doing, Deveraux? You're not a knight on a white steed. Just close the door and get on the road. She's not your problem.

But he couldn't stop the protective instincts surging inside him. He was after all, male and a werewolf, both of which made him territorial to the core. Besides, what kind of asshole left a complete stranger, an unconscious woman, alone in a blizzard to fend for herself?

He glanced at her body. She wore a pair of jeans and a thin looking sweater. Letting his eyes trail down her ultra curvy frame he frowned at the sneakers on her feet. Way to prepare for the Great White North, lady.

He flipped open her wallet and glanced at her photo. She was truly angelic when awake and unbloodied. Her name was Kendall Carver from somewhere he'd never heard of in Florida state.

All right, Kendall Carver from Florida, let's get you out of here.

After zipping her purse he carefully scooped her up. Settling her against his chest he turned for his Land Rover and tried to ignore the delicious feel and sweet scent of the beautiful woman unconscious in his arms.

A loud crack sounded overhead. Burke's gaze jerked up to the ice covered trees. Pop. Muscles tensed, he bolted for his SUV as a massive tree sliced through the forest, raining ice and snow around them. The boom of tree connecting with earth jolted his bones.

There was an instant of groaning metal, then a bright flash of light, then a wave of heat and a loud bang. Sheltering the woman in his arms, he dared a glance over his shoulder. Her car was no more.

Gin barked from the backseat, but Burke needed no urging. He wrenched the rear passenger's door open and told his companion to get in the back. Gin obeyed the order, his big black nose twitching as he tried to catch Kendall's scent. Somehow Burke managed to adjust the seats and settle her without jarring her too badly. At least he hoped so. She didn't rouse. He shrugged out of his coat and tucked it around her from chin to foot.

Shutting the door, he surveyed the damage. Through the thick snow he saw the massive tree laying where he'd just been standing, now a pile of splintered wood. The debris covered his footprints.

Thank the gods she hadn't been in it.

Another gust of wind battered the mountain, fanning the plume of black smoke into a grey fog.

His keen ears picked up the sound of a motor on the road below. Gin stood in the back and let out a low growl. If Kendall was right about someone following her, they'd have to do it on foot. But he wasn't going to stick around to watch.

 

Be sure to visit the other participating Snippet authors!

Lauren Dane
Anne Rainey
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Myla Jackson
Selena Blake
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Delilah Devlin
HelenKay Dimon

FTF: From This Moment On by Bella Andre

Meet Marcus Sullivan in book #2 of Bella Andre's bestselling contemporary romance series!

One night is all Nicola and Marcus agree to share with each other. But nothing goes as they plan when instead of simply tangling limbs, they find a deeper connection than either of them could have anticipated. And even though they both try to fight it, growing emotions – and sizzling attraction – keep drawing them closer together. Close enough for them to wonder if stealing one more secret moment together can ever be enough?

Reviews…

"A heartwarming addition to Bella Andre's wonderful Sullivan family series." Barbara Freethy, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author

"From This Moment On is full of loveable characters, sizzling chemistry, and poignant emotion." Christie Ridgway, USA Today Bestselling Author

"Bella Andre's fabulous series continues with Marcus Sullivan finding love when he least expects it. Marcus and Nicola's romance sizzles from the first page to the last." Marie Force, Bestselling Author

"I can't wait for more Sullivan brothers!" Carly Phillips, New York Times Bestselling Author

If you're already sold, here are the links you'll want to click on.

BUY FROM THIS MOMENT ON BY BELLA ANDRE HERE

Kindle

Nook

Apple

Want a sampling? Read on!

Marcus Sullivan was known for his patience. After helping to raise his seven siblings, he'd learned to wait out tantrums, fistfights, even tears.

But tonight, he was all out of patience.

He'd come to the club tonight to find a woman, to proposition her, to claim her for one no-holds-barred night, but he'd been watching the dancers for long enough to know that he wasn't going to take a single one of them to bed. None of the women who'd walked in through the thick red curtain in the past thirty minutes had been contenders, either.

Until, suddenly, the curtain parted…and she walked in.

Marcus felt like a fist had slammed straight into his gut.

The woman was young, mid-twenties probably, and so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her. Her black leather dress left nothing to his imagination, fitting her like a second skin with wide cut-outs that ran down the side of her insane curves.

She was the one.

As she stood in the doorway and slowly scanned the crowd, every eye in the room was on her. She was magnetic, had that special something that made it impossible to pull your eyes away from her.

And then her eyes met his, illuminated by a beam of light in the dark room, and although Marcus hadn't drunk nearly enough at Chase's engagement party to be unsteady on his feet, one look at those clear blue eyes had him fighting for balance.

What was wrong with him?

He needed to remember, at all times, what tonight was about. Pleasure. Not emotion. Not a relationship. It was okay for certain parts of his body below the waist to react like a match had been lit from nothing more than looking at the woman. Everything else was off-limits. He wasn't looking for a woman to respect.

And he definitely wasn't going to fall in love.

The dangerous curves began to shift beneath the thin layer of leather as she moved straight toward him, never once breaking stride, even in impossibly high heels. Marcus couldn't miss the challenge in her gaze, a look that asked if he was man enough to handle her.

He'd always liked his women tall and slim, not barely coming up to his chest like this one. A voice in his head told him she was way too young for him, young enough that if this were any other night, he'd walk away from her now.

But he wasn't planning on walking away from whatever this woman offered. Not until first light.

And definitely not until he'd had his fill of those curves.

* * *

My God, he was beautiful.

Talk about big and strong—if this guy's broad shoulders and gorgeous face weren't enough, he stood out from the rest of the scummy crowd in his pressed shirt and slacks, clearly not giving a damn that he was different from them all.

He was the one.

The hassle of getting inside with all of the people clamoring to take pictures and have her sign autographs for them had almost been enough to make her hop back into the taxi and go hide out in her hotel again. But she hadn't known where else to look, hadn't been able to think of anywhere else to go. And she just didn't care about the price of fame tonight, about the inevitable ramifications of what she was doing. Not when a long, lonely night was all that waited for her in her hotel suite if she turned tail and ran.

Beyond thankful that she hadn't chickened out at the last second, Nicola was practically licking her lips as she approached him.

It was pure instinct to try and make herself look more attractive to him. She'd pushed out her breasts, swayed her hips that extra little bit. Yes, she often silently bemoaned having to use her sexuality to get things out of people, but darn it, when it worked this well, what was a girl to do?

And she really wanted tonight to work out. Especially now that she'd finally seen a man she absolutely had to have.

She waited for him to say her name, for that flicker of recognition to rise in his eyes. But when neither happened after several long seconds, it finally occurred to her that he might not know who she was.

Or, she thought with the cynicism that had taken root deep within her, maybe he was just faking it because he thought it would pique her interest in him if he seemed aloof.

"Hi, I'm Nicola." Her real name popped out before she realized it. She hadn't gone by anything but Nico for so long with anyone but her parents that the name felt strange on her tongue.

Kind of good, too, though.

She waited for him to correct her, to be surprised that she hadn't introduced herself as Nico. Instead, he simply repeated her name.

"Nicola."

His low, rough voice had her shivering, thrill bumps actually rising on her arms despite the swampy heat of the club from all the moving bodies.

She studied him for long enough to confirm that there wasn't a shred of awareness in his dark brown eyes. Nothing at all that resembled the way the guy at the hotel had looked at her, like he was dying to say he'd done a big star.

Had she actually run into the one person on earth who had no idea who she was?

It felt too lucky to be true.

Of course, her luck would only hold out so long in a public place. Which meant she needed to get them out of there as soon as possible, before anyone came up and asked for an autograph or a picture with her.

"I'm not in the mood to dance tonight," she began, before realizing, "I don't know your name."

She liked the way he reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes, liked it even more when he said, "My name is Marcus. And I'm not in the mood to dance, either."

She supposed there were lots of things they could both say to each other. Things like, "Should we get out of here?" or "Why don't we go back to my hotel?" But, amazingly, Nicola realized those words, those questions and answers, weren't necessary.

Everything they'd needed to say to each other had already been said.

In one look.

In one touch.

Her skin burned where he'd touched her, his fingertips rougher than she'd thought they would be, given his clothes. She'd felt calluses and strength in that one brush across her skin. The thought of being touched like that—with those hands—on even more sensitive parts of her body had heat blooming inside of her in places that never usually got that hot.

The music was still playing, louder than before, perhaps, but all she could hear was the beating of her own heart. All she knew was that she wanted this night with Marcus more than she'd wanted anything in a very long time.

Ready now? Here are those links again.

BUY FROM THIS MOMENT ON BY BELLA ANDRE HERE

Kindle

Nook

Apple

Author biography:

Bella Andre has always been a writer. Songs came first, and then non-fiction books, but as soon as she started writing her first romance novel, she knew she'd found her perfect career. Known for "sensual, empowered stories enveloped in heady romance" (Publisher's Weekly) about sizzling alpha heroes and the strong women they'll love forever, many of her 20+ titles have appeared on Top 50 bestseller lists, including THE LOOK OF LOVE (Sullivans #1), GAME FOR LOVE (Bad Boys of Football #3), ECSTASY, CANDY STORE and LOVE ME (Take Me series #2).

Her books have been Cosmopolitan Magazine Red Hot Reads twice (GAME FOR ANYTHING and WILD HEAT) and have been translated into German, Thai, Japanese and Ukrainian. NEVER TOO HOT won the Award of Excellence in 2011. The Washington Post has called her, "One of the top digital writers in America."

If not behind her computer, you can find her reading her favorite authors, hiking, knitting, or laughing. Married with two children, Bella splits her time between the Northern California wine country and a 100 year old log cabin in the Adirondacks.

For a complete listing of books, as well as excerpts and contests, and to connect with Bella:
Visit Bella's website at: http://www.BellaAndre.com
Follow Bella on twitter at: http://www.twitter.com/bellaandre
Join Bella on Facebook at: http://www.facebook.com/bellaandrefans

BUY FROM THIS MOMENT ON BY BELLA ANDRE HERE

Kindle

Nook

Apple

Indie Publishing. It takes great legs.

Anyone who thinks self-publishing is easy has another think coming.

Self-publishing takes great legs. And by that I mean there's tons to do. Lots of legwork. But as any flamingo will tell you, it also takes balance.

I fear the success of some indie authors has made this realm of publishing seem far too easy. Write book. Publish book. Count your money.

[image error]Heads up, kids. It's not that easy. You must write a GOOD book. Not just an okay one. You must outsource all the editing, cover creation, and other promotional aspects. You must distribute your book. There are dozens of Ts that need to be crossed and Is to be dotted. And then, if you get really lucky and you've built a solid brand, you might just get to count some money. And then, yes children, you must write another fabulous book.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

But please don't under estimate the time it takes to do well in this business. Self publishing requires more hours than traditional publishing if you ask me. And at the end of the day, it's all up to you. If I were you, I'd start working out on the stair-climber. Pronto.

Are You a Lurker?

Are you a lurker? I am. For the most part. Especially when I'm on deadline.

A lurker, as defined by the web in general is someone who visits websites but rarely if ever comments or participates in any way. In the case of yahoo groups, you might read all the messages that go by but never offer your own opinion. Perhaps you read blogs but don't comment on them. You may visit an author's website but never sign their guestbook or send them an email.

Lurking isn't bad, I don't think. But I do think it's good to occasionally exit lurkdom and step into the light.

Some are of the opinion that lurking is impolite. But I think lurkers just lead busy lives. And I'd rather readers lurked around my website, buy and enjoy my books than feel the need to comment on every blog I post.

My good friend Pam Labud chimed in. "I'm a lurker, too. I read all kinds of posts but barely comment."

If you're like me and Pam and don't comment too often, is it because you don't have the time? Or perhaps you don't feel like you have anything to add? Or is it because posting/participating can be difficult?

I have one more thought about why people might lurk. There's nothing to comment on. Blogging "experts" encourage bloggers to ask questions at the end of their posts to generate comments. Other experts tell bloggers to hold information back to generate discussion.

Does it take a controversial topic to get you to participate? What about contests? I typically don't like offering a prize in return for posting comments because to me…well, I'd rather people just join the conversation. But perhaps I'm not witty enough to inspire conversation.

I'll admit that it can be frustrating for me at times. As an author, I want to connect with readers. I like knowing my readers. Talking to them. Understanding them. I feel like knowing my readers lets me write better books. When readers lurk the conversation is severely stifled.

So how about it? Care to come out of lurkdom for a day and introduce yourself? I won't bite. Promise!

Snippet Saturday–Oct 29

This week's theme is scary or thrilling. Well, I'm a wuss and I can't think of anything I've written that was scary (unless you count emotionally scary) so here's snippet that I'd file under Thrilling. Ready, set, go.

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.

Excerpted from Rescuing Natacha

 

Be sure to check out the other Snippet Saturday Authors:

Anne Rainey
Eliza Gayle
 Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Mandy M Roth
 Myla Jackson
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
 Alison Kent
Beth-Ann Mason
HelenKay Dimon
 Shelli Stevens
Lauren Dane
Lacey Savage
 TJ Michaels
Shiloh Walker

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FTF: Power of Seduction by Madison Chase

Every wolf has his breaking point.

Tor Kemp is an executioner, not a babysitter. But his visions tell him that Cassidy Sinclair is in serious danger…and his visions are never wrong. She's defenseless against a world she knows nothing about.

Cassidy has dreamed of Tor before. Unfortunately, he always leaves her unsatisfied. But in real life, satisfaction is guaranteed…until he vows to protect her.

Protecting her means keeping his hands to himself. But Tor quickly learns that every wolf has his breaking point.

If you're already sold, here are the links you'll want to click on.

—> BUY POWER OF SEDUCTION BY MADISON CHASE HERE

Want a sampling? Read on!

Juggling a bucket of orchids and her cell phone, Cassidy struggled to open the service door of the Winston Atlas hotel.

"Ugh…huh. Right. Yep," she told Jennah, her right-hand woman. It was a crazy day. Nonstop arranging and deliveries, and Celeste, her friend and event planner extraordinaire, had called to say that somehow, Cassidy's assistants had managed to include the wrong orchids in the arrangements for tonight's event. "Hang on a sec."

She managed to swing the door wide and stepped into the dimly lit corridor. "Okay, go ahead."

"Which roses did you want in—arrangement?" The line crackled. "We're out of Champagne. Rick's on his way to the warehouse now, but…" Jennah sighed. Cassidy felt like doing the same thing. She turned in a circle, trying to get her bearings. Wall after wall of gray concrete block surrounded her, closed in like catacombs. If she could just get through this maze and switch out these flowers, she could go home for a hot shower.

"Just substitute Vengelaes. It'll work." She hoisted the bucket higher against her chest.

This was one of the few times she'd been through the bowels of this hotel. In the past, she'd arrived out front to camera flashes and paparazzi shouting her name. Nine months ago, she'd had no idea how tiresome a double life could be. But she dutifully showed up to fancy events and made her way through the marble lined halls. She schmoozed and passed out enough business cards that Jennah had needed to reorder. Down here, the bright florescent bulbs didn't have any of the warmth of their crystal chandelier counterparts upstairs.

"We just got another order for a funeral."

"Ask Marcy to do it." Cassidy hated funerals. She still couldn't get the image of Veronica Aragon's beautiful face, frozen with death, out of her mind. It seemed like ages ago that she, Celeste, and James Brody had rallied around their best friend, Viki, and mourned her sister.

Shuddering, she started down the hall and heard the distinct rumble of the service elevator.

"Do you need anything else over there?" Jennah asked, always efficient. Barely out of college, Jennah was young, eager, organized. Cassidy had hired her seven months ago and had no idea how she'd manage if Jennah wasn't there to keep her life running smoothly. Her work life, anyway.

"I think I've got everything. Once I get these orchids switched, I'm heading home to get ready. Are you sure you don't want to come? I've got extra tickets."

"You're the face of Sinclair's, not me. Besides, I've already rented a movie for me and Jason to watch tonight. Give me a call if you need anything else."

"Will do."

Cassidy slipped the slender phone into the back pocket of her jeans and wrapped both arms around the bucket. The heavy door of the elevator rumbled upward, and she quickly stepped on. Her nose was in the bucket, inhaling the delicious fragrance, and she didn't notice the big man in front of her until they'd bumped into each other. Ice-cold water splashed over her corset top and raced down between her breasts, chilling every inch of flesh along the way.

Goose bumps ruptured across her skin as she met the stranger's dark gaze. He was tall. She had to look way up to meet his eyes. Really tall, and really…big.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"Entirely my fault," he said, a trace of accent lacing his words, as they switched positions. His hair was long, dark, verging on wavy. Normally, she liked the cleanly shaven look, but on him there was something perfect about the ruggedness of his wild hair. It made him seem untamable. And though she was sure she'd never met him before, there was something familiar about him. Something that heated her blood and turned her insides to mush.

She gave him her most charming smile, and he returned it with one of his own. The corner of that deliciously kissable mouth turned up in a way that made her think of slow, soul-shattering sex. Like he knew just how to touch, please, and caress a woman. More specifically, her.

Ready now? Here are those links again.

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