Taylor Tryst's Blog, page 14

Seduced by Blood Free on Amazon.com

She's copHe's a vampand Destiny is a bitch  
"This is a fast-paced, intense, spicy hot vampire novel."
Seduced by Blood
N.J. Walters, multi-published erotic romance author.

"After reading the first book, I hope there are many more! ! I really enjoyed the writing. I'll definitely be back for more! Great first book of the series!"
Seduced by Blood
4.25 Stars
Night Owl Romance
Excerpt:Nevada Ortiz was an up and coming Los Angeles Police Officer until a chance encounter with a would-be carjacker changes the course of her life. The six and a half foot assailant is dripping with weapons, his preternatural blue eyes drilling into hers, his bite changing everything. Her body's reaction to his blood, a
seduction within itself, goes hand and hand with raw, animalistic sex.
Nothing is as it seems and everything is in peril, including her life.

Gunner Slade is a vampire with secrets of his own, a soldier who can walk in the sun, a dose of Sangre allowing he and a team of vampires to blend in among the humans, until he puts everything on the line for a woman he can no longer exist without.

Nevada is the first human in existence to have an immunity to a vampire bite, and she requires the blood of two vampires to sustain her.

Not in his nature to share, Gunner Slade might be immortal, but he's living in hell just the same.

Seduceded by Blood is free today on Amazon Kindle!
Free on Amazon.com
Thanks for stopping by,
Taylor

Friday Facts: News and Updates

Willie the WalleyeMinnesota2012
I've decided to start a new tradition with the new year. I'm going to do a weekly update on Friday's from here on out. This'll be Friday Facts and #fridayfacts on Twitter.

I'm hoping to have good writing news, though that won't happen every week but my new year's resolution is to have my best publishing year yet.

My goals:

Write/Finish second book in the Sangre Series, which is tentatively titled Betrayed by Blood.Write a second paranormal series involving an author who is horrified by a unique psychic talent. Rewrite three books that need serious revision and publish all of these on Amazon Kindle.
I'm having an incredilbe experience with my first attempt at being an indie author and I'm sticking with it.

What are you're goals this year?



In other news, I'm having another free day on Amazon.com for the Kindle tomorrow for my vampire erotica, Seduced by Blood.

Check back tomorrow and I'll have the links posted.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

Taylor

Caesar in the Drawer

See Caesar. She's my nephew's kitty. Yep, she's in my dresser drawer. She scared the holy crap out of me when I went to close it. She was camped out, too. Wasn't budging. I finally had to threaten to close her in the dresser before she would scoot. Cute. Too cute!

Surprise Sales

Where to start?

There are so many aspects to indie publishing and honestly it's a bit overwhelming, but I just had to share some awesome facts.

Number one is a screen shot from Christmas day. I decided to take advantage of one of the five days in which Seduced by Blood could be offered as a free download as a part of the Kindle Direct Publishing promotion.

This is my first indie pubbed book and I've never offered a free book before, so I honestly had no idea what to expect, but to be honest I was shocked by the results.

Seduced by Blood  dropped down to  #38 in the top 100 Free downloads on Amazon.

That was enough to make me giddy as hell.

I also sold a whopping 586 books that week, which blew me away.

So, giving my book away for free for 24 hours and taking advantage of the promo certainly made a difference in sales.

I read Joe Konrath's blog this morning and saw that he'd done the same, only he'd sold 7000 books and made over $14,000 in 36 hours. He and Blake Crouch both participated in the promo opportunity, Joe giving away 23 titles. Can't wait to hear the results of that!

So, if you're on the fence about indie publishing, here's just a little data for you to toss around. It's both exciting and terrifying, but I think the decision to step out there can't be made lightly. I certainly appreciated all the data from author's who've waded into the pool ahead of me.

Have a great day,
Taylor

Happy New Year and a Review

I just wanted to take a moment to wish everyone a happy new year. Hopefully this will be a fabulous one for many who've had a rough go recently or within the last year. It's kind of nice, thinking we get a fresh start every year!

Tessie Bradford was kind enough to leave a few very kind words about my vamp book, Seduced by Blood. Tessie, you rock.

Review by Tessie Bradford on Seven Sexy Scribes

Happy New Year, everyone. I'm wishing you many blessings, no matter what you believe.

And hey, if this is  the last one, and I'm not saying I believe in the whole Mayan thing, but I'm not taking any chances either, make it be the best! lol

Taylor

Free on Amazon Kindle, Seduced by Blood by Taylor Tryst

Today is my first free promotion on Amazon Kindle for the first book in my vampire series, Seduced by Blood, A Sangre Novel.

For better or worse, Seduced by Blood is being offered in the new Kindle Lending Library and as a promotional tool for that, I'm offering Seduced by Blood as a free gift for Christmas!

So, whether you have had your Kindle for a while now or just opened a shiny new toy, Seduced by Blood is available as a free download. My Christmas gift to readers of erotic paranormal romance!

Get your Free Copy Now

Happy Holidays, everyone.

Taylor

Excerpt: Seduced by Blood, on sale at Amazon Kindle for .99 cents

Seduced by Blood, on sale on Amazon Kindle this weekend for .99 cents. Seduced by Blood is also available in Amazon's new lending library for Amazon Prime members.

Excerpt:

"Shaw, open up." Gunner jabbed the intercom button on the security panel half a dozen times. "Open up or I'll rip this damn thing off the hinges." He reached up to punch the button but hesitated when the cylindrical lock cycled and the door opened.

"I'd like to see you try," Commander Braden Shaw said, stepping into the hallway, his tone relaxed and jovial. "I was assured that would be impossible, my friend."

Braden was tall and lean, rangy, his arms muscular, though not bulky like Gunner's. He had the body of a runner, a martial artist or a professional athlete. Where Gunner was dark haired and blue eyed, Braden was the golden boy with flaxen hair and thick arched brows, his complexion fair, as most of his Irish brethren.

His eyes changed from hazel to emerald depending upon his mood, and were currently a friendly olive with brown undertones, which was about to change. He stepped into the hallway to catch his first glimpse of Gunner's face, his eyes going wide when he saw the gravity of his expression.

"She's…dying." Gunner motioned in the direction of Braden's quarters and stepped past him. "I can't make it stop."

"Slow down, man." Braden was right behind him, keeping pace, their movement nothing but flashes of ephemeral, light. "What are you talking about, Shaw?"

"I don't understand what's happening—" Gunner shook his head, frustration adding a cold, deadly edge to his voice.

He laid her on Braden's king-sized bed, and she curled into a tight ball, suffering with every ragged breath.

"She's not transfiguring." He wasn't good at this, wasn't good at asking for anything, especially not help, not from anyone and definitely not for personal reasons.

Gunner could do his job, cut and dry. He was a hard-assed warrior, a soldier. It bled from his lineage of French and Sioux Indian. Fighting had never been his problem. It was second nature.

Asking for help, that was fucking difficult.

"What the hell?" Braden lifted a brow in concern, leaning in and catching a whiff of air, inhaling deeply. "Blood?" His fangs erupted from his gums as he honed in on the scent, his eyes bursting into dazzling fragments of color, shining like multifaceted emeralds in the light, brightening to an almost painful vibrant green.

"She was shot." Gunner leaned down, taking her hand, which was cold and clammy, and bringing it to his lips, praying she'd awaken though prayer was something he hadn't done in a century. "It was femoral—I had no choice…but she's not transfiguring."

"Impossible," Braden scoffed. He swiped a hand over the cleft of his clean-shaven jaw, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She's not changing," Gunner said with a growl, his frustration growing. There was an edge of panic to his voice, and anxiety in the stiffness of his shoulders, the rigidness of his body and he hated himself for it.

He'd never been weak, was rock solid, and he could feel all of that crumbling because of Nevada, because he'd chosen to bite her.

He was a fucking fool.

Braden's hunger was obvious as he drifted toward her, stepping closer, reaching out and preparing to touch her, his lips parted, fangs cumbersome and growing in his mouth.

"You've bitten her?" Braden clarified as he reached out and checked her pupils, his hand stilling against her brow. He leaned close, hovering.

"Of course," Gunner hissed. He paced across the room, desperate to save her, trying to stop himself from tearing the shelves from the walls.

He didn't do this shit. Helplessness didn't get him off.

He'd do anything to keep her from dying…though he still had no idea how that was even possible at this point.

"You exchanged fluids?" Braden checked her gums, looking for any signs of transfiguration and finding none. Her nails were short and trimmed, her eyes a normal, human shade of brown, though they were beautiful, they weren't lit with mystical luminosity. "There's no marked change in her incisors, no signs of transfiguration."

"Of course we exchanged fluids," Gunner hissed, forgetting himself for a moment and letting his temper get the best of him. "We shared blood."

"That's…just…impossible." Braden shook his head, scrubbing a hand through his hair, leaving it mussed. "If she drank your blood she should be well into the change."

Gunner cursed. He'd have said Braden trusted him explicitly.

Until now.

"You've never turned anyone before," Braden said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Why now? Why her?" He stepped away from the bed, his hands on his hips, turning to face Gunner.

"She was going to die."

"So you killed her anyway," Braden snorted.

"She was shot and she'd…already tasted my blood," Gunner admitted.

"You'll explain that to me later." Braden grimaced. It was a command, not a question.

"That's a game changer," he sighed, letting out the breath he seemed to be holding.

"Exactly." Gunner stalked back to her side, the only sound in the room the squeak of his soles on the tile floor and Nevada's labored breathing.

"This is virtually unheard of, you know that, right?"

Gods, that was terrifying. In the century of fighting at Braden's side, Gunner hadn't known him to hesitate with anything, hadn't known him to be in doubt, and if Braden hadn't seen it, it didn't exist.

His commander pressed the back of his hand to Nevada's face, feeling her body temperature against his skin and growling. "She burning with fever."

"She was like ice," Gunner told him, kneeling at her side, grateful that at least her body temperature had risen, even if it meant a fever.

It killed him, standing by and doing nothing while Braden touched her face and leaned in close. His heart shredded, jealousy ripping through him like a jagged blade. It was the scourge of his kind, though it had never been an emotion he had experienced.

Until now. Until Nevada.

Gunner spun around, desperate to control the violence blowing through him like a hurricane.

This wasn't the time to go all vampy and possessive.

That could come later.

"You're timing is brilliant. We're on standby for a mission," Braden said.

"Fuck the mission." Gunner reached out and stroked her hair, pushing a strand back from her face. "Help her or I won't go on another mission. Period. I'm done."

Braden's fist slammed into him. He lifted Gunner off his knees and pinned him to the wall before he'd even seen him move. His commander wasn't as large as Gunner, but he was a thousand years older and more powerful, making him nearly invincible.

"You forget your place, lieutenant." Braden's eyes were a livid green, his jaw clenched and his lips pulled back into a snarl over extended fangs.

"Help her," Gunner said after a moment, his voice cracking. He made sure his tone was unchallenging, though he wouldn't back off. Not about this, not about her. He knew he was out of line.

That he was risking his life by pushing Braden, the very man who'd handed him eternity, allowing him to seek revenge upon the man responsible for murdering his niece.

He respected Braden on every level, but the way he felt about Nevada…it was the game changer. He hadn't seen it coming, hadn't expected it, but he had to deal with it and he certainly wasn't ready to stand by and watch her die.

They'd lost enough time.

"She's in pain," Gunner said after a moment's hesitation. "She's suffering. I can feel it every time I touch her."

"You aren't going to like this," Braden said with a low curse. He released Gunner, and stepped back, holding his gaze, his brow creased. "Gods…I can't guarantee that it'll even work."

"I don't care what the hell you have to do," Gunner snarled, staring down at Nevada's face and willing her eyes open. He reached out and touched her cheek, smoothing his fingers over her skin. "Just. Do it."

"Very well." Braden made a show of unbuttoning his black Hugo Boss and laying it upon the leather chair beside the bed. He waited for Gunner to step back, and reached out and turned her head to the side.

"And if this doesn't work?" Gunner asked. "What then?"

"She could die," Braden said with a shake of his head. "Or perhaps turn into something worse."

"What could be worse?" Gunner's tone was thick with sarcasm. He couldn't imagine anything more horrific than what he'd become when Braden had turned him a century ago.

"Not a human, not a vampire, but something…in between."

"That's a myth." Gunner had heard the stories over the years, but he'd never seen nor heard of anyone who'd been bitten and hadn't transfigured. "A scary nursery rhyme used to frighten humans…to keep vamps from turning them like cattle."

"Until now," Braden added. "Until you brought her into my compound."

"Her name is Nevada," Gunner said. "She fought to live, fought valiantly to save her partner's life. Hell, she deserves to live more than most."

Gunner folded his arms over his chest, and glanced up at the low-hung ceiling. He felt the room closing in around him like a small, cramped cave. He wished they were topside, that he could smell the air and see the ocean, that he could clear his mind.

Braden cursed in his native Gaelic language, and reached out and took Nevada by the hand, glancing over his shoulder at Gunner. His eyes were shining, his mouth open, fangs extended, ready to clamp down upon his prey.

He hesitated as if expecting Gunner to stop him. As if challenging him to try.

"Just do it." Gunner grimaced, his jaw clenched.

Braden sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over her, her head falling to the side as he drew her in, groaning in anticipation, wasting no more time. He buried his fangs deep within her vein and Nevada moaned, crying out.

Gunner snarled, the sound morphing into the horrifying roar of an angry, wounded beast. He turned away, wanting to flee the room and not being able to move, as if his boots were fastened to the ground.

He had to force himself not to go on the attack, clenching his fists, his knuckles white and his nails digging into his palms. He curbed his rage, possessiveness and resentment consuming his rational mind like fire burning dry grass.

She belonged to him on an elemental level. She was his. He'd bitten her, claimed her by drinking her blood and sharing his vein, something he'd done before.

There was nothing more primitive, more primal—and to stand by and watch another vampire consume her was maddening, an abomination.

Braden drank his fill, massive, greedy pulls from Nevada's vein, as if his thirst was spurred on by the magnificent flavor of her and he couldn't get enough. Her breasts were full and round, her nipples erect, and Gunner could still feel them against his tongue, his lips.

Braden pulled her against him, holding her in a lover's embrace, his chest pressed against hers, and it enraged Gunner to the point of lunacy. He spun around and slammed his fist into the wall, roaring when the steel gave way, though his hand felt as though it'd been pulverized, crushed, splintered into hundreds of tiny fragments.

Braden panted and leaned in, his hips bucking. He was seconds away from lying her flat against the bed and sliding atop of her, from grinding his cock into her thigh.

"Enough," Gunner roared. He couldn't do this anymore. He reached out and grabbed Braden by the shoulder, pulling him back.

"Her blood is…" Braden's body stiffened, his eyes popping open, shining emeralds, his pupils pinpointed black dots. He released her with a gasp, licking his lips, his nostrils flaring and his breath shallow and quick. "Powerful."

"Yes," was all Gunner could say.

He couldn't blame Braden for becoming sexually aroused, for they were forever intertwined, the taking of blood and the feral, hedonistic desire for sex.

His own cock was throbbing, and as much as the idea of watching Braden with Nevada incensed him, the mere scent of her blood, rich and honeyed, a floral note of jasmine tickling his nose, made him hard. The marking of her flesh, the sound of Braden feeding, the sucking and moaning, caused his teeth to ache and he lost his mind, the sharing of fluids, the transfiguration of a human, a potent ritual for his kind.

Even when Braden had bitten him a century ago there'd been the desire to surrender himself in some way. It was foreign, and he was sickened to think about how vulnerable he'd been while on the verge of death.

It'd been Braden who'd controlled himself during his transfiguration, who'd fed and taken nothing more than his blood, and for that he had been eternally grateful.

Gunner closed his eyes and could still feel the beat of her heart thrumming against his chest, the feel of her body beneath his as he consumed her in every way.

Her pussy had been so tight, gripping him like a vice each time he sank into her wet heat, working him as he pounded into her.

Yes, her blood was powerful, her body insatiable, her soul joined to his.

She was his.

Braden bit into his own wrist and cupped her chin, opening her mouth, turning her head into his arm. She parted her lips and Braden gasped when her tongue touched his flesh, her body arching, her lips, her mouth clasping onto his arm.

She drew from his wrist, wanton, as if Braden's blood was the only sustenance she had consumed in days.

Gunner hissed in contempt. He couldn't help but feel betrayed and worse, like a failure. For he alone had not been strong enough to turn her.

Braden purred as Nevada drank, pulling back and breaking the connection with a sigh, his body humming, the air in the room electric.

"There's never been an underling with two masters," Braden said after a moment. He released her and cursed, as if it physically pained him to do so. "If she lives, it will violate our laws."

"I don't care about our laws," Gunner growled. "I've asked you for nothing in the century of my existence."

"Aye." Braden wrapped a towel around his wrist and crossed the room to retrieve his shirt. He glanced at his watch and then to Gunner out of the corner of his eye, lowering his voice as if someone might overhear what he was about to say. "But, I think this might be asking too much, lad. Too much."

Gunner inhaled, smelling the unique aroma of her blood, a fragrance that belonged only to her. His mouth watered and he swiped a hand over his face, having watched her drink from him was too much. He battled the overwhelming desire to kill his best friend, his commander, his sire.

He was long dead, but he was in hell just the same.

Buy Now

New Release, Author Interview with Fran Lee, Uncertainly Yours from Ellora's Cave

When Jacqueline's uncle, the man who raised her, dies unexpectedly, she returns to her childhood home to settle his affairs, hoping to pay off his debts, sell the house and head back to her normal life. Things are quickly complicated by the arrival of Lance, the object of her heated—and unrequited—teenage fantasies. He greets her with open arms, smoldering kisses and mind-blowing orgasms…but makes it clear that he wants to keep things casual.


It's been years since he saw her, but Lance never managed to get Jack out of his head or his fantasies. He knows only too well, though, she has plenty of reason not to spare him a second thought. Despite that, it's clear her desire for him is still alive and well—and he's not above exploiting it. He'll keep things casual and give her what she wants, satisfying her every need, until she begs him to give her what he's wanted for years. Not just her body, but her love.



Interview with Fran Lee  
1.  How did you begin your writing journey?    I've been "writing" since I wasabout 14, but most of my stuff was YA/fantasy romance.  As I grew older and life took over, I sort ofshoved all my writing into a box under the bed until I was finally ready tobegin writing "real" romance. Unfortunately, back in the mid 80's, publishers just weren't ready forFran Lee's hot sensuous stuff.  LOL!  I subbed a couple of my books via a talentagent who adored my books...and every single publisher thanked me for mysubmissions and told me they didn't handle "that sort" of genre.  Hmmmm. One even suggested that I submit my work to Playboy.  It was simply too hot to handle.  Of course, 20 years later, when I found somepublishers who actually WANTED hot and sensuous books, I was told that my books"weren't hot enough".  I had torevise and resubmit.  After revising andheating them up a bit, they were contracted. Sigh.  I was always ahead of mytime.
2.  How many books have you had published at thispoint in your career?    I have 17 books in digital and print format.
3.  Have you ever dealt with writer's block?  OMG...have I ever!  I went afull year without managing to write a single story that was acceptable to myvarious editors.  I began to seriouslydoubt my ability as a writer.  I letother people's opinions and comments drag me into a doldrum so deep, I couldbarely get my chin above ground.  Butthen I swallowed my fear (with the prodding and constant encouragement of manygood friends) and made some career decisions that were a bit risky.  I was scared I'd made another mistake.  But once I found an editor who liked mystuff, I climbed back on and after a long, dry year, my newest book is finallyout! 

4.  Are you a night owl or an early bird?   It is now 2:08 a.m. and I am finishing up the interview sheet.LOL!  I barely crawl out of bed beforenoon most days because I seldom go to bed until the wee hours.


5.  Are you a plotter or a pantser?   I am definitely a pantser. I often tell people that I do not write books...I channel them.LOL!  My muse grabs me by the throat andshakes me, and I start writing.  6.  Did you choose your genre or did your genrechoose you?  I chose it...I had written anumber of hot books in the 80's, and when I finally got some contracted, I hadto find an erotic publisher.  I love toREAD YA and mainstream romance, but I prefer to WRITE erotic contemporaryromance.

7.  Can you tell us a little about your newrelease?   Uncertainly Yours is thefourth book in my Native American Heroes group. The first three were Double Your Pleasure, with Native American twinswho shared many things, then Nothin But Sex, my Cougar Challenge story, andWoman on Fire.  I had so many requestsfor more hot NA guys, I dug out another of my older stories and worked it intoa modern piece.  Uncertainly Yours tellsthe story of Jacqueline (Jack) O'Halleran, and Lance Blackfeather.  Raised by her Uncle Frank on his North Dakotahorse ranch, Jack had a crazy crush on the older, very hot son of Uncle Frank'sfriend, and made the mistake of letting Lance know how she felt.  Lance shot down her teenage crush andhumiliated her totally, knowing that a man his age was treading on glass totake her crush seriously.  He alwaysregretted how he had stomped her feelings into the barn floor.  Because he really, really liked Jack O'Halleran.  Too damn much for her own good.  No way did he want to end up buried to thechin in an anthill because Frank realized just how much.  This is the story of two people who met atthe wrong time in their lives.  But timeschange and when they meet again, all bets are off.

9.  Howwould you describe your heroine? Sassy or easygoing, brash or timid?  Jackis tough, wild and untamed and always was too mature for her years, afterlosing her mother, then her father.  Sheis a woman who learned the hard way how to take care of herself, and when shemeets the very alpha, hot, and still-sexy man from her unhappy past, she isn'tabout to trust him not to hurt her again. But she can't quite manage to convince her body that she hates him...

10.        What writing project are you workingon now?   I have several wips, includinga sequel to my shifter romance, Hallie's Cats. I am also experimenting with a sci-fi story.  I have one "super novel" that Iwrote in 1986, but am not sure how to submit that one, since it is extremelylong and has four sets of lovers interlaced throughout the book, switching fromone pair to the next in e very chapter. All four pairs of lovers are integral to the storyline...but not allpublishers want long, epic-length books. LOL!

11.      What is your one guilty pleasure, non-writing related, of course?   Hmmm.  See's Tipperary bon bons.

12.    Can you tell readers where they can findyour work online? Website address, blog, links, etc.   You can find a complete list of all my books on my websiteat:  http://www.franleeromance.com or youcan find my books at my publisher's websites. Ellora's Cave: http://www.jasminejade.com/m-554-fran...  and Resplendence Publishing: http://www.resplendencepublishing.com...

I also have a Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Fran-Le...  and I am on Twitter:  http://twitter.com/#!/franleeromance  and I am also on Examiner dot com:http://www.examiner.com/romance-novel...

My main blog site is:  http://http://franleesromanceblog.blo...

I am currently having a drawing to win a copy ofUncertainly Yours over on my blog. Thanks so much for having me here today, Taylor!  It's been fun!

Read an excerpt from Uncertainly Yours by Fran Lee

An Excerpt From: UNCERTAINLY YOURS
Copyright © FRAN LEE, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Two hours later, after playing you-can't-catch-me tag with the big roan and finally convincing him it was in his best interests to carry her home, she rode into the ranch yard, thinking of nothing but a desperately needed cup of coffee and a can of chili. Sliding to the ground with a groan of relief, she led the horse into the corral. She clipped his bit ring to the dangling halter lead that always hung on the hitching post just inside the gate. Loosening the cinch, she dragged the big old roping saddle off his high back. He started shaking his ugly head, impatient for his evening meal.
"You ate two lunches, you big mule. You can just wait until I put the tack away and get myself something to eat, which, by the way, I've wanted to do for the last four hours. If you hadn't played your damn games, you might be eating right now!"
She lugged the heavy saddle into the barn and settled it over the sawhorse by the tack room door, draping the damp saddle pad upside down over the saddle seat to let it dry. Grabbing a rag and a stiff brush, she stomped back out to brush and rub the horse's rumpled coat before she ran fresh well water into the trough.
Leaning against the rough pole fence, she stared at the gelding as he drank his fill and headed over to check out the feed bin. Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to take care of you? Never have to worry about where your next meal came from? Never have to get up and shower and get to work? Just put the bridle away and go feed your growling belly, girl…
After she put the bridle in the tack room, she trudged wearily back across the yard toward the house and stopped dead as she saw the gleaming black 4x4 pickup that was parked beside the rattletrap old Ford.
Company? When I look like I just lost a sand-wrestling match with a bear? Great. Jack shook her head. Oh, well. She'd see what they wanted and make it quick. She certainly wasn't expecting anyone to drop by and Molly drove a blue van. She approached the black pickup, wondering who the hell would be coming out here and what they wanted.
She didn't have to wait very long to find out, as the driver-side door swung open and a long, lean body unfolded itself from the cab of the vehicle to face her as she approached.
OMG. Her heart lurched. Her suddenly useless feet almost tangled and she drew in a sharp breath to steady her racing pulse.
No. Way. In. Hell.
She came to a stumbling halt, too shocked to move closer as she came face-to-face with her worst nightmare and her wildest fantasy.
Lance Blackfeather.
Dark eyes swept over her dusty jeans and grubby shirt as he removed his black Stetson and ran a lean hand through his nearly waist-length hair. One look at that beautiful, intense face brought back all the humiliating memories of her wild teenage crush on the man…and the way he'd treated that crush. She was suddenly speechless. The silence that hung between them was just another reminder of her lack of savoir faire. She had always felt totally gauche around the man.
Finally managing to force words through her stiff lips, Jack nodded and said tightly, "Blackfeather. What brings you out here? Uncle Frank's funeral was last week." She couldn't stop the little jab at his conscience. If he actually has one. He seemed to be considering his answer carefully as he trailed those lean fingers over the deep center dent of his hat. She shivered as she had a sudden image of those lean fingers trailing over the warm folds of her pussy.
Gah! Mind out of the gutter, Jack!
When he did finally speak, the sound of his voice sent shivers through her.
"I've been away for a while. I just got back. My condolences. Frank was a damn good man."
She lifted her chin slightly to gather her damn pride around her like a shield against the sexy, mouthwatering aura he had always exuded. However, his unexpected response took some of the wind out of her self-righteous sails. He's been away? She could accept that excuse.
"Thank you." She swallowed hard to calm the rampant butterflies that had just headed down her throat to her stomach. Now what, Jack? At least act like you have some manners. "I don't have much in the way of fancy hospitality, but I can offer you a cup of coffee, if you don't mind reheated."
Amazed that she'd actually had the courage to ask him if he wanted coffee, she removed her hat and dusted it off against her worn jeans. She started toward the porch and he raised his hand to forestall her.
"I don't mean to impose." His voice was husky. Sexy. And sending little flutters of lust into her belly. Damn it, Jack! How the hell can you even think of him that way after he tore your heart into little pieces? Her anger at herself translated to her tone when she spoke again.
"You aren't imposing. If you have the courage to drink my lousy coffee, you're welcome to it." Trying not to notice his sun-bronzed face and that killer body as she passed him, she climbed the steps to the front door a bit stiffly. She didn't have to look over her shoulder to know that he was following her. His boots scraped on the wooden steps and as she shoved the creaky front door inward he reached past her to hold it open, his chest brushing her shoulder. She almost gave a yelp as she jerked away, but managed to move without making it look like he'd just scared the hell out of her.
"Looks like the screen could use fixing." His quiet observation brought a hot flood of color to her face.
Duh! Real observant of you, Blackfeather. "Yeah. It fell off the hinges last summer. Uncle Frank was going to fix it…" Her voice trailed off as she recalled all the times the old man had said he was going to fix that sagging screen door. She shook herself back to the present and waved toward the kitchen, forcing back the lump that filled her tight throat. "Make yourself at home. I'll get you a cup." She reached for two chipped mugs and said, "I was about to fix myself some chili. I can open two cans if you're hungry."
She paused to look over her shoulder and realized that he was so close she could move back half an inch and lean into that rock-hard body. OMG. Space! Need to put some space between his front and my back—now!
She moved quickly to the stove and checked to see if there were any hot coals left to ignite the kindling she had gathered earlier from the quickly dwindling wood supply out back. Nope. It was stone cold. She grabbed a sheet of old newspaper out of the box next to the stove and crumpled it, added some kindling to get the fire restarted and then reached for the box of matches. Empty! Damn! Another thing that has to be purchased next time I'm in town. Well, maybe she could afford a box of matches. Just not much else.
A long arm brushed past her and, with a soft click, Lance lit the paper with a lighter. He was almost flush against her back as she straightened and she closed her eyes and swallowed the tight knot in her throat. "Thanks," she said tersely as she reached to move the cold pot of coffee back to the heat plate of the stove.
He moved back a step as she turned to face him and she motioned toward the little table with its pair of white wooden chairs. Damn, but he has absolutely no concept of personal space. "Grab a seat. Did you want that chili or not?" Here I am blushing like a sappy idiot again just because he's looking at me in that damn sexy way of his.
He hung his hat on one spindle of the chair he chose and he sank onto the seat slowly, apparently testing its capability of handling his weight. "I ate a while ago. I'll just have some of that coffee."
God, but he was still as gorgeous and as well built as she recalled. She had hoped he would have gone gray and grown a paunch like most of the men around here seemed to. But no. He had to remain hot and sexy and…
She swallowed and forced her thoughts away from him. No use thinking about him. Nothing had changed, except she was older and wiser and not as apt to drool over him openly like she had at sixteen.
As she moved around the kitchen opening a can of chili, then setting it on the stovetop to heat in the can, she could sense his eyes following every move she made, making her feel oddly clumsy. She nearly dropped the long spoon she'd stirred the chili with before getting it safely into the kitchen sink. She washed her hands and reached for a tea towel.
When there was no further excuse to keep her back to him, she turned and leaned against the countertop, folding her arms defensively over her chest. "It was real nice of you to drive all this way to offer your condolences. I know you and Uncle Frank were friends. And I really appreciate the help you were to him all these years." She chewed the corner of her bottom lip and drew a calming breath. "But I get the feeling that's not what you came out here for. I gather you saw my ad in the papers? You want to buy me out, since this is right in the middle of your spread? I plan to have it sold as soon as possible." Jesus. I'm babbling.
He inhaled deeply and frowned. "You can't sell the ranch."
She stared at him stonily. "I don't have a choice. I don't have any other way to settle the remainder of his debts. I sold everything that wasn't nailed down to pay off his creditors. Do you want to buy me out or not? I'm not asking much—just enough to pay off the rest of his bills and the funeral."
Damn him. He's got that look on his face, like he feels sorry for me.
Tremors of weariness hit her but she didn't want to show any weakness to him. She turned to stare out the little window above the sink, afraid she would begin to bawl like a baby. "Look, it's been a real rough day. I know you have important things to do…"
He was suddenly right behind her again and she drew a ragged breath. Damn! How the hell could he move that fast without her hearing him? His closeness set off all sorts of alarms in her body. His hands settled gently on her shoulders as he murmured softly, "I'm sorry. I sure as hell didn't come here to upset you."
She drew a calming breath. "It's okay. It'll sort itself out. I know it won't bring much on the market, but at least I can pay off the bills that are left. Just make me an offer."
His fingers tightened on her drooping shoulders and he turned her to face him. "Maybe you should sit down." His voice was quiet as he glanced toward the table and chairs.
"Sit down? That sounds pretty ominous." Her eyes searched his face for a moment and then his words began to sink in. Her belly knotted as she tried to calm her heart rate. This isn't a social visit. He had come to deliver some bad news. His dark eyes told her that. Then she whispered, "Exactly why can't I sell the ranch, Blackfeather?"
He hesitated, then murmured quietly, "This piece of land is on the Standing Rock Sioux Reservation. The tribe owns all the land here. Frank was only leasing it."
Her heart was hammering as she swallowed and whispered shakily, "Leasing it?" She drew a painful breath. That's why there was no land title on file? Her lips trembled. It made perfect sense now. But he had always told her that the ranch would be hers someday. That implied that he owned it outright. Didn't it? This was getting so crazy…
She allowed him to ease her onto the chair he'd been sitting on. Her thoughts swirled dangerously. Just how was she supposed to pay off what he still owed his creditors? God knew she had nothing more to sell…of his or hers. What about the cost of his funeral? They had buried him on her promise to pay the costs from the proceeds of the estate. She closed her eyes and swallowed the nausea she felt. Oh God.
She sensed Lance sinking to his haunches in front of the chair and she forced her eyes open to meet his gaze. "I don't understand. He led me to believe this would be mine someday—that I would have a place to come back to." She shook her head. "I just assumed…" Her voice trailed off.
"He had a twenty-year lease. He always figured you would still have the ranch to come back to if things went sour." She saw the pity in those almost-black eyes and she stopped herself from saying any more.The last thing she needed or wanted from Lance Blackfeather was his pity.

Drop by Fran's blog and leave a comment or just your name
to enter to win an ebook copy of Uncertainly Yours,
by Fran Lee!
Fran's BlogGood luck,Taylor

A Lack of Snow, though I'm not complaining.

This time last year, there were several feet of snow on the ground in northern Minnesota. As a matter of fact, my son had to shovel the snow off our roof to keep it from crashing through. This year I can still see the grass. Funny, but growing up in Arizona I'd always dreamed of a white Christmas.

Snort.

What the hell was I thinking?

Sure, it's pretty. At first.

Then, it just becomes annoying. The never ending shoveling, the slipping and sliding on the road, the amazing lack of color no matter where you look.

Just.

White.

Everywhere.

By the time spring came around last year I was desperate for color. I went out and bought several bouquets of red and yellow flowers, and even planted a sunny flower garden in the little spot outside my window.

This year, besides the biting cold, I have to remind myself it's December. Nearly Christmas.
We have a tree up, one my nephew and I went and cut ourselves, decorated with gorgeous lights...which to me is just enough of a reminder that Christmas is around the corner.

The ice on the big lake is just starting to form and ice fishing, which is a huge draw of income for our local community and resorts, has finally begun.

Me, I still can't get over the whole 'driving' on a lake thing. In Arizona, where I grew up, you swim in lakes, you dive into them, you don't drive upon them!

Plus, it's cold. Sitting in an ice house with my line down an itty-bitty hole all day just doesn't appeal.

Snowmobiling, not so much this year. Again, not for me, but there are a lot of people, true Minnesotans, who are dying to get out there on their sleds and make tracks.

Funny, one reason I left Arizona was because of the heat, but I'm not big on the extreme cold either. Nope, I'll sit by the fire and sip my coffee, thank you.

How about you? Are you into outdoor winter activities?

Either way, stay safe and stay warm.
Taylor

Adult excerpt...18 years and older, please..Seduced by Blood(Erotic Vamp.)

Adult Excerpt:
18 Years or older, please.
Thanks,
Taylor

"Youdon't have time, chica. Swallow me."Hisblood, warm and delectable, wet her lips and mouth, tasting like a jolt ofchocolate flavored rum with a caffeine chaser.

Theworst of it was she wanted him this close, wanted to touch him, to kiss him, totaste him because when she was locked in his embrace she forgot about the pain.She opened her mouth to argue but his blood, wet and warm, dampened her lipsand tongue.Fuck. He tasted…incredible.

Herthirst, the same she'd awoken to at the hospital, was harsh and overwhelming.There was no more pain, no more fear, and the remainder of the world ceased toexist. There was just this delicious, sinful rhapsody dancing on her tongue.
Hermouth had been as dry as the desert before the first spring rain, and hisblood, his blood was that quenching drop of succulent, blissful water."Yes,"Nevada murmured. She wanted more. More.

"Takeall you need, chica. Just. Drink."Nevadadrove her hand up into his hair and drank deeply.

Herbody ached from the inside out, ached to be filled with him, filled by him. Herlimbs tingled, her blood sizzling through her veins, his blood rejuvenatingher, reviving her.

Shehad thought she was never going to see him again, had thought he'd left her andhad walked away forever and now he was here.

Witha burst of adrenaline giving her the strength she needed, Nevada wrapped herlegs around his waist. She clawed at his shirt, wanting to feel his hot,pulsing cock, wanting him closer, needing him inside her has she consumed him.She shoved at it and he lifted his arms. She lifted the shirt off, tossing itover her head.

Shepressed her pelvis against his hips and clutched him between her thighs,inhaling his powerful scent.

God,it was mind-blowing, the way he tasted, sweet and as rich as chocolate sin, andthe way he felt against her, solid and unyielding. The way he smelled, spicyand masculine, made her want him all the more.

 "That's it. Drink me, chica." Gunner held herhead against his neck, and gulped hard, his Adam's apple working around athroaty swallow. He turned his neck, and opened his vein to her hungry mouth,arching his hips into hers, and lifting her ass off the table, cupping hercheeks in his palms and squeezing, digging in with his fingers and spreadingher ass cheeks wide. "Drink me."

Hiswords filled her mind like freshly spun cotton candy in her mouth, warm andgooey, melting with her thoughts almost as if he were inside her head.

Nevadaclawed at his back, and ran her hands up the solid cord of muscle, drawing himcloser, nuzzling against him as she fed."Tellme you're okay," Gunner growled, his voice deep, hoarse, almost weak. He leanedagainst her, his cock hard and throbbing, pulsing against her thigh, and shemoaned in pleasure.

Thirstunquenchable, she cried out like a wild animal, a guttural groan escaping herlips as she drew blood from his vein, finding what she hadn't known she'dcraved.
Hisblood was liquid gold, and branded her mouth like hot stone on flesh, sizzlingdown her throat and intoxicating her more than the finest grain whiskey on theplanet. She swallowed, taking drink after drink, already craving the next andneeding another insatiably.

"Yes,"Nevada felt herself smiling. "I'm…" she whispered, about to say she was fine,though she was better than that. In fact, that word wasn't even in hervocabulary. "Delirious."

Herworld came alive, her body thriving and his blood, it was a seduction initself.

Sheclosed her eyes and savored every drop, knowing she'd never need anything fromanother man as long as she lived.
*****Ittook everything Gunner had to control himself when she'd fought him initially,before giving in and drinking directly from his vein.Themore she fought, the stronger his urge to feed, to control, to let loose thebeast concealed within his soul.Heguided Nevada's head to his neck, though she needed no more encouragement. Shewas frantic to have him, to drink more of his blood. His eyes were wide open,his pupils pinpointed in pleasure as she nuzzled his neck, her hot, sinuousmouth working furiously against his vein.Shenipped at him, not breaking the skin, but using her blunt human teeth to nibblehis flesh. He nearly came in his pants, skirting that edge of control, thebeast inside him raging for escape."Fuck,"Gunner growled. "Take it easy, chica. Take…it…easy."Heknew she couldn't really hear him, couldn't comprehend anything he was sayingat this point. She was too far gone, and feeding directly from his vein wasplaying with fire."Chica,"he groaned. His cock ached for the wetness between her thighs, dampness hecould nearly feel…the tangy, spicy scent of her pussy overwhelming his senses.He was drawn to every soft whimper, every flutter of her heartbeat, everysingle movement she made with her limbs, her mouth, her lips and tongue."Fuck."Nevadadrew him against her, latching on to his neck with ravenous, greedy pulls ofher wicked mouth. She stroked her tongue over his skin, taking short, hungrylaps that would cripple a lesser man, cutting him off at the knees."Stop,"Gunner growled, on the verge of allowing her to drain him dry.Shefought and pulled harder, the suction driving him mad.Heshoved his hand into her hair, coiling it tightly between his fingers, thesuction of her mouth against his skin creating one of the most eroticsensations he'd experienced.Theworld spun violently around him as Nevada quenched her thirst, demanding everylast drop of blood she could consume, a newfound hunger creating a heateddelirium that burned through them both like furious flame.Nevadacouldn't know that she was playing with fire, had no idea that she was about topush him over the edge and snap his control, which was tenuous at best. Sheunsnapped his jeans and Gunner gasped when she slid her hand down his pants,taking his stiff cock into her delicate fingers.Apparently,she knew what she was doing after all.

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