C.J. Ellisson's Blog, page 3

New Releases and More!

I’ve been bad about updating this front page lately, but there’s a reason for it! I’ve been busy writing and marketing every second of the day. Good news—it paid off.

Thanks to all of you, Vanilla on Top hit the USA Today and NYT extended list back in early February!

I immediately sat down and wrote the next book, which was a re-do and expansion of an erotica novelette published two years ago, titled More Than Tolerable. The word count on the new story, Avoiding Mr. Right, went from 17k to 44k. It released yesterday and has received excellent feedback from early readers and reviewers. I sincerely hope you all enjoy Carla’s story!

Here’s the book description:

In order to take control, you often have to let it go…

Carla Johnson thinks issuing orders to a lover will keep her heart safe and leave her in charge of her own destiny. Afraid for Carla’s future, her best friend Heather implores her to change her self-centered ways, handing her a list of love life mistakes to steer clear of:
 
1. Casual Sex
2. Friends with Benefits
3. Avoidance of Intimacy
 
Carla ignores the list—unwilling to face she might have a commitment problem. Until she invites a co-worker to her place one night. She instantly regrets the humdrum sexual encounter and discourages the accountant from pursuing her. 
 
Andy Shea refuses to become another lover the feisty blonde dumps. It'll take a patient man with a strong hand to unlock Carla's sexual awareness and win her heart. He’s up for the challenge to convince her he’s the one—and eager to prove this number cruncher won’t make a boring bedmate. 

~~*~~

If you’d like to read the first four chapters, I’ve posted them here on my website.


Buy links (just to make it easy for you ;-)):

Amazon: USA * Canada * UK
Barnes & Noble * Kobo * Apple's iStore (to follow)

I didn’t sit idle when that manuscript was done. My paranormal readers will be happy to hear that I immediately went back and completed the prequel novella I was working on prior to the release of Vanilla on Top.

Death’s Servant, Jon’s tale, released mid-April and has received a terrific amount of positive reader reviews. Thank you all for your support! If you’d like to read the first four chapters of that book, please click here. I know you’re all anxiously waiting on book four in the V V Inn series and I apologize for the delay.

Frankly, I have a lot of medical bills. I will not be able to get that book out as fast as you all might like. I need to focus on the stories that are selling the most, and right now, that’s contemporary erotic romance. No matter that writing has become my passion; it is first and foremost a job. A job, that if I don’t make money, I would need to go back to my previous career of real estate and property management.

Again, I apologize for not getting book four out faster and I truly appreciate your love and support of that series. My aggressive medical treatment and medications slow down my writing and I may never be one of those people who can crank out four or five long books a year (the shorter ones are much easier).

Here’s a secret many of you might not know – I can’t touch type! I “sight type”, which means I look at the keys while typing. I’m pretty damn fast at it, but still, it’s like a handicap when I see how unencumbered my peers are when they type. I’ve also discovered (through long tedious hours) it’s very hard to re-train yourself to touch type when you’ve excelled the wrong way for decades.

Previously I mentioned I would be starting a newsletter for all the readers who aren’t active on Facebook and would like to participate in contests and such. I’ve had several hundred sign up since I made the announcement, and then it occurred to me that I now have three separate mailing lists: one for this front page, one for the friendship rate on a new V V Inn release, and one for the newsletter.

Three is too much, so I’m going to combine them. After all, I don’t post much on this website to make it too cumbersome. You might see a re-confirm from my email list service and I wanted to explain why. The newsletter will have its own dedicated page here on the website, and it will be sent out sporadically when I have a new contest running. Please don’t feel obligated to opt in. I’m grateful for your support and interest and will try my best not inundate you with crap.

Well, I think I’ve rambled long enough -- thanks for stopping by and it is my sincerest hope you enjoy Avoiding Mr. Right as much as Vanilla on Top!


~C.J.

Vanilla Dom to Vanilla on Top

A lot of you read the beginning of this contemporary erotic romance as I was creating it. Some of you found chapters through my Facebook Author Page and others through the Kindle blog Everything Erotic. I’m thrilled beyond belief to finally share the finished book with all of you. The manuscript that was originally named Vanilla Dom has been renamed and is up for sale as Vanilla on Top!

Early reviews have been fantastic—which I owe in large part to my fabulous street team of readers. Thank you, ladies and gents, for helping to spread the word on my very first romance title! Without your help and support I’d never have made it this far.

In case any of you on the emailing list would like to join and receive autographed swag, participate in exclusive contests, sign up for opportunities to become an alpha or beta reader on my next manuscript, or just to connect with other like minded readers, please stop by and check us out on Facebook. You can still join even if you’re not on FB much, we’re planning a newsletter for readers who don’t use the social network and would rather keep informed via email.

You can find the $2.99 eBook of Vanilla on Top at Amazon (US, UK and Canada among others), Kobo, and Barnes & Noble. Availability in Apple’s iStore will follow soon. There are no print copies of VoT at this time. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, there may a print version to follow at a much later date.

Without further ado, here is the first chapter in all its sexy and sassy goodness. Enjoy!

~~Not for Readers Under 18~~




Chapter One


Heather

The bartender approaches us, carrying our drinks, a lopsided grin on his aging face. “Gin and tonic?”

“That’s me,” I reply, reaching for the squat glass.

He sets a wineglass in front of Carla. She accepts it with a nod and turns her perky blondness my way. “Who orders a mixed drink at a wine bistro?”

My best friend forgets, I’m not nearly as bold as she is and often require stronger fortification for my nerves. “Sometimes wine doesn’t cut it.”

The elegant room fills with bodies, and my temperature rises. So many handsome guys, I’m afraid to open my mouth and trip on my tongue. What in the hell possessed me to try this type of outing again?

Carla eyes the variety of men pouring through the double doors. “Linda outdid herself with tonight’s event. There weren’t this many hotties at the last one. But then again, it wasn’t run by Linda.”

I shudder at the memory of the first speed-dating attempt she dragged me to.

God, I'd felt like such an idiot.

I clearly blocked the humiliation of how no one wanted a date with me afterward. Then again, the prospect of being alone the rest of my life doesn’t sit well either.

“Yup, our lovely organizer did a great job with the men showing up tonight.” I force a laugh to hide my awkwardness. “Maybe one will even call me later.”

“Hey, cut that long hair into some semblance of a style and you might have the same luck Julie did.”

I self-consciously tuck a strand of fine black hair behind one ear. I have no intention of getting a cute pixie haircut like Carla’s. The long locks are one of the few things I like about myself. “Your sister lucked out with her hotshot property developer, but let’s be real. Most of the good ones in this city are gay or married.”

“Not true! I refuse to think there are no good ones left.” She nudges me with her shoulder while pointing her glass at some of the men around the room. “Take a good look. I bet there are at least six here who aren’t married, or gay and looking for a beard.”

I gaze at my friend and appraise her good-naturedly. With curvy good looks and a low cut blouse, she has a much better chance of snagging a guy than I do.

Linda, the busty brunette in her forties who organized the event, waves at us from across the bar, gesturing we should head over to the tables like she explained earlier. Carla and I select small, two-seater tables next to each other, sliding into the cushioned chairs at almost the same time.

“Smile, Heather,” Carla says with a cheeky grin. “You’ll do fine.”

“Oh, yeah.” I hold back my grimace, reminding myself of the free booze. Maybe, if I drink enough, I’ll say something charming and one of these men will choose me for a date. “I’m sure I will.”

Carla leans over and swats my arm playfully. “Step out of your comfort zone, girl. Slip on a new skin while you’re here.”

Putting on a brave face, I nod. “I’ll try.”

I swirl the thin red straw in my gin and tonic while looking over the prospective men. There’s a tall, dark, and gorgeous one in the corner. He’s sporting a blinding white smile, offset nicely by his cocoa-colored skin, deep brown hair, and sharp casual jacket. Yum. My lips tilt up at the corners. He looks in my direction and I drop my glance to the clipboard on the table in front of me. I’d die if he caught me staring at him.

Carla once labeled me a “doormat” while we were commiserating over my past relationships. She might have been right. I’m always bending over backward, sometimes literally, to make a guy happy. And what has it earned me? An empty bed, lonely nights, and lots of meals for one in my freezer. I take a long sip of my drink.

Maybe I should slip on a new skin. Honestly, this current one isn’t working too well. I stiffen my spine as I glance once more around the wood-paneled space. I know there’s a guy out there for me. I just have to find him.

Two men arrive together, one looking slightly more harried than the other. The first one is sandy-haired and built like a runner, slim hipped and lean. His tailored, pinstriped suit still looks fresh at eight o’clock. He’s got a dimple in his chin and an infectious grin as he looks around the room at the available ladies.

Quite a few women look older than me, so even if I’m not stunning, I’m still sitting near the top of prospects for the evening. This may turn out to be my lucky night, yet. The man behind the runner makes me pause. He’s easily the best looking guy in the bistro. And sure enough, by the way heads are turning, I’m not the only one who notices him.

Though slightly shorter than his lanky friend, he must outweigh him by thirty pounds or so. His lean middle implies that extra bulk is all muscle. He’s…arresting. Sable-brown hair, cut short and styled in a lazy fashion that somehow looks professional on him. His charcoal suit drapes across his broad shoulders and defines his narrow waist like it was custom-made. His white shirt contrasts with his Mediterranean complexion, and when he looks up at his friend’s teasing tone, I get a glance at his light brown eyes and chiseled cheekbones. What I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through his hair and kiss him senseless.

I shift in my chair, aware of a growing dampness in my panties. God, how embarrassing. To be drawn to a man I’ve never talked to and who is obviously way out of my league. I probably don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of attracting his attention. I wish I had something prettier on. This slim black skirt and snug spring sweater might emphasize my build nicely, but I’m betting it will take cleavage and a lot of leg to attract a man like him.

My eyes shift sideways to Carla sitting next to me. The deep vee of her shirt showcases her plump, high breasts perfectly, and her tousled pixie-hair simply screams, I’m a fun girl, date me.

A small part of my eagerness for the night deflates over my chances of meeting him compared to hers. The two good-looking friends finish their paperwork and saunter to the bar. What am I really doing here? Sure, I might have a chance of meeting a guy for a midnight hook-up, but really…speed dating?

Makes me wonder—what’s wrong with these guys if they can’t find a date on their own? Shut up, Heather! I scream at myself. You sabotage everything before it even starts!

All right, all right, some of the men could be normal. I sip my drink and scan the room once more. The only decent ones here are the man with the blinding smile, the runner, and Mister Italian Stallion with the sexy bed hair who came in last. A sigh escapes me as I realize I’m close to drooling. Each one of them looks utterly delicious and I pray they’ve got brains behind the pretty faces and gorgeous bodies.

Now, if I can just say something interesting to one of them in the allotted two minutes, I might have a chance.

Linda stands near the middle of the bar area and raises her arm. “Attention Speed Daters!” All eyes turn toward the organizer. “We’re ready to begin. You all know the guidelines. Make polite conversation, ask questions that matter to you, make notes on your card, and move on. All in good fun!” She smiles and nods to a few of the participants around the room. “You never know. You just may meet your one and only match tonight.”

I sigh and plaster on a happy face. Still better than sitting home alone with another microwave meal, so I’m not going to complain. I slurp the last of my drink through the tiny straw. Damn. Need to take advantage of that free booze or it will definitely be a ruined evening.

After getting a refill at the bar, I saunter back to my little table for two, ready to meet my first “date” of the evening. Mr. Serial Killer in Training sits across from me and immediately asks if I’m a vegetarian…thank God for my second drink. I glance down the line to see who will be shifting to my table next. A shudder runs through me as I take another sip. Hopefully the alcohol will make meeting Sloppy Guy and Blinding Smile a little easier to bear.

In thirty minutes, the Italian Stallion slides into the chair at my table. He’s just come from sitting with Carla and wears a smile from ear to ear. A lump forms in my throat from looking at him close up.

A small scar traces the left side of his jaw, its pale color faded with age. I’d like to hear the story behind the old wound. His full lips look soft enough to kiss and his classic Roman nose would be better suited on an Abercrombie model than a businessman in Manhattan.

His eyes glide over me, a slight spark of what I hope is interest in their depths. A flare of awareness ignites in my chest. The man’s charming grin remains in place. A good sign so far. Right as he opens his kissable mouth to speak, his phone rings. His relaxed expression turns into a grimace as he digs in his pocket to retrieve the offending device.

“Sorry,” he mumbles my way before answering. He turns slightly in his seat, angling himself away. “Yes?” He barks into the phone. “No, I won’t be back in tonight. The instructions are in the email I sent.”

At least I had the decency to turn off my phone before I came in. Hell, unless you’re a doctor on call, I doubt there’s anything that important requiring your phone to stay on for two hours. He looks into the distance and I feel a twinge of annoyance.

“No,” his tone grinds out, authoritative and powerful. “You need to listen to me, Brian. The directions are in the email. You follow them precisely and the deal will close. Call me again and I’m going to be really pissed.”

He clicks his phone shut and closes his eyes. Tension spills off him and I hesitate to break the silence. What could be so important that he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders? He takes a deep breath and opens them again, staring straight into my eyes.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me.” He angles toward me. I nod my reassurance that it’s okay, but inside I can’t help but think I’ve lost even more of my precious allotted time with this desirable stranger. He really is way out of my league.

“You know what I want more than anything?” he says with a touch of longing. “I want someone else to take control for a while. I’m really sick of being the guy in charge all the time.”

I smile, not particularly sure I can relate, but willing to appear understanding. His phone rings again and sharp anger stabs my gut.

“Turn it off,” I say, with a challenge in my tone. I sit up straighter and stare into the depths of his caramel eyes. “You want someone to tell you what to do?” He nods, his calculating gaze on me as the phone continues to ring. “Turn off that damn phone,” I bite out, pretending I’m issuing a command. “Now.”

Shock registers across his expression, but he hides it quickly. I raise an eyebrow and feel the sparks fly across the table between us. He returns my stare and smiles, the first real one I’ve seen on him since he came into the restaurant. It’s kind of lopsided and lazy, curling my toes at the devilment it promises. The phone rings a third time and I break our standoff and glance away, tilting my chin an inch higher, showing my displeasure in his lack of action. He fumbles for the phone on the table between us and shuts it off.

My pulse races and a part of me waits for him to shout that I’m the rudest bitch he’s met tonight. Well, I tried my hand at ballsy and domineering—worth a shot. I look toward him and smile, catching him off guard, if his raised eyebrows are anything to go by. The interest I thought I saw earlier still lurks in his eyes.

Hmmm… Maybe tonight won’t be a total wash after all.

I pick up my drink and tilt it toward him in greeting. “I’m Heather.”

He raises his to meet mine and clinks it across the space. “Tony.”

“What do you do, Tony, that has people calling you after office hours?”

He stiffens and his tone comes out flat. “I head acquisitions in a large shipping conglomerate. We’re organizing to buy out a small firm this week.”

I nod, not sure if knowing what he does matters. He seems wired pretty tight, poor guy. “Who did you arrive with, that guy with the sandy-colored hair?”

Tony lifts a brow and interest lights his expression. “Why?” His grin broadens. “You want me to introduce you?”

I stare back at him with a feigned confidence I don’t possess. “I’ll meet him soon enough, won’t I?”

“Touché.” He touches the timer on the table. “We are speed dating.”

“That’s why I asked. You don’t seem like the type to be here.”

“Probably not, but Marcus talks me into lots of stuff I might not normally try on my own. He’s an old college buddy. Dragged me here ‘cause he said I needed a break from work.”

I glance down my nose at his phone, angling my head a bit. “He might be right.”

“And hey—what makes you think I’m not the type to try speed dating on my own?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye.

This man doesn’t know me from Adam. I could be anyone in this moment, anyone who is brash enough to tell a stranger to turn off his phone. Carla said to slip on a new skin…maybe she was onto something…

Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I reach across the table and trace a finger down the back of his hand. “You’re wound too tight,” I say, dropping my voice, trying for a seductive tone. “Like you’re going to snap.” I gaze at him through my lashes, hoping I can pull off a sexy look like I’ve seen in movies. “What you need is to let off a little steam.”

Desire sparks in his caramel eyes and he turns his hand over to grasp my own. “Really? What did you have in mind?” Tiny shocks of pleasure shoot up my arm at our increased contact.

The two-minute timer dings and the prospective dates around the room say their goodbyes and shift out of their chairs, eager to move on to the next person down the line.

I shrug and pull my hand away. “Why don’t you follow me to the patio and find out?”

There’s no doubt I’ve peaked his curiosity. I pick up my drink, still staring into his stunning eyes, and circle my tongue around the tiny swizzle stick before slipping the red plastic into my mouth for a taste of my drink.

Tony’s lips part in an exhalation of breath, his stare locked on my mouth.

I smile at his expression, pleased I’ve made an impression. He seemed to like when I told him what to do. I wonder how far I can take this with him willing to follow. I slide from my chair, now glad I wore a pencil skirt that emphasizes my butt, and walk out of the room without a backward glance, hoping he takes the bait.

My black stiletto heels rap against the marble tile of the bistro as I swish my hips toward the narrow door leading to the closed outside seating in the rear of the restaurant. I push the door open and step through. The metal door whisks shut behind me. It’s early spring and unseasonably warm outside tonight, but still too early for the bistro to have the area set up for receiving diners.

My heart races as I lean against the cool brick. What the hell am I doing, trying a stunt like this in a public place? Will he come out here? If he does, what do I do then? Anyone could walk out here, and by the full ashtray on a stack of tables, the probability of it being a smoker is high.

Ten minutes. All you need is ten minutes.

Can I talk my way through this? Well, why the hell not? If he follows me out here then I’ve definitely intrigued him enough to learn more about me. But how do I set myself apart from the countless women who’ve probably already thrown themselves at him?

The door creaks open and Tony steps out. You can do this, Heather. Take command. Tell him what you want. Tell him what to do, just like he said he wants. Now or never.

I smirk with a confidence I’m not completely feeling. “Nice of you to join me, Tony.” I relax against the brick and check him over from head to foot, making sure he knows with just my eyes exactly how desirable I find him. You can do this, don’t panic. He won’t laugh at you.

I nod toward the stacked chairs. “Take off your coat.” He slips the expensive garment from his shoulders, pulling the starched fabric of his shirt across his defined chest. I nod my approval and his eyes glint with desire in the dimming light.

He smiles, seemingly eager to play whatever game I’ve got in mind. “Anything else?”

I push down my inner anxiety and grin, in what I hope is a teasing manner. “Your tie.”

His eyebrows shoot up, but he loosens the knot and pulls the material free. The red silk slides over his shirt, and then is tossed carelessly toward his coat.

Holy crap, he’s doing it. He’s listening to me. What now?

“Unbutton the top two buttons of your shirt.” The command springs unbidden to my thoughts.

He complies and reveals the golden skin below his throat, with a few stray chest hairs visible near the neck of his undershirt. He looks so good I’d like to grab his shirt and rip it open, licking the skin as it’s uncovered.

Holy cow, where did that come from? I’m not this aggressive woman I’m pretending to be.

“How’s that?” he asks.

My pulse pounds so loudly in my ears I can only nod, afraid I’ll give too much away if I answer. I clear my throat, reaching for nonchalance. “It’ll do.” My hands slide to my hips and I take the plunge, pouring every ounce of courage I possess into my next actions.

I grab my skirt’s black material and work it slowly up my thighs. Tony’s eyes grow round as he follows my movements.

“Get down on your knees,” I say, forcing out my voice in a firm tone. Keep it together, girl! He looks like he’s game. Keep going.

I tug the fabric up, until my skirt scrunches up around my waist and my black lace underwear is bared to the night air. The handsome man’s breath rushes out and I worry he’s going to balk, leaving me here with my skirt rucked up like a fool.

The intensity of the sexual moment overwhelms me a bit and I slide a finger over my heated mound, teasing the aroused flesh underneath. Desire pushes me to be bold. “Did you not hear me, Tony?” Strength pours into my voice, making me sound more sure of myself than I feel. God, if he laughs at me now, I’ll die.

Tony steps closer and sinks to the cobblestone terrace, reaching with two eager hands toward my hips. He buries his face in my crotch and breathes deeply. “You smell so good.” He rubs his cheek back and forth against my panties. “What do you want me to do?”

A shudder ripples through me as the breath of his whispered voice warms my skin through the thin lace. He wants me to tell him what to do. I can do this.

“Kiss me,” I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper.

His soft lips press against the thin garment as the heat from his flesh teases me higher. My every sense feels on high alert during this encounter. I’ve never done anything so daring in my entire life. The next kiss presses harder and little shocks of arousal dart through my core.

“That’s nice,” I say, resisting the primal urge to grind myself into his face. “But I need more.”

I glance down into Tony’s light brown eyes and see an intensity I’ve never seen on a man’s face. To know it’s directed toward me feels even more amazing. “Tell me what you want.” His hot hands skate up my thighs to rest near the aroused juncture between my legs.

I feel the wetness pooling in my panties, my body eager and ready to be with this man I just met. More than anything I want his fingers teasing me to a release. “Slip your thumbs under my underwear and stroke me.”

He pulls his hot lips away from the damp cotton panel of my panties and breathes deep. “Yes, ma’am.”

A prickling ignites my skin, sending the hairs on end when he calls me ma’am. I like it.

I like it a lot.

Two thick digits slide under the delicate fabric, one angling for my aroused bud and one slipping deeper toward my waiting wetness. A jolt of pleasure rips through me the second his thumb makes contact with my clit. An instant later, his other thumb presses against my tight opening.

“You’re very wet.” His voice rumbles into the evening, almost reverent, like I’m a precious object he’s not sure how to handle. “I want to taste you.”

“Not yet.” There’s no way I could handle his mouth right now. I’d lose it completely and my credibility on driving the bus in this scenario would blow up in my face. My breath hitches and I gather myself, aiming for calm, cool and collected. “Only when I say.”

A moan of protest echoes into the night, cutting off when his hungry kisses pepper my thighs. My legs widen of their own accord and I slide down the cool brick a fraction of an inch, heedless of the snags my clothes will receive. The stiffness of his thumb pushes deep inside me and after a few plunges a small groan erupts from my lips.

It’s been months since I’ve been with anyone. I’m so turned on by this man doing exactly what I want, what I told him to do, that I fear I won’t last long. The slick pressure on my clit starts to circle, driving me even higher.

“Come here and kiss my mouth,” I say. His hands pull away and I feel bereft of his touch. I hastily add, “Don’t stop touching me. Use your fingers instead.”

In a flash, the sexy businessman stands, ravaging my mouth with a passion I’ve never had directed toward me. A deep rumble sounds in his throat while his lips cover mine. The frenzied action reveals his pent-up arousal and desire, and I’m almost giddy with the power surge I feel. He truly wants me. Not just what I can do for him, but wants me and what I’m making him feel. What a rush!

Two slick fingers pump into my sex while Tony sucks on my bottom lip, nipping it once in his haste. He leans in to deepen the kiss and the length of his erection presses against my hip. I want nothing more than to tell him to take me right here—to beg this gorgeous man to do me until I scream his name—but a part of my brain still holds on to the act.

I bet he can have any woman he wants any time. I need to stand out from the others. For once, I want to be the desired one. My mind empties as exquisite waves of pleasure build and spill through my limbs.

I break the intense kiss to focus on what I need to do. “On your knees,” I whisper. “Now.”

Tony complies and gazes up at me with an eager look on his face. “Yes?”

“Pull the lace aside and lick me.”

The evening air brushes against my heated flesh before his hot tongue laps at my engorged button. One firm hand holds the material aside while the other pumps steadily in and out of me.

A moan of delight drifts out as Tony’s clever tongue zeros in on my clit, pushing me beyond all boundaries of pleasure. My breath hitches again and Tony moves faster, plunging his fingers in me furiously while sucking my bud between his lips. His pointed tongue tickles the aroused skin, and the combined sensations propel me up and over the edge.

An intense release rips through me, lighting my nerve endings and sending shudders to cascade over my body. Tony eases his movements, gently tonguing my wet flesh.

Warmth infuses me as I collapse against the bricks, panting for breath. I can’t believe what I’ve just done. And in public! I’ve essentially had sex with a stranger. A drop-dead gorgeous stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Granted, it was one-sided sex, but still not something I’ve ever done.

Tony eases my panties back in place before standing. The arousal engulfing his entire body makes his movements stiff. Even in the dim light, I see the outline of his protruding cock straining against his tailored slacks.

A smile curves my lips as the prefect response to the evening comes to me. Damn. Can I pull this off? We’ll have to see.

I slide my skirt down my hips, smoothing the creases out with the flat of my hand. “You did a good job.” Tony smiles and reaches for me, but I side step out of his grasp. “Next time might be your turn.” My face sets into a distant mien of confidence I’ve never felt before. “Give me your number. Maybe I’ll call.”

~~*~~

Thanks for taking the time to read the first chapter. It is my sincerest hope you enjoyed it enough to give Vanilla on Top a try. Trust me, it only gets better (and hotter) after this!

Comments welcome! I’m always excited to hear what readers have to say.
~C.J.

Why Do Women Read?

Women read for a reason. We like to be transported from our lives into something more exciting and fun. We desire to escape into a world where romance lives and good wins in the end. We read to explore, to learn, to fantasize, and to avoid killing our spouses in their sleep.

Here are a few examples of dialogue one might read in a Book versus Real Life--

Book: “You look beautiful.”
Real Life: “Are you ready to go, yet?”

B: “I can’t live without you.”
RL: “I can’t sleep. Roll over and stop snoring.”

B: “Your hair looks fantastic.”
RL: “The game is on, can we talk later?”

B: “I’d like to lick that whip cream off you.”
RL: “You gonna finish eating that?”

B: “Let’s play a family game with the kids.”
RL: “The children are calling you.”

B: “I made reservations.”
RL: “What’s for dinner?”

B: “Sexy nightie… too bad you won’t be wearing it for long…”
RL: “How long are you going to read with the light on?”

B: “I never felt love like this before.”
RL: “My last girlfriend didn’t have a problem with it…”

B: “I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
RL: “Come on… It’ll only hurt for a minute—I swear.”


I could go on and on all day….

I read for inspiration, to experience adventure, and to remember life could always be worse. Why do you like to read?

***

Forgive the lack of posts lately. I’ve been traveling all summer long and have to update the website with pictures and such. Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll have a ton to share.

Appearances: I’m gearing up to attend the Anne Rice Wolf Ball and Undead Con this year in New Orleans, the weekend before Halloween. Tickets are still available if you want to join me.

If Florida in the winter is more your speed, check out Olde City, New Blood in St. Augustine. Read on for more details and how you can win a ticket for free:

Dearly Beloved,
We are gathered here today, to join two awesome things in a state of increased awesomeness.
Today, we're bringing together an author/reader mini-con, and the chance to WIN YOUR WAY IN FOR FREE!

  
You can check out the official website for the complete list of Featured Authors (I'll give you a hint... one of them is ME!!) and Featured Bloggers. There's also a main contest post with all the participating authors, bloggers, and dates for the contest. It's super easy. Visit each of the spotlight blog posts and author websites listed, fill out the Rafflecopter link on each one (one entry PER POST, not per day... and yes, they will be checking), and POOF, multiple entries to WIN!!
 
The prize is one of 3 FREE REGISTRATIONS to see me and about 49 other authors on the sunny beaches of St. Augustine, Florida, from Feb 8th-10, 2013. We're going to be doing panels, readings, meet & greets, and just generally having a fun weekend with our incredible fans!! Please keep in mind, if you win, you'll have to cover your own travel and hotel expenses, but your ticket into the party will be on Olde City, New Blood!!!
 
The contest runs from September 30th - October 6th, and the 3 winners will be announced on October 7th. Don't forget to click the Rafflecopter link below before you hop off to check out the rest of the contest posts!! Good Luck, everyone!! I hope to see you ALL in Florida this February!!

a Rafflecopter giveaway

BIG GAME Draws BIG Attention

The third book in my bestselling V V Inn series, BIG GAME, launched earlier this week. It was the perfect time after my participation on a FOX5 panel in San Diego discussing “Mommy Porn” and before a slew of radio interviews —including a really detailed one with blogtalk radio this week hosted by Garrison Leykam on Conversation Crossroad . The reader feedback on the book has been overwhelmingly positive so far. YAY! I couldn’t be happier!

As a lot of you know, April 23 marked the two-year anniversary of my nephew’s death in a motorcycle accident. I plan on donating a portion of BIG GAME’s proceeds to a group that helps promote motorcycle awareness to motorists. Making this deadline to honor him was incredibly difficult, but despite everything—I did it. Reader support kept me going these last two months, like an IV drip of caffeine might for some writers.

I can’t adequately put into words what your emails and comments do for me. I’ve been largely housebound for over three years. Sometimes my only adult interaction (besides my husband) is through these online relationships and interactions. When a writer lives in their head it can become very lonely and often discouraging. It’s extremely easy to give up, or put off writing until you feel like it. Family, friends, and sheer force of will can become the only things sustaining you.

When you add in my medical issues—Rheumatoid Arthritis, Eosinophilic Esophagitis, Celiac’s, Lyme Disease, Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, Murine Typhus… and other stuff that is hopefully on the ‘outs’ this season… well, damn, there are some days I don’t even want to get out of bed. Not only do I seem to pick up bacteria every where I go, I have such a weakened immune system that whatever it is can become a big issue real quick.

In the hope of stirring up reader interest, I sent an email out to my distribution list in March—asking for reviews of the first two books in the series in exchange for their name being entered in a private drawing. I did not publicize this offer on Facebook, Twitter, or directly on my website. It was an insider’s deal. There were 58 entries for the following prizes:

Three books: one signed and numbered set of print editions of the first three books in the series One signed and numbered edition of book three, Big GameA $50 gift card to the eBook retailer of your choiceA $25 gift card to the eBook retailer of your choice
I received some phenomenal reviews on Amazon (and the UK Amazon), Apple, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords, and on blogs—you all went above and beyond, thank you!! As much as I’d like to award the prizes to the most well worded reviews, I can’t. I promised it would be a drawing based on a number generator, and it will.

If you don’t win, please understand that I do value your support and kindness. It was incredibly inspiring to read the reviews posting each day while I was pushing myself to finish this book on time. Due to the outpouring of support on this drawing, I’m running a similar one right now for reviews of BIG GAME, but making it open for everyone. Check out this public Facebook event for more details on how you can win and how to have more than one entry, too. Give me a week and I’ll transfer the details to this website and make a new contest page as well.

The winning numbers picked by generator.org were 2, 9, 28, and 52 (in that order). Those numbers correspond to the names listed alphabetically in a spreadsheet. Without further babbling on my part, here are the winners:

Grand Prize Winner of an entire set of signed print books: Ashley Harvey

Winner of a signed copy of BIG GAME: Christine Appleton

Winner of $50 gift card: Johnni Bayne

Winner of the $25 gift Card: Tarisa Tate

Book winners: please email me your physical address at cj@cjellisson.com to receive your prize. **Print copies of BIG GAME will not be ready for two more weeks, so expect your package to go in the mail by the end of May.

Gift card winners—I will need to know the retailer you prefer to issue the gift card.

There is still a chance to win signed & numbered copies of my books. Please check out the event on Facebook listed above for details. If we get over fifty individual entrants, I will double the gifts awarded.

Lastly: I have not heard from Nolene Eliassen Wold, winner of the proof copies back in January. If I don’t hear from you by the end of the month I will include the proof copies (the only ones in existence) in the Facebook BIG GAME review event as well.

Thank you all for your continued support and I sincerely hope you all enjoy the latest (and what I think is the best) installment to the series - BIG GAME!

Amazon ~ Barnes & Noble ~ Smashwords
(other retailers to follow within the month)

Cheers,

~C.J.

Mommy Porn

I participated in a newscast on the FOX5 San Diego morning show yesterday, hosted by Erica Fox. There were four of us on the panel—Dr. Samuel Wood, Dr. Rose Hartzell, bestselling author Sylvia Day, and moi. I flew out the day before and left almost immediately after, but it was a whirlwind adventure I’m glad I experienced.

Dr Hartzell, Dr Wood, me, and Sylvia Day posing in front of the gorgeous cast photos in the greenroom.

Here is the youtube link if you’d like to watch the discussion:



I found one thing to be the most fascinating aspect of this entire foray into TV—I had no idea what the host was going to ask. I made some flip comment when they walked us out to the set about the old bodice ripper covers they had in the background and boom that’s the first question I’m hit with. Damn!

At least I plugged the hunky (and friendly) Jimmy Thomas. I’ve never encountered such a hardworking man in the romance industry and it’s a crying shame they didn’t have one of his many thousands of covers up there instead of the old Fabio inspired ones from the 80s.

Maybe that’s all the media thinks of women who read romance books? That we all prefer to pick up books with heaving bosoms on the cover, which often contain rape-like first encounters of the virginal main characters.

I’ll admit, I read those books twenty plus years ago.

And then, I grew up. I didn’t want to read about the heiress in a forced marriage where he semi-rapes her on their wedding night, then she falls in love with him later. Or the Viking who captures his enemy’s daughter and falls for her strong, proud bearing—making up for his harsh first encounter with her throughout the whole book to win her heart.

Thankfully, writers grew out of those trends, too. Publishers finally showcased stronger female characters who had a more active role in their sex lives. No longer did she have to be a virgin when she met the hero. It was refreshing—and readers loved it.

Don’t get me wrong; a lot of these newer books still had the man saving her at the end of the day. And that’s okay, too. For some women that’s what floats their boat. But not me.

I no longer need a man to save me than do the millions of women out there who are raising kids alone, working two jobs, dealing with health problems, or a major financial crisis. Life is hard. And strong women, well, we survive.

Does that mean we don’t want sex and romance in our lives—simply, because we don’t require to be rescued?

Surely, I’m not the only one who knows if you have confidence in yourself, you appear desirable to the opposite sex? Hell, when you read a book are you drawn to the mousey man who can’t stand straight and look the heroine in the eye, or do you find yourself pulling toward the man with confidence?

We all want the man who doesn’t need us, but one who wants us. News flash, most men want the same thing, to be desired for who they are, not for what they provide.

Life mirrors what we read. You’d no sooner choose the deadbeat dad who can’t hold a job or the player who can’t keep his pants zipped if you knew he was like that ahead of time, right?

So, is it then a crime for women to enjoy reading about men who are confident and sexually knowledgeable, too? Should what we read, that stirs our imagination and helps us desire our spouses, be deemed “mommy porn”?

Ummm… I can’t speak for the rest of you, but I discovered the Black Lace series when I was about twenty-six. Which, I’d like to point out, was way before I became a mom. When my fiancé (now my husband) found out he benefitted greatly from what I was reading, he encouraged me to buy as much erotica as I wanted.

We didn’t read the books together. I read them alone. Occasionally, I would read a steamy scene to him. The erotic stories stimulated my brain and did what every sex therapist knows—if you think about sex you will want it.

Perhaps, the biggest difference is women don’t need to read erotica to reach sexual gratification like some men do regarding watching porn. Lots of men are literally addicted to it. Or, they get so wrapped up in the fantasy they can’t perform without it. Sad, isn’t it? That you can’t talk to your partner about what you need to be happy?

I learned more about myself and my sexuality from those books than I ever did from the porn I watched.

There. I admit it. I watch porn.

I’m not ashamed of it. I’m a sexual creature—much to my satisfied husband’s delight. Sex isn’t dirty or shameful and we shouldn’t need to hide what we like. But, at the same time, sex should never replace the loving connection we have with our partners. Pornography addiction does that. It sets up unrealistic expectations, whereas reading about sex allows the fantasy to play out in your mind, encouraging you to act out your desires with your partner.

Seduction starts in the brain. You glance at your husband with longing when he’s dressed up for an evening out. You hug him from behind while he’s at the sink (sorry, but seeing my man help out around the house is a huge aphrodisiac for me. I know I’m not alone on that one!). You pat him on the bottom when you lovingly tease him on something. You text him a naughty thought.

Every small thing you do primes your partner for later on when you’re alone—and all of it centers on his brain’s responses to your stimuli. He returns the heated looks, the hugs, the pats, and the fun texts… and then what do you have? You have a man who desires you, simply because you have shown your interest in him. Not some fake image on a screen.

And if all of your desires were triggered by a book with a sex scene that got your blood moving, then what of it? Should that be relegated to the male-coined phrase of “mommy porn”? All I can say is, the idiot who thought that up sounds like a man trying to justify his Internet porn addiction.

I know what porn is. I know what is bad porn and good porn, too. Erotica and erotic romance is neither. Anything that is well written enough to inspire you to have relations with your partner is golden, not worthy of being compared to a visual aid needed to reach gratification. Puh-lease. Don’t get me started. I could be here all day ranting about this one.

How about you? What are your thoughts on this “mommy porn” term? Does it make you laugh or does it piss you off? Please share!

When Twilight Fans Grow Up...

....What Do They Read?

Lots of readers related to the familiar teenage angst in the popular Twilight books. Past a certain age, most of us would like to forget about that awkward time in our lives and focus more on the rest of what life has to offer… you know, the good stuff, like SEX.

Sure Edward's sensitivity and creepy, stalker-like devotion may thrill the younger set…

"Oh, he loves me...."

...but I'd prefer a hunky vampire to sweep my off my feet and ravish me all night.

"Oh, how he loves me!"

I know I'm not alone in my thinking—as the many bestselling vampire books out today can certainly attest!

Twilight was just a tame version of a really good paranormal romance book. The mature readers have known where the action has been for years, and it wasn't penned from a mom on a soccer field as a gift to her sister. (okay, to be fair, some of them might have been, who knows?)

But what do younger adult readers grab when they out-grow Twilight? Do they want more weak female lead characters, or do they want one with some teeth?

"I have a sword and I'm not afraid to use it. Bring it, beyotch!"

I think the smart ones move on to urban fantasies written in a first person point of view. These stories put them in the place of the main character… the one who is ultimately seduced by, or falls for, the male vampire, werewolf, or other supernatural critter.

I've read some amazing series where she is the demon hunter, the werewolf, the witch, the necromancer, the ghost whisperer, the reaper, or the newly turned baby-vamp. She might be fighting a crime, solving a mystery, saving the world, or protecting those she loves… Sure, she might might mistakes, but she is no swooning heroine who goes off in the woods to die when her heart is broken.

"It's cold out here and growing dark. Think I'll just lay down here and go to sleep.... "

No sir. This heroine will probably track the heartbreaker down and give him a good what-for and an ass-kicking for good measure.

"Did you drink the last cup of coffee, again?"

She is who we long to be. She is our inner diva. She's the gun toting, knife-wielding woman who won't take any crap, won't accept being treated like a doormat, and demands sexual satisfaction.

Now let's imagine…. There is an entire market catering to these ass-kicking heroines and what do we find? Their tragic flaw is they can never seem to find relationship happiness.

Why? Will her ability to be an ass-kicking heroine somehow be diminished by her monogamous relationship? Will she no longer engage in hot sex because she's with the same person night after night? Will her sense of humor at stupid things the man in her life does no longer apply? Will she not suffer the same day-to-day traumas we all do at home and still manage to not smother her spouse each night?

How did we go from fake, drippy teenage romances with complicated love triangles to books with bed hopping, unhappy, but incredibly strong, women?

Real women take control of their lives and don't wait for the day when someone will come along and make them happy.

Nor do they listen to pig-headed men who call them sluts because they'd like their health coverage to cover birth control pills. But I digress... ;-)

Where are the books where she has more sexual knowledge than the leading male and isn't ashamed of her experiences? (Hey, she could have learned from a book for all you know)

Where is the heroine who bitches, cracks jokes, and barks out orders, but invariably always comes back to the strong man by her side?

Where is the female character who helps solve the crime, goes on the adventure, and has some smoking hot sex that reminds you of what real intimacy is?

Oh, that's right. There aren't any books like that.

When I couldn't find one, I had to write it.

Book three in my V V Inn series will be out next month if all goes as planned. I've posted six chapters of Big Game here on the site for you all to enjoy. Thanks for your continued support and I'm honored to have such incredible readers who keep me going.

You all don't need to grow up from Twilight…. You already have.

Cheers,
C.J.

Contest Winners!

Thank you one and all for entering the two contests, the first one here on my website for the signed proof copies of the second editions and the larger one on Facebook, which I dubbed my "Thank You" contest for reaching 10k fans.

I apologize for my delay in getting the winner of the first contest out. I'm a bit of a lazy bitch sometimes, but I mean well, honest.

Without further ado – here are the winners picked by Random.org:

Website contest – Nineteen entries, Number fourteen was the winner!

Nolene Eliassen Wold you have won the signed proof copies, the only ones in existence!

Facebook Contest – twenty-three entries for the three signed and numbered ebooks (total taken from the post on my profile, another Page, and on the CJ page), Number ten is the winner:

Angelina Sagittarius – you win three signed and numbered books. This prize will not be award until the third book comes out this spring.

Seventeen entries for the name a character contest; Number seven is the winner:

Rebecca Graham – you win the option of naming a vamp or Were character in book three, Big Game!

Eight entries for the beta reader prize, Number three came up as the winner:

Kay Ramsey – you win the spot as a beta reader!! Yay!! Okay, now I just have to finish the book.

Winners, please email me at cj@cjellisson.com so I can award your prizes!

Thanks so much for playing along, everyone. It was absolutely awe inspiring to read the positive outpouring and enthusiasm on Facebook and here on my website. I've been in a writing slump for a while and it has helped put me back on track and remain focused on my writing.

I'll keep you all posted on the progress of the third book, and Kay Ramsey will be one of the few who gets to read it early!

And if any of you are feeling down for not winning, please consider stopping by the Red Hot Readers FB Page or Website to get some free ebooks from some other truly talented authors.

Dreaming of Reaching More Readers...

Like most people, some days I sleep better than others. Recently I've been getting epiphanies on marketing concepts and ways to reach readers that literally wake me up at night. Sure, these posts on my website are a fabulous way to do it, but there are many more great ideas out there as well.

For one, I've started a HUGE giveaway on my Facebook page and I'm inviting all of you with ereaders to participate and to please share the link with others. At least 1500 ebooks will be given away if we get enough takers. New indie and small press authors are added daily and the line up of genres varies. If you're an author and would like to have your work showcased at no charge, please email me at cj@cjellisson.com (requirements apply).

Another great way to reach new readers is through blog tours and such. I'm hiring a new publicist in addition to my existing one. If you're an author or a book blogger, please check out Danielle Gavan's new company Red Hot Promotions . I've known her for a while and she doesn't do anything half-assed—this venture is sure to be a success.

Now, the exciting stuff: More free reads on the website! I've recently added a naughty little holiday short involving Dria, Rafe and some interesting stocking stuffers. This X-rated piece originally aired on Everything Erotic last year, so some of you may have read it already. Cerara's Tales now has its own tab and a new installment will be up before the end of the year—watch my FB page for the announcement.

Starting this week, I'm on a new kick-butt schedule to get the next installment of the V V Inn out—projected release is the end of March, 2012. Thanks for your patience.

And now, for shits and giggles, a repost of a holiday piece I did on a blogger's site:

Eight Ways to Stay Sane During the Holidays

1) Never buy your children gifts that need to be assembled the night before. Like bikes. Give them a picture and tell them Santa dropped it at the store because it was too big for the chimney, then go "pick it up" at before mentioned store. We built bikes one year. Kills all chances of getting a little Christmas Eve nookie when your spouse is pissed off and frustrated from building something with lots of tiny parts.

2) Do not invite friends over. Don't think a gathering mid-month with a few friends for cocktails at your house isn't a party. It is, and the bastards will stay late and make a mess. They will only exit after drinking all your best wine and waking your kids up with their drunken laughter. Avoid such a gathering at all costs, no matter how easy it sounded in November, and get together in January—much cheaper when they're all trying to lose their extra holiday weight *snort*.

3) Volunteer for only one thing. Be it your kid's school party, donating all the crap in your house that has barely been used or still in boxes to those less fortunate (let's face it, cleaning out all those closets takes way more time than the kid's one hour party at school), or organizing the buying of all gifts for your combined extended family. Pick and choose wisely. To do more than your share makes the rest of us lazy bitches look really bad.

4) Run from your family for several hours each week. I'm not saying you should literally run screaming from the house, but if it's a nice day and your neighbors are far away, go for it. But you should take time for you—even if it's to escape into the bathroom to soak in the tub with a good book. A relaxed parent is less snarky and more patient.

5) Drink a lot. Okay, not if you're an alcoholic, and if you are I'm sorry for my crass comment. But if I couldn't drink at least a little every day (and with my current life on various antibiotics that means sometimes only one drink or, eek gads, none), I'd probably need to run screaming from the house more often—like nightly, right after dinner. Or on bad days, before dinner.

6) Have lots of sex. What? You only give it up for birthdays, anniversaries, when you want something, it's Valentine's Day or after a fight? Change the mindset, girlfriend. Steady sex will make you realize killing him in his sleep just means you'll have to train a new one all over again, and really, he's not so bad.

7) Limit the time you spend with your extended family. High hopes this year no one will mention the horrid thing you did ten years ago? Wrong. Most families live for the sharp jabs, the passive-aggressive subtleties, and the late night slurred slams. We optimistically think they will evolve, but no, sadly, they never will. Accept it and you'll be happier.

8) Get enough sleep. This really helps with numbers four and six. You handle stress better when you are well rested and won't be too tired for your man to shower you with affection—letting him prove, once again, how awesome you are.

~~*~~

Contest time: If you'd like to win a signed, numbered proof copy of the first two books in my series, please comment below with an email address and either tweet about this post or share it on Facebook.

Theses books are the second editions of the novels and the only proof copies in existence. Open to US contestants only, contest will run until January 10th and I will personally ship the books to you within two days.

Eat, sleep, drink and be merry this holiday season. You deserve it.

Wishing you and your family a safe and happy New Year's!

Cheers!
~C.J.

** Updated Jan 4th: I forgot about this contest while setting up the new Red Hot Readers Page (which was an expansion on the original contest that ran on my FB page in mid-December) and would like to extend the deadline date to January 9th, midnight, EST **

Good Luck, Everyone!!

Ceara's Tales

Today is a special day for me. It's a once in a lifetime chance to celebrate a birthday on 11-11-11 and I am grateful for all I have in my life today. My book first book, Vampire Vacation, sat in the top 100 in its category for over six months on Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and even though it slipped solidly out this week, I'm not disappointed. I'm thrilled it lasted that long and I have all of you to thank for the incredible support you've shown.

In thanks, I'm posting three segments today of Ceara's Tales, the stories from Vivian's past. They will not only be in this post, but also on a dedicated page called Free Reads under the Books tab. I'll add more short stories monthly and give you a notice when they go live.

It's my sincerest hope you enjoy these historic snippets. Please leave me a comment and share your thoughts. These pieces will make up the beginning of book four, The Seduction of Death, due out in late 2012. Wishing you a great weekend and may it be as filled with happiness as my day is today. Enjoy!

July 23, 1451

The dying light from the sun cast an orange glow across the room, signaling my nightly hell was about to begin. Two months had past since the creature called Mikov broke into our small two-room cottage in Ireland. My husband of four years, Aidan, was slaughtered while I huddled helpless in a corner—paralyzed by my own fear.

The long-fanged monster may have looked almost human, but the blood dripping off its sharp teeth and the crazed look in its eyes certainly wasn't. With surprising strength, it tore the limbs from my spouse and tossed the bloody remains about the room. The frozen look of terror on Aidan's decapitated face will forever be imprinted on my mind; seared deep by the indescribable hatred welling in my gut for the vampire who changed my life forever.

"Where is she?" Mikov's deep voice boomed through the darkening English farmhouse, sending goose bumps up my arms. "Bring my Ceara to me."

Strong hands pulled me from my dirty straw pallet in the great hall, gentling when I didn't struggle. "You know he gets worse if we delay," the hoarse voice of Mikov's mate, Fiona, whispered. Her breath pulled in sharply when she looked at me. "Damn you. You didn't bathe or make yourself presentable as instructed."

I remained silent, as I had for the duration of my capture. If that blood-sucking prick wanted to feast on me he'd have to get past the stench first.

Fiona stood straight and glared down the long room at the others; a dozen or so men and women who lived to feed the master and his fellow vampires. "If you don't help to clean her, you will all feel Mikov's rage. I'll make sure of it." She turned and stormed out, calling back over her shoulder that we had ten minutes.

I stood perfectly still, not moving to obey and unwilling to meet the eyes of the emaciated women who rose to do Fiona's bidding. Once or twice someone tried to soothe me when I woke up screaming from the nightmares of the day my life changed forever, but mostly, the others kept their distance.

"You think we don't know your pain?" asked a haggard-looking young woman with long black hair. "Some of us were taken as maidens, others from our husbands and children." Her tone was soft and soothing, like a stable lad talking to a skittish horse. She held a brush in one hand and pulled the long, messy strands of my copper-colored hair off my neck and started to work through the knots with a light touch.

Two others came and removed my filthy over-dress and shift. Without resistance, I stood while they bathed me, everyone in the room quietly watching on. I stared straight ahead, ignoring the whispers and heated glances from the men. The cool dampness of the cloth soothed my healing bruises and scrapes.

"At least you've finally learned to stop fighting him," my hair-brusher continued. "The ones who don't die quickly."

And what kind of life is this? I wanted to ask, but kept quiet.

The lavender scent of the water didn't calm me, as it had in the past. Anger burned in my gut and threatened to overwhelm the passivity I tried to emulate. I discovered the hard way just how strong Mikov and the other night creatures were. In the end, they still got what they wanted so there was no real reason to keep fighting and injure myself further.

I needed to escape, but had yet to be allowed past the fortified walls beyond the main building. I didn't know how much longer I could take their leader's attentions without losing my sanity completely.

"How long have you been here?" I asked. My voice sounded harsh and unused, even to my own ears.

The women gasped, it was the first time I'd spoken since my arrival. My hair-brusher faltered in her strokes before answering. "So, your tongue does work, eh, lassie?" I didn't respond, but waited for her to answer my question. "Three years," she said after a moment, her fingers grazing the fading strangulation marks on my throat. "You'll find it gets easier when he tires of you and finds a new infatuation."

But she was wrong. He never found another plaything.

I'd heard all I needed to hear. These women weren't like me. They were already broken. I would find a way out or I would die trying—preferably, it would be the first one.

The two bathers finished their ministrations and pushed clean, threadbare clothing over my head. One met my eyes with undisguised pity. "I'm sorry you're so pretty." Her blackened teeth peeked from behind a lip twisted with distaste. "It's always worse for the pretty ones."

And therein laid the blame of my current predicament. If this deranged monster hadn't noticed my flaming hair and fair looks, my husband and my happy life might never have changed. A simple farm, food in our bellies, long nights making love by the fire… my heart constricted in my chest as I recalled the winter we lost our unborn child. I was only eighteen and miscarriages happened to many… family reassured us we'd have many more chances together to bring a life into this world.

They, too, were wrong.

Shoving the grief and heartache down into a tight ball in my mind, I tried to clear my head. I cried the first month, every night straight. It didn't change my fate nor did it lessen the vampire's craving for my blood. Time to do what my folks always said when the wee ones fought and complained—God helps those who help themselves.

As the thunderous footsteps of Fiona echoed down the hallway, I knew my hell was about to begin again. Fear coiled in my middle as I steeled myself for the angry look I knew I'd see in the other woman's gaze—she disliked her husband's attentions of me almost as much as I did.

"Be strong," whispered my hair-brusher. "He can only take what you freely give."

The door swung open and I stepped forward, out of the circle of the three women whose names I did not know… ready to face my weekly raping.


August 15, 1451

Darkness started to descend in the forest and still I ran. Branches scraped my skin hours ago and thin lines of dried red ran across my arms and legs. I wasn't sure how far I'd gone from the stockade walls of Mikov's farmhouse, but I feared it might not be enough. The deceptive calm of the trees and the softening heat of the day did nothing to soothe me. My heart thundered in my chest and the sound of my ragged breaths filled the twilight.

Would he find me? Had I a chance? Every time I started to feel safe I pushed the hope into a tight ball around my heart, protecting me and fueling me to continue on. The stable master's voice, the last one I'd heard at the farm, rang again and again in my mind.

"You think others haven't tried what you're doing, lass? You may hide in the straw of the wagon, but mark my words, he will find you." The slovenly bastard pushed off me and tied his breeches, leaving his seed on my thighs.

I smiled and rose from the straw, lowering my skirts. "Is that concern I hear in your tone, Thomas?"

He may have asked a steep price to smuggle me out beyond the walls, but it was no worse than what I'd endured for months—and at least he was human.

The weathered face of the stable master frowned, his big bushy eyebrows scrunched together in his displeasure. "You're all dead anyway. It's just a shame to see such beauty go to waste."

Bits of straw still tangled in my hair, tickling my face as I stumbled over a root. The smell of the burning peat reached me as I rose from the forest floor. Not sure how long I'd been running, the timing seemed premature for an evening cook fire—perhaps I'd reached the next closest farm. Letting my nose guide me, I made my way through the dim light to the edge of the trees.

Dark clouds covered the sky, making it darker then the hour warranted. More than likely, the pending rain drove the farmers indoors for an early dinner. A crack of thunder overhead signaled a coming summer storm and I hoped the family would consider taking in a dirty woman traveling alone.

Potato plants in neat rows stretched on for an acre, with the faint outline of a thatched roof showing in the distance. The carefully guarded hope I'd held near my heart blossomed, filling me with renewed energy. I might just make it out of this living nightmare yet.

A tingling entered my limbs, the muscles protesting despite the desire to reach safety. Each step seemed a trial, reminding me of the muscle ache I'd get when Aidan and I worked during harvest time, long past sunset to get our crops in. I pushed on, stepping carefully down a row to not damage the still-growing plants.

Shadows lengthened and through the distance two shapes stood out, possibly the farmers. Exhaustion clouded my mind and I wasn't sure if the figures up ahead were fence posts or the inhabitants. I straightened, trying my best not to look like a beaten dog. The scent of farm animals and fresh soil mingled in the rain-scented air with burning peat moss, triggering sharp memories of Ireland.

Twenty feet from the edge of the field I felt a rumble through my feet. Recognizing the thunder of hooves, I craned my neck, trying to discern where the riders might be approaching from. The road near the small cottage was clear and my heart seized in panic.

I whirled to see a team of black horses breaking through the dense trees and barreling across the field toward me at a full canter. Foam dripped from their mouths and a crazed look glinted in their eyes. Their pale-skinned riders dressed all in black, with flowing black capes fluttering behind them in the growing breeze.

No! It can't be! How did they find me so fast? Fear clutched my throat and adrenaline pumped through my veins, chasing away the last of my fatigue. My instincts screamed to run, but I knew there was no hope.

Lurching forward in a staggering run, I waved to the figures near the cottage as I cleared the last of the crops. "Help!"

Standing not fifty feet away were the couple who worked the land. A tall man with dark hair and a thin frame turned at the sound of my voice—he took one step forward until he spotted the oncoming horsemen. He froze in his tracks, horror and fear twisting his face.

Mikov's voice boomed out across the field as the horses raced upon me. "Leave her, Finnigan! She is mine!"

Finnigan grabbed the hand of the woman standing behind him and raced for his cottage door, slamming it behind them both in his haste.

"No!" I screamed into the growing darkness. The skies chose that moment to open up and rain poured down from the swollen black clouds. Not willing to accept defeat so easily, I ran toward the house, determined to bang on the wooden door and beg to be let in.

The sharp neigh of a horse screamed in my ear and a booted foot landed firmly in my back, shoving me to the dampening ground. The shock of hitting the hard earth reverberated up through my arms and knees as a frustrated scream of defeat tore from my lips.

Two other horses pawed the earth around me—the three vampires had me effectively pinned. A large round object was thrown on the ground near my head. I turned my face and gazed into the staring dead eyes of Thomas, the stable master. His mouth was locked in a silent scream and the jagged flesh of his severed neck stank of fresh death.

"Silly lass," Mikov rasped while dismounting from his steed. "I smelled your essence on him." Gloved hands grabbed my upper arm and yanked me to my feet. He tsked when he saw the scratches on my arms and ran a leather-encased finger down my skin. "We're linked by blood, you and I. You can never hide from me. Your life force calls me like a beacon."

He mounted his horse and dragged me up in front of him. One steely arm wrapped around me and he locked both of my wrists in his larger hand as the rain pelted us. "You are mine now and forever. There is no freedom for you, Ceara."

Thomas' last words ran through my mind. "You're all dead anyway." Tears leaked silently from my eyes, mixing with the summer downpour and streaming unnoticed down my face.

Is this what my life has become? Am I only food for a monster?

December 1, 1451

The days were short and the monsters were awake for longer. They grew bored in the cold and started using the humans for blood sport. Heather, my original hair-brusher, died last week during one of their sick games. They passed her around, drinking from a new spot while she begged them to stop. It was one instance where being Mikov's favorite spared me from their sadistic ways.

Heather's pitiful, pleading cries haunted me. She recognized what they were doing before most of us; after all, she'd been here the longest. Jacob, one of Mikov's seethe, as I had come to learn a grouping of bloodsuckers were called, drained her to unconsciousness and kept going….

She was not deemed worthy enough to be turned into an undead, so she wouldn't rise from her early grave like the pale bastards who tormented us. For that, I was grateful. Heather was a strong woman. She revealed to me she'd had two children before being taken by Mikov three years ago. Did her family know a creature of death had stolen her from them? Did they look for her?

Becoming friends with my fellow captives proved difficult. Which of us would die next at the whim of a bored vampire? I dared not think on it.

On this day, the merry band of filth rose from their secret resting place and donned riding apparel. Their excitement permeated the very air, putting all of us who fell into the "food" category on edge. Would they be running one of us down in the dark woods surrounding the farmhouse? Did they plan to stack us like kindling and jump their steeds over the prone bodies again?

If I'd learned one thing over the past months it was this: we were chattel to them. Nothing more, nothing less. We existed solely for their pleasure and were cared for only to ensure the continuation of our survival for their needs.

Debasement had become common practice and I shuddered when I dwelled on their lost humanity. Clearly, they were human once. Did they let go of their last shreds early on, or were the scraps pried from their grasp by the cruelty of their peers?

Only eight of us remained from the nearly two-dozen that were here when I arrived. The hooves of the galloping horses thudded dully into the distance as the seven cloaked undead rode out. A collective sigh escaped the group of food and for a brief moment I wondered if escape was a viable option.

The thought died after a quick flare of hope. Winter was almost upon us, I knew no farmer in the area would risk taking one of us in, let alone eight. Mikov would hunt us down like he did to me in late summer. And those who escaped would perish from the elements.

A soft scrape to my right brought my attention to a lanky man who stood in an archway leading to the kitchen. All of us except Fiona were lean and wiry like Henry, the cook. My mother once teased you should never trust a skinny chef, and yet in this house of evil we all stood as equals, banning together in our desire to survive.

"Come, quickly," he said to the occupants of the great hall. "All of you who feed the creatures. I have extra rations tonight."

None of us asked why, perhaps they were like me and secretly afraid to hear the answer. Henry stood taller than most of us, no bend to his spine and no gray touching his temples yet. His teeth looked solid and he retained a glint of something in his eye… something I hadn't seen in a long time—a spark of life.

"You too, lassie," Henry said, his gaze lingering on me as I held back in the shadows. "We all hate them, but we can't survive if we don't eat." His bearded face moved with a hidden smirk, pulling a returning smile of gratitude from me.

As I passed, he rested a hand on my shoulder drawing my eyes up to his hazel gaze. "I can see the strength in you. The group needs you to step up and lead as Heather did or they will all perish this winter."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Fiona has been here the longest and she's seen it before when a beloved member dies." The twinkle I saw before transformed into outright humor, "She told me her thoughts when she shared my bed last."

I shake off his hand and turn to face him. "Why would you discuss me? And don't you fear Mikov when bedding his wife, you fool?"

His low chuckle reached my ear as I left the hall and headed into the warmth of the kitchen. "They aren't married. She's his vampire-servant. A bond he can easily dissolve if he wishes. Mikov has eyes only for you since you arrived. She knows it—and knows if the monster's food dies off this winter she would be next."

The cold reality of his words sank in. The creature who just last week cast an illusion over himself to look like my dead husband and seduced me while I slept, still prefers me over his "wife". Could I use this somehow to worm my way into a position to kill him? More importantly, could I handle the vermin wearing my lover's face long enough to execute a plan?

My face split into a genuine smile as I sat on a crowded long bench by the warm cook fire. I reached for the crusty warm bread and ladled some thick stew into a bowl. The smell of simmering root vegetables and rabbit wafted up in delicious aroma of… hope.

A glance up into the doorway revealed Henry, staring at me in slack-jawed amazement. I guessed he never saw me smile. Either that, or the fierce expression of determination on my face scared him. I'm betting it was the smile.


Have a great month, everyone! I'm getting myself back to the grindstone on Big Game and I'll keep you all informed of the progress. Wishing you all a food-filled Thanksgiving with family and friends -- be sure to take some quiet time for yourself during the madness and relax, you deserve it!

Cheers,
~ C.J.

BIG GAME - Chapter One

Before we jump right into chapter one of Big Game, I have some news I'd like to share. Most of you who keep up with me on Facebook already read the announcement—I was officially included in the Vamps At Sea website last week as a guest speaker on their June 2012 cruise. Yay!! I'm included on their front page with some great talent and I couldn't be more thrilled.

If any of you have ever dreamed of seeing Alaska, like I have, then please check out their cruise and the news page here on this site for more information on how YOU can become a member of Vivian's Seethe. Also, if you would like to attend a Facebook exclusive book club event where we'll discuss my series on October 11th, please check out this link .

Vampire Vacation looks like it's about to end its almost five month run on the bestselling list for contemporary fantasy on Amazon and I owe a great big thanks to all of you for making it into the top 100 in the first place. Cheers!

Here's to hoping you're just as happy with the opening to Big Game, and please, if you have a moment, leave a comment when you're done reading. This is by no means the final piece and I'm always eager to hear reader feedback. Happy reading!

BIG GAME

Chapter One

Vivian

The soft hum of the jet fades into the background noise of the small cabin. Rafe exits the cockpit and locks eyes with me across the tight space. His rugged face carries a tired grin and his blue eyes look weary. He's been flying through the daylight hours as we make our way down the globe to Argentina, where our final destination is a small private island off the southern coast.

His muscular form, encased in well-worn jeans and a snug black t-shirt, looks as delicious as ever. Worry pinches my husband's expression as he heads back to my location opposite the plane's bar. Chelly, lounging on a chocolate chenille couch, shifts her attention up from her ereader—more than likely trying to catch a last glimpse of Drew who took over flying duties. She deflates a little when she sees Rafe and goes back to her book. Her long blond hair hides her expression from me, but I'm sure I'd see a hint of longing on her face.

She and Drew, the one hundred and fifty year old vampire who came to our resort as a guest last fall before joining our seethe, began dating this winter. Now, he only feeds directly from her, taking bagged blood for extra nutrition when needed. To my knowledge, he still has not claimed her and exchanged blood to make her his companion. His old-fashioned ways have made for a cute courtship display, but I doubt Chelly can take much more of the long tease. She looked ready to snap and jump his bones on the spot when he invited her on this trip.

Bob, one of our ground crew, plays cards with Tommy, our imported Aussie who mans the inn's front desk, and fledgling vampire, Paul. The three sit around a table set between four seats facing each other with intense looks on their faces and examine their hands. Their voices are pitched low, but every once in a while their excited chatter over a hand becomes loud. Tommy glances up as Rafe walks by. The sandy-haired man folds his cards and slips into the aisle behind my husband.

Rafe leans down and kisses my cheek before settling into the club chair next to mine. A half glass of red wine sits on the round cocktail table bolted through the cream carpet in front of our seats. In honor of our destination, I've changed from the Alaskan vampire favorite of hot coffee to South American wines. It wouldn't be acceptable for me to appear uncouth at any Tribunal gatherings by holding a coffee mug instead of a crystal goblet filled with bloodwine. But I admit, I do miss the caffeine jolt.

"Tired, darling?" I ask.

"Yeah." A heavy sigh escapes him as he runs a hand across his forehead and back over his short light brown hair. "Flying through the last storm was a challenge. Head winds slowed us down quite a bit."

"Can I get you something, sir?" Tommy asks from our right, standing behind the glistening marble-topped bar.

"A Yuengling, thanks."

In a moment the beer is poured into an ice-cold pilsner glass and set on the low table. At a nod of appreciation from Rafe, Tommy heads back to his game.

Rafe stares at the amber liquid and remains still. "I'm worried, Dria."

"I know."

"The talk with the seethe regarding your manipulator abilities went well, but you know it won't be the same with the Ancients."

"Yes, they took it surprisingly well." I stifle a smile at the reminder of Paul's confusion and mini-freak out. Asa, our ex-military vamp, just nodded as if confirming something he suspected and Drew listened in silence. He pledged his loyalty again with the others easy enough, showing no hesitation at the end of the gathering.

Glancing at the shaded window, I debate on raising the covering now that night has fallen. "The idea isn't to tell the Ancients. The plan to arrive earlier than previous years is to surprise them—find out who knows or suspects what I can do."

"And then what? Slip into their minds and alter what they know?" he shakes his head. "It's too risky."

"The alternative is to kill them." I lock eyes with Rafe, and see the concern he never tries to hide. "Depending on how many of the Inner Circle we're talking about, that might not be smart."

Rafe grips the chair arms, his frustration and anger quickly outweighs his previous concern. "Twenty-two members of the Inner Circle and eleven Ancients, not to mention an unknown amount of powerful gophers and lackeys on the fringe doing their bidding. Too many variables. I prefer a concentrated and planned attack."

"We've gone over this before, love. What choice do we have? Let them come to us in Alaska? Where we have over a hundred humans in our care?" I shake my head. "I won't put them at risk. Not an option. Besides, we normally head down south when the season changes and it's impossible to run the inn for vamp guests. This early fact-finding mission in Buenos Aires is the best way to go."

"Yes, yes, your 'beard the lion in his den', crap. I get it." He reaches for his beer and drains half the glass before setting it back down. "I worry it's more than just the three members you've speculated on."

Bitter resentment and rage coil in my middle. For years I've hidden my ability and ran from certain death, only to find I've now cornered myself in a remote location with twelve dozen lives at stake. Flight or fight. That's what any predator would do when left with no options.

"I don't plan on running again." Anger leaks through my tone and the tension in the cabin rises. "The only option left is to infiltrate and bring a stealthy battle to them."

"Won't they be expecting it? Coraline visited back in January. It's foolish to think they haven't done anything in four months."

"If it was me," I say with a deadly smile. "I would have attacked immediately."

"Agreed. So why didn't they?"

"Coraline could have been the main force driving the whole witch hunt after me. With the alterations I did to her psyche, it may have taken her cohorts a while to bring her back up to speed—or even months just to unravel what I did and how I did it. I'm still not sure how they could repair the damage if they weren't able to slip into her mind as well."

"What about that damn charmed brooch? Someone made it for her. Maybe the person is a strong magic user and has countered what you did?"

I speculate on his suggestion for a bit and focus on letting go of my fury. I try to center my thoughts and picture myself mentally moving through a few sun salutations. The yoga moves work, even sitting still. The anger deflates and I focus back around on Rafe's suggestion.

His idea is possible, I suppose, but I've never met a witch or wizard that powerful. Most of them can do what Diane, Dr. Cook's witchy daughter, does back home. She can cast minor spells and contrive complicated charms given enough time and the right ingredients… but a witch with mind powers or the ability to cast a complex spell to counter my mind-altering? I shake my head. Not likely. Could it be a wizard? They have been known to do more mental damage, but their spells are usually quite intricate, having no innate elemental powers like a witch is born with.

"I don't think so," I finally answer. "But, you're right. It could be a option."

Paul, our undead head chef, saunters back toward us. He's become a sleeker version of himself, thanks to the liquid diet, and is now able to keep up with his kids and slim wife much better. He nods to us on his way to the bathroom facilities in the rear of the plane. Whoever said vampires didn't use the can should be shot—seriously, where would all the blood go?

"Smooth flying, Rafe," he says when he emerges from the tiny room, brushing a lock of dark wavy hair off his forehead. "Will I get to add 'pilot' to my growing list of super cool things I know?"

"Ask Drew to teach you," Rafe answers with an easy-going smile. "We've got better facilities in Alaska, but you could probably start on the basics when we arrive in Argentina."

"I'm still bummed Bunny and the kids couldn't come."

"We don't know what we're walking into, Paul," I say. "It wouldn't be wise to bring them."

"Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I have to like it. And why did you bring only male donors for me?" he directs toward me. At my sly smile he just laughs. "What, you thought I didn't notice Tommy and Bob were guys?"

"Bunny asked me to make sure you were loyal. No temptation for you while I'm on duty."

Paul looks stricken as he turns to face away from the passengers in the cabin and leans in, speaking low, "What happens when the men start to become tempting?"

"You close your eyes," I whisper, "think of your wife, and jerk off when they leave."

The smile is absent from his jovial face as he nods like he's just received a death sentence. "Okay."

"There is also a large supply of donated blood on ice coming with us. You'll do fine." I reach out and grab his sleeve before he leaves. "You're gaining control, Paul. Getting stronger each day. Don't let the urges get the better of you."

"Think of things if the shoe was on the other foot," Rafe says. "Would you want Bunny spreading her legs every few days when she got hungry?"

Anger colors the cheeks of the good-humored vampire. "No!"

Rafe drains his glass and stands to get another. "Then keep that anger front and center in your brain when you get horny for another person." He slaps Paul on the back as he heads to the bar.

"How do you do it Vivian?" Paul asks. "Do you ever crave another lover?"

My mind flashes to Jonathan, my hunky werewolf servant with the compact wrestler's body who tastes like dark chocolate. I've got ten pints of his blood stashed just for me over the next few months in Argentina. Yum. "You channel it back into passion for your mate. You can't control what your body craves, but you can control what you do about those cravings."

His shoulders slump. "Why is it so hard?"

"Most vampires want the sex and the blood together, it's only as we age we can channel the blood-lust into pure sexual lust." Beeps and a whir of the microwave come from the bar area, indicating Rafe must be getting something to eat.

"You mean, someday I might just want sex from everyone rather than their blood?"

I laugh. "We're talking centuries, Paul. And maybe not sex from everyone, but some days it may feel that way."

"Won't I still need blood?"

"Yes, but not as much. As you age you can feed from other means, like sexual energy." My thoughts turn inward as I remember some of the old vampires I hunted. A few of them fed on fear and pain. When their appetites grew too large and they terrorized too many humans to hide what they'd become the Tribunal of Ancients would discover their actions, sending an enforcer like me to end their madness. "Trust me, Paul. There are a lot worse things in the world to crave energy from."

The smell of corn beef and mustard waft our way, teasing me of times long past in Ireland. Rafe sets a large plate holding a Ruben and chips on the cocktail table and eases back into the chair. "Thanks for making this for me earlier, Paul. It heated up nice, not soggy."

Paul smiles at the praise and heads back to his card game. Bob and Tommy look up at his approach and then back to their hands. I wonder what they are wagering on to make them so serious.

"Do you think the other two men will do okay on the island?" I ask.

Rafe nods, while swallowing a big bite of his sandwich. "They're good guys. Tommy can make sure the rest stay in line; he's pretty good at herding cats and managing without being overbearing. I trust him to anticipate Paul's needs before Paul. Bob can help out when Paul decides to cook—which you know he will—and maybe work with the gardener during the day." He takes another long drink and some of the harsh lines of exhaustion soften from his face. "Our main issue will be the housekeeper's barely legal daughter, doubling this year as a maid."

A smile creases my face as I recall the dark good looks of Rosia. Her eyes snap with life and she knows exactly how to move her hips to attract a man's eye. "Dalton might exert his fatherly protection and insist she work in the gardens with him while we're in attendance."

"Last we spoke, he said Flavia had called her younger twin sisters to stay with them to help out this season."

Picturing the women we've met before, I can't help but feel amusement. They're all as pretty as Dalton's wife and will provide ample distraction for the two men, not to mention a major temptation for Paul when Rafe and I eventually leave for Buenos Aires alone. Chelly's blond and curvy good looks will stand out like a beacon when compared to all the small-breasted exotic looking brunettes.

"Paul might have a hard time resisting Dalton." My eyes dance with humor, teasing my spouse. "He's a suave and sexy guy."

Rafe wipes his mouth carefully with a linen napkin and tosses the fabric on the empty plate. "You've managed to resist him for almost two decades." A warm palm lands on my thigh, caressing one leg through my linen trousers. "However did you cope?"

Heat fills me, burning a path from Rafe's hand to my privates. "I've got this big stud of a husband I ravish daily. Thankfully, the old man doesn't need Viagra yet."

Rafe's laughter booms across the cabin. The four other passengers all glance in our direction, then back to their interests. "All thanks to you, dear, and those magical sips of blood I take every now and then."

I lower my lids when my lover looks my way. "Surely, it can't all be just me?"

Rafe leans in and our lips meet. His soft mouth molds to mine, the tip of his tongue gently begging entrance. I open and he deepens the kiss, plundering my mouth like a starving man at his first meal in weeks. A throaty growl escapes one of us. Could have been me, I've been known to growl once in a while.

A soft electric tingle enters my mind as my husband telepathically speaks to me through our mate-bond. The day I need Viagra to be ready for you, is the day you need to shoot me.

Put the old dog out of his misery, eh? You'll not get rid of me so easily. A warm hand comes up to caress the back of my head and hold me in place while Rafe ravishes my mouth. I pull back when I hear the clearing of a throat in the airplane's cabin. No need to put on a show. Should we head back to the bedroom?

Rafe ends the kiss and stares into my eyes. Sixty-five years together and you still have to ask? Heat fills his gaze and a predatory smile curves his mouth. Get your ass in there or I'll pull a cave man and throw you over my shoulder and carry you back.

A smile curves my lips as I rise from the chair and sashay back to the sleeping cabin down the narrow hallway, feeling the burning gaze of my lover on my backside the entire time. The cell phone clipped to my waist starts to vibrate, with its usual perfectly horrible timing. I answer as I open the privacy door and hear the succinct dulcet tones of my werewolf servant across thousands of miles.

"Have you landed?"

In man-speak that means, "I'm worried you haven't called", so I try my best to swallow the humor in my reply. "No, we haven't."

"What's the hold up? Problem at one of the refueling spots or weather?"

A sigh escapes me as I climb onto the queen sized bed and recline against the upholstered headboard. Rafe closes the door and turns to me with a feral look in his eyes. Without a sound he starts to strip in the dimly lit cabin.

"You guessed it, we hit several storms and the winds were against us."

A muffled hrmph meets me on the other end of the line and I stare at the flesh slowly revealed by my spouse. The hard sculpted planes of his chest come into view and he tosses the shirt at my face—his not so subtle hint to get off the phone.

Rafe stretches his arms over his head, bending them at the elbow to avoid hitting the aircraft's low ceiling and leans to the right and left working his cramped muscles. God, that man has delicious abs. Saliva fills my mouth at the thought of licking the hard ridges of muscle.

"The shifter hunters are starting to land."

What? Oh yeah, I'm still on the damn phone. Jon's referring to the summer guests we have arriving, who plan to hunt Alaska's native game during their stay. The shifter's landing must be what triggered his call; he'll be tied up for the rest of the day. Rafe reaches for the button on his pants and I track every movement of his supple fingers. "Good. Any last minute questions for me, Jon?"

"No. Our mind connection is getting fuzzy. I can't feel much of you in my head."

"I think it's the distance." He should count himself lucky, I doubt he'd want to see my husband getting naked. Then again, knowing Jon's conflicted emotions regarding both of us, he just might enjoy the view. "You'll do fine this summer. We're only a phone call a way if you need us."

"Yeah, and including stops you're almost two days via a plane. I'm not reassured. And for the record, it's not me and the pups I'm worried about. Or even Asa for that matter."

Jon really loves teasing Pat and Eric, our new permanent werewolf members on the resort, by calling them pups. Makes the grown men squirm in their desire to correct him—but both are pretty smart and resist his goading well. "I'll be fine, Jon."

"This is your first year there without me. What if you need me?"

Rafe's hearing is vampire sharp, and he can hear both ends of the conversation just fine. He snorts his disagreement on the likelihood of us needing Jon and thrusts his jeans over his hips, taking his tight boxer briefs with them.

My mouth goes dry at the sight of my husband in all his aroused glory. I clear my throat and try to hurry up the phone call, "This year I've also got Drew and Paul here. Things will work out."

Rafe steps out of his discarded clothing and leaps onto the bed, straddling my body. His muscular arms bracket my torso on the headboard and the heat of his breath fans my cheek.

"Okay, gotta go. I'll call you when we land."

"Wai—"

I click the phone off and toss it to the floor before wrapping my arms around the man I love more than anything else in the world, including my own semi-immortality.



I hope you enjoyed it! Please consider re-tweeting or sharing a link here on FB (see the pretty green bar along the bottom of website window), I appreciate it more than you'll ever know.

~C.J.

**Thank you so much for all the comments! Rest assured, even if you don't see them below, or my replies, I did get them all and tried to comment. There was an issue with Echo Live/Js-kit (the issue is they SUCK) and I switched commenting features on the site to disqus.com. I tried to import the comments over, but I'm not sure it will work.

If you feel like commenting again or are stopping by after Oct 3rd, the comments do work now!! Thank you!