Sarah Cass's Blog: Sarah's StoryLines, page 30

Thursday Tell All – Jace Shaw of Scent of a Wolf

I’m pleased to have Jace Shaw from Draven St. James latest book, Scent of a Wolf, stop by today.  

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What is your story? “Well, one night while playing strip poker with Draven, Merek, Sean and Cory, Draven gave me way too much tequila.  While in a happy place of no worries, Draven plied the story of how Merek and I met and fell in bed…I mean in love. It was a lot more complicated than boy meets boy while hanging out at the local coffee shop. The story involves me being on the run, and Merek being all alpha I’m going to solve your problems. Not that I didn’t have problems to solve. I mean wow. Wait…you’re suppose to read the book!”
Who are you? “I suppose it wouldn’t be revealing too much to say my name is Jace Shaw. I love cold pizza and magic fingers. I’ve traveled a lot and it wasn’t until meeting Merek that I learned to enjoy it. I prefer being outdoors to being cooped up and I can get a little furry when necessary.”
Do you embrace conflict? Jace laughed. “Umm…I wouldn’t say I embrace it. I think generally I have no choice but to catch it as it flies in my direction. But in the fray of conflict I do find I excel at resolving issues. At least, when I have Merek at my back. Well, when he isn’t trying to drag me into dark corners.”
How do you see yourself? “I’m just me. An ordinary wolf shifter, who is mated to an alpha and part of a rare wolf pack.”
How do your enemies see you? “I imagine they see me as a pain in the ass who never goes away. They’d never say it but given my abilities I’m stealth and intelligent, at least enough to get the drop on them.”
What, if anything, haunts you? “Right now? That third cup of coffee I had about five minutes ago.” Jace grins and jogs out of the room.
Who is your true love? “Easy. Merek is my true love. He is the only man I’ve ever said I love you too and the only one I ever will say it to.”
What one word best describes you?  “Unusual.”
Who was your best friend when you were growing up? “My twin brother, Jacob. While he is frustrating and never misses an excuse to tell me he was born first, he’s a good man.”
What kind of things embarrass you? Why? “Well, I’m not embarrassed by much. I’ve seen too many things in the world to be shy. I think occasionally tapping in while Jacob is having sex is pretty damned embarrassing. Or just grouse. Traumatizing might be a better word.”
What is the perfect romantic date? Jace chucked and flushed. “Merek, the great outdoors and apple cinnamon scented candles.”
What is more important – sex or intimacy? Why? “Now that is just a mean question! I love sex with Merek it is fantastic. However, I also love just being close to him. Even just in the same room when we share a glance. They are two completely different ways to connect with the man I love. I can’t choose.”

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| Amazon | Loose-id |

Blurb

Jace Shaw is one of the few survivors of an extraordinary, rare wolf pack. He spends his days on the run and his nights in another world with a man he’s only dreamed about. To sleep is to feel his dream man’s hands on his body and hear his wicked whispered words. But when the sun rises reality crashes in: the evil that destroyed his birth pack hunts his kind down in search of a way to control their power.

Merek Wahya is an alpha dealing with all the issues of being newly appointed, but they all fall away when he closes his eyes at night. Then, a man with moonlit hair and mercury eyes crawls into bed with him. When he wakes it’s to a painful arousal no one can satisfy. When Merek’s wolf catches Jace’s scent he knows he’s found his mate, and he soon learns their nocturnal meetings were only foreplay. The joy of this discovery is shadowed by the trouble that follows Jace. Merek’s mate is embroiled in a battle between two ancient packs, a war Merek must now fight. If he fails he could lose Jace forever.

Excerpt

Merek’s face was almost always partially shaded by the long locks of black hair that flowed down to touch his broad shoulders. Hair so dark it refracted light in shades of blue—an eerie color reflected in his eyes. They were the palest blue Jace had ever seen. The eyes of a wolf, and he growled like one too.

Letting the primitive nature of their wolves loose in the magnificent embrace of the wilderness was instinctive. The smell of damp grass and pine trees wafted around them. But beneath that scent was Merek’s—rich, primal, and addictive.

Jace strove to stop his grin as he bucked his hips in an attempt to get Merek off him. The man was too strong for his own good. The move only resulted in Merek chuckling and adjusting to hold both of Jace’s wrists in one hand. The other he used to lightly caress Jace’s cheek and jawline. Merek brushed his thumb over Jace’s bottom lip, causing a shudder to flow through Jace. He knew just what those hands were capable of.

No matter how hard he fought himself, he couldn’t help but tilt his neck into the soft touch. Merek gave him a sensual smile.

Jace tried to twist away again, to get the upper hand, but to no avail. Merek trailed his hand lower, and Jace arched into the gentle touch. The man was doing his best to destroy Jace’s control, and it was so tempting to catapult to the carnal command.

“Just one word, Jace, and I’ll give you everything.”

Merek leisurely traced his fingertips down Jace’s naked chest, along the hard muscles of his stomach, and stopped at the waist of Jace’s low-riding jeans. Jace curved into the touch. Desperate for Merek to go lower.

“Submit to me.”

Bio:

Draven St. James is a born and raised Oregonian. She has traveled extensively in search of mischief and mayhem to fill her books. Her ventures have been quite successful in inspiring a wealth of stories. Of course at the end of the day, coffee within reach, laptop at the ready is where she finds her peace.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/draven.stjames

Blog: www.dravenstjames.wordpress.com

Twitter: www.twitter.com/DravenStJames

Pinterest: www.pinterest.com/dravenstjames

Email: Dravenstjames@gmail.com

Hump Day Hook 52 – Santa, Maybe

Back to Hump Day Hook!

So sad to leave behind my Dominion Falls series after so many weeks with it.  Don’t worry, it will return from time to time (I won’t ever let them go).

But, very soon my Christmas offering, and the first in my Holidays in Lake Point series will be released. Santa, Maybe came about thanks to a submission call and critiquing a friend of mine’s story (Ravenous, check it out…so hot).  Blurb for this story will be below my hook.

Now, please meet Ivy and Alan.  Ivy is a former Prima Ballerina, and Alan is a big finance guy.  Once high school sweethearts turned on again-off again lovers…they haven’t seen each other since Ivy disappeared from Alan’s busy life completely eight years ago. In this scene, an old high school friend (Mary) has spotted Alan in the crowd at a Christmas celebration and cornered him.  She blindsides him with some unexpected information:

“Let me guess. You want to see Ivy?”

Ice rushed through his veins and he pinched his brows together. “I’m sorry. Did you say Ivy? You can’t mean Ivy Nowell.”

“Well who else would I mean?”

“But she’s in the city.” She had to be in the city. Last time he’d seen her had been eight years ago, but she’d still been at the peak of her career. Of course, shortly after that her name dropped off every program at her ballet company. …

Mary’s ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. “No, she’s not. Hasn’t been for about seven years. How could you not know that? When she returned without you, we assumed you’d split, maybe divorced.”

*To keep it short, I cut out a big portion of a paragraph. 

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Blurb:

Alan Richards returns to Lake Point for the holidays, counting the minutes until he can accomplish the dreaded goal of dealing with his aging parents and get back to the city.  Finding his former soul mate living in the town they left together and swore they’d never return to tosses his ordered plans right on their head.

Ivy Nowell has never looked back since she left the city and her ballet career to raise her daughter in Lake Point. Alan’s homecoming dredges up old hurts and the love she never quite let go, but he hasn’t changed, with his relentless commitment to goals that differ completely from hers.

The attraction and instant understanding between them lingers, but neither are who they used to be. Alan wants to give it a chance, but Ivy is worried he’ll change his mind and won’t risk hurting her daughter.

It’ll take Santa and all his magic to keep them from walking away from each other again, maybe for forever this time.

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Hump Day Hook asks authors to post one paragraph of one of their stories, whether a WIP, one contracted, or already published.  Please visit and comment on the participants – you might just stumble on the next great read for your library!  To see more participants, click on the HDH banner below:

 

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Don’t forget, even though I’m not hooking them any longer, my Dominion Falls Series is still happily out there.

Did you like this sample?  You can pick up the whole series now!!

Changing Tracks

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Derailed











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Dark Territory

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Top Ten Tuesday – Stephanie Cage Talks Christmas

Top ten ways to prepare for Christmas.

I love Christmas.  The bit I don´t like is the 3 months or so of tinny carols in shops, excessive advertising, and the supermarket being rearranged to make way for twenty aisles of seasonal produce.  Given my occasional Scrooge-like tendencies, it can take me a while to get in the spirit of Christmas, which makes it all the more ironic that my first seasonal release is a Christmas story.  This year, publishing my story The Santa Next Door with The Wild Rose Press has helped me get in the mood for Christmas a lot earlier than usual, so I thought I´d take this opportunity to share my top ten ways of getting into the spirit of the season and avoiding the last-minute panic.  I wonder how many of these you share?

1. Wrapping gifts.  While I can take or leave Christmas shopping, I love the process of disguising and beautifying items to sit under the tree.  Maybe it´s my overactive writer´s imagination, but when battling with the sticky tape, I can almost see the joyous faces of my friends and family tearing the paper off.

2. Writing Christmas cards.  It can feel like a chore, but writing cards is also a wonderful opportunity to connect with people I don´t see often, and show appreciation for those I do.  Like choosing and wrapping gifts, finding the right card is another way to step away from the mass-produced and add a personal touch.

3. Making decorations. Of course you can buy decorations, and I often do, but some of the baubles and trinkets I love seeing most are the lop-sided, hand-made ones that carry personal memories with them.

4. Mince pies.  This traditional British favourite is so much a part of Christmas, it ended up with a whole scene of its own in The Santa Next Door. I love all kinds of seasonal delicacies, but if I could only save one, it would be hot spiced pies.

5. Mulled wine.  No Christmas party would be complete without steaming spiced wine, and I was over the moon when I discovered you could do the same thing with red grape juice for the drivers in the party.

6. Christmas music.  I don´t mean the endless repeats of seasonal number ones that you hear in the shops, but traditional songs like a soaring Gloria never fail to lift the spirits.

7. Outdoor skating rinks.  They might be even chillier than their indoor equivalents, but there´s a unique thrill to gliding about in the open air, huddled up in a scarf and gloves, feeling the chill just on the end of your nose

8. Scented candles. As Christmas approaches, the nights draw in, and the early dusk is a great excuse to light candles scented with pine or cinnamon.  As a very wise lady once said, better to light a candle than curse the darkness.

9. Re-reading old favourites. Little Women never fails to remind me how lucky I am to be enjoying a Christmas with presents, and The Magic Christmas Tree is another seasonal must-read to encourage me to appreciate the season.

10. Watching Christmas movies.  For many of my friends, Christmas is A Wonderful Life or Mary Poppins.  I´m a little less conventional in my choices. My current favourite is Arthur Christmas, which has just narrowly surpassed my previous top pick, Olive the Other Reindeer.  Both are adorable animations with a heartwarming message.  What better way to feel the real Christmas spirit?

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| Amazon |

Blurb

Sue Edmonds swore off men after her feckless husband left her struggling to care for their four-year-old daughter Trudi and maintain their ramshackle Victorian home.  But her mysterious neighbour might tempt her to change her mind.

Bryn Thomas once found peace and happiness in music but that was before his heart was broken.  Now it stirs up painful memories and provides little comfort.  That is until he finds himself sharing Christmas carols with his young neighbor and her beautiful mother.  As Sue sees Bryn playing Santa, she is touched to discover his gentler side.  Can she hope for a Christmas miracle and the fulfilment of Trudi´s Christmas wish for a Dad?

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Excerpt

“Mmmm.” A blissful murmur escaped Bryn’s lips. The pastry was crisp and warm and light, and the filling rich and spicy, bursting onto his tongue with the taste of childhood Christmases. “Thank you.” His thanks to Sue related to more than just the neighborly gesture of bringing pies. He only hoped the two weak words could hold the depth of gratitude he felt for the way she had awakened him, his energy, his hopes, and his senses. The warmth in her eyes as she responded with a simple, “You’re welcome,” suggested that she understood something of the depth of his feeling, though perhaps not the reason for his emotive response. He smiled across his coffee at her, and no words were needed as they shared a moment of perfect contentment. Of course, Trudi was not one to allow the silence to linger, and she bounced over to Bryn with her hand outstretched, displaying the coloring book she’d brought. Sue sat back in the corner of the sofa, and Bryn got a very appealing view of her shapely legs. She looked like a cat curled comfortably in the warm room, and she seemed happy to let Trudi, perched on Bryn’s chair arm, dominate the conversation. “I want a princess dress for Christmas,” Trudi announced. “I love princesses. I like the princess in Aladdin best, and I like the other princess, the one with red hair like mine.” Sue and Bryn exchanged an amused look as Trudi rattled on. “I like unicorns too. I’ve got a unicorn but it’s not a real one. It’s purple and furry.” Did all girls go through a fairy-tale phase? Something in Sue’s eyes told him that if she had ever believed in happy endings, she no longer had that faith. What had happened to change that feeling? He wasn’t ready to ask yet, but maybe one day he’d find out. He’d like to bring back her faith in the world.

Tuesday Tales – Picture Prompt

The prompt this week is a choice of pictures and I chose The one right over there<<

I’m leaving behind my Valentine’s story, Deep Fried Sweethearts. The story is complete and I’ll be cleaning it up in coming weeks to be sent to my editor.

This week I’m starting with an as yet untitled prequel for one of the characters in my Dominion Falls series.  Katherine Daugherty was a firecracker of a character that entered the scene in book 2 and became my heroines best friend, but her history intrigued a few readers and myself, and so I’m preparing a short prologue told in a 3-or-4 part series of minuets starting with this scene when she is 15.

There was a knock on her door, and Katherine’s father stepped into the room. His thinning red hair shimmered in the sunlight, and the grin he wore was contagious. “Are you ready, Katherine?”

“Of course I am.” Katherine leapt from her bed with an enthusiasm that would have disappointed her mother thoroughly. She knew her father wouldn’t mind, he had been the one teasing her mercilessly for weeks over her surprise. She smoothed out the full width of her skirts and spun. “Am I dressed appropriately?”

“Hmm.” He took her hand and spun her as if they were about to begin a waltz. “You might be a little fancy, but that is the norm for us, is it not?”

“It is anymore.” Katherine agreed. Since her sisters embarrassing turn a pregnancy out of wedlock to an Indian, and their subsequent secret marriage while she was engaged to the delightful Mr. Schaffer; Katherine’s mother had become far more obsessed with asserting their position in Dominion Falls.

The result had been a new wardrobe and frequent trips to Denver which left Katherine utterly bored with society and the proper young gentlemen her mother had been encouraging her to get acquainted with. At fifteen Katherine might be the age to consider proper marriage, but the thought had never appealed to her. Perhaps it was growing up her whole life among miners, but she thought there might be more fun life than being a proper wife.

“I certainly didn’t mean to upset you.” Her father chucked his finger under her chin. “This is supposed to be a surprise, not a funeral.”

“Sorry. So long as my surprise isn’t us moving to Denver, I’m certain I’ll love it.”

For a moment her father’s smile seemed to falter, but the moment was so brief she dismissed it as her overactive imagination. He held out his arm to her. “You will have to close your eyes, but I’ll let you get all the way down the stairs first.”

“The surprise requires me to close my eyes?” She couldn’t stop her excited little hop to grab his arm. “That means it’s definitely a big one. What have you gotten for me, father?”

“Something that has set your mother’s mind that I spoil you too much.”

Katherine giggled at his wink and stepped down the steps with him as if light as a feather. At least her excitement kept her from what her mother described as unladylike stomping down the stairs, heaven forbid she raced as she once had when she was small. “She never complained when I was a child.”

“Life was different then, you know that. This mining camp and our business has grown to such that we can’t be who we were then.”

“I don’t see why not. People liked us then. Now they look at me different.”

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused. A small frown tugged his smile away. “How so? The men aren’t…”

When her father’s voice trailed off, Katherine raised her eyebrows. “The men aren’t what, Father? I just mean they look at me like they do mother. My old friends, the men that used to be real nice all treat me like I think I’m better than them.”

“Oh.” His shoulders sagged and he exhaled a breath so big she wondered if he’d been holding it. “I see. Well, that’s of no consequence at the moment. You just keep being you and they’ll see you haven’t changed, Katherine.”

“Easier said than done. Now what about my surprise?” She hopped up on her toes and bounced. “Can I see it now? Can I?”

“Close your eyes.” Her father’s warm chuckle filled the hallway even as she obliged him and his visage disappeared behind her eyelids. His warm grasp on her arm guided her down the hallway.

“How far are you going to take me? You’re torturing me this way.” Katherine tried to put just enough whine into her voice and puff out her lip just enough to get a clue. All she got in response was more laughter.

“You aren’t being tortured. You’re just impatient. We’re almost there. Hold on. We should stop here for a moment.” When her father stopped her, there was a small bustling of petticoats nearby before a cloak was draped over her shoulders.

“My cloak? My surprise is outside?” The typically cold winter of Dominion Falls had hit as early as it ever did. Snow blanketed most of the town, and all of their yard and the surrounding woods in a beautiful coat of white.

“Very astute of you. Here we go.” The door opened with a blast of cool air and her father guided her outside.

The cold tickled her nose and she willingly leaned against him when he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  A whinny caught her ears on a blast of wind and without permission she opened her eyes.  Not that it mattered she’d beat him to the punch, she’d been left speechless by what she found.

Off at the far end of the yard a brilliant white horse and clean as the snow shook its head out.  Her father whistled in her ear and the horse whinnied in response before it started to run toward them.

“I’d tell you that you can open your eyes now, but I see you have. What do you think, Katherine? You were complaining about the brown being too old for you.”

“I—I just—oh, she’s beautiful father! Is she really mine?” Katherine burst from her father’s hold to run toward the fence that bordered the paddock. The horse slowed down near by and ambled toward her and the carrot she dug out of the bag her father held out to her. “I thought you said we didn’t need another horse.”

“I did, but I saw this one for sale in Pueblo. She was wild as the day is long, but I thought what would be better for you? I’ve had her fully broken and trained for you, with just a little bit of wild left.”

She grinned when the horse took the carrot from her hand. With a small sigh she rubbed her hand along the velvet nose. “I’ll call her Powder.”

“A fitting name.”

“Thank you.” Katherine spun and clasped her father in the tightest hug she possibly could. “She’s the most beautiful horse ever.”

“You’re welcome.” He squeezed her shoulder when they parted. “Why don’t you take a few minutes to get to know her? You and I can go for a ride after dinner.”

“Okay.” She smiled bright even as she caught sight of her mother on the porch.  When her father moved to join her mother, she turned back to Powder. She fed Powder another carrot and spoke low. “There are no presents without reason, Powder. I just don’t know what you mean.”

She glanced at the porch and the quiet debate going on between her parents. Her mother’s triumphant nod of her head before she headed back inside didn’t ease Katherine’s concern.  Even worse was the painful attempt at a bright smile her father made before he waved and followed her mother.

“I guess hoping you are just because the brown is getting old is too much to ask, isn’t it, Powder?”

The horse nudged her almost off the fence as it tried to get into the bag of carrots.

“You aren’t helpful. Not at all.” Kat chuckled and dug out another horse to feed to the horse. “But you are beautiful. And mine.”

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Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!

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Sunday Snippets 10 – Changing Tracks

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

I’m still keeping you all intrigued with the beginning of the series Changing Tracks (The Dominion Falls Series book 1).

This week I’m going a few paragraphs away. Thought a bit of luck, Jane got away from her conversation with the cowboy Johnny, and has returned to her room at the boarding house to try to figure out why it made her so uncomfortable. As luck would have it, Cole’s saloon is directly across the street from the boarding house, so she steps out onto her balcony to seek him out in hopes he can help calm her nerves:

Opening her eyes, she looked down to the saloon in hopes of spotting Cole. Instead her heart twisted to find Johnny staring up at her. She lost control of her limbs. They stumbled back without her order. Spinning, she raced into her room and slammed the door, locking it as well.

She tried to explain away the terror that filled her, but logic gave her nothing. No reason for a stranger to elicit such a reaction. It made no sense.

*No creative editing this week. It just worked.

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Did you like this sample, too?  You can pick up the whole series now!!

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Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!

Last Chance by Martha O’Sullivan

November marks the release of my third novel and the conclusion of my Chances trilogy, Last Chance . When I started writing Second Chance  five years ago, a trilogy was the farthest thing from my mind. Moira and Paul’s story was originally part of that first novel. But as Lindsay and Brian’s adventure evolved, I realized there wasn’t room in the book to do Moira and Paul justice, not to mention the beauty of the Lake Tahoe winter. And since Delaney and Mike’s Chance Encounter was dancing relentlessly in my head, I put Moira and Paul on hold. Now it’s their turn for Happily Ever After. I hope you’re as excited to see them again as I am! What better way to conclude the Chances trilogy than to come full circle.

In Second Chance, star-crossed lovers Lindsay Foster and Brian Rembrandt get a second chance at love amid the brilliant blue waters of Lake Tahoe. In Chance Encounter, Delaney Richards and Mike Savoy’s quest for love takes them from Tahoe’s fawn-colored shores to the serpentine streets of San Francisco. But the heat in Last Chance comes not from the blazing summer sun and rugged, white-hot sand, but from the prurient, torrid fervor between lifelong friends Moira Brody and Paul Webster.  And even the single-digit temperatures of the Lake Tahoe winter are no match for their long-bridled desire.

| Amazon |

Blurb:

Amid the blinding blue sky and snow-capped peaks of the Lake Tahoe winter, Paul Webster and Moira Brody will see one another through new eyes. But not everybody is on their side. Paul has some worthy competition and Moira’s survival instincts have kicked into high gear. Love and truth will be put to the ultimate test. Moira will have to take a leap of faith and Paul will have to take the ultimate risk–again. And sometimes discovering that what you’ve been searching for is right in front of you is more terrifying than not finding it at all. Their adventure will bring them full circle. But they’ll be plenty of collateral damage along the way.

Reader Alert! Moira Brody has been saving herself for Paul Webster without even knowing it. She is more than willing and eager to enroll in the Paul Webster School of love making. And she doesn’t want to be treated with kid gloves…

To My Readers: The veil between love and friendship can sometimes grow thin. And when both of you start to look at each other through different eyes, it all but disappears. What better way to conclude the Chances trilogy than to come full circle? Come with me as Moira Brody and Paul Webster take a chance at love. And discover it was worth waiting for.

About the Author: Martha O’Sullivan has loved reading romance novels for as long as she can remember. So much so she would often continue the story in her head long after the last chapter was read! Writing her own novels is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream for this stay-at-home mom. She lives her own happy ending in Florida with her husband and two daughters.

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Excerpt (sexy) from Last Chance

          Paul laid Moira down on the rumpled bed, and standing above her, got out of his shirt and pants. She’d seen him shirtless countless times before. But it was as if she was seeing him through different eyes. His pecs were firm but not overbearing; his abs ripped but not enough to make him barrel-chested; his arms defined but not herculean. And every bit of that thoroughbred-like body was lowering itself on top of her.

Along with something else.

And it was throbbing against her thigh through form-fitting briefs.

Arrows of fear and excitement shot through her and she wondered if he could hear her heart beating outside her chest. He framed her head with his arms. “I’ve wanted you for so long,” he effused, “without even knowing it.”

Moira gulped. “Then take me.”

Her newfound initiative seemed to surprise, then intrigue him and began to indulge her.

She welcomed his mouth, his tongue, his bite. She loved the way he brushed his fingers across her cheeks, combed his hands through her hair and down the nape of her neck before cocooning her in his arms. He kissed her with his whole body, feasting on her throat and shoulders before scooting back and finding his way to the hem of her dress.

“I’ll go easy. I promise.”

“I’m not going to break.”

His sultry eyes fired with desire.  “Be careful what you wish for.”

Lifting her arms above her head, she silently yielded to him.

Paul slipped his hands under the silk and began shimmying the dress up her thighs. He stopped appraisingly at her hips, then continued up her torso to the swell of her breasts. He tasted them impalpably, then slipped the dress over her shoulders.

He extended his arms in invitation and she raised herself on her knees to meet him. Cupping the back of her neck, he brought her to him. She surrendered to his mouth, his hands, and soon she knew, as a chord struck deep inside her, to his burgeoning erection.

Not a word passed between them, but her eyes granted him the permission he so desperately sought. His impatient hands unhooked the strapless bra with disturbing deft. He’d done this before, she reminded herself.

A lot.

His fingertips grazed her chest and throat as if looking for a place to start. He settled on her breasts, making concentric circles on her nipples with his thumbs before easing her back against the upholstered headboard.

His shaft was nudging at her as he began where he’d left off.

But with his teeth this time.

Nibble by tortuous nibble, he tugged, snagged, bit until her nipples stood on point. A lightning bolt of lust flashed in her bundle of nerves below as he licked his way down to her bellybutton. He paused to circle it with his tongue, then returned to her mouth, sampling her all the while.

His hands continued south to the strings resting below her hipbones. He waggled the panties down, then jettisoned them with a nimble kick.

“You are so beautiful,” he venerated, finding her. “Everywhere. I want to touch every inch of you.”

She reached for him more clumsily than she liked. He was as stiff as a board and globules of need were oozing through the black cotton. “I want to touch you first,” she ventured. “Show me what to do.”

He made quick work of all that separated them and lying next to her, placed her hand on his pulsating cock.

“You’ll know.”

She gripped him, and going on instinct, began to stroke. His breath instantly caught in his throat, encouraging her to quicken the pace. Head falling back in praise, he mumbled something indistinct as his body tensed and penis curved into the crook of her hand.

His moans filled the heavy air as she began to milk him with long, lazy titillations. She wondered if he could grow any more engorged without bursting.

The tip of him was seeping thick, heavy drops and she likened it to the hedonic wicking between her legs. She had never felt that kind of sweeping heat before. And the flame was spreading at an alarming rate. Her wetness was chasing the rush, only to ignite it again.

Just then he reached for her and felt it for himself.

“Oh God,” he droned, eyes rolling back in his head. “You’re dripping.” In one smooth move, he rolled on top of her. His erection rested on her damp nest of curls and he skirted his lips across hers. “I need to be inside you now.”

Bracing herself, she answered the prayer in his voice by spreading her thighs in wholehearted invitation.

She felt his hand between her legs, then his erection find her. She winced a little when the head of his manhood began inching into her center.

“It’s gonna hurt a little. I’ll go slow.”

He was right; it did hurt. But she bit back the pain and arched beneath him.

Working her into the gap between his thighs, he slid his hands up her back and pushed her breasts against his chest. His glistening eyes found hers. “I love you, Moira.”

She felt her heart swell along with his member. “I love you, too. So incredibly much.”

Interlacing their fingers and plumbing his elbows, he began to move inside her. “Oh, baby,” he cried out in a low, throaty growl. “You’re so wet, so warm, so tight.”

She wondered if he could also feel the fever scalding her from top to bottom. Or the barrier of resistance shattering in its wake. Her hips began to sway in sync with his. Each thrust brought less sting and more urgency.

Rising to his knees, he positioned himself between her legs, then began to rock above her.

He was tapping the very essence of her now, teasing her with climax. She felt aglow, like all the energy in her body had dovetailed into a cluster of ecstasy between her legs.

He broke pace only to grab her by the butt cheeks and draw her flush to him. “Put your legs up on my back,” he pleaded more than bid.

She obliged and Paul impelled himself deeper into her.  And just as the ecstasy overtook her, he roared her name and claimed her.

*~*

Martha O’Sullivan has loved reading romance novels for as long as she can remember. So much so that she would continue the story in her head long after the last chapter was read. Writing her own novels is the realization of a lifelong dream for this stay-at-home mom. A native Chicagoan, she lives her own happy ending in Tampa with her husband and two daughters.

 

Martha is a member of Romance Writers of America and Tampa Area Romance Authors. She is a graduate of Illinois State University where she wrote for the school newspaper and was a proud member of Zeta Tau Alpha. Formerly, she was an Acquisitions Editor at Macmillan Computer Publishing. She writes contemporary and erotic romances with traditional couples and happy endings. She is the author of the Chances trilogy available now from Red Sage Publishing. Her current work-in-progress in a Christmas novel set in Florida.

My love affair with California began at the tender age of fifteen and continues today, three decades later. So it should come as no surprise that the book of my heart, which somehow turned into a trilogy, is set there.

Maybe it was the indescribable thrill of a Midwestern girl seeing the ocean for the first time (we have a lake in Chicago, but it’s not the same). Or the sight of unapologetically bronzed coeds with movie-star teeth driving silver metallic convertibles and playing volleyball in the sand. Perhaps the towering palm trees swaying against the impossibly blue sky?  But that was in Southern Cal; my Chances trilogy takes place in Lake Tahoe and San Francisco, hundreds of miles north.

I was an unassuming only child of the 70′s, growing up in a place where a short, precious summer turned into a long, cold winter seemingly overnight. What else was I to do but read (thanks, Carolyn Keene)?

In high school, I often opted for the city bus because it stopped in front of the library. Just a branch, mind you, but they had loads of paperback books. And no matter the inventory du jour, I was drawn to the revolving wire rack of romance novels. Harlequin Presents, Danielle Steel and later on, Nora Roberts.

The books took me to places all over the world where effortlessly beautiful, wonderfully flawed heroines were swept off their feet by dynamic, irresistible heroes. I preferred the books to the afternoon soaps because I could imagine the characters in my mind’s eye. And if I found the ending disappointing or abrupt, I would simply continue the story in my head.

Writing such ideas down, however, took another thirty years.

In the interim, I went to college and met my own prince charming. And he took me to San Francisco on our honeymoon.

And, as cliché as it sounds, that’s where I left my heart. Well, part of it anyway. Because eight years and two babies later, he took me to Lake Tahoe for the very first time.

And my frisson with California moved even farther north.

I hope my books will take you there. And you’ll leave a little piece of yours behind too.

Hump Day Hook 51 – Santa, Maybe

Back to Hump Day Hook!

So sad to leave behind my Dominion Falls series after so many weeks with it.  Don’t worry, it will return from time to time (I won’t ever let them go).

But, very soon my Christmas offering, and the first in my Holidays in Lake Point series will be released. Santa, Maybe came about thanks to a submission call and critiquing a friend of mine’s story (Ravenous, check it out…so hot).  Blurb for this story will be below my hook.

Now, please meet Ivy and Alan.  Ivy is a former Prima Ballerina, and Alan is a big finance guy.  Once high school sweethearts turned on again-off again lovers…they haven’t seen each other since Ivy disappeared from Alan’s busy life completely eight years ago. In this scene, an old high school friend (Mary) has spotted Alan in the crowd at a Christmas celebration and cornered him.  She blindsides him with some unexpected information:

“Let me guess. You want to see Ivy?”

Ice rushed through his veins and he pinched his brows together. “I’m sorry. Did you say Ivy? You can’t mean Ivy Nowell.”

“Well who else would I mean?”

“But she’s in the city.” She had to be in the city. Last time he’d seen her had been eight years ago, but she’d still been at the peak of her career. Of course, shortly after that her name dropped off every program at her ballet company. …

Mary’s ponytail bobbed as she shook her head. “No, she’s not. Hasn’t been for about seven years. How could you not know that? When she returned without you, we assumed you’d split, maybe divorced.”

*To keep it short, I cut out a big portion of a paragraph. 

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Hump Day Hook asks authors to post one paragraph of one of their stories, whether a WIP, one contracted, or already published.  Please visit and comment on the participants – you might just stumble on the next great read for your library!  To see more participants, click on the HDH banner below:

 

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Don’t forget, even though I’m not hooking them any longer, my Dominion Falls Series is still happily out there.

Did you like this sample?  You can pick up the whole series now!!

Changing Tracks

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Derailed











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Dark Territory

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Top Ten Tuesday – Katya Armock Talks Music

Katya Armock has stopped by today to talk about the top ten songs she likes to listen to while writing – and how they tie into her novel, To Growl or Groan.

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Here are ten songs that I like to listen to when I write. They have some relation to my current novel To Growl or to Groan.

Mr. Self Destruct  by Nine Inch Nails: Chloe feels like she is losing control of her psychic ability, and this song could be from the point of view of her ability when Chloe is viewing it as a threat.
Sour Cherry  by The Kills: Chloe and Jorge’s relationship gets tested in this book, not necessarily in the way this song implies, but I like the song’s vibe.
Right in Time by Lucinda Williams: This is such a great love/sex song.
Metal Heart by Garbage: Chloe has to face a lot of her inner demons in this book. A line from this song sums up her feelings in many ways: “I want to understand so I can forgive and be willing to love.”
Most Beautiful by Frente: “The most beautiful thing is when I hear your heartbeat.” The Happily Ever After moment in a nutshell.
And Darling by Teagan and Sarah: A short song that always makes me think about the nature of relationships.
Sweetest Decline by Beth Orton: Such a beautiful, haunting, hopeful song. “What’s the use in regrets? They’re just lesson we haven’t learned yet.” Kind of like the sun will come up tomorrow but a bit more my taste in music. J
Turn Into by Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs: It’s so hard to open yourself up to someone.
You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC: I don’t think I need to explain. This band is not known for its subtlety.
Demons by Imagine Dragons: Just to prove I do listen to some contemporary music. J Plus, this is a song I listen to over and over.

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| Amazon | BN | ARe | Amazon UK | Amazon CA |

Blurb:

Her gift could save a missing girl…or destroy her relationship forever.

After receiving a troubling Tarot reading, Chloe just knows something big and bad is about to happen. Her ability to communicate with animals and shape-shifters is going awry, and her growing psychic abilities are beginning to scare her. Despite her unease, she won’t let anything interrupt her trip to Scotland to spend the holidays with her shape-shifter boyfriend’s family. Jorge is everything she’s always wanted, and the fire between Chloe and the passionate panther-shifter burns hot. But meeting his family has her nerves in knots.

When Jorge’s sister goes missing, Chloe’s psychic abilities might be the only thing that can help them find her. But things don’t go as planned, and with confusing psychic visions clouding her judgment, Chloe makes a mistake and an animal is injured. And Chloe fears she might hurt Jorge as well… 

Excerpt:

“Which deck are you drawn to, Chloe?” The tarot reader lays out three decks before me and waves her hands over the decks. “Feel free to pick them up, look at the artwork.”

Her booth is toward the back of a new-age shop called The Abacus, not far from where I used to work. She wears jeans and a T-shirt that reads, “Tarot isn’t a matter of life or death. It’s more important than that.” I’d place her at about forty, wisps of gray intermingling in her near-black hair.

I look over the decks of cards. The first has Renaissance-type drawings. Boring. The second is purple and features whimsical faery creatures. It’s pretty and ethereal. The third is dark. On the back of each card, two serpents eating their own tails are entwined on a black background. I flip the deck, thumb through the cards. The pictures are raw and vivid; they suck me in.

“This one.” I hand the third deck back to her.

She nods. “Very good. What is your question? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

There is no reason for me not to tell her; she of all people should understand. “I want to know about my gift.”

There’s not an ounce of judgment or question in her eyes before she holds the cards to her chest for a moment and closes her eyes for a few deep breaths. I watch the rise and fall of her chest, trying to claim her calmness, but I remain fidgety and anxious.

She opens her eyes, looks at my hands tapping on the table. “It’s OK to be nervous, but there is nothing to fear. All is as it will be.”

Oh, platitudes. If I ever become a Zen master, hallelujah. In the meantime, I try to quell my inner cynic and smile at the card reader.

She laughs, as if she can read my mind. Perhaps she can. “I’m going to do a three-card reading for you. The first represents the past, the second the present, and the third the future.” She shuffles the deck, then lays it neatly on the table between us. “Cut the deck with your left hand.”

I do, and she lays out the first card. It’s The Devil, which can’t possibly be good. At least it’s my past card.

Her face is unhelpfully blank. “Tell me your impressions of this card. It can be the name, the artwork, whatever.”

I pick it up for a closer look. The drawing is in shades of purple. At the top, a face, featuring lazy yellow eyes and downturned lips, sprouts four horns. A web of string seems to be wound among the horns and crisscrosses to form a pentagram on the devil’s forehead. From the neck down, he appears to be submerged in water and wearing some sort of vest with intricately interlocking clasps. “It is a dark picture, but it almost appears as if the figure has an angelic halo. As though all is not lost.”

She tilts her head to the side, revealing a small black goddess tattoo under her ear. “That is interesting. The Devil represents the shadow side of things. It can be lies and illusion, but it can also remind us to focus on using our power for good—to make our fate.”

Well that certainly fits and is a whole lot better than my first impression that my past must be filled with evil. Until recently, I had repressed the little I knew of why my mother left my father and me when I was ten. Now I know she left to go back to her mother to get help. I am certain it had something to do with her having a gift, just as I can telepathically communicate with animals and shape-shifters. And that means that my gift was inherited. What I don’t know is how far back in the family tree the genes go or where these gifts come from. I’m not sure I want to know.

*~*

I like books that are funny and fun to read (and hot!) but also make me think or look at the world in a new way.

These days you’ll find me writing, pet sitting, juggling a number of freelance gigs, and reigning as my home’s domestic goddess. I live in the Midwestern U.S. with my husband, dog and cats. Alas, I have, as of yet, been unable to teach my husband how to purr.

Website: http://katyaarmock.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/katyaarmock

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/KatyaArmock

 

Tuesday Tales – Abrupt – Deep Fried Sweethearts

The prompt this week is Sweet.

I’m finally back to Deep Fried Sweethearts, my wonderful little Valentine’s story.

This may be my last foray into Deep Fried Sweethearts…unless you absolutely throttle me for where I leave you.  Michaela has done a terrible wrong by Tag at a time when he needed her most…but her life experience has shattered her trust in her choice in men. After messing up so bad she goes to his place to make an apology and explain, she doesn’t believe he will forgive her, or that she deserves it… 

Michaela chewed on what was left of her thumbnail, staring down the street on her right. She’d been at the stop sign for almost ten minutes. Thankfully the snowfall last night meant the roads were still quiet.

After almost a week of nearly turning down the street, she was still trying to build up the courage to do it.  “Just turn the wheel and go.”

A week ago she’d turned her back on Owen, she’d not given him the benefit of the doubt like he’d asked. Everybody in her life had read her the riot act for it, even Eve, although she’d done so more gently than the rest.

Still, she didn’t know which part of her was the biggest fool.  The one that had turned her back on Owen, even though life experience taught her that her judgment in men couldn’t be trusted; or the part of her that wanted to believe in him more than anything.

“Just turn the wheel,” She whispered. “There’s a good chance he won’t even open the door anyway, so just turn the wheel and go.”

A car horn jolted her out of her inner struggle and she shrieked in surprise. With an apologetic and embarrassed wave out her back window, she turned down Owen’s street. The other car went the other direction, so she was able to drive slowly down the street.  Still she arrived at his duplex all too soon and parked her car across the street.

At this point she didn’t know where to begin, or even what she was feeling or thinking any longer. Ever since his abrupt, and very justified, resignation she’d been at a total loss. When he’d come into The Midway to turn in his keys she’d found herself unable to even speak.

She should’ve said she was sorry. Thrown herself at his feet and begged forgiveness.

But the familiar doubt, the safe wall of seclusion she’d built so long ago, those had crept back in and prevented it.  What if the drugs had been his?

How could she believe that about him?

She’d never thought it was possible with Gary either.

Maybe Owen would hear her out if she started with sorry. First step would be finding her voice, and not locking up like she had when he’d come in to quit.

Before she could quadruple guess herself yet again, she grabbed her keys and got out of the car. She trucked across the street and up the steps despite her nagging doubts and the nosy Mrs. Quinn’s curtains moving aside. With more force than she thought her trembling hands capable of, she pushed the doorbell.

Silence echoed back and she tapped her heels rapidly on the porch. “Please, Owen. Please, answer the door. Please, please, please.”

She chewed on her lip and glared toward Mrs. Quinn’s not-so-subtle peeping face. With a deep frown, she hit the doorbell again.

The door cracked open finally, but it wasn’t Owen on the other side. Myrtle herself fixed a scolding scowl on Michaela. It was enough to stop Michaela’s tapping heels, and lodge the thick lump of fear firmly in her gullet.

“Please.” Michaela cleared her throat when the word squeaked at an embarrassing pitch. She twisted her fingers together and bit her lip. “Can I see him?”

“Look, Missy.” Despite her lack of coat, Myrtle stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut securely behind her. She urged Michaela toward the railing across from the door. “I know your reasons for what you did, and you got your demons.”

“He needs to know them, and I need to apologize.” Michaela twitched her nose against the tingling rise of renewed tears she’d thought were long dry. “I know.”

“Nobody knows your story but you. I know there’s been a heap of talk around these parts, but talk is just that.” Myrtle frowned. “But if you hurt my boy again…”

“I doubt he’ll even take me back. I just want to tell him…”

“Oh, sugar. You and he, you’re in for a mess of trouble if you keep up with all this denial.” Myrtle sighed, and patted Michaela’s hand. “He’s good and hurt, and he’s got every right to be. But I told him to try to talk to you. Was trying to get him to go today. I can’t guarantee he’ll talk to you, but you can try.”

“Thank you.” Michaela followed Myrtle to the door, and stepped into the warm house right behind the older woman. In the kitchen, Tag rose to his feet and scowled between Myrtle and Michaela.

“Tag, don’t give me that look. I got to get my old body into work and I don’t have any more time for your stubborn head. Now give me a kiss and then at least listen for five minutes.” Myrtle shrugged on her enormous coat and leaned her cheek to Tag.

Tag kept a dark eye on Michaeala, but leaned sideways and placed a half-assed kiss on his aunt’s cheek. As the woman ambled toward the back door and disappeared outside, he remained immobile and silent.

Once again Micheala could swear she felt every single word in her head tumble over each other until they curled into a snarled ball and shot right down into a lead ball in her gut. Doubt over the right course of action started to creep back up.

“Well? You’re down to four minutes.”

His voice startled her right out of her own misery and she met his hard gaze with wide eyes. Her mouth opened and closed impotently for what had to be another minute before she managed to find her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. Doesn’t take my night in jail away, or erase my name out of the paper under arrests—”

“I hurt you. I embarrassed you. I can’t ever make it right and I don’t expect you to ever forgive me. I should have said something when you came to the shop, but I didn’t know what to say, or how I felt, I was so confused.”

“That makes two of us.” He turned his back on her and leaned on the counter. His shoulders twitched and he picked at the loose edge of the marbled laminate. “I only ever asked you for one thing—to give me the benefit of the doubt. You couldn’t do that, could you?”

“I told you I couldn’t. I told you I could only try. With my track record, I wasn’t sure what to think. You can’t begin to understand.”

“You wouldn’t even let me try. All that time I thought you were starting to open up, you weren’t. I was lying to myself.”

“No, you weren’t. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m a fool for thinking I could crack that shell.”

“No. You cracked it, but a crack takes time to widen. Time we didn’t have.” She closed her eyes and dropped her head. “Will you let me explain why—why I walked away, why I still struggle to believe you are a good guy even though I know—I know that I should?”

“So you still don’t believe I’m innocent? Then why are you here?”

“Because in my experience good guys just don’t exist!”

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Hope you enjoyed it!  Click on the Tuesday Tales badge to see more excellent entries!!

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Sunday Snippets 9 – Changing Tracks

Welcome back to the Weekend Writing Warriors!

I’m still keeping you all intrigued with the beginning of the series Changing Tracks (The Dominion Falls Series book 1).

In this 8, Jane has met a cowboy who calls himself Johnny after literally running into him on the street. After agreeing to an apology cup of coffee, Jane is filled with growing unease. It’s made worse when he suggests some people would want to forget their whole lives as she has:

His hand shot out to grasp hers tight, pulling it closer; dark eyes leveled at hers. “Ain’t everyone led a privileged life. Some wanna escape, prefer to be unknown, free; don’t you think?”

In a flash he grinned again, releasing her hand. She pulled it back to rub the feeling away. “If that’s true, then they’re fools. Having had memories and a life ripped forcibly from me, I can’t imagine entering such a state willingly. Now I must go.”

*Creative editing was used, I admit it…:D

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Did you like this sample, too?  You can pick up the whole series now!!

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Head back on over to the Weekend Writing Warriors to read many more wonderful offerings!