Tory Richards's Blog, page 139
October 30, 2013
The Mating Ritual
Good morning my friends! My first paranormal romance comes out on 11/15 so I thought I'd give you a little teaser today.
Unedited excerpt -
She lowered her gaze and finished her food. The empty plate was taken from her hand without warning, and she was left alone with Didi.
“Come, child.” Didi was staring down at Toni.
Toni reluctantly got to her feet. She was led to a spot against the wall, where several soft pelts were spread out. Thank goodness there were extras, because she was beginning to feel cold.
“You sleep here.” Didi turned and walked away, rejoining Lila, and both women lay down without a word.
Toni slowly sank down to the soft fur bed, pulling one of them over her body. It didn’t cover her all the way, but at least she didn’t feel so exposed. Sighing, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to sleep, not when the only thing on her mind was escape.
She turned on her side to face the cave wall. She was surprised by how cool and dark it became once they’d put out the campfire. Light noises indicated that some were still moving about. Heavy breathing and moans told her that others were engaged in their favorite past time. She tried to tune them out, her thoughts going to Cormac, and she was suddenly hungry for him.
Toni couldn’t understand why she felt horny all the time. Just thinking about the Oh-Mah leader aroused her. It was an impossible situation. She didn’t belong with these people, and as soon as the chance presented itself, she was going to make a run for it. And go where? She didn’t know where she was, and if they moved deeper into the mountains, she was really screwed.
People went in there, never to be seen again.
Without warning Toni felt a presence settle behind her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand covered it before she could get out a squeak. She was flipped onto her back, and the hand was replaced with a firm mouth as the man settled his weight on top of her. Thinking it might be Malik, Toni struggled and twisted, but he easily subdued her by pulling her arms over her head, and pinning them to the ground.
“Don’t fight me, little one,” Cormac said against Toni’s lips. She relaxed, accepting his kiss when he returned his mouth to hers. As his kiss deepened she moaned, kissing him back, hating herself for showing such weakness when it came to him.
Cormac released her wrists, letting Toni lower her arms. She caressed his wide shoulders and back roughly, arching beneath him with renewed desire. Oh, my God! Her body was a prisoner to his unquenchable demands. What was she going to do? She came alive with a wanton lust when he touched and kissed her. Now, with his hands on her breasts, he was igniting a fire inside her blood that only he could extinguish.
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Unedited excerpt -She lowered her gaze and finished her food. The empty plate was taken from her hand without warning, and she was left alone with Didi.
“Come, child.” Didi was staring down at Toni.
Toni reluctantly got to her feet. She was led to a spot against the wall, where several soft pelts were spread out. Thank goodness there were extras, because she was beginning to feel cold.
“You sleep here.” Didi turned and walked away, rejoining Lila, and both women lay down without a word.
Toni slowly sank down to the soft fur bed, pulling one of them over her body. It didn’t cover her all the way, but at least she didn’t feel so exposed. Sighing, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to sleep, not when the only thing on her mind was escape.
She turned on her side to face the cave wall. She was surprised by how cool and dark it became once they’d put out the campfire. Light noises indicated that some were still moving about. Heavy breathing and moans told her that others were engaged in their favorite past time. She tried to tune them out, her thoughts going to Cormac, and she was suddenly hungry for him.
Toni couldn’t understand why she felt horny all the time. Just thinking about the Oh-Mah leader aroused her. It was an impossible situation. She didn’t belong with these people, and as soon as the chance presented itself, she was going to make a run for it. And go where? She didn’t know where she was, and if they moved deeper into the mountains, she was really screwed.
People went in there, never to be seen again.
Without warning Toni felt a presence settle behind her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand covered it before she could get out a squeak. She was flipped onto her back, and the hand was replaced with a firm mouth as the man settled his weight on top of her. Thinking it might be Malik, Toni struggled and twisted, but he easily subdued her by pulling her arms over her head, and pinning them to the ground.
“Don’t fight me, little one,” Cormac said against Toni’s lips. She relaxed, accepting his kiss when he returned his mouth to hers. As his kiss deepened she moaned, kissing him back, hating herself for showing such weakness when it came to him.
Cormac released her wrists, letting Toni lower her arms. She caressed his wide shoulders and back roughly, arching beneath him with renewed desire. Oh, my God! Her body was a prisoner to his unquenchable demands. What was she going to do? She came alive with a wanton lust when he touched and kissed her. Now, with his hands on her breasts, he was igniting a fire inside her blood that only he could extinguish.
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Most of you know I have a new release coming out this month, on the 15th, THE MATING RITUAL . It's my first paranormal and I thought now would be a good time to introduce you to my new hero, Cormac.
He's about 7 feet tallHe has a muscled Viking-like body, with long hairHe is the alpha leader of the Oh-Mah peopleHe has an insatiable sexual appetite for the heroine
Here's how the heroine, Toni, sees Cormac - Toni swung around and stared at the man in shock. One thing she knew for certain, he wasn’t Bigfoot. But he was big, possibly seven feet tall. And he was definitely human, his features were rugged and strong and not totally unpleasant. He had long brownish hair that appeared streaked with blond, his brown eyes conveyed intelligence and something else that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
His naked body revealed that he was well muscled, from his thick neck, defined biceps, pectorals, and sculptured abs. His thighs were as solid as small tree trunks, and his flaccid cock was surprisingly thick and long. The light dusting of hair that covered his body was like any other man, allowing Toni to see his scars and other imperfections. As he stood there staring at her he made her feel something wild and primitive. He was magnificent.
Leave a comment and your email addy because one lucky reader is going to receive a copy of The Mating Ritual !
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October 29, 2013
November Events
Heads up! Don't miss all the great blog hops coming up in November. Check out my up-coming blog hops link at the right. Most of these hops have huge prize giveaways, and that's not counting what the participating authors give up. One hop alone has a $300 gift card prize! So pop in, follow the rules, and good luck! And don't worry, if you're on my mailing list you will receive reminders. Oh, not on my mailing list? Now is the time to join, sign-up located on the right.
October 24, 2013
Excerpt for THE COWBOY WAY
"I want to talk to you."
"Really? And here I thought you stopped to kiss me." What was she saying? Baiting a man like Chase was dangerous.
There was a long pause. Something flickered in Chase’s eyes. His expression gave nothing away, though. Lacey began to feel nervous again, though for a different reason than the one back at the house.
"The cowboy way, ma’am?" His tone was soft, dangerous, carrying the subtle threat of an unspoken promise.
Lacey swallowed nervously. The cowboy way? That was twice he’d used that expression. She wondered what it meant. An explosion of heat uncurled inside her belly, as her imagination ran rampant. Of the two of them locked in a hot, passionate embrace. No longer was Chase’s mouth firm and unyielding, but soft and sensuous. His eyes darkened with smoldering intent. Yet instincts warned Lacey that Chase was just as dangerous now as he had been a moment ago, in anger. She tried to jerk the reins from his hands, suddenly afraid she was about to find out what the cowboy way was.
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"Let go." Misty moved nervously beneath her, obviously sensing her growing panic.
In the blink of an eye his expression changed. "Not until you listen to what I have to say."
"You can’t bully me, Chase." The wind blew at her loose hair, and she reached up impatiently to wipe it out of her eyes. "I won’t let you."
He reared back his head and laughed at her comment. "And how do you propose to stop me? I could do anything I want to you right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me."
Lacey tightened her lips in frustration, even while the thought of what that something could be caused a tingle of excitement to zing through her. As his hard mouth curved upwards in a crooked smile that was sexy as sin, she wished she could wipe that arrogant expression off his rugged face. He was so sure of himself. The look in his eyes told her to go ahead and try. Well, she’d taken self defense lessons a few years back and wasn’t as helpless as he thought.
"Then maybe you should have warned me about you, this morning!" She jerked on the reins again, harder this time. When he wouldn’t release them Lacey reached out and slapped him across the cheek. She caught her breath, realizing a man like Chase might strike back. He didn’t look the type to turn the other cheek, or ignore a challenge. Their eyes clashed in silent battle.
Then without warning he reached forward and pulled her from her horse and into his arms. His gaze dropped to her mouth before returning to her eyes. "I think you need to be taught a lesson."
"No!"
"Yes!" He hissed. He crushed her to him and slammed his mouth down on hers, locking any protest deep in her throat.
Lacey struggled but it didn’t seem to matter to Chase. He over powered her easily, while managing to control his stallion’s nervous movements with ease and expertise. Lacey brought her hands up and pushed against his massive, rock hard chest. But it was like trying to move a mountain. She whimpered beneath his attack, becoming aware of things she didn’t want to notice.
She began to slip towards the ground and ceased her movements, bringing her arms up to cling to Chase’s neck. It brought Lacey closer to him. He growled, forcing her mouth open until he could slip his tongue inside. Unwillingly, she began to melt under his rough kiss, returning the thrust of his tongue against hers. A sharp need of desire uncurled inside her belly, turning her blood hot. She was afraid of not being strong enough to deny him if he should seek more than a kiss.
Lacey had never been handled so ruthlessly by any man before, no one had dared. And while she balked at his arrogance, she couldn’t deny the feelings he roused. The thrill of his mouth on hers, the feel of his whiskers against her tender skin and the taste of something sweet on his breath heightened her arousal. Her nostrils flared, greedily taking in the masculine scent of sweat, leather and horse.
Most of all his arousal.
Lacey’s breasts swelled against his chest, her nipples hardened into painful knots. When his hands traveled down her arms he left a trail of tingles behind. But when his hand closed over her breast, Lacey knew real desire, and fear. For her betraying flesh swelled even more into his caress. She shivered violently and moaned as his thumb flicked across her nipple, and arched her back before she realized what she was doing.
Without warning Chase broke away, promptly ending the sizzling moment between them. Lacey’s lungs screamed for air, and it gave her little pleasure to see Chase was just as out of breath. His expression frightened her a little. Dark like polished stone, his eyes were glazed over with heated passion, his nostrils flaring like a wild animal. Lacey could feel his heart beating in rhythm with her own.
She tried to turn away from his all too seeing eyes but there was nowhere to go. His horse moved beneath them, but Chase kept him under control with the steady pressure of his solid thighs and knees. Realizing her arms were still locked around his neck, Lacey slowly broke her hold and lowered them, humiliated and angry.
"You’re a bastard," she said softly, taking a deep breath and trembling with her emotions.
"You asked for it," Chase rasped indifferently, his breathing almost under control again. His smoldering look went over Lacey’s hot face, a satisfied gleam with what he saw filling his eyes.
"Really? And here I thought you stopped to kiss me." What was she saying? Baiting a man like Chase was dangerous.
There was a long pause. Something flickered in Chase’s eyes. His expression gave nothing away, though. Lacey began to feel nervous again, though for a different reason than the one back at the house.
"The cowboy way, ma’am?" His tone was soft, dangerous, carrying the subtle threat of an unspoken promise.
Lacey swallowed nervously. The cowboy way? That was twice he’d used that expression. She wondered what it meant. An explosion of heat uncurled inside her belly, as her imagination ran rampant. Of the two of them locked in a hot, passionate embrace. No longer was Chase’s mouth firm and unyielding, but soft and sensuous. His eyes darkened with smoldering intent. Yet instincts warned Lacey that Chase was just as dangerous now as he had been a moment ago, in anger. She tried to jerk the reins from his hands, suddenly afraid she was about to find out what the cowboy way was.
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"Let go." Misty moved nervously beneath her, obviously sensing her growing panic.
In the blink of an eye his expression changed. "Not until you listen to what I have to say."
"You can’t bully me, Chase." The wind blew at her loose hair, and she reached up impatiently to wipe it out of her eyes. "I won’t let you."
He reared back his head and laughed at her comment. "And how do you propose to stop me? I could do anything I want to you right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me."
Lacey tightened her lips in frustration, even while the thought of what that something could be caused a tingle of excitement to zing through her. As his hard mouth curved upwards in a crooked smile that was sexy as sin, she wished she could wipe that arrogant expression off his rugged face. He was so sure of himself. The look in his eyes told her to go ahead and try. Well, she’d taken self defense lessons a few years back and wasn’t as helpless as he thought.
"Then maybe you should have warned me about you, this morning!" She jerked on the reins again, harder this time. When he wouldn’t release them Lacey reached out and slapped him across the cheek. She caught her breath, realizing a man like Chase might strike back. He didn’t look the type to turn the other cheek, or ignore a challenge. Their eyes clashed in silent battle.
Then without warning he reached forward and pulled her from her horse and into his arms. His gaze dropped to her mouth before returning to her eyes. "I think you need to be taught a lesson."
"No!"
"Yes!" He hissed. He crushed her to him and slammed his mouth down on hers, locking any protest deep in her throat.
Lacey struggled but it didn’t seem to matter to Chase. He over powered her easily, while managing to control his stallion’s nervous movements with ease and expertise. Lacey brought her hands up and pushed against his massive, rock hard chest. But it was like trying to move a mountain. She whimpered beneath his attack, becoming aware of things she didn’t want to notice.
She began to slip towards the ground and ceased her movements, bringing her arms up to cling to Chase’s neck. It brought Lacey closer to him. He growled, forcing her mouth open until he could slip his tongue inside. Unwillingly, she began to melt under his rough kiss, returning the thrust of his tongue against hers. A sharp need of desire uncurled inside her belly, turning her blood hot. She was afraid of not being strong enough to deny him if he should seek more than a kiss.
Lacey had never been handled so ruthlessly by any man before, no one had dared. And while she balked at his arrogance, she couldn’t deny the feelings he roused. The thrill of his mouth on hers, the feel of his whiskers against her tender skin and the taste of something sweet on his breath heightened her arousal. Her nostrils flared, greedily taking in the masculine scent of sweat, leather and horse.
Most of all his arousal.
Lacey’s breasts swelled against his chest, her nipples hardened into painful knots. When his hands traveled down her arms he left a trail of tingles behind. But when his hand closed over her breast, Lacey knew real desire, and fear. For her betraying flesh swelled even more into his caress. She shivered violently and moaned as his thumb flicked across her nipple, and arched her back before she realized what she was doing.
Without warning Chase broke away, promptly ending the sizzling moment between them. Lacey’s lungs screamed for air, and it gave her little pleasure to see Chase was just as out of breath. His expression frightened her a little. Dark like polished stone, his eyes were glazed over with heated passion, his nostrils flaring like a wild animal. Lacey could feel his heart beating in rhythm with her own.
She tried to turn away from his all too seeing eyes but there was nowhere to go. His horse moved beneath them, but Chase kept him under control with the steady pressure of his solid thighs and knees. Realizing her arms were still locked around his neck, Lacey slowly broke her hold and lowered them, humiliated and angry.
"You’re a bastard," she said softly, taking a deep breath and trembling with her emotions.
"You asked for it," Chase rasped indifferently, his breathing almost under control again. His smoldering look went over Lacey’s hot face, a satisfied gleam with what he saw filling his eyes.
October 23, 2013
Vintage Baby Doll Pajamas
When my sister and I were kids I remember playing dress-up using our mom's clothes, just like little girls still do today. It was nothing
to prance around the house in one of her baby doll nighties, with the matching panties. She had a drawer full of them! My mom was very petite and girlie. She didn't wear pants until my sister, Lois and I were much older. It was always dresses, skirts, and heels. Which probably explains why she made us wear dresses. Mom was a seamstress and made all our clothes for us.
Her hair was always perfect as well as her makeup. Gee, I remember playing with her rouge. I wish I still had some of those early pictures of her. She was really quite beautiful.
I managed to find some examples of her baby dolls.
to prance around the house in one of her baby doll nighties, with the matching panties. She had a drawer full of them! My mom was very petite and girlie. She didn't wear pants until my sister, Lois and I were much older. It was always dresses, skirts, and heels. Which probably explains why she made us wear dresses. Mom was a seamstress and made all our clothes for us.
Her hair was always perfect as well as her makeup. Gee, I remember playing with her rouge. I wish I still had some of those early pictures of her. She was really quite beautiful.
I managed to find some examples of her baby dolls.
October 21, 2013
Ricky Watson
Bullying has been around forever. It's all over the news these days, and it's sad that young people are being driven to take their own lives. I'm glad to see that some of today's bullies are being held accountable, and actually going to jail for their actions. Unfortunately bullying is nothing new.
Forty-five plus years ago I was bullied in school. To this day I don't know why, or what I did to piss off a boy so much that he focused on tormenting me for several years, beginning in the 6th grade. I'll never forget his name either, it was Ricky Watson. I'll never forget what he looked like, a tall, solid-built boy with huge blue eyes and blond hair.
It wasn't so much the name calling as it was the physical aspect of his bullying. He would actually go out of his way to look for me, to punch me in the arm or pull my hair. He would follow me home from school, just to beat me up. One day I actually walked the opposite way after school let out, to avoid him, but eventually I had to go home. I can still remember how I dreaded that twenty-minute walk every day.
I recall one encounter where he caught up with me in my yard where I lived. My parents both worked so there was no help there. But I did finally tell my mother about him. The only thing I remember her saying was that if he didn't like me he wouldn't bother me. Somehow I doubted that.
Forty-five plus years ago I was bullied in school. To this day I don't know why, or what I did to piss off a boy so much that he focused on tormenting me for several years, beginning in the 6th grade. I'll never forget his name either, it was Ricky Watson. I'll never forget what he looked like, a tall, solid-built boy with huge blue eyes and blond hair.
It wasn't so much the name calling as it was the physical aspect of his bullying. He would actually go out of his way to look for me, to punch me in the arm or pull my hair. He would follow me home from school, just to beat me up. One day I actually walked the opposite way after school let out, to avoid him, but eventually I had to go home. I can still remember how I dreaded that twenty-minute walk every day.
I recall one encounter where he caught up with me in my yard where I lived. My parents both worked so there was no help there. But I did finally tell my mother about him. The only thing I remember her saying was that if he didn't like me he wouldn't bother me. Somehow I doubted that.
October 20, 2013
Run for Your Love by Annabeth LeongBlurb: Shotguns s...
Run for Your Love by Annabeth Leong
Blurb: Shotguns seem to be everyone's favorite accessory for the zombie apocalypse, but Zach Paul believes he can survive without hurting anyone—not even the zombies. An elite-level runner, he plans to speed away from every danger. Then Zach meets a woman he can't bring himself to leave behind, and staying beside her tests all his principles.
Viola Ortiz fought free of her controlling boyfriend just before the zombies came, but now she believes her macho ex is the only one who can protect her. She sets out to reunite with him, only to encounter Zach instead. The tall, lean runner is everything her ex is not, and Viola is shocked to find he turns her on as no man has before. Viola's ex, however, isn't willing to let go of her, and soon it's clear that other survivors are as dangerous as the zombies.
Zach and Viola can run, but they must find safety before they lose their humanity in the struggle to protect their lives and growing love.
Excerpt:
It may not have been too crazy for me to think I could keep clear of the zombies in the Quarantined Area.On the news everyone kept saying these are "slow zombies." They're dangerous, diseased, and mostly impervious to pain, but not the sort of terrifyingly speedy hunters that have been popular in movies lately. My plan to run in there was risky, but I like to think not completely doomed. I planned around my talents instead of just deciding I'd somehow figure out how to execute a standing long jump of multiple feet once I found myself staring down at concrete two stories below a rooftop. I trusted the only thing I've been able to rely on my whole life—my legs.
What I didn't take into account were bullets—as in projectiles whizzing past my ears as I booked it down the sidewalk. Why the hell does everyone think the zombie apocalypse gives them a license to act like Rambo? I'm not just talking about what happened once zombies actually appeared in the middle of our city, eating brains, shambling, and whatever else they do. I'm talking about all the years of excitement about zombies—Facebook quizzes predicting whether your relationship would survive an outbreak, the sudden popularity of YouTube videos about parkour, and a pervasive cultural obsession with shotguns. I think people watched zombie movies and decided it would be great for the rule of law to break down to the point that they'd be allowed to solve problems by shooting first and asking questions later.
It's not the most macho position to take, especially not in the neighborhood where I grew up, but I guess it's clear by now that I'm a pacifist. Some other guy might respond to the looters by taking cover behind an abandoned building and pulling out his own gun to trade shots. That's not my style.
Instead, I shouted, "What the hell?" and tried to run faster.
Two days into societal breakdown, street cleanliness had already suffered. Trash bags, newspapers, and other detritus littered the road, and I swear the pavement had more cracks than usual. It took all my concentration not to slip or break my ankle.
I don't have experience dodging bullets, so I wasn't sure if I'd be harder to hit if I tried to zig-zag or not. Since I didn't know, I ducked my head, picked up the pace, and hoped for the best.
The guy with the gun shouted, "Drop the backpack!" Apparently, he thought bullets made good punctuation.
"There's nothing in it!" I screamed back. Which wasn't strictly true. I didn't have any money or valuables, which I assumed was what they were looking for. On the other hand, the backpack had everything I thought I needed to survive in the Quarantined Area, so I didn't want to give it up.
"Like hell it's empty!" The guy chasing me squeezed off a few more shots.
The fact that he hadn't managed to hit me yet confirmed one of the points I'd like to make about guns, which is related to a couple of the things I've already ranted about. A lot of people think you can just pick up a gun and go to town. That tells me that most people have never actually held a gun, much less fired one.
I've been to the shooting range a number of times with my older brother Dominic, and once, before a birthday party he celebrated one year in Vegas, that included firing machine guns. Before I'm accused of hypocrisy, I'll add that Dominic spent a long time trying to get into the police academy, and I provided moral support while he studied and trained. Anyway, after several good tries, I learned that if you can hold a gun without your hand trembling uncontrollably, you're doing well. And it takes training before most people can manage to hit, say, the broad side of a barn.
The looter chasing me might think he was tough, but he'd obviously never gotten the chance to practice with a gun. I promised myself I'd say a prayer of thanks as soon as I got out of range of him and his burly friends. I almost looked forward to the zombies at that point—at least I'd understand their motives.
Someone cried out behind me, and I risked a glance over my shoulder. One guy lay on the pavement clutching his ankle, probably a victim of one of the cracks I'd noticed earlier. Two of the others seized the excuse to quit running, squatting beside him clutching their sides, gasping, panting, and coughing. I allowed myself a satisfied smile. The guy with the gun hadn't tired yet, but he would, as long as he didn't manage a lucky shot before I finished putting him through his paces.
I lengthened my strides. It felt good to take my body to its limit, to dig as deeply as I could into the inner reserves I'd built up over the years... Right up until I realized I'd forgotten to keep an eye on the littered road.
My foot tangled in a plastic bag, and I went down hard. It was like something out of kindergarten—bloody knees, bloody palms, and pain that brought stinging tears to my eyes. A bullet hit the asphalt a mere foot away from me.
"Let up, man!" I made my voice as threatening as possible, despite my vulnerable position. "I got nothing!"
"Give me the backpack!"
Adrenaline forced me to my feet. I took a deep breath, preparing to push myself back into a run despite the stiffness already settling into my knees.
That wasn't to be, because my fall had allowed the big guy catch up with me. He may not have known how to use his gun, but he sure as hell knew how to use his hands. He demonstrated on my trachea as soon as he got hold of me.
I hate to say it, but I froze. I thought about trying to stomp on his foot or something, but I didn't really expect that to work, and I didn't want to die a traitor to my own pacifist ideals. I helplessly pondered what to do as he squeezed my neck tighter, and I started to feel chilled and light-headed.
That was the first time I saw her, and considering how little oxygen was reaching my brain at that moment, you can probably understand why I thought she was some sort of apparition. She was beautiful. Sexy? Yes. She had the sort of curves that make a man want to spend long afternoons in bed just tracing the shape of them. Lips to match and ringlets of black hair that I immediately wanted to feel across my bare chest. But she was also beautiful in a holy way—some kind of light in the eyes or glow to the skin that reminded me of pictures of La Virgen. She was dressed all in blue too, which contributed to my impression that she wasn't entirely of this world—my mother taught me that blue is Mary's color.
Her small, compact body hurtled into me and my captor with force far beyond what I would have expected from her weight. She screamed that he ought to let me go, and his grip loosened, I think because he was so stunned. Neither of us knew where she had come from or what she had to do with me.
Unfortunately, the deranged looter's first instinct after letting go of me was to go after her, specifically by hooking a finger through one of the big gold hoop earrings she wore. I stretched my own rules a little and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow, hoping to distract him enough that my rescuer and I could both escape.
She didn't have the kind of qualms I did. Out of one pocket, she produced a can of pepper spray and proceeded to administer a healthy dose straight into his eyes. I covered my face in time, but he gave a high-pitched scream and clapped his palms to his cheekbones. The gun hit my foot then the pavement. The woman screamed too, and I wondered if he still had her by the earring.
I dropped to the ground and crawled a few feet away, moving through the pain in my knees and palms. A glance at the woman showed she'd gotten herself free of her opponent's grip and had grabbed the upper hand by far. She administered a series of precise and painful-looking strikes to his abdomen.
Any second, more of the looters would join this fight. I didn't feel good about running away when she'd gotten involved in the first place because of me.
Pushing myself to my feet, I went over and grabbed her elbow, wincing when my scrapes contacted her skin. "We have to get out of here," I told her. "Try to keep up."
She rolled her eyes but didn't answer me. I took off running, feeling so much adrenaline by then that the pain in my knees didn't really bother me.
She wasn't next to me.
I whirled without stopping, in time to see her scoop the looter's gun off the sidewalk and toss it into a glittery backpack she carried, slung too low to be entirely practical.
I took my own turn rolling my eyes. Just what I needed. Another Rambo wannabe. "Come on!" I shouted.
I have to admit that despite annoying me by going for the gun, she'd impressed me so far. The next thing she did really caught my attention. She grinned at me, as wicked and gleeful as if we'd gone out racing to settle a bet. Then she covered the distance I'd put between us so fast it took me a moment to realize I was being outpaced.
She shot past me and tossed another smile over her shoulder. "You better hurry," she said, with a Puerto Rican accent and not a trace of effort. "Ahora, chacho. Those guys look mad."
Buy Links:
All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-runforyourlove-1315996-340.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0
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Bio:
Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors -- dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her titles for Breathless Press include the contemporary werewolf erotic romances Not His Territory and Not the Leader of the Pack, and Run for Your Love, a romance set in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong
Buy One, Get One Free Offer:
Did you miss Annabeth's previous titles with Breathless Press? Not to worry. E-mail proof of purchase of Run for Your Love, such as an Amazon receipt, to annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com and let her know your e-book format of choice. Annabeth will buy a copy of her werewolf novella, Not His Territory, for anyone who sends this information before November 12, 2013.
Blurb: Shotguns seem to be everyone's favorite accessory for the zombie apocalypse, but Zach Paul believes he can survive without hurting anyone—not even the zombies. An elite-level runner, he plans to speed away from every danger. Then Zach meets a woman he can't bring himself to leave behind, and staying beside her tests all his principles.Viola Ortiz fought free of her controlling boyfriend just before the zombies came, but now she believes her macho ex is the only one who can protect her. She sets out to reunite with him, only to encounter Zach instead. The tall, lean runner is everything her ex is not, and Viola is shocked to find he turns her on as no man has before. Viola's ex, however, isn't willing to let go of her, and soon it's clear that other survivors are as dangerous as the zombies.
Zach and Viola can run, but they must find safety before they lose their humanity in the struggle to protect their lives and growing love.
Excerpt:
It may not have been too crazy for me to think I could keep clear of the zombies in the Quarantined Area.On the news everyone kept saying these are "slow zombies." They're dangerous, diseased, and mostly impervious to pain, but not the sort of terrifyingly speedy hunters that have been popular in movies lately. My plan to run in there was risky, but I like to think not completely doomed. I planned around my talents instead of just deciding I'd somehow figure out how to execute a standing long jump of multiple feet once I found myself staring down at concrete two stories below a rooftop. I trusted the only thing I've been able to rely on my whole life—my legs.
What I didn't take into account were bullets—as in projectiles whizzing past my ears as I booked it down the sidewalk. Why the hell does everyone think the zombie apocalypse gives them a license to act like Rambo? I'm not just talking about what happened once zombies actually appeared in the middle of our city, eating brains, shambling, and whatever else they do. I'm talking about all the years of excitement about zombies—Facebook quizzes predicting whether your relationship would survive an outbreak, the sudden popularity of YouTube videos about parkour, and a pervasive cultural obsession with shotguns. I think people watched zombie movies and decided it would be great for the rule of law to break down to the point that they'd be allowed to solve problems by shooting first and asking questions later.
It's not the most macho position to take, especially not in the neighborhood where I grew up, but I guess it's clear by now that I'm a pacifist. Some other guy might respond to the looters by taking cover behind an abandoned building and pulling out his own gun to trade shots. That's not my style.
Instead, I shouted, "What the hell?" and tried to run faster.
Two days into societal breakdown, street cleanliness had already suffered. Trash bags, newspapers, and other detritus littered the road, and I swear the pavement had more cracks than usual. It took all my concentration not to slip or break my ankle.
I don't have experience dodging bullets, so I wasn't sure if I'd be harder to hit if I tried to zig-zag or not. Since I didn't know, I ducked my head, picked up the pace, and hoped for the best.
The guy with the gun shouted, "Drop the backpack!" Apparently, he thought bullets made good punctuation.
"There's nothing in it!" I screamed back. Which wasn't strictly true. I didn't have any money or valuables, which I assumed was what they were looking for. On the other hand, the backpack had everything I thought I needed to survive in the Quarantined Area, so I didn't want to give it up.
"Like hell it's empty!" The guy chasing me squeezed off a few more shots.
The fact that he hadn't managed to hit me yet confirmed one of the points I'd like to make about guns, which is related to a couple of the things I've already ranted about. A lot of people think you can just pick up a gun and go to town. That tells me that most people have never actually held a gun, much less fired one.
I've been to the shooting range a number of times with my older brother Dominic, and once, before a birthday party he celebrated one year in Vegas, that included firing machine guns. Before I'm accused of hypocrisy, I'll add that Dominic spent a long time trying to get into the police academy, and I provided moral support while he studied and trained. Anyway, after several good tries, I learned that if you can hold a gun without your hand trembling uncontrollably, you're doing well. And it takes training before most people can manage to hit, say, the broad side of a barn.
The looter chasing me might think he was tough, but he'd obviously never gotten the chance to practice with a gun. I promised myself I'd say a prayer of thanks as soon as I got out of range of him and his burly friends. I almost looked forward to the zombies at that point—at least I'd understand their motives.
Someone cried out behind me, and I risked a glance over my shoulder. One guy lay on the pavement clutching his ankle, probably a victim of one of the cracks I'd noticed earlier. Two of the others seized the excuse to quit running, squatting beside him clutching their sides, gasping, panting, and coughing. I allowed myself a satisfied smile. The guy with the gun hadn't tired yet, but he would, as long as he didn't manage a lucky shot before I finished putting him through his paces.
I lengthened my strides. It felt good to take my body to its limit, to dig as deeply as I could into the inner reserves I'd built up over the years... Right up until I realized I'd forgotten to keep an eye on the littered road.
My foot tangled in a plastic bag, and I went down hard. It was like something out of kindergarten—bloody knees, bloody palms, and pain that brought stinging tears to my eyes. A bullet hit the asphalt a mere foot away from me.
"Let up, man!" I made my voice as threatening as possible, despite my vulnerable position. "I got nothing!"
"Give me the backpack!"
Adrenaline forced me to my feet. I took a deep breath, preparing to push myself back into a run despite the stiffness already settling into my knees.
That wasn't to be, because my fall had allowed the big guy catch up with me. He may not have known how to use his gun, but he sure as hell knew how to use his hands. He demonstrated on my trachea as soon as he got hold of me.
I hate to say it, but I froze. I thought about trying to stomp on his foot or something, but I didn't really expect that to work, and I didn't want to die a traitor to my own pacifist ideals. I helplessly pondered what to do as he squeezed my neck tighter, and I started to feel chilled and light-headed.
That was the first time I saw her, and considering how little oxygen was reaching my brain at that moment, you can probably understand why I thought she was some sort of apparition. She was beautiful. Sexy? Yes. She had the sort of curves that make a man want to spend long afternoons in bed just tracing the shape of them. Lips to match and ringlets of black hair that I immediately wanted to feel across my bare chest. But she was also beautiful in a holy way—some kind of light in the eyes or glow to the skin that reminded me of pictures of La Virgen. She was dressed all in blue too, which contributed to my impression that she wasn't entirely of this world—my mother taught me that blue is Mary's color.
Her small, compact body hurtled into me and my captor with force far beyond what I would have expected from her weight. She screamed that he ought to let me go, and his grip loosened, I think because he was so stunned. Neither of us knew where she had come from or what she had to do with me.
Unfortunately, the deranged looter's first instinct after letting go of me was to go after her, specifically by hooking a finger through one of the big gold hoop earrings she wore. I stretched my own rules a little and jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow, hoping to distract him enough that my rescuer and I could both escape.
She didn't have the kind of qualms I did. Out of one pocket, she produced a can of pepper spray and proceeded to administer a healthy dose straight into his eyes. I covered my face in time, but he gave a high-pitched scream and clapped his palms to his cheekbones. The gun hit my foot then the pavement. The woman screamed too, and I wondered if he still had her by the earring.
I dropped to the ground and crawled a few feet away, moving through the pain in my knees and palms. A glance at the woman showed she'd gotten herself free of her opponent's grip and had grabbed the upper hand by far. She administered a series of precise and painful-looking strikes to his abdomen.
Any second, more of the looters would join this fight. I didn't feel good about running away when she'd gotten involved in the first place because of me.
Pushing myself to my feet, I went over and grabbed her elbow, wincing when my scrapes contacted her skin. "We have to get out of here," I told her. "Try to keep up."
She rolled her eyes but didn't answer me. I took off running, feeling so much adrenaline by then that the pain in my knees didn't really bother me.
She wasn't next to me.
I whirled without stopping, in time to see her scoop the looter's gun off the sidewalk and toss it into a glittery backpack she carried, slung too low to be entirely practical.
I took my own turn rolling my eyes. Just what I needed. Another Rambo wannabe. "Come on!" I shouted.
I have to admit that despite annoying me by going for the gun, she'd impressed me so far. The next thing she did really caught my attention. She grinned at me, as wicked and gleeful as if we'd gone out racing to settle a bet. Then she covered the distance I'd put between us so fast it took me a moment to realize I was being outpaced.
She shot past me and tossed another smile over her shoulder. "You better hurry," she said, with a Puerto Rican accent and not a trace of effort. "Ahora, chacho. Those guys look mad."
Buy Links:
All Romance: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-runforyourlove-1315996-340.html?referrer=6bdb1f9160564c0525b41f36e51861a0
Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00FS6MX6K/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1634&creative=19450&creativeASIN=B00FS6MX6K&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelthouse-21
Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00FS6MX6K/ref=as_li_ss_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00FS6MX6K&linkCode=as2&tag=lucyfelt-20
Breathless Press: http://www.breathlesspress.com/index.php?main_page=product_free_shipping_info&cPath=13&products_id=493&zenid=6f219fb8a467b51c18d4d8e998caa03a
Bio:
Annabeth Leong has written romance and erotica of many flavors -- dark, kinky, vanilla, straight, lesbian, bi, and menage. Her titles for Breathless Press include the contemporary werewolf erotic romances Not His Territory and Not the Leader of the Pack, and Run for Your Love, a romance set in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong
Buy One, Get One Free Offer:
Did you miss Annabeth's previous titles with Breathless Press? Not to worry. E-mail proof of purchase of Run for Your Love, such as an Amazon receipt, to annabeth dot leong at gmail dot com and let her know your e-book format of choice. Annabeth will buy a copy of her werewolf novella, Not His Territory, for anyone who sends this information before November 12, 2013.
October 17, 2013
Please Welcome Friend and Fellow Erotic Romance Author Storm Chase!
Storm Chase: Writing The Cover Blurb
I’ve written 2 full-length novels and 5 novellas in the last year. My latest, Murder in Moscow https://www.smashwords.com/books/view..., a contemporary romance of 67,000 words took me two months, writing over weekends, nights and stealing days from the middle of the week. Novellas are faster. I wrote The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev, https://www.smashwords.com/books/view..., some 37,000 words, over 6 consecutive weekends.
When inspiration strikes, I become totally obsessed with the story. It just won’t let me sit still until it’s on paper. I often write at night, sometimes I get up at 5AM to sneak a few hours in before the workday.
The bit that gets me though, is writing the back cover blurb. I can agonise for DAYS over writing just these few sentences!
Now I’ve come up with a formula that works for me – and hopefully, it will work for you.
Sentence 1: How the story starts.
Sentence 2: The plot premise.
Sentence 3: The hook.
Sentence 4: Summarises book keywords.
Let me show you the blurb for The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev, https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FO6IR0U
When Tony rescues three of Kiev's most notorious Mafiosi, he is showered with gifts, including Max, a Goth beauty with purple hair. At first determined to send her home, Tony quickly discovers they share a passion for clubbing and Scotch as well as a mutual horror of relationships. Is this a match made in heaven, or destined for disaster? A lighthearted romance with fully depicted love scenes.
Special offer for Tory Richards’ Blog readers!
The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kievhttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view... Code: DD39A20% OFFExpires: November 1, 2013
How to find Storm Chase
All the Storm Chase books are listed here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stormchase
Titles are also available on Kobo, iTunes, Amazon and so on, but as you may have seen, there is a huge censorship programme going on at the moment. Please continue to support us indie authors by shopping from Smashwords! Paypal and credit cards accepted, and all formats from Kindle to ePub.
My Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/ewhyte
My Twitter feed https://twitter.com/KatzTalesTweets
My Goodreads page http://www.goodreads.com/StormChase
I’ve written 2 full-length novels and 5 novellas in the last year. My latest, Murder in Moscow https://www.smashwords.com/books/view..., a contemporary romance of 67,000 words took me two months, writing over weekends, nights and stealing days from the middle of the week. Novellas are faster. I wrote The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev, https://www.smashwords.com/books/view..., some 37,000 words, over 6 consecutive weekends.
When inspiration strikes, I become totally obsessed with the story. It just won’t let me sit still until it’s on paper. I often write at night, sometimes I get up at 5AM to sneak a few hours in before the workday. The bit that gets me though, is writing the back cover blurb. I can agonise for DAYS over writing just these few sentences!
Now I’ve come up with a formula that works for me – and hopefully, it will work for you.
Sentence 1: How the story starts.
Sentence 2: The plot premise.
Sentence 3: The hook.
Sentence 4: Summarises book keywords.
Let me show you the blurb for The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kiev, https://www.smashwords.com/books/view...
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00FO6IR0U
When Tony rescues three of Kiev's most notorious Mafiosi, he is showered with gifts, including Max, a Goth beauty with purple hair. At first determined to send her home, Tony quickly discovers they share a passion for clubbing and Scotch as well as a mutual horror of relationships. Is this a match made in heaven, or destined for disaster? A lighthearted romance with fully depicted love scenes.
Special offer for Tory Richards’ Blog readers!
The Gift: An Erotic Romance in Kievhttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view... Code: DD39A20% OFFExpires: November 1, 2013
How to find Storm Chase
All the Storm Chase books are listed here: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stormchase
Titles are also available on Kobo, iTunes, Amazon and so on, but as you may have seen, there is a huge censorship programme going on at the moment. Please continue to support us indie authors by shopping from Smashwords! Paypal and credit cards accepted, and all formats from Kindle to ePub.
My Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/ewhyte
My Twitter feed https://twitter.com/KatzTalesTweets
My Goodreads page http://www.goodreads.com/StormChase
