Roxanne Rhoads's Blog, page 361

Evermore by Rebecca Royce

EvermoreThe Dragon WarsBook FourRebecca Royce
A Wicked TaleARe Books
Genre: M/F, Werewolves, Shifters, PNR
About the Book:
How is love possible when all is lost?
Werewolf Homer Prinze wants nothing more than to complete his assignment and get out of the wasteland that is the city. The dragons have destroyed everything, but a cry catches his attention. Before he knows it, he has met his mate. She needs his help and he is going to give it to her.
Camille is no one’s idea of great mate. Pregnant and alone, she is scarred and not looking for a companion in the hard world in which she lives.
But when Homer needs her, she will risk everything to bring him home.

Excerpt:

Homer Prinze prowled through the crowd, counting the seconds until he could leave the putrid stink of the city. One year since the end of the Dragon Wars— the battle that had raged between werewolves and dragons for over seventeen years and caused nothing short of total destruction in the end—and the reconvening survivors of the war were arguably worse off than they’d been during the attacks. At least when they’d all been fighting a common enemy the werewolf population had been all on the same side. Post-war, the werewolf community all seemed to be turning their former dragon hatred on each other. They needed Alphas again. Pack life. A return to the thing which had at one time made them great. 

How the wolves could find their way again was beyond his limited viewpoint. Homer had been a great secret soldier during the war and he was, he hoped, an excellent dominant pack mate since. Solving the world’s problems had to fall to someone else. 

He couldn’t get home fast enough. His Alpha, who had once been his commander during the war, Robbie Owens, honored him with the task of negotiating supplies. He was cognizant of the recognition it brought him within the pack. Only he hated coming to the city every time. Gods, the smell. He shook his head. As soon as he returned home, he was shifting and running the last two days off.

Robbie usually handled the trips to the city himself. Entrusting Homer to make the run showed enormous confidence in him as a pack member, and Homer was not going to screw anything up.

If only all these lost souls could find the small beacon of happiness he had with his newly formed pack. He shook his head. The Owenses had been good to him, given him a chance first as a soldier and now as a valued member of their group. 

The small beacon of paradise in the midst of all this hell…

A cry caught his attention and he turned toward the sound. Why the one noise called out to him when so many didn’t he had no idea. But the small feminine agony in the midst of all the rest of it trapped his attention and wouldn’t let him move another step. 

The black market vendors he did business with were going to deliver the seeds to his hidden truck in two hours time. He had to see to whoever needed help. Waiting in the truck for his supplies to show up was out of the question.

The hidden Alpha in him wouldn’t let him do anything else.




About the Author:
Rebecca Royce is the mother of three and married to her best friend. Moving from the NYC area to Austin, Texas, she is trying to eat her way through Texas barbecue.
Anything can happen, believe that it will.
For more information on other books by Rebecca, visit her website: www.rebeccaroyce.coma Rafflecopter giveaway

October Issue Bewitching Book Tours Magazine

Bewitching Book Tours Magazine is back with a Halloween Horror Issue full of Bewitching spotlights, excerpts, reviews, recipes, and Halloween fun. Learn how to make Halloween a little more “green”. Read about the connection between vampires and Halloween…and read Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven.

We have special features from Booktrope’s Forsaken Horror Line and ARe's Wicked Tales.

Author features include: How Horror Stories Saved A Lonely Kid with Michael J Bowler, Learn The Story Behind the Story- the Kitsune with Maureen O. Betita, Read about Humor in Horror with Merry Freer, Raven Familiars with Laura Bickle, and Cooking for Paranormals: It’s Bloody Hard Business with Suzanne Johnson, Mina Khan, and Megan Hart.

http://issuu.com/bewitchingbooktours/docs/magazine__38

How To Seduce A Gargoyle in 10 Days by Saranna DeWylde

How To Seduce A Gargoyle in 10 DaysSaranna DeWylde
A Wicked TaleARe Books
Genre: M/F, Paranormal , PNR
About the Book:
Got gargoyle?
Ginger Butterbean would like to, but she’s not sure how to go about it. Her marriage of a hundred years has crumbled to dust and she’s worried her witchy bits might be so full of cobwebs, they’ve malfunctioned.
She needs sexy gargoyle Slade Nightwing to remind her of what it means to be a witch and that love isn’t just a fairytale.


 About the Author:
Saranna DeWylde has always been fascinated by things better left in the dark. She wrote her first story after watching The Exorcist at a slumber party. Since then, she’s published horror, romance and narrative nonfiction. Like all writers, Saranna has held a variety of jobs, from operations supervisor for an airline, to an assistant for a call girl, to a corrections officer. But like Hemingway said, “Once writing has become your major vice and greatest pleasure, only death can stop it.” So she traded in her cuffs for a full-time keyboard. She loves to hear from her readers.
For more information on other books by Saranna, visit her website: www.sarannadewylde.com

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Between Him and a Hard Place by Kelex

Between Him and a Hard PlaceKelex
A Wicked TaleARe Books
Genre: M/M, Dystopian, Vampires, PNR
About the Book:
They survived catastrophe, but can they live on together?
Archer survived the zombie virus that brought down the world by doing things he didn’t know he was capable of.  When his traveling companion is murdered by dead ones, he knows his time has come.  Seconds before he’s slaughtered, a combat vehicle crashes through the scene and a masked man saves the day—a man he feels inexplicably drawn to.
Only the man isn’t a man, but a vampire.
Syn is a tracker, sent out by his kind to find and protect the last of the humans and the precious blood in their veins. Archer isn’t like the others he’s found.  He feels tied to the human in a way he can’t explain.  The two come together explosively, both fighting the intense emotion they feel before running to escape their burning lust.
Can they find a way back to one another?


Available at ARe

Excerpt:
Archer heard an engine rev out of nowhere, and a huge vehicle ran through the crowd of dead ones, mowing them down with ease. The passenger door was flung open before him. A masked man stared at him, hiding who his potential savior was. Or if he could trust whomever was behind it.
“Get in!” a tinny voice cried out.
Without much more consideration, as the inside of that truck was better than the death surrounding him, he jumped in. The man stepped on the gas before Archer could barely even attempt to slam the door closed, not that he could’ve had he wanted to.
“Get the door shut and fast!”
“I’m trying,” Archer screamed, stabbing his hunting knife into the head of a dead one clinging to the door. As soon as he kicked that one off, he jammed his knife into another, slamming the door on another set of decaying fingers and slicing them off. They fell in his lap, still wiggling.
A dozen dead ones hung on to the hood of the truck, which was being spun from side to side, trying to fling the creatures off. Archer reached for a non-existent seatbelt and then held on for dear life.
“Hold on to the wheel,” the guy screamed, rolling down his window.
The driver lifted a pistol as Archer grabbed the huge wheel and leaned out. One by one, he got the dead ones between the eyes, and they fell under the moving vehicle. Bouncing as they rumbled over the bodies, Archer tried to keep the thing on the road. He wasn’t even sure what it was. It was something between a truck and a tank, with an Army vibe. The tech surrounding the wheel was anything but Army-issued, though. Whatever it was, he’d never seen anything like it, and was more than happy to have seen it when he did.
Finally, the driver dropped back into his seat, the dead ones gone from the hood. Just as he began to roll up his window, a hand reached in. Lightning quick, the guy sliced the hand off with a scary-looking blade, then proceeded to roll his window up.
Archer leaned back into his seat and stared at the road ahead, stunned as hell he’d made it out alive. His heart continued to thump hard in his chest as he stared at the masked driver.
“Syn,” the guy said with that robotic-sounding voice. He held out his gloved hand.
Archer really took in the guy’s appearance for the first time. He wore some weird gas mask-like thing with goggles. Here it was, the middle of the summer, and he was covered from head to toe in black leather, from his neck to his gloved fingers and shitkickers.
“Syn’s short for Synclair,” the guy said again, still offering his hand. “As in my name. You’ve got one, right?”
“Archer,” he answered, finally taking the extended hand. “I can’t thank you enough,” he added as he shook it.
“No problem. I’ve been following you for weeks,” the masked man said, returning his hand to the wheel and looking ahead. “I’ve been just a day or so behind you for the last week. Good thing I caught up when I did.”
Archer frowned, his hackles rising. “Why were you following me?”
“I find humans to take to the Southern Citadel.”
The Southern Citadel? “Wait, what?”
“You haven’t heard of the Citadels?” he asked, glancing over at Archer.
Archer shook his head.
“There are three human cities. They’re walled and protected and already teeming with people. It’s my job to help find the last of the humans to take there so some sort of civilization can start again.”
Human cities? Walled and protected? It sounded too good to be true. And he’d learned anything that sounded too good to be true likely was. Even with his doubt, only one question truly came to mind. “You guys got food and water there?”
The masked man chuckled. “All you could ever want.”
“Then what are we waiting on?” Archer knew he might be walking into a trap, but the promise of hot food and a hot shower was too good to ignore. He was running on empty. He needed to regroup.

He glanced at the man driving, again wondering about the weird get-up, but weird was now the norm in their fucked up world.
About the Author:
Kelex is a bestselling gay erotica author, writing contemporary to fantasy to sci-fi and everything between.
Living in the south, Kelex swelters at the laptop, writing spicy tales to the sound of soulful jazz music in the background.
For more information on Kelex’s books, please visit http://kelexerotica.blogspot.com/

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Loving Halloween- Guest Blog with Aubrey Irons

Hi, I’m Aubrey Irons, and we’re knee-deep into my favorite season. Yep, I love the Fall, and just about everything about it. Apple cider, crunchy fall leaves, the smell of cinnamon and nutmeg baking into butternut squash, apple cider donuts, hayrides, harvest festivals, the chill in the air, and the gorgeous background of reds and oranges. I’m from New England, and I have to say, we do Fall right.
So, it should also go without saying that my favorite holiday is Halloween. It’s not for the slutty costumes or the candy, although let’s be fair, it’s fun to get a little scandalous, and who doesn’t love free chocolate? But, what I truly love about Halloween is the sense of enchanting (and maybe just a pinch of spooky) wonder that you just can’t help but feel on a perfectly chilly, moonlit night. A big part of it is the nostalgia it brings from being a kid; the sense of adventure in putting on a mask and becoming someone or something else, even just for one night. The giddy excitement of staying up late and running around getting free candy, and the feeling that even though it’s dark, and even a little scary outside, you aren’t scared, because you’re one of the scary ones.
To me, it’s also a holiday that feels the most like a book, because it’s the one day a year where you’re allowed to just escape into your own little world of illusion and charm.
But like most holidays, Halloween tends to lose a little of that magic as you get older. You trade candy for stolen sips of alcohol, tricks for exploratory first kisses, and dressing like Strawberry Shortcake for, well, the whorishly slutty version of poor Strawberry Shortcake. Your parents take over for Santa on Christmas, you stop looking for hidden eggs on Easter, and we generally trade the magic of childhood for the responsibilities and straightforwardness of adult life. At some point, we may even strive to get a little of that magic back, but usually it’s with the easy one’s like Christmas; I mean, how hard is it to get into that holiday cheer when it’s festooned around every store for a month and a half?
Halloween, however, gets left behind; left to exist only in hazy memories that have since been recorded over with sexy costumes, that night at college where things got very interesting after a bottle of peppermint schnapps, and generally just growing up.
Boo to that.
This Halloween, I say take back the enchantment. Go for a hayride, go apple picking, go to that holiday party your slightly younger and slightly more single friends keep asking you to come to, but trade skip the naughty nurse outfit (well, at least save it for later ;) ) for something scary! Carve a damn pumpkin! The point is, it’s never too late to take back a little of that magic that chilly, spooky, moonlit harvest nights used to hold. So go on, go heat up some cider (heck, dump a little rum in it), take a walk through the pumpkin patch, and curl up for a movie with the lights off that’ll keep you up for a week.
And then, of course, go put on that nurse costume and have a little fun ;).

So! What are some ways you can think of to hang on to that spooky Halloween magic?

HeatA Soldiers of Fortune RomanceAubrey Irons
Genre: Contemporary Romance, Military Romance,New Adult Romance, Billionaire Romance,Alpha Male, Bad-Boy
Date of Publication: 8/11/15
ASIN: B013TVO5VQ
Number of pages: 237 (kindle)Word Count: 58,000
Cover Artist: Aubrey Irons
Book Description:
Five years ago, that cocky, egotistical a**hole played me like a fool and broke my heart.
Hudson Banks; the dominant, tattooed, womanizing, ex-Marine-turned-billionaire who runs God-knows-what at my late father’s company.
Oh, and he’s sexy as all f**k, and he damn well knows it.
He’s like a gasoline fire; a scorchingly hot disaster, and if I’m not careful, I’m going to get burned.
I’m on track to be the youngest New York State Senator ever elected; the bright, gutsy, good-girl media darling. Except my campaign funding just went dry, and it looks like the only solution is coming from the last person on Earth I’d ever want to take anything from. Oh, and it turns out bad-boy, tough-guy Hudson will be shadowing me 24/7 after he makes it clear that he’s in charge of "protecting the investment".
Yeah, just perfect; a reckless, irresistible d*ck like Hudson Banks is the last person I need being “in charge” of anything to do with me.
Especially when I still can’t forget the taste of his lips or the feeling of that massive hardness I know he’s packing between his legs. It’s not fair that he’s even hotter now than he was back then. It’s not fair that those smoldering, arrogant eyes and that cocky, panty-melting grin still make me warm in places they shouldn’t. And it’s definitely not fair that five years later, I still can’t get him out of my head.
So it looks like I’ve got two races on my hands: the one for election, and the one against the burning heat threatening to tear us both apart. But on the sprint to the finish line, what happens when the man who has everything comes up against the one thing he can’t have?
**This is a standalone, HEA novel**
Available at Amazon
Excerpt:
My heart is pounding as I slam the door shut to my room. I’m pacing the floor, the blood roaring in my ears and hot across my face as I bring one of my fingers to my lips and chew at the cuticle; a habit I’ve been trying to kick since I was a kid. Shit; I just walked in on Hudson totally naked with those absolutely insane abs, those grooved muscles of his hips and that holy-fucking-shit HUGE cock. I can feel the blush bloom hotter through my face as I think of that particular part of him again; the part that had me staring and frozen like I was under a spell of some kind. It’s the part of him that has me wetter than I’ve ever been as the mental image of it sears itself into my brain.
I’m used to living alone, but I can’t believe I just barged in through a closed bathroom door. And I stayed! Why on earth hadn’t I just turned on my heal and bolted as soon s I’d seen him, instead of staring at him and his- his cock like I was some sort of sex-starved, tongue-tied weirdo! And what was I thinking letting him get that close to me, so close that I actually felt him against my thigh like that.
‘Say the word, Reagan’
My breath comes shaking as the desire floods through me, and I stop pacing to lean my forehead against the door. I have no idea where I possibly found the ability to say no, and as I feel my pulse throbbing in my ears and between my legs, I almost wish I could go back in time and try a different answer.
“Reagan.”
The knock at my door makes me jump, makes my heart leap into my throat; “Go away, Hudson.” I croak out. It takes every ounce of my control to keep my voice level and not betray the quaver I’m trying so hard to contain; “And learn to lock the damn door!”
I can hear him growl in the hallway; “Will you just open this one and we can ta-“
“There’s nothing to talk about.” My eyes are clenched tightly, my fingers digging into my palms as I chew at my lip, not sure if I want to will him to walk away or break the door down and take me right here and now. I can hear him swear under his breath on the other side of the door and then I jump at the sound of a palm slamming flat against the doorframe.
“Damnit, Reagan, open-“
“There’s nothing to talk about, Hudson.” I saw quietly; “Just lock the door next time.”
Please don’t ask me to open this door again or I know I will, I think, chewing at my lip with my eyes closed tight. I’m so close to the edge that I know if he asks me again there’s no way I’ll be able to say no. I clench my eyes closed even tighter, feeling my body shiver with desire and feeling the heat pulsing between my legs. Please, ask me-
The door to the guest room slamming shut down the hallway makes me jump, and I let my breath out suddenly, realizing I’ve been holding it. I count to three, and then ten, and then fifty before I open my door. I poke my head out to see that the hallways is clear, before I slip out and pad barefoot to the bathroom.
It’s still steamy in here from him, though I guess he never got a chance to take a shower before I barged in. There’s a bottle of aftershave lying on the sink next to a razor, and before I can stop myself, I’m holding the bottle to my nose and smelling his scent; letting it fill my senses as the steam of the room swirls around me. His aftershave hasn’t changed, and the smell instantly has me back there, back where we came so close. His hands are on me again, pushing me against the stone behind us as he kisses me; his hardness pressing hotly against my thigh through his pants.
I blush crimson, knowing that as of seven minutes ago, I know exactly what that hardness looks like.
I shake my head to clear it as I reach to turn on the water, trying to shake him out of my thoughts. The aftershave hasn’t changed, and as much as I want to think the man who wears it has with this whole new sober, healthy, helpful and positive Hudson, I know it’s just a new facade. People don’t change, not like that.
But when I step under the hot spray of the water, he’s still in my head; all of him. And as much as I want him gone from my thoughts, as the water teases electrically over my skin, the vivid image of his rock-hard body and his big cock standing a foot away from where I stand now invade every corner of my brain. I’m wet; far wetter than I’d be just from standing under a shower head, and before I can stop it, I’m pushing my hands down over my hips and over my stomach, and sliding them lower. My fingers roll over my aching clit, making me gasp quietly as I lean my forehead against the tile wall. A moan as soft as the steam rising around me escapes my lips as I rub myself there, picturing Hudson standing hot and ripped and naked right in front of me, so close that I can feel the heat from his body, and then closer still as I feel the throbbing heat of his erection press against my thigh. I picture myself letting him go further then, instead of pushing him away like I did. His mouth is on mine, sliding down to suck one of my nipples into his mouth before he slides lower still until he’s sliding his tongue deep into my wetness as I buck against his mouth. I moan again, louder this time as I slide a finger over my entrance and push it inside. I’m squeezing my eyes shut tight, already feeling myself start to tumble as I rock my hips to grind my clit against the palm of my hand as I picture Hudson wrapping my legs around his muscled waist and sliding that big, hard-
The bathroom door slams open; “Is my toothbrush-“
“Hudson!” But its not a cry of anger or shock, or even surprise; its me crying out his name as I come. And gasping out his name as my body begins to shatter pushes me tumbling over that sweet edge as my climax explodes through me.
“I- uh-“ His voice is choked, and as I look up through the semi-frosted clear shower curtain, I see him staring at me as he backs out of the room; “Sorry.”
The door shuts, and I slump against the wall, feeling like I want to turn to liquid and let the water pelting down on top of me carry me right down the drain along with it.
It’s a frosted shower curtain, so- no, there’s no way-
The water and the steam swirl around me as I slide to my knees in the tub and curl my legs up to my chin as I rock myself. He couldn’t have; God he couldn't have.




About the Author:
Aubrey Irons enjoys writing about bold, sassy, and intelligent women and the hot, cocky, and quite typically forbidden alpha males who love and lust for them; gripping stories, happy endings, and enough heat to keep things extra steamy!
In the real world, Aubrey is kept plenty entertained by her own tattooed Marine husband, their precocious and adorable three year old, and one very ill-behaved puppy.
http://www.aubreyirons.com/
https://www.facebook.com/AubreyIronsRomance
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14214446.Aubrey_Irons

It’s All About the Fangs-Warriors of Hir Book 1-3 by Willow Danes

In the Hir series—“Captured”, “Taken” and the newest release “Stolen”, written under my pen name, Willow Danes—the heroines are all human, from current day, and through their eyes we get to experience the g’hir culture. Hir’s female population has been decimated in a brutal war and by accident the g’hir warriors have discovered Earth.
These warriors are a different species—taller, stronger, faster than any human, they are hunters with glowing eyes and fangs.
Fangs that can bare in anger or flash in a boyish grin . . .
The g’hir purr too, a deep, rumbling purr, when they’re aroused, but these warriors are more than a little dangerous—and there’s nothing like a flash of sharp, gleaming fang to remind you of that.
There’s something about fangs, about the promise of the dark lover, about Paranormal Romance’s otherworldliness itself that draws us all—writers and readers alike—toward it.  The shiver of danger, the shifting shadows ahead that whisper promises of the forbidden, the draw toward the beast who is deadly to everyone but us.
But those gleaming fangs offer more than sensual delight, they provide the opportunity to explore our own depths. This is the heroine’s journey of empowerment—the tale of the wayward, headstrong girl who, against the strict warnings of the elders, ventures alone into the dark forest. The woman who, through her own will or misadventure, comes face to face with her fanged beast—vampire, shapeshifter or g’hir warrior—and tames him, evoking his transformation, and her own, through erotic love.
When we read Paranormal Romance we’re all standing at the edge of that forest, feeling the tingle of its threat, seeing the faint gleam of those wicked fangs in the dimness.  
He’s there, our dark love, just beyond the point we know it’s safe to venture, waiting for us.

And he’s irresistible . . .
CapturedWarriors of HirBook OneWillow Danes
Genre: Science Fiction Romance/Paranormal Erotica
Publisher: Here Be Dragons
Date of Publication: August 8, 2014
ISBN: 0692271813ISBN: 978-0692271810ASIN: B00MH65BDG
Number of pages: 218Word Count: 55,000
Cover Artist: Steven James Catizone
Book Description:
Jenna McNally is tending to the heartrending task of clearing out her grandfather’s cabin when she’s knocked off her feet by the impact of a nearby plane crash. She races into the snowy North Carolina woods to help and discovers that this is no plane that’s crashed.
Ra’kur’s people have been brought to the brink of extinction by war. After years spent searching for a compatible mate to bond with, an enemy attack lands him on a backward, primitive planet and right to the very female he has been seeking. And a Hir warrior’s first task in claiming a mate is to capture her . . .

Available at AmazonExcerpt CapturedThe screaming came from overhead, like metal ripping through the sky.In the next instant Jenna stumbled, falling onto her hands and knees as the cabin itself seemed to be lifted up a bit before being slammed back down in a puff of dust, the books and boxes and Pap’s many doohickeys rattling around her. She was gasping, her ears still ringing as the cabin settled into quiet again. Shaking, Jenna eased back onto her haunches, her hand going to the little golden bird charm that hung on a chain around her neck. Earthquake? Quakes were rare in this part of North Carolina, and besides, she’d felt that tremble, that rumbling, beneath her feet a few times out west and this was nothing like that. Jenna’s glance darted about the room—the half-packed boxes, the groupings she’d made as she sorted her grandfather’s things into piles of stuff to keep or give away or throw out. Through the cabin’s front window, she caught sight of a far-off spray of snow thrown high into the air and now falling rapidly to the ground.  When she’d fallen, she’d dropped the framed photo of her and Pap standing in front of The Sweet Tooth on opening day. Thankfully it hadn’t broken, but the faded oval rag rug had done little to protect her knees from the fall and her palms felt raw and scraped.Shakily Jenna placed the picture on the coffee table, put a hand on the worn red and black plaid sofa, and, wincing, got to her feet. Her right knee was likely going to sport a nasty bruise tomorrow but the couple steps across the living room to the window assured her that would be the worst of it. She frowned out at the sunny, snow-covered landscape, her breath fogging up the windowpane.  Plane crash, maybe?There was a tiny airport not far from here. Recently built and meant for small craft—a few of the new, wealthy residents of Brittle Bridge used it when they didn’t want to go to Six Oaks—it was little more than a runway and a couple hangars. Jenna scanned the woods, looking for smoke, but even the snow had settled now and the mountain seemed peaceful as ever. It took her a moment to realize that the TV that she’d had on to keep her company while she tended to the heartrending task of packing up Pap’s things had gone dark. A quick look at the blinking red light showed the Wi-Fi was out too. No satellite, no Internet.“Great,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips. Thinking she could get by fine with just her cell she’d made the mistake of having the landline cut off last week before she realized her fancy—and expensive—new phone didn’t work inside the cabin. Outside, sure. Go twenty feet or sit in the SUV and the damned thing worked perfectly.Jenna chewed the inside of her cheek. She hadn’t seen anything except the now-resettled spray of snow but if it were a downed plane then someone could be hurt out there. It got dark around five this time of year so there were a few hours of daylight left at least and she knew these woods better than anyone—excepting her grandfather, of course.  She grabbed her cell off the coffee table and in a few moments had her white down jacket zipped, the hood yanked up, and her gloves on. She was already wearing her sheepskin boots; the cabin floor sometimes felt cold to her even in the summer and now in January it was bitterly so. Jenna drew in the bracing smell of snow and pine as she stepped onto the porch and shut the front door behind her. She was careful going down the cabin’s front steps; she’d slipped often enough on them over the years to remember to hold the handrail in winter. The soft powdery snow crunched under her boots as she walked and, as expected, three steps past her SUV the cell had reception again. She scrolled through the numbers to the right one and hit “Dial” as she headed in the direction where she’d seen the snow spray.“Sheriff’s Department.”“Sarah Jane? It’s Jenna McNally.”“Hey there, Jenna, you okay?” Sarah Jane had once been a model, or so Pap had said. Got her heart broke by a famous artist in New York and fled to Brittle Bridge to escape it all.But then again, he’d made up stories about everyone with Jenna—the mayor was in the witness protection program, her teacher was a secret agent. She’d been labeled a “sensitive child” by the social worker who had handled the transfer of custody to him. Of course to Pap “sensitive” meant “creative” so he’d gone all out in encouraging her in all of it—the arts and music, crafting, baking—anything she wanted to try, and he was proud as punch to let her.But if Sarah Jane had been a model, it was thirty-five years ago or more now and twenty since she joined the sheriff’s department. “You up at Pap’s still?”Her grandfather’s name was William James McNally. But it had probably been since before Sarah Jane’s supposed model-artist affair days that he had been called anything other than “Pap” in the vicinity of Brittle Bridge—at least never in the twenty-six years Jenna had known him.Well, excepting that social worker.“Yeah, I’ll be here for a couple more days,” Jenna said, already past the clearing around the house and into the forest. “Listen, I think a plane crashed up here on our”—she swallowed hard—“my land.”“A plane?” Sarah Jane’s voice went from neighborly to official. “Where did it come down?”“Not sure.” Jenna ducked under a branch as she headed deeper into the woods. “I heard something real loud and then it was like ‘bam,’ something hitting the ground hard. Shook the whole place.”“Can you see smoke from where you are now?”“No,” Jenna admitted, trotting along as fast as the snow would allow her. Some of the drifts were deep and she had to mind where she stepped. She wouldn’t be doing anyone any good if she broke her ankle. “I’m heading out to take a look now.”“But you saw the plane go down?”“Uh, no.” Sarah Jane’s too-patient tone was starting to make her feel a little embarrassed for calling when she hadn’t actually seen anything. Maybe it was something else: a really big tree falling or a damn meteorite or something.“Huh,” Sarah Jane said. “Lemme call around and see if anybody’s gone missing. But you call me straight off if you find anything, ’kay?” “Sure thing.” Jenna ended the call and slipped the phone into her jacket pocket. Whatever crashed couldn’t be far from where she’d seen the snow spray up.Forced by the lack of schools and friends for his young granddaughter, Pap had kept the house in Asheville, but they’d come to Brittle Bridge at every opportunity. Pap’s heart was here and she’d happily spent the summer days running barefooted in these woods clad in overalls, her chestnut hair in pigtails at first, then tied back in a ponytail as she got older.Her stride faltered and she steadied herself against a pine, the rough trunk pulling on her knitted glove. Pap’s beloved woods were quiet and bright around her but Jenna suddenly had a strong urge to run back to the cabin.She set her jaw and pressed on. Pap hadn’t raised her to be a coward and this was her land now. He’d left her five hundred acres and anyone on it without her say-so was trespassing, even if it was about to go up for sale.Still, she wished she’d thought to grab Pap’s revolver or rifle or even his hunting knife before she’d come racing down here.I’ll go as far as the creek and if I don’t find anything I’ll head on back. But all was quiet at the creek too, the crystal clear water moving placidly between the banks—Jenna stopped short. There was tang to the air, a burned smell that wrinkled her nose. It reminded her a little bit of the inside of a mechanic’s garage, out of place in such pristine woods.It smelled wrong. Not only that…There’s no snow here. There was snow all around, covering the ground, hanging heavy in the tree limbs above, but here there was just a long patch of mud and broken sticks.The sudden sick feeling of being watched raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. With a shock of awareness she realized just how very vulnerable she was out here, alone and unarmed. Pap hadn’t raised her to be an idiot either. With trembling fingers she pulled her phone out and hit redial to the Sheriff’s office.In horrified disbelief she watched the screen flash “Connection failed.”She took a step back and searched the silent, still forest.All I have to do is make it back up to the house. I can get the gun, get my car keys, call for help, get the hell out of here!Her quickened breath was visible as she headed uphill back toward the cabin, the drifts and her fear slowing her down. She couldn’t remember if the ammunition was still in the kitchen cabinet or if she’d moved it to—Something off to her right gave a soft, deep growl . . .


TakenWarriors of HirBook TwoWillow Danes
Genre: Science Fiction Romance /Paranormal Erotica
Publisher: Here Be Dragons
Date of Publication: February 1, 2015
ISBN-10: 0692377735ISBN-13: 978-0692377734ASIN: B00T0VFO8S
Number of pages: 271Word Count: 69,000
Cover Artist: Steven James Catizone
Book Description:
Hope MacGowan is a city girl but reeling from a break-up on top of a layoff has her determined to have a weekend away in the North Carolina mountains—even if all her friends have bailed at the last minute. Hope’s life is one big train-wreck and getting kidnapped by a tall, blond alien—even a gorgeous one—sure isn’t helping.
R’har crossed the galaxy to seek a mate on this newly discovered world and this delicate red-haired female is everything he’s dreamed of—except happy to find herself mated to him. R’har knows in his heart he’s her true mate, even if he’s not human. But taking her doesn’t mean he can keep her and somehow he has to convince Hope to choose him before time runs out . . .
Available at Amazon


Excerpt Taken:
Coldness snaked through Hope’s belly as Keri’s silence dragged on. “Did you know?” Hope asked again. Her cell pressed hard to her ear, her heart in her throat as she waited for her friend’s answer, she had a sudden urge to open the car window and hurl the damned thing into the road before Keri could reply. “Did you know about Brian and Megan?”Through the phone she heard Keri sigh and Hope’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, the center diamond of her engagement ring sparkling in the sunlight. Parked in front of the diner where she was to pick up the rental’s keys, Hope blinked out at Brittle Bridge, North Carolina’s quaint Main Street. Outside her car, people strolled about on their Friday morning errands, enjoying the May sunshine and the sweet mountain air, chatting and laughing. Inside the car, Hope’s breath had the quick shallow pant of an animal caught in a trap.“Look,” Keri began, a little impatiently. “It wasn’t my job to tell you. Megan—Brian really—should have.”“You’re my friend. You went with me to look at venues, at wedding gowns. You bought a bridesmaid’s dress.” Hope’s throat tightened. “Megan bought a maid of honor dress!”“I didn’t actually buy the dress,” Keri mumbled. “I called the boutique after we left and asked them to cancel my order.”But that was back in March! “How long?” Hope asked, her voice high and tight. “How long has it been going on? How long have you known?”Keri sighed again. “I went to Gable’s with some people from work back in January and I saw Brian and Megan in a booth in the back and they were—It’s probably been going on longer though.” “January? But—” Hope began, her tone pleading now as if she could argue this away, as if to point out the faulty logic of it would cast a spell and make everything right again. “But we got engaged on Valentine’s Day! He asked me to marry him on Valentine’s Day. If he and Megan were—” Her eyes stung. “He broke our engagement by text, you know. He sent me a text today to tell me that he and Megan were together and how very, very sorry he was. Megan texted to say she’s sorry too—Oh, and since she’s not coming for the weekend she’s not going to pay her third for the rental.”“Oh, that is shitty,” Keri said.Shitty as letting me plan a wedding when you knew all along Megan was fucking my fiancé?But the great burden of red hair was everyone expected you to have a bad temper and a sharp tongue. Hope had spent most of her twenty-seven years showing the world how even-keeled she was, how she could handle anything with a cool head, not raging or weeping even in the face of heartbreak and grief, not letting anyone know how bad she hurt.Those walls went up when she was eight and were so thick now that nothing—not the death of her parents, not the humiliation of her fiancé screwing her maid of honor—was going to bring them down.“Yeah, it is,” Hope said instead. “So when were you going to get around to telling me that you aren’t coming for the weekend either?”“Look, I just thought if you and Megan were alone—maybe the truth would finally come out. Being with the two of you and pretending I didn’t know sucked.”“Wow.” Hope nodded even though Keri couldn’t see her. Even a determined redhead had her limits. “That must have been really rough on you.”Keri went silent again.  Hope put her hand over her eyes, blocking out the cheerful spring sunlight. “I lost my job this morning.” “What?” Keri sounded startled for the first time during their conversation.“They made the announcement today. They sold the company to the Hindle Group last week and they had one too many graphic designers so they let me go. They made me drive all the way to Asheville to give me the news. My fiancé ends it in a text but my company had to tell me in person.”“Jesus . . .”“They gave me three months’ severance. And they shook my hand too. Apparently someone in the D.C. office did me the favor of clearing out my stuff while I was driving to Asheville yesterday so I’m all packed up. They’ll have everything delivered to my apartment by the end of the day.”“So you’re driving back to D.C. tonight?”“What for?” Hope asked bleakly. “Brian and Megan are at his place, making the most of the romantic curtained bed I bought. I don’t have work on Monday. No fiancé, no best friend, no job. My apartment lease is up in ten days and now I won’t be moving in with Brian. Maybe I’ll just move up here to the mountains. Take up wood crafting or something.”“Call me when you get back,” Keri urged. “I’ll take you out and get you drunk. We’ll find you someone new.”“No. I’m cursed.” Hope shut her eyes. “No one on the planet has worse luck with men than I do.” Keri was smart enough not to argue that point. “I really am sorry.”“Yeah, me too,” Hope said and hung up.She turned off the car and sat there, the cell cradled in her lap. The invitations hadn’t gone out yet so she didn’t need to work through the guest list; with her parents both dead and no siblings there was no one left to call.No one at all.
StolenWarriors of HirBook ThreeWillow Danes
Genre: Science Fiction Romance /Paranormal Erotica
Publisher: Here Be Dragons
Date of Publication: July 28, 2015
ISBN-10: 0692500820ISBN-13: 978-0692500828ASIN: B012UW5YKG
Number of pages: 265
Word Count: 68,000
Cover Artist: Steven James Catizone
Book Trailer:
Book Description:
Kidnapped from Earth by an alien warrior when she visits her uncle, Summer Mills is terrified she will never be able to return home. Her alien captors are using human females as breeding stock and her only chance to return to Earth is Ke’lar, the one Hir warrior willing to stand between her and his own kind.
Returning this human female home won’t be easy and Ke’lar knows by this act of defiance he is throwing his own chances at a lifemate away. Both his family’s enemies and his own clan have pledged to reclaim the woman he has stolen, the only woman he will ever love . . .
Available at Amazon
 Excerpt Stolen:

The alien warrior, naked beside her, gave a soft snore, his thickly muscled arm thrown over Summer, keeping her close as he slumbered.When he had first captured her on Earth, she had only seen beast—his full mouth, his gleaming fangs, his inhuman ridged forehead and heavy brow. Now, lying beside him, his bare tan skin smooth and warm against her own, his eerie glowing amber eyes shut, she knew how very intelligent he was, this wild creature who had brought her to his planet. He, like all the males of his kind—the g’hir—was tall, powerfully built, fast as quicksilver.Summer wet her lips. She could see the movement of his eyes behind his lids.Dreaming.She’d never get a better chance.Escaping a seven-foot-tall alien warrior who’s claimed you as his mate and taken you halfway across the galaxy is impossible.But when it’s your only chance in hell of ever seeing home again, you just tell “impossible” to fuck off.Six days after her abduction, her heart hammering so hard she feared the sound of it would wake the warrior at her side, Summer eased out from under his heavily muscled arm and slid from his bed.He stirred, reaching for her. She froze, crouching beside the bed, praying his vibrant eyes stayed shut, his face slack with slumber. His long, silky, red-brown hair was spread across the white pillow, his swarthy coloring a stark contrast to her own pale complexion. When she’d first awoken to find herself captive on his ship he’d looked her over with his unnervingly brilliant alien gaze. He’d taken a lock of her pale blond hair between his large fingers, frowned at her skin, and asked if such pallor in a human meant she was sickly. Trembling before the huge warrior, thinking he’d kill her if he thought her ill, not even understanding how she was processing those growls of his as language—Summer swore she was completely healthy. He’d given a satisfied fanged smile; pleased, she knew now, that she’d be able to produce the robust, healthy offspring he wanted. The warrior—Ar’ar—gave another soft snore and Summer straightened to standing.Clad only in a whisper-thin nightgown, the polished tiles cold under her feet, she padded silently through his luxurious quarters. Sweet spring air drifted through the open balcony doors, the fine silk curtains fluttering in the breeze as she passed them.The balcony of Ar’ar’s rooms—the opulent living quarters of a clanfather’s heir—overlooked his family’s vast holdings, and the three moons of his world—Hir—lit her way. The wind stirred her long hair, momentarily blocking her vision, and impatiently Summer tucked the bright strands behind her ears to keep them out of her eyes. She had one chance at this. If they caught her she’d be watched constantly no matter what concessions Ar’ar—her new alien “mate”—made to his female’s pleas. He was confident enough, and proud enough, that he had dismissed the honor guards his father, Mirak, tried to attach to her. Ar’ar gave a huffing, indulgent laugh as he’d waved them off at her request. After all, compared to him, Summer, even at five foot nine, was just a slip of thing.A weak, harmless, helpless human female . . .Using the building to help her balance, she climbed up to stand on the balcony’s wall.Eight stories above the ground of an alien world.Summer swallowed hard. There was a reason she always insisted on having a room on the first floor of a hotel. Just glancing out the glass-wall window of her high-rise office back home left her woozy. But there was only one way out into the hallway—and ultimately to Earth—that wouldn’t wake the glowing-eyed fanged warrior snoozing back there. She had to get from these quarters over to the unoccupied rooms beside them. That door she could open without fear of waking him, then get the hell out of this monstrously large building they called a clanhall and run for freedom. It wasn’t even very far over. Twelve feet, maybe.All she had to do was get to the next balcony. Never mind that the only way there was a small decorative outcropping on the side of the building barely as wide as her foot . . .   About the Author:
Willow Danes is the pen name of author Ariel MacArran, creator of the Tellaran Series. She is an Amazon bestselling author, currently at work on book four of the Tellaran Series, The Princess.
www.willowdanes.com
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8433496.Willow_Danes
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Willow-Danes/1452738648390350




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Release Day Blitz The Second Wife by Kishan Paul

The Second WifeKishan Paul
Genre: Suspense/Thriller
Date of Publication: October 14, 2015
ASIN: B0144W7QEW
Number of pages:285Word Count: 80,000
Cover Artist: Syneca Featherstone
Book Description:
If you want to live, you must let go of the past...
Twenty-eight-year-old Psychologist, Alisha Dimarchi, is abducted by an obsessed client and imprisoned in his Pakistani compound for over two years. Forced to change her name and live as his second wife, her life is filled with trauma and heartbreak. Thrust into a world of violence and oppression, Alicia must fight not only to keep herself alive but to protect the lives of the people she now considers family. At night, she retreats into her memories of the only man she has ever loved – a man she believes no longer loves her.
Thirty-two-year-old handsome surgeon, David Dimarchi, has spent the last two years mourning the disappearance of his wife. After a painful and isolated existence, he begins the process of healing. It is then that he is visited by a stranger, who informs him that his wife is very much alive and needs his help. In a desperate attempt to save her, David enlists the help of a Delta Force Operative. Together they find themselves in the center of more than just a rescue mission. Will he be able to reach her in time and if he does, will she still want him?
Book Trailer https://youtu.be/8zH8RRevEE4
Amazon     BN     iTunes    Kobo


Excerpt 1:
The slow drip of a leaky faucet disrupted Ally’s otherwise quiet slumber. “Ally.” The distant sound of David’s voice soothed her, enveloping her in a warm blanket of safety. A smile tugged at her lips. Soon he’d crawl into bed and wrap his limbs around hers, cocooning her with his love. Instead of the heat she anticipated, something coarse scraped against her cheek. When she tried to swat it away, her arms refused to comply.“Baby, wake up.” Her husband’s echoed tone became louder, rougher. “You need to wake up.”The urgency in it made her eyelids flutter, pulling her further away from the dark claws of sleep. Like a silent movie, foggy images of a dimly lit parking lot invaded her thoughts. A woman, tall and lean, walked the deserted space alone. With each clip of her heels against the paved road, the haze cleared a little more. Ally’s heart raced when the woman’s features came into view. Long, curly, black hair, dark brown eyes, tanned complexion.It was her. Two sets of hands emerged from the shadows, dragging her into the woods. The taller of the two men covered the woman’s mouth, muting her screams as she wrestled to break free, until the other one slammed a brick into the base of her skull, plunging her into darkness.This must be a dream.Rays of light pierced the darkness as Ally’s heavy eyelids fought to open. When she shifted, instead of soft sateen, her cheek scraped against a cold, hard surface.“Alisha? Can you hear me?” This voice wasn’t David’s. It sounded thick, heavy with accent and oddly familiar. So familiar, she shivered.


Reviews for The Second Wife
The Second Wife is one of those rare novels that will lurk in the back of your mind for weeks. With stunning precision, Kishan Paul throws the reader into a world of clandestine organizations and brutal politics. The gripping characters wrench your heart and make you cringe with fear. A rollercoaster of suspense and emotion not to be missed. ~ Aubrey Wynne Author of Dante’s Gift and Rolf’s Quest
Kishan Paul’s writing shines in this beautifully written psychological thriller filled with heart-gripping emotion as the heroine unearths an inner strength she didn’t know she possessed. – Cait Jarrod, Bestselling Author
"The Second Wife is a poignant story of love, domestic violence, and mental strength. It grabs you by the throat and doesn't let go until you've finished the last page. No wait, it doesn't let go at all… I had the pleasure of betareading it, and the wide range of emotions it stirred in me are still right under the surface." – Lea Bronsen  award winning author of The Perfect Shoot
“This is a gripping story, brilliantly woven from start to finish. I’ll never forget Ally. She’s as real to me as anyone else because her story isn’t some forgettable fictional work. No way you are walking away from this one the same way. I actually took a break between this novel and my next one. I wasn’t ready to begin another journey just yet. Amazing work, Kishan Paul.” – Kristen Shanchez, reader   Add it to your TBR List on Goodreads
About the Author:
From daring escapes by tough women to chivalrous men swooping in to save the day, the creativity switch to Kishan Paul's brain is always in the 'on' position. If daydreaming stories were a college course, Kish would graduate with honors.

Mother of two beautiful children, she has been married to her best friend for over 16 years. With the help of supportive family and friends, she balances her family, a thriving counseling practice, and writing without sinking into insanity.

Website: http://kishanpaul.net
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/KishanPaulAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/@kishan_paul
TSU: https://www.tsu.co/kishanpaul
Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/kishanpaul
Coffee Talk: http://www.coffeetalkwriters.com/coffee-talk-authors/kishan-paul/
Sign up for her newsletter at: http://mad.ly/signups/119110/join

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Hindu Sex Aliens by Larry Weiner

Hindu Sex AliensThe Island TrilogyBook 3Larry Weiner
Genre: Horror/Dark Comedy
Publisher:  Forsaken ImprintBooktrope Publishing Date of Publication:  October 5, 2015
ISBN:ASIN:
Word Count: 65869
Cover Artist:  Larry Weiner
Book Description:
“Hmmm … let’s see. Beautiful islands. Check. Friendly undead. Check. Reminders of bloodshed and death everywhere we look ... I dunno, hon. It’s a mixed bag.”
The band’s getting back together once more. But this time, nobody’s feeling it.
The bicker gang of PARADISE ROT and ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD is rapidly losing its taste for luring clueless Middle Americans to obscure tropical-island resorts. Not to mention unwittingly luring them into the clutches of the local ancient undead. Or having to rescue said morons from said bloodslurpers and fleshsnackers.
But here they are — Cate Hendricks and fellow ad creative/nutjob/horndog Kyle Brightman chief among them — on the Indian Ocean island of Soma Indra. Putting together another first-rate ad campaign. Pulling together another train-wreck assortment of guests: Burned-out suburban housewives who are semi-sick of men and seeking sisterhood through yoga sessions. Socially inept software engineers who may or may not be aliens looking to screw their way to species perpetuation. Oh, and did we mention the thousands of Hindu deities looking to rewrite the Kama Sutra during their annual R&R retreat?
Yeeeeaaaaaah. This should go well.
Especially when the gang runs into its most insidious and powerful nemesis yet: Larry Weiner. How does this therapy-addled, midlife-crisis dingus know who they are? Where they’re from? How they think? And what evil plans does he have for them? And why do they want to be thoughtful, responsible grownup-type adults all of a sudden?
Part meta-fiction, part Metamucil, HINDU SEX ALIENS is the cerebrally comic conclusion to Larry Weiner’s uproarious trouble-in-paradise trilogy
Excerpt:
“THIS ROOM LOOKS Jackson Pollacked. Is that a thing? An adjective, maybe? To get ‘Jackson Pollacked?’ There was a time when this would’ve grossed me out. But then, I’ve seen things. And now, well, all I can think of is that some unlucky bastard has to clean all of this up.”Kyle Brightman stood in the conference room, hands in pockets, looking around at walls covered with blood splatter, bits of organ meat, and flesh. Tendons and bone lay strewn about on the conference table—you could see where the kill had been by the small mound of muscle tissue and a human skull. It looked as if someone had popped the cork on a gigantic champagne bottle full of human remains and, voila! Conference room Lee Marvin (Kyle had named most of the conference rooms) had become, as Kyle put it, Jackson Pollacked.Cate Hendricks, looking as if she’d been dipped into a vat of blood, sat spent in a chair, her legs splayed, still wearing her pair of purple Converses with the white star. She gazed at the floor rug, studying the pattern of blood and human tissue. To Kyle, she looked like a predator having consumed its prey after a kill. Which, in Cate’s case, was called Mandy Newberger.Leaning up against a wall, arms folded, Dory Parthenia cradled her iPhone between her shoulder and ear. Kyle had always marveled at the way she could do that—not just the manner in which she could converse while doing something else, usually typing on a laptop, but the actual way she was able to cradle the phone. Kyle had tried it a few times and cracked his Han Solo-frozen-in-carbonite phone case after dropping it.“Uh-huh… uh-huh… It’s in pretty bad shape. Uh-huh… Yeah, maybe four. I dunno. We might have to rip everything up and replace it. The table’s in good shape, just covered with blood and guts. Know what? Order a new table. I never liked the ones we picked. Tastes change… Uh-huh… Right, just put it under construction costs. Same for Katharine Hepburn. Uh-huh… Try Design Within Reach—oh, you know what? Check out Hive. Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”Dory let the phone slip off her shoulder and into her hand; Kyle was once again impressed by her phone-handling gymnastics. “Not the best meeting we’ve ever had,” she said.“I leave you kids alone for one minute and look what happens,” Kyle said. “Last time I get coffee during client feedback.”“We both know that’s not true.”“Right?”The two of them looked at Cate. They weren’t at the worried stage just yet. Zombies often looked comatose after a feeding—or, in this case, a feast, as Mandy was a big girl.“So, Cate. Hon? What was the trigger word?” Kyle asked. He walked over to her and kneeled. Cate retained her thousand-yard stare. “Copy changes? Did she try to rewrite the headline? They do that. Bastards. Everybody has to have input these days. I suppose it’s always been that way. Was when I started out in the biz, and that was almost fifteen years ago. Can you imagine someone checking out the Sistine chapel and going ‘meh’? Not that we’re creating masterpieces here, but still—”“I’ve hit my wall,” Cate mumbled. And then she slid off the chair onto the blood-drenched floor. She was out.

About the Author:
Larry Weiner is the author of PARADISE ROT (BOOK ONE), ONCE AGAIN, WITH BLOOD (BOOK TWO) and HINDU SEX ALIENS (BOOK THREE) that make up the Island Trilogy. Larry earned a degree in film from CSULA and was an award-winning art director. He lives on an island in the Pacific Northwest with his wife, two kids and a gaggle of animals. He plays bass and thus has poor hearing.
Visit his site at: http://www.larryweinerwrites.com
Join his Twitter feed at: @LarryNWeiner
Like him on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/larrynweiner

What Comes from Lucid Dreaming – Waking Up With A Story Formed By A Dream

What Comes from Lucid Dreaming – Waking Up With A Story Formed By A Dream
He, I’m Maureen O. Betita, and I’m a lucid dreamer. I also write and tour to promote what I write. Like today and Foxoddness, my newest book. It’s a lively bit of contemporary/paranormal/erotic adventure for three very lucky people who find each other, along with everyday magic.
People often ask where authors get ideas. Foxoddness actually has roots in another book, read years ago. But many of my books start as dreams. And Foxoddness benefited from my ability, as I used it to deepen the story.
I’m lucky, I don’t wake with a morning alarm. This means that I gradually slide to wakefulness, often bringing my dreams with me. This is what I know of lucid dreaming. I’m dreaming and I know it. I can stay in an observational point of view, or I can slip into control.
It’s not unusual for me to go to bed with the dream from that morning at the front of the line. And I can move back into it. I remember a great deal of what I dream and over and over…those dreams become a book.
I dreamt of alien abduction and I wrote The Alien Library. I wrote about the time speeding up and leaving only a handful of survivors, and I wrote The Changed World (out in 2016). Essentially Human rose from underwater dreams. I have three books that stepped straight from morning dreams I’m intending to finish and release in the next few years. And sometimes I’ve walked into dreams with plot issues needing help. And I find it.
The subconscious dreaming mind is a wonderful playground.
If I don’t like where a dream is going, I nudge it to another place. If I wake unhappy with something from a dream, I can hit rewind and change things. Comes in very handy with nightmares, though to be honest, really harsh nightmares are hard to fiddle with.
I’m not sure where my ability rose. I’ve had difficulty falling asleep for years. Instead of dwelling on the difficulties of the day, I began to tell myself stories. Bedtime stories. If lucky, I’d slide right into the world I’m creating, helping me fall asleep. Though sometimes, I’d just get fascinated with the story and lie there, listening to myself. ;-)
You, too, can learn how to lucid dream. If you fall asleep believing this can happen, if you trick yourself into gradual waking, keep a dream diary at your bedside, it can become a learned skill.
There are books about lucid dreaming. It’s a great way to solve problems, find answers and, what the hell, it’s just fun!

Have you ever experienced a lucid dream? Do you think it’s something you might like to try? How many times have you fallen asleep dreaming about winning the lottery? (One of my standards!)
FoxoddnessMaureen O. Betita
Genre: contemporary erotic paranormal romance
Date of Publication: September 15, 2015
ISBN: 978-1-939914-67-5ASIN: B0149PWFT0
Number of pages: 215Word Count: 78,206
Cover Artist: Barbara Cool Lee
Book Description:
A house by the beach, happily married for over 25 years – what more could Sarah and Andrew Denby need? Yet, something is missing…until Will Bramble knocks on their door. He leads them into a deeper sensuality than they ever imagined.
The lanky redhead figures on a quick seduction, some fun in the sack and moving on. But Sarah’s laughter, Andrew’s strength, and the welcome of their bed, fills the hollow place in his heart.
From the haunted hills of Santa Bella, to the rambling fields of Scotland and the enchantments of Ireland, they discover the powers of physical intimacy, while the legacy of his magic, hidden beneath his human skin, brings their world to life.
Available at Amazon
Excerpt: Casually, Will laid an arm across the back of the bench. “The windows and doors won’t take very long. But if you’d like, we can talk about a few odd jobs. Like repairing this deck. I think the support beams are failing; it’s too spongy. I have the time on my schedule.”She turned her face toward his hand and inhaled the batch of pheromones he’d set down earlier. Her eyes closed slightly and a tremble ran through her body. The obvious desire for more flew through her. She took another deep breath. He set his drink cup down and turned to face her. When he lifted his hand slightly, she ran a tongue down it, and then flinched back. “Oh! I…uh…” The blush from the coffeehouse rose to a full bloom on her face.How charming!“Seems like a good thing to do…” Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips and ran his tongue down it, and then sucked several of her fingers into his mouth.Her eyes widened as she stared at him. “Oh, God. I...want…”“I like to follow my instincts, Sarah.” Will looked straight into her eyes. He licked at her fingertips before setting that hand at his bulging crotch. With a moan, her eyes lost focus as the pheromones took hold. Will kept still when she pushed off the bench, knelt on the deck, and fought to get his pants open. Her fervor impressed him. She lowered her mouth onto him and sucked like it was the first cock she’d ever touched.A smidge of guilt ran through him, but the glory of her mouth swept that away. If she hadn’t been inclined, it wouldn’t have worked.Though he wanted to linger over the encounter, it was best if he delivered this first dose of chemistry speedily. “Damn, that feels so good.” He stroked her hair, let his head drop back and surrendered. She swallowed most of his cum, save for the bit that dribbled down her chin. He smiled and lifted her, opening her shirt and spreading that bit down her cleavage, even painting her nipples with it. “Make sure he sucks them tonight,” he whispered.Sarah nodded, and he helped her back to the bench, securing her shirt before putting himself back together. He picked up his drink and let her return to herself. His chemistry would make sure she stayed calm. Her memory wasn’t going to argue with what just happened. It would just shuffle it around; probably decide nothing had occurred save a pleasant fantasy.As he expected, the lovely writer sat up straighter, picking up the conversation from where it left off. “Yeah, the deck. It is a bit spongy. I keep trying to talk Andrew into putting together a shed under there, with a door to the front and the back. And extend it.” She got up and pointed to the box below the deck, giving him a nice view of her ass. “That used to be where the twits before us kept their dogs.” It was as if the small interlude had never taken place.His imagination sped ahead, picturing her spreading those legs and inviting him to fuck her. Battling the image, he finished his cookies and then told her to check out the bedroom. “You can watch while I get the new window in.”Standing, she sedately followed him into the bedroom and lay down on the bed to observe him work. He stepped in and out of the room. One of the times he came back in, she’d slipped her hand under the waistband of the baggy jeans she was wearing and began masturbating. Will ignored her and kept talking about the window. When she climaxed, filling the room with her scent, he sat, pulling her hand free and cleaning it off. A small smile lit her face and then she drifted into a late afternoon nap. Her susceptibility boded well for his pursuit. He hoped Andrew was equally inclined. From impressions, he was nearly certain.


About the Author:
Maureen O. Betita believes in the transformative power of sensual encounters. She uniquely blends erotic romantic adventure, plus fantasy/paranormal elements in her books, including The Kraken’s Caribbean series and the Forever A Pirate series.Pirate Festivals, Steampunk Gatherings, Science Fiction and Fantasy Conventions, Renaissance Faires – these are all within her social sphere and she borrows, steals, and creates stories from her adventures at these venues. Her imagination includes worlds of science fiction romance with three books revolving around the common theme of Alien Encounters; an intricate creation of contemporary erotic fantasy, with Born in Flight; and trips to a slightly alternative side of contemporary Ireland with the upcoming 5 books series, Sex Magic.
Website:  http://maureenobetita.com/
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Twitter @maureenobetita
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Maureen-O-Betita-Author-155907664465540/

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Hot Halloween Erotica by Roxanne Rhoads

Halloween in New Orleans, where anything can happen including love and magick.

Eternal Desire
Roxanne Rhoads

Publisher: Bewitching Books  

Release Date: April 14, 2015 (2 edition)

ASIN: B00VWIQGFM

Paranormal researcher Liz Beth's dreams are haunted by a sensual vampire.

She arrives in New Orleans the week of Halloween in search of her elusive dream lover, but instead finds a handsome stranger.

They begin a passionate affair. Soon she is torn between dreams and reality, lost somewhere in the middle trying to regain reason.

She aches to find the vampire of her dreams but can't seem to break free of the spell her sexy stranger has her tangled in.


Eternal Desire is available at the following ebook retailers


Amazon   iTunes   Scribd   Inktera   Kobo   Nook 




Halloween Surprise 
Roxanne Rhoads 

Publisher: Bewitching Books 
Release Date: October 14, 2014

ASIN: B00ODDW58U

Length: 16 pages

Genre: short story Halloween erotica

Book Description:

Alcina and Estra are ready to enjoy everything Halloween has to offer them – food, fun, and, most of all – the pleasures of the flesh. 

After enjoying each other’s bodies for hours they decide it’s time to find a man. Luckily for Michael he’s the one that happens to cross their path. After quickly deciding that he is exactly what they were looking for, they convince him to take them back to his place for a wild Halloween ménage ‘a trios. 

He ends up getting more than he bargained for with a sexy, but shocking, Halloween surprise...

Contains f/f and f/m/f sexual situations


Available at Amazon 


A Halloween to RememberRoxanne Rhoads 
Publisher: Excessica
Genre: short story Halloween erotica
Book Description:
What says Halloween better than a wild party at an old Victorian mansion complete with its own cemetery?
Perhaps meeting the man of your dreams thanks to the magic of Halloween.
Adena can’t believe her eyes when she spots Dimitri in the library- he looks like something straight off the cover of a historical romance novel-the type of guy she’s always dreamed of. Too bad he disappears before she has the chance to introduce herself. When she finally spots him again later that night she decides she’s not letting him get away again.
Adena thinks she’s finally found the one. Until she wakes up alone the next morning- in the cemetery.
Halloween magic brought them together but will it be strong enough to keep them together?
Available at Amazon
Also Appears in Paranormal Pleasures: Ten Tales of Supernatural Seduction