Storm Chase's Blog, page 85

Cassidy meets Dmitri: Murder in Moscow excerpt

Chapter Three Dmitri saw her get up and waved but she was gone before he could catch her eye
        “I win!” Ivo laughed.
        But Dmitri was pushing his way through the crowd. “Back in a sec.”
        He wasn’t sure why he was following her. He had a liking for redheads but chasing them about wasn’t his usual style. This one had something special about her that called to him.
        It wasn’t the willowy body, although that was worth a second and third look. It wasn’t the face either. She had lovely large eyes but the eyebrows were uncompromisingly straight. The aquiline nose, high cheekbones and sweetly curved mouth might have been beautiful if it hadn’t been for her closed, remote expression.
        It was the look in those large slanting hazel eyes, he decided. She looked a little sad, wistful even, but she stood tall, alert and straight shouldered. It was the look of a soldier. The whole look was an odd combination of vulnerability and strength. A steel Bambi
        He was no more than a few seconds behind her going out of the door but when he looked up and down the street, she had vanished.
        “Looking for the redhead?” one of the bouncers asked knowledgeably. “She went around the corner.”
        “Bloody hell! Into the alley?”
        “Yup. Walking fast too.”
        Cassidy was moving down the alley. A few steps down from the street she passed a large dumpster. It was full to the brim with bottles. Revelry’s empties, she thought. They were clearly doing a roaring business.
        As she moved away from the well-lit road, the alley became pitch black. Just as she judged she was half way down, she spotted the steel streetlight. It shed no light. Cassidy’s heart beat faster. Glancing up, she saw the bulb was smashed. It was second nature to double-check; the light was clean. It had been broken recently. The dark was calculated.
        She could see a shape coming towards her.
        “This way,” a hoarse whisper said in Russian.
        Cautiously she walked forward, her nerves on edge. Somehow she’d expected English. She framed her query carefully, speaking softly so her accent wouldn’t be too obvious. “Got a question for me?” Sometimes people freaked at this point and needed a reminder
        There was a chuckle in the dark. Cassidy froze. Something was wrong. This was going pear-shaped. And like a fool, she didn’t have a weapon.
        Cassidy began to back up slowly and quietly. A tiny flare of moonlight, peeking between the rain clouds, briefly illuminated the alley. To her horror she saw not one silhouette in front of her but two. A split second later a noise behind her told her there was another one stepping out from behind the dumpster. From the sound of a zip, he’d been quietly peeing there, invisible in the dark. Now he was blocking her retreat
        Cassidy’s heart was trying to jump out of her throat. This wasn’t just going pear-shaped; it was a major fucking disaster. She carefully took a lungful of air and willed herself to relax. This wasn’t a time to panic; this was a time to plan
        From their concerted movements, the three silhouettes were a pack.
        “Man, you only have to whistle and they come running, Maxim,” the one behind her sniggered
        Not agents but robbers, Cassidy thought.
        It was a huge relief. Professionals were fast and to the point; amateurs were easily distracted. She reached into the small shoulder bag she’d slung diagonally across her chest to frustrate Moscow’s pickpockets, took out her purse and threw it at the two in front of her. “Here’s all I’ve got,” she said. She half turned, managing to keep them all within her sight as she inched towards to bright street beckoning beyond the alley
        She could see the two men looking to the ground for her purse. Unbeknownst to them, she now had her office keys in her hand. The bunch was comfortingly heavy; the metal poking out from between her fingers.
        It was too dark to see. The two cursed loudly as they gave up looking for her purse. Thank God her dark trouser suit provided good cover. She wasn’t sure how well they could see her. Maybe if she faked out the one behind her, she could get past him and out into the open where she’d be safe. Meanwhile the two in front of her were becoming more and more confident of their prey.
        “Here pretty, pretty,” one of them hissed
        “Come on, let’s party.” That was the chuckler. He was edging closer to her
        Cassidy came to a swift decision. “Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered. “Please!”
        Rough laughter from both sides caused her to back to the wall. “Oh please,” she whined again, her voice shaky with fear. “Oh my God, please.”
        Her ruse worked beautifully. Now supremely confident that their prey was weak, frightened, and helpless, the three men moved in - and within range. As one reached out to grab her shoulder, Cassidy leaned back and aimed a front snap at his crotch. He screamed and dropped to the ground, clutching himself and moaning
        Cassidy took half a step forward, and then lashed out, her foot circling up high and round in a powerful crescent strike. Unfortunately, he saw her move and stepped back rapidly. By his smooth action, Cassidy realised he had some martial arts training. He also outweighed her by 20 kilos and she’d lost the advantage of surprise. Time to act fast.
        The third man stood still. He hadn’t expected her to fight back and now he wasn’t sure what to do. He was the weakest point. It was time to crush him and exit
        Cassidy feigned a hook kick to his hip and when he took the bait and half turned to avoid it, punched him in the throat. He twisted at the last second so it hardly connected but the keys in her hand punctured the skin. The second he felt the blood trickling down his skin, he panicked.
        “You fucking bitch!” he screamed. “I’ll kill you.”
        The fight had moved them closer to the street. In the dim light that filtered through into the alley, Cassidy could now see the two men quite clearly. Unfortunately, they were too close to her. There was no way she could cut and run. They’d catch her in a second. Worse, as they were now on their guard, Cassidy knew her chances of fighting it out and winning were diminishing fast. She’d try a scissor strike. If she could lure them in closer, she could take these two out in one go
        She heard the sound of running feet coming towards her
        More trouble, Cassidy thought. If they had reinforcements, she was definitely dead.
        The one with the martial arts training was fumbling in his pocket. Frightened he had a gun, Cassidy knew she had no more time for trickery and deception. She went in fast and close and took him in the solar plexus with a swift eagle strike. As he slumped, his hand came up with a knife.
        The sight of it produced a surge of fear that provided an extra spurt of strength and determination. Cassidy moved in close and banged her hands over his ears, bursting his eardrums while she kneed him in the balls. He folded like a sack, retching with a high squealing sound
        “Are you all right?” With surprise Cassidy saw it was Dmitri. He moved lightly, stepping over the unconscious man at his feet. Cassidy hadn’t seen him go down. It must have been fast. As her first victim stirred and tried to sit up, Dmitri gave him a casual kick in the ribs. “Stay down,” he ordered. It was a hard voice, used to command. The man slumped instinctively
        Police, Cassidy thought. He must be plainclothes division.
        Looking around he smiled at her. “That was great,” he said. “Karate with a bit of Muay Thai improv. Or was it taekwondo? Either way, love it!”
        “Thanks,” Cassidy said warily. Having done routine paperwork like converting her drivers’ license and getting her residence card, her experience was that the Moscow police always had their hand out. She wondered how much this would cost her
        Dmitri saw with interest that his redhead was completely unmoved both by the attack or his appearance. She was breathing a little fast but otherwise she looked cool and composed; as if it was completely normal to stand about talking while three muggers were heaving their guts up all over the street. She really was something. He grinned companionably at her. “Let’s get this scum cleared away, huh?”
        He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Instantly there was an answering call
        Shit, Cassidy thought. She didn’t want to be mixed up with official reports even though clearly the handover was off
        Dmitri saw her wariness and thought she might not remember him. Men were probably trying to get her attention all the time. “Remember me? I’m Dmitri. We met earlier. Can I buy you a drink?”
        Cassidy stared at him. “What?”
        “A drink. I really wanted to ask you to dance but after this you must be thirsty, so drinks first and a dance later?”
        He was drunk, Cassidy decided. No sober man would ask her for a drink while stepping around three semiconscious, retching, groaning men. Dmitri looked sober but he must be plastered. Cassidy stifled a groan. A clandestine meet that had been a complete fuckup and now a tanked up copper looking for a date. Terrific. This just couldn’t get worse
        Three of the bouncers came running down the alley. With a few terse instructions from Dmitri they grasped the fallen attackers by their arms and began dragging them rather ungently towards the street.
        “They will keep an eye on them while we call the cops,” Dmitri said cheerfully. He stooped and picked up her wallet. “Yours, I think?”
        She couldn’t catch it all as he spoke quickly but she got the general gist. “Thanks.”
        As the small procession began walking slowly up the alley, Dmitri took Cassidy’s arm, tucking it into his. Her first impulse was to pull away. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her. Then the warmth of his hand as he gently rubbed her arm sent a shiver through her. The tiny movement of his fingers on her arm set her heart beating faster. She had a sudden wish to lean into him and kiss him
        For a moment, Cassidy stared at him, totally confused.
        “You still haven’t told me your name, beautiful girl,” he said companionably
        “It’s Cassidy.”
        He instantly switched to English. “You speak terrific Russian! What are doing in dark alleys? Are you a spy?” Dmitri chuckled as she stiffened. “Just kidding!”
        “I took a wrong turning,” Cassidy said lamely
        “Right. It’s so hard to tell the difference between a well lit main road and a dark alley,” he said cheerfully. “It’s ok, I’m very discreet. I won’t ask any more questions. So where are you from exactly? And are you married? I hope not. I’m single and very available. I also love redheads. Do you like Russian food? Can I take you for dinner tomorrow?”
        His flirtatious chattiness was such a contrast to the tense scene before that Cassidy felt a bubble of laughter rise in her; she giggled
        Dmitri looked at her and felt his heart skip a beat. The giggle was deliciously bubbly and came with a smile that lit up her face. The cool detached ice-queen vanished, revealing an elfin girl with a mischievous smile and an engaging sparkle in her hazel eyes. The transformation was almost magical.
        This is what he’d sensed when he’d first seen her. This is what had made him go after her. Dmitri resolved that he wouldn’t let her rush off again; he wanted this mysterious, wonderful, exciting girl.
        Back in the brightly lit street, the queue in front of Revelry gazed with interest as the bouncers dragged the three groaning men to the kerb and dumped them there unceremoniously. Spotting a police van cruising by, Dmitri gave them a friendly wave. They immediately stopped, pulling up in front of the trio on thepavement. “These three attacked my friend,” Dmitri announced.
        Two uniformed cops instantly examined Cassidy. “What happened?” one of them asked
        “I...erm...” Cassidy thought fast. She had no explanation of why she’d turned into the alley
        “She’s a bit drunk,” Dmitri said, “and she’s with me.”
        Instantly the suspicious looks vanished. Without asking another question, they cuffed Cassidy’s assailants and bundled them roughly into the van
        Dmitri casually handed them some cash. “Can we come and make statements later?” he said. “We need a drink.”
        “Any time,” one of the officers assured him. “We’ll keep them on ice. In fact, come tomorrow. We’re too busy tonight to do paperwork and these bastards can rot for a while.”
        “Terrific, thanks.”
        “Erm, Dmitri, did you mess them up?” the policeman asked apologetically. “We don’t want another death in custody. We’ve had two this week and the boss is fed up with paperwork.”
        Cassidy blinked. She knew she’d understood him properly. She also knew from the newspapers and stories told at the office that Moscow police could be very heavy-handed yet this openness was shocking. She would never get used to the casual way Russians accepted flagrant breaches of human rights.
        Dmitri was about to tell him to ask Cassidy but a glance at her face made him change his mind. It was the ice princess standing next to him again. Clearly she wasn’t happy about this turn of events. It didn’t occur to him to question her; he instinctively covered for her. “It’s not serious,” he said evasively. “A few kicks and a neck wound that’s more bloody than dangerous.”
        “Right. Drop by tomorrow, ok?”
        “Sure!”
        “And you too,” the policeman said to Cassidy. “We need you as a witness.”
        She nodded, glad they’d assumed Dmitri had taken them all out by himself. He must be a well-known martial arts expert, she thought. He must be quite senior too by the respectful way they deferred to him
        The policeman looked at the trio in the van. “I know this lot,” he said darkly. “I shall be glad to have a word with them later myself.”
        Cassidy knew she ought to be appalled by the implication. This time though, she was secretly rather pleased. From the way these had moved in, it was obvious they had worked as a team before. Cassidy was certain there were women out there, not as lucky as her, who’d been attacked and raped by them. Human rights be damned, she thought to herself. Knowing they’d be beaten “while resisting arrest” was giving her a warm glow of satisfaction.
        The police drove off, waving in a friendly way
        “You’re on the force?” Cassidy asked Dmitri
        “Like Star Wars?”
        “Like copper. Police.”
        “Nope, I’m ex army though. And I’m local so they know me.”
        “Oh, right.”
        “Let’s have that drink.”
        “I should go.”
        “We have to get our story straight,” Dmitri reminded her. As Cassidy hesitated, he gestured to Revelry’s front door. “Just one drink.” She was still keyed up from the fight but not in shock. This was one tough girl, Dmitri thought. He patted her on the arm, adding persuasively, “It wouldn’t do to make them suspicious by presenting different stories.”
        He was right. Her instinct was telling her to get out fast but she knew that was just a reaction from the ‘flight or fight’ response caused by the attack. This wasn’t the time to listen to her body; this was where her brain had to lead. She had to follow through as if it were a mugging or they’d be suspicious.
        Cassidy quietly cursed Sparrow-Hayes. This was getting way too complicated. “All right.”

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Sneak Peek: The Bonus by AJ Adams (Hardcore! Adults only!)

Please note this book contains scenes of erotica, hardcore brutality, dubious consent and reluctant sex. It is for adults only.

Kyle: Beginning
The girl was scrambling madly, trying frantically to maintain her balance. They’d stripped her, tied her hands behind her back, looped the hangman’s noose over the tree branches above, and stood her on the slick surface of an ice block the size of a refrigerator. If she could keep still, the melting ice would vanish slowly underneath her, and she’d strangle little by little. One slip, and she’d hang herself.

Clearly Arturo was indulging in his favourite game. He’d let her suffocate, then slap her back into consciousness, pass her around for a gangbang, and, if she survived the night, set her up again. She might survive two days but the odds were she’d be dead by morning.

Arturo is a sick bastard. He says his games put the message out that he’s not to be messed with, but I know he gets a kick out of it. I can see it in his eyes. They’d love him in Gitmo. He’d fit right in.

“You talked with him?”

Arturo was sitting on the terrace, planted in his favourite rattan peacock chair, and drinking an iced Dos Equis. Arturo has a lot of enemies, so he lives in a compound guarded by a small army. As he rarely leaves his home, he has created a small paradise for himself: a mansion with a dozen bedrooms, and a formal garden, a rose garden, and a family style backyard, complete with swimming pool and barbeque pit. We were in the yard, but despite the blow-up crocodile that was floating in the pool, the entertainment was definitely adult.

The men were gathered around the girl, hooting and hollering. As a rule, they stick around in case Arturo needs something, but they don’t hang with him on his terrace. As his brother, I have my own chair on the terrace, also rattan but with a low back. I’m not fond of peacock chairs; I like to see what’s behind me, even if it’s a solid wall. Paranoia is part of my business.

Arturo reached into the mini-bar behind him, and pulled out another cold one for me. One long gulp took care of half the Dos Equis. It was a typical scorching afternoon. Even the flies were too hot to move.

“And?” he asked me impatiently. “What did he say?”

“You were right. He talked. Not to the Federales, though. He was negotiating with the Gulf Cartel.”

Arturo swore foully. You’d never guess he was a graduate from Princeton; most of the time he talks like a grunt. “How bad is it?”

“He never got past the first stage. He gave them nothing they didn’t already know.”

“Certain?”

“He wasn’t in any condition to lie to me.” The velvety smooth chill of the Don Equis was heaven. I decided I’d get drunk tonight. The job had taken twelve hours, and it had been gory too. Even after two showers, I still felt as if I had blood in my hair. I needed a break.

“Just him?”

“He involved his woman. I took care of her too.”

Arturo frowned. “Shame he brought her into it.”

“Hmm.”

“Disloyalty is a disease,” Arturo frowned. “You made sure their deaths send a message?”

He never takes anything for granted, does Arturo. He knows there’s no way in hell I’d do a job half-assed but he still asks. He’s the ultimate micromanager.

To punish him a little, I drank down the rest of the ice-cold beer and tossed the bottle in with the other empties instead of answering him. The girl was teetering on the edge of the block. Incredibly, she seemed to be considering jumping off it. It would certainly be quicker than anything Arturo had in mind but from the way they’d tied the noose, and the length of the drop, it was unlikely she’d break her neck.

“Hey! I asked you a question!” Arturo nudged me in the ribs. “Did you make an example of them?”

“I crucified them.”

“Madre de Dios!” Arturo crossed himself.

“He was called Jesus; it seemed appropriate.”

Arturo paused for a scandalised moment, and then burst out laughing.

I waited until he’d finished. “They had a kid. She’s four.”

Arturo pulled a face and sighed. “It’s a terrible thing to kill a child.”

Yeah, he would think that I’d taken her out. “She’s visiting her cousins for the weekend. When her mother doesn’t show up to collect her tonight, they’ll investigate and find the bodies.”

Arturo heaved a staged sigh of relief. “Ah! Excellent! She still has family. She’ll be cared for.”

Typical Arturo. He’s not married, and he doesn’t have kids, but he’s always acting the benevolent patriarch. It’s just play acting. If he got into a jam, and he thought it would give him an edge, Arturo would traffic that four year old in a heartbeat. And that’s why I like working for him; Arturo never makes mistakes. He doesn’t have a sentimental bone in his body. That’s a good thing because a soft heart gets you shot in the head.

“You deserve a bonus!” Arturo was in a good mood.

A squeal followed by a roar of appreciation made us both look up. The girl had jumped and now her body was writhing frantically at the end of the rope, desperate for air. Her arms and legs were tanned, but the rest of her was milky pale. She wasn’t local, and she didn’t work for us, yet she must have crossed Arturo in some serious way. Arturo is vicious but he doesn’t act unless you give him reason, and even then, girls usually get off with a beating. Only the ones who inform on us to the Federales or one of the other cartels are given this treatment.

“Who is she?”

“She came with him.” Arturo indicated a lolling form hanging from the cross bar of the swing set that stood on the far side of the pool. Arturo had set it up the second his first niece was born, and now its solid metal frame was coming in useful in ways the manufacturer had never imagined.

From the blood splatter, and the electric drill lying nearby, Arturo had had quite an entertaining morning. I didn’t recognise the figure either. “Who’s he?”

“Some kid from town. He tried to buy product with these.”

Arturo tossed a roll of dollars my way. Just one touch was enough. The printing was piss poor and the paper was ordinary stationary quality. Now I knew why Arturo was sending a message: they’d tried to buy product with counterfeit. “Fucking idiots. A three year old wouldn’t be taken in by this shit.”

The girl’s face was now dark red. She stopped struggling. Another thirty seconds, and she’d be beyond even Arturo’s reach. And believe me, you’ve got to be out of this world entirely to be sure he can’t get to you, especially now that I’m working for him. I can track anyone, anywhere, anytime. It’s one of my many skills.

Seeing she’d been brave enough to take the leap, I decided to keep my mouth shut and let her go out quick, but as I said, Arturo is nobody’s fool. Suddenly aware that his fun was about to come to an abrupt halt, he yelled a warning. Instantly, everyone standing around was rushing for the rope. I guess none of them wanted to fuck a corpse. Like the morons they are though, they tugged at the knot and forgot to hold onto the rope. The girl spilled onto the ground, landing on the far side of the ice block.

Before they could reach for her, she surged back to life. With astonishing resilience, she snapped her body, shed the noose, and took to her heels. Man, that girl could run!

It was a pity though that her hair was all over her face. She had no idea where she was going. She slammed into the compound’s back wall, doubled back, evaded the grabbing hands that reached for her by pure luck, and then headed straight for the terrace, finally cannoning into me. I instinctively put my arms around her and planted my feet on the ground. She’d been moving at a hell of a lick and the chair creaked horribly and rocked with the momentum, but held steady. Arturo always buys quality stuff.

“Dear God please help me! Don’t let them kill me!”

Her hot body, slick with sweat, was pressing up against me. Her face was in my neck, her legs wrapping around mine. She couldn’t use her hands but she clung like a limpet. She smelled of sweat, fear and a sweet, flowery soap. An old-fashioned scent. Lavender maybe. Or rose. I’m not a gardening man.

Terrified they’d drag her back and hang her again, she was whispering frantically in my ear, her voice hoarse, her tone pleading. “Habla Ingles? Take me home with you. I’ll be yours! I’ll do whatever you want!”

Instantly my cock hardened. The girl froze for a moment, then rubbed against me, promising, enticing. “Chingat!”

Hearing the insult, my hands gripped her arms tightly with instinctive anger.

She gasped. “Oh crap, no! Not fuck you, I mean, fuck me! You understand? Oh Jesus! Amor. Joder.”

She was babbling now, terrified I wouldn’t understand her offer. As if I could think of anything else but having her. I could see the pale white skin of her swelling breasts tipped with sweet rose nipples, tight and taut with fear. I could feel them through my shirt as she writhed against me. She was rubbing against my cock lasciviously, making her offer clear in a language every man on the planet would understand instinctively.

“I’ll do anything you want. Just take me home with you. You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She spoke with an unusual, light, lilting accent. Not an American. Or a Canadian. Not Australian either. English probably.

The men came crowding round, laughing, catcalling and demanding to have their toy back.

“C’mon, chismoso! Give her back!”

“Yes, we had her first!”

She didn’t need to understand what they were saying; their message was a universal one too. “You want me!” Her voice cracked desperately in my ear. “Come on, take me to your place.”

She was kissing my neck, but I could feel tears. She was crying. I grabbed a chunk of her hair, and pulled her head back so I could see her face. Wide spaced dark blue eyes, a small nose that would have been pretty if it weren’t dripping, and an oval face framed with shoulder length black hair. Although she was clearly terrified, and tears were running down her face, she tried to smile. She had guts.

Frightened by my silence, she moved slightly, riding my rock hard cock that was threatening to tear out of my jeans, and setting her breasts jiggling right in front of my eyes. I couldn’t help it: I dipped my head and licked a nipple. The tight bud set in the soft skin quivered. The girl gasped and pulled away but as everyone around us roared in laughter and yelled obscene encouragement, she shuddered and deliberately leaned towards me, offering herself.

“I can show you a good time,” she whispered.

It was just too tempting. I leaned back in my chair, holding her slightly away from me so I could see her body. The ripe, luscious hips and the sweetly dimpled thighs decided it.

I looked towards Arturo and knew his answer before I even spoke. He was grinning like a bastard, and when I said, “You mentioned a bonus...” he burst out laughing again.

He’s pretty generous, Arturo. When we were kids, he was always the first to share his toys.

The Bonus is rated 4.2 over 50 reviews on Goodreads. To read The Bonus visit Smashwords, Barnes and Noble or Amazon

Sneak Peek: Discovering Daniel by Nadine Christian

Title: Discovering DanielAuthor: Nadine Christian         Genre: Young Adult
Tour Host: Lady Amber's Tours
Synopsis:When a shocking memory surfaces that Ava McCoy can’t understand, she looks for answers. With her parents and her Uncle Sam trying to convince her that she is only chasing dreams, she is determined to prove that they are wrong, the vision too vivid in her mind to be anything but truth. When her investigation reveals another world so shocking and yet so familiar, it feels as if the pieces of the puzzle are starting to come together – with only one question left unanswered. Who is Daniel? The very memory of him draws her to the sea. Then, the ocean brings her the answer she’s seeking. Daniel himself. United, Daniel and Ava must find out why everyone wanted to keep them apart – and who is now trying their best to do it again. They must find the answers – before they succeed. Before Ava loses Daniel all over again – this time, forever.

Sneak Peek:
Her reflection wavered in the water, the ribbon cutting a line in the wavering picture of herself once more. Her mouth frowned down at the face in the water. The watery reflection frowned back. She grinned and the face in the water grinned back too. Laughing now, she pushed the tip of her nose up with her finger and the girl in the water did as well.
Behind the reflection something moved, and she blinked hard. Bubbles rose, breaking the surface with gentle burbles, carrying what sounded like a tinkling laugh with them. A shimmer of scales darted under the boat and she leaned further out in surprise. That fish was big, she thought and waggled her ribbon enticingly. Then a face, pale and smiling peered up at her, black hair fanning out in the water, blue eyes crinkling in the corner with delight. The face suddenly crossed its eyes and poked out a pink tongue and Ava reared back in surprise, dropping her ribbon in shock.The momentum carried her in a jerky marionette step across the boat, and then her legs caught the side of the boat, and in what seemed like slow motion, her arms wind-milling, she went backwards over the side.She heard her father shout out, and then water filled her ears, cold and deafening. Salty fluid filled her mouth and nose and she breathed involuntary as she shrieked in fright. Within seconds, her jacket had righted her in the water, but she struggled to draw a breath. Vomiting a copious mouth of nauseating warm salty water, she coughed hard enough to bring tears to her eyes, and then the tears began in earnest. Legs and arms heavy with fright, she bobbed in the water like a cork, panting with the urgency to get her breath back.

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Why write romance?

I was asked a question during an interview a few weeks ago that I think is asked of all of us romance and erotica authors:  How do you feel about contributing to a genre that is, for the most part, not taken very seriously by the mainstream publishing market or the media? Why choose to follow a path when then the deck is stacked against you in such a way?

In my experience mainstream publishers and the media like what pays best and as romance is consistently a big seller they like it fine.  There aren’t worldwide statistics available but according to Business of Consumer Book Publishing 2013 romance fiction sales were worth $1.438 billion in 2012 and was the top-performing category on the best-seller lists in 2012.  And that’s just the USA.
It’s impossible to see how much romance erotica sales are worth as sub genres like historical romance, erotica romance, paranormal romance and so on are all lumped together.
There aren’t statistics for the Malaysian market, but what I can say is that while we have some rather strict rules about what may be published locally (it’s a Muslim country) industry gossip and my own sales tell me that ebook sales points like Kobo and Smashwords are fuelling a boom for all types of romance - including romance erotica and dark erotica.
As for having the deck stacked against me: that’s true for everyone who writes and for a lot of other industries too - especially if you’re a woman. It is never easy making it to the top whether your business is aviation or zoology but that doesn’t mean you have to lie down and give up. Risk is all part of life and I like living life to the full.  
Check out Storm Chase romance and romance erotica on Smashwords and Amazon 

Sarah Daltry: Orange Blossom excerpt

Orange Blossom, the penultimate title in Sarah Daltry's bestselling New Adult romance series, Flowering, is available now! 

Title: Orange BlossomAuthor: Sarah DaltryCover Design: Shoutlines Design18+ New Adult Contemporary RomanceBuy Links: Amazon, Amazon UK, Barnes and Noble, Apple, Kobo, All Romance, Smashwords, and Paperback"I’ve never understood a year. A year was always a measurement of something bad for me. A year in my father’s prison sentence, a year since my mom’s death, a year left of school before I could get far, far away from here. Now, as I look down the end of my college career, with only a little more than a semester to go, a year seems like something magical. It has been a year since Lily chose me, since she sat with me on the old swing set and made a decision that I was worthy of her. And every minute of the entire year has been better than the last."

 You already know their stories: Lily, the perfect princess, always living someone else's life. And Jack, the broken boy, who had stopped believing in hope. Somehow, though, they found each other and what was one night blossomed into a love story. Now, a year later, Jack and Lily are dreaming of the future. Despite all of his promises to himself that he would never be indebted to anyone, Jack makes a new promise - this time to Lily - that he will be there for her forever. But when life unravels for them, he starts to pull away, and Lily worries he's out of reach for good. When Jack does the unthinkable, Lily is left destroyed. Is it possible to have a happily ever after? Does love ever really save anyone? Listen to the Playlist or watch the Trailer!


Excerpt: He’s smiling. Not that smirk he gets when he’s bitter but also pleased about something. It’s not the smile that says that he knows happiness is temporary. When he lines up his Skee-ball shot, there is a smile on his face that is pure. Genuine. It’s like taking a step back and seeing Jack in a photograph. One from years before his life went crazy.
He’s just a dorky kid playing Skee-ball and he’s so happy when he nails the shot. He does an awkward little dance and it’s the kind of thing about Jack that makes me love him. He’s gorgeous and sexy and aggressive yet sweet. He’s kind and considerate of me, both sexually and in general.
But I don’t love Jack for that. I love him because there is light in the world in the space he takes up. I know he doesn’t see it, but he’s inside himself. From the outside, all I see is the absolute electricity and fire that fills the air around him. 
“That’s how it’s done,” he tells me when he finishes his game, wrapping up his ridiculous stack of tickets.
I’m so going to lose, but I don’t care. He’s happy. I just almost wish I was better at this, so we could stay here longer, so that Jack could be this part of himself for as long as he needs. 
“I think you’re perfect,” I say. “Because I’m good at Skee-ball? Shit, that’s all it takes?” I shake my head. “No, but you tell me all the time. I don’t think I ever say it to you. I don’t like the idea of perfection. It’s too much of a standard to live up to, but I don’t think you even understand. It’s cheesy and probably cliché, but I just can’t imagine how I could breathe without you. How did I exist before this?” 
He looks down, uncomfortable because it’s one thing to tell Jack he’s hot or sexy; he can handle that and he gets cocky and ridiculous when I tell him that. But this part of him, this vulnerability, he buries it so deep that drawing attention to it makes him want to disappear.
But I don’t want that. I want him to embrace it, because it’s sweet and beautiful. “Don’t look down,” I say and I lift his face to look at me. His eyes explode with light, the way fireworks do on New Year’s when the sky is like ink and then it’s suddenly on fire.
I lean in and kiss him, feeling his hands tighten on my arms and his lips opening against mine. He’s scared. I can feel it in the way he kisses me today; he feels himself falling and he’s trying to hold on and I need to figure out how to be steady enough to hold him.
“Trust me,” I plead. “Let me take some of what you’re feeling. I can handle it, Jack.”
He nods. “Another day. Today, I just want to stay here, to be here with you, where it’s safe and comfortable and my entire world is this. Where strawberries and popcorn and Skee-ball and shitty plastic toys are the entirety of what exists.” He pauses. “I promise, Lily. I will. Soon. But let me hide from it. Just for a little longer?”
“Okay, but don’t hide from me, okay?” I ask.
“I’ll try,” he offers and it’s okay that he can’t promise.
He’s honest and I would rather he is than say something he knows is a lie. I’m not fragile. I won’t break if he hurts me. I just don’t want him to worry about doing it. I never signed up for it to be easy. I knew from the start that it wouldn’t be.
“Now, stop distracting me. Unless you want to concede defeat?”
“Never gonna happen,” I say and I settle in to play more Skee-ball.
I don’t really care about winning since whatever the prize ends up being is going to be more of him, regardless. But I try my best and actually win two games in a row. Of course, that’s as long as it lasts.
When he beats me, by eight games, he gloats in his victory, but he ends up using his tickets to get me a green plastic piggy bank. The options are pretty bad, but I love that he picked the bank, because it’s hideous and cheap and we spent far more than we could even fit in the bank.
I love it because I’ll never use it, but it will always be like this day – something that doesn’t really belong but needs to exist because the world is simply better for it being there. 

About the Author: Sarah Daltry writes about the regular people who populate our lives. She's written works in various genres - romance, erotica, fantasy, horror. Genre isn't as important as telling a story about people and how their lives unfold. Sarah tends to focus on YA/NA characters but she's been known to shake it up. Most of her stories are about relationships - romantic, familial, friendly - because love and empathy are the foundation of life. It doesn't matter if the story is set in contemporary NY, historical Britain, or a fantasy world in the future - human beings are most interesting in the ways they interact with others. This is the principle behind all of Sarah's stories. Sarah has spent most of her life in school, from her BA and MA in English and writing to teaching both at the high school and college level. She also loves studying art history and really anything because learning is fun. When Sarah isn't writing, she tends to waste a lot of time checking Facebook for pictures of cats, shooting virtual zombies, and simply staring out the window. Sarah has also written Bitter Fruits , an urban fantasy romance, and Backward Compatible , a gamer geek romantic comedy.

  Author Social Media Links: Website: http://sarahdaltry.com Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SarahDaltryAuthor Twitter: https://twitter.com/SarahDaltry Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/sarahdaltry/boards/ Tumblr: http://www.tumblr.com/blog/sarahdaltry

Excerpt from Murder in Moscow by Storm Chase

Murder In Moscow
By Storm Chase

Burned out ex-undercover detective Cassidy Stone leaves London for a new life in Moscow, but her past continues to haunt her. Life begins to look up when a favour for the embassy leads her into a lethal ambush, and into the orbit of Dmitri Milyukov, a fun loving millionaire who shares her passion for extreme sports. Cassidy slowly learns to love again – until she stumbles on proof that Dmitri is at the center of a carefully plotted Red Mafia corporate espionage operation aimed at her employer. Worse, there is a gruesome murder in her office, and everyone is convinced Cassidy is the killer…

Murder in Moscow: a thrilling tale of passion, romance, intrigue, betrayal and murder.

Excerpt from Murder in Moscow by Storm Chase

She heard the sound of running feet coming towards her. More trouble, Cassidy thought. If they had reinforcements, she was definitely dead.
The one with the martial arts training was fumbling in his pocket. Frightened he had a gun, Cassidy knew she had no more time for trickery and deception. She went in fast and close and took him in the solar plexus with a swift eagle strike. As he slumped, his hand came up with a knife. The sight of it produced a surge of fear that provided an extra spurt of strength and determination. Cassidy moved in close and banged her hands over his ears, bursting his eardrums while she kneed him in the balls. He folded like a sack, retching with a high squealing sound.“Are you all right?” With surprise Cassidy saw it was Dmitri. He moved lightly, stepping over the unconscious man at his feet. Cassidy hadn’t seen him go down. It must have been fast. As her first victim stirred and tried to sit up, Dmitri gave him a casual kick in the ribs. “Stay down,” he ordered. It was a hard voice, used to command. The man slumped instinctively.Police, Cassidy thought. He must be plainclothes division. Looking around he smiled at her. “That was great,” he said. “Karate with a bit of Muay Thai improv. Or was it taekwondo? Either way, love it!”“Thanks,” Cassidy said warily. Having done routine paperwork like converting her drivers’ license and getting her residence card, her experience was that the Moscow police always had their hand out. She wondered how much this would cost her.Dmitri saw with interest that his redhead was completely unmoved both by the attack or his appearance. She was breathing a little fast but otherwise she looked cool and composed; as if it was completely normal to stand about talking while three muggers were heaving their guts up all over the street. She really was something. He grinned companionably at her. “Let’s get this scum cleared away, huh?”He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Instantly there was an answering call.Shit, Cassidy thought. She didn’t want to be mixed up with official reports even though clearly the handover was off.Dmitri saw her wariness and thought she might not remember him. Men were probably trying to get her attention all the time. “Remember me? I’m Dmitri. We met earlier. Can I buy you a drink?”Cassidy stared at him. “What?”“A drink. I really wanted to ask you to dance but after this you must be thirsty, so drinks first and a dance later?”He was drunk, Cassidy decided. No sober man would ask her for a drink while stepping around three semiconscious, retching, groaning men. Dmitri looked sober but he must be plastered. Cassidy stifled a groan. A clandestine meet that had been a complete fuck-up and now a tanked up copper looking for a date. Terrific. This just couldn’t get worse.

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Gina Whitney: Beautiful Lies Chapter Reveal

Title: Beautiful Lies
Author: Gina Whitney            Genre: Erotic RomanceReveal Host: Lady Amber's Tours

Synopsis:
Enigmatic Cameron Sterling is quickly rising through the ranks at New York’s most prestigious and corrupt law firm Wotherspoon and Associates. He has willfully avoided any meaningful personal relationships and is content to casually hook up with Becky, a young woman who fancies herself as his actual girlfriend. As a child, Cam witnessed his father murder his mother, and this was the genesis of his relationship-avoidance issue. The only thing he cares about now is becoming a partner at Wotherspoon and Associates. Cam is obsessed with the promotion and will not let anything—or anyone—stand in his way.

But when Cam crosses paths with Lilly Amsel, a fashion model, the edges of his well laid plans begin to fray. At first, Cam is unimpressed by Lilly’s exaggerated effervescence and entitled air. However, he is taken aback by her incredible beauty—legs as long as an Amazon’s, silky honeyed-hair, and blazing body. This undeniable physical attraction disturbs Cam on all levels, leaving him intrigued by Lilly and wanting to get away from her at the same time. 

Lilly is strongly aroused by Cam’s moody presence. His dark, erotic looks and heady scent ignite long-dormant embers of wanton desire buried deep within her. Practically hypnotized, she finds her body reacting in the most surprising and carnal of ways. However, the two separate and never expect to see each other again, but somehow they manage to still linger on each other. Lilly’s larger-than-life persona that Cam initially encountered is a sham, though. It is a well-crafted costume that masks deeply rooted insecurity and an unfortunate dependence on prescription drugs. This stems from a horrifically abusive childhood that she is trying desperately, and unsuccessfully, to forget. Her mediocre modeling career was the perfect vehicle for her to escape that tumult and simultaneously receive acceptance and praise. It did not matter to Lilly that the kudos were based on superficial assumptions. She was still almost satisfied with the result and what modeling could not fix, the drugs could. 

Enthrallment and lust have other plans, though. Despite their best efforts to stay apart, Cam and Lilly come back together and embark on a tempestuous affair. For both of them, a torrid weekend getaway in the mountains unleashes years of pent-up sexual frustration and destroys inhibitions. Cam has no problem taking charge as he relishes Lilly’s delicious inner nectar. Again and again, Cam delivers Lilly pleasure she has never known before, leaving her trembling as she reclaims the goddess within.
If I had known then that Lilly Amsel would set such a fierce blaze in my life, I would have taken the next elevator.​All I wanted that morning was to get a hard run on the treadmill and go to my office to put in some weekend overtime. I arrived at The Equity, the most prestigious gym not only in New York City but in the country, and was checking my work-issued Blackberry as usual. I tended to avoid such pretentious settings, but membership was one of the many perks of my employment at Wotherspoon and Associates. As a law student at Aldensburg University, I had interned at the corporate law firm and had been offered a position after I’d passed the bar five years ago. Aldensburg was not as premier a college when compared to the Ivies; in fact most people have never heard of it. But, like me, it got the job done. And professionally the job I was trying to get done now was making partner. I know it was an ambitious goal, but I had nothing but faith in my skills to make it happen.For the moment I was there at The Equity in my sagging basketball shorts and stretched-out T-shirt, standing amid chichi air kissers. I was not there to hobnob; I actually had a serious goal. I worked out not only to maintain my body but to keep my mind sharp, focused, and ready at all times. That was what separated me from those people. I was a shark among peacocks.​The cheerless receptionist with the sucked-in cheeks eyed me as I stepped through the door. I could see her hostile nostrils widen like a bull’s as she feigned a barely polite smile. She knew who I was but played this ridiculous game with me every day. Always pretending not to know me.“I’m sorry, sir. You must be looking for the gym down the street.”​That was her way of telling me that my choice of clothing was not up to par, and I might consider some more appropriate attire. I had known plenty of people like her growing up and knew that the best way to handle her was to be in her face every chance I got, to be the proverbial pebble in her shoe. I swiped my security pass card and told her, “See you tomorrow.”​The Equity was an “it” destination for celebrities and all manner of the rich and powerful. The entry level consisted of a wide, stark-white hallway with electric-blue tube lights lining the walls and ceiling, and filled with the ethereal melody of a string orchestra. This main hallway connected with several more, with the last one ending a spacious, low-lit lounge area. Scattered about were suede couches and glass tables; black-and-white photos of perfectly sculpted body parts hung on the walls. This was where those who came to be seen strategically posed themselves just in case an undercover paparazzo managed to sneak in. The lounge was usually empty in the morning because its denizens could not manage to roll out of bed until well into the afternoon.I made my way across the rugs to yet another hall that led to a bank of elevators. I pushed the “up” button, eager to start my workout. Then I heard the quick click clack of feminine footsteps come up behind me. I sighed because I knew those shoes—probably high heels—were not made for running. This was just another pampered pest whose idea of working out was getting a massage. I did not even have to turn around to figure this chick out.Her heavy perfume was layered with the fresh smell of soap and shampoo. Typical of someone who saw the gym as a social occasion rather than a place to exercise. I never had patience with lackadaisical people who were not willing to put in the effort to achieve anything. I wanted so badly to turn around and say, “Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be having Sunday brunch over at Peacock Alley?”  However, I was not there to judge. I was there to work out. But I was curious as to who was standing behind me. I looked into the stainless-steel door of the elevator to see if I could make out the reflection. The dull surface only revealed that the grayish silhouette behind me was tall and lanky. Not as tall as me at six foot three, but tall nonetheless.  Then a hoard of more click-clacking footsteps arrived, accompanied by raucously shrill voices greeting the first woman. I thought, Oh god. Jersey girls.“Lilly!” they all screamed in unison.The first woman, Lilly, chirped back. “Sweetie pies, how are you?” One nasally voice responded, “Fine if you like your nipples turning into Popsicles. It’s cold as hell out there. What’s on your agenda today? ”“Pilates with Jean-Paul. Thirty minutes.”“What is he? A slave driver?” another woman said seriously with a croaky smoker’s voice.“I know, right?” Lilly agreed. All I could do was roll my eyes at that nonsense.    Lilly had an odd way of speaking that only a discerning ear could pick up. She was trying her best to affect a newscaster accent, that plain Midwestern way of speaking. However, she would occasionally slip into an upward inflection that made every sentence sound like a question. She was definitely a So-Cal transplant. It was beyond me why, in the midst of shudder-inducing Jersey accents, Lilly hid her natural one.As the elevator numbers slowly ticked down, I noticed in my peripheral vision the number of men passing. They were all doing double takes at Lilly. Either she was gorgeous or hideous beyond measure. Either way, it did not matter to me. I had seen plenty of both and was not swayed by the slop or gloss of anything. An ethics professor a long way back even accused me of being jaded. What he could not understand was that when your life has been a trial by fire, you see things differently from most. The world and all the people in it are just opportunities for you to get what you need. You can’t depend on anyone but yourself. When you have lived in a cushioned bubble like the professor, you just don’t get that. Needless to say I barely passed that class.The elevator finally arrived, and the herd of new-money cows stampeded past me to get in. I turned back, and Lilly was waiting for me to usher her out like I was the doorman. Sure enough she was decked out in black from head to toe—leggings, turtleneck, and those clacking ankle boots. She had a leather bag brimming with Voss water and vitamin blister packs. She appeared to be in her early twenties, so I was perplexed as to why she needed so many pills.Still, I must admit that I was taken aback by how beautiful she was. Her hair, pushed back and glossed into a tight bun, reminded me of dark honey, and her graceful, lithe body looked like that of a ballet dancer. And those eyes—they were extraordinarily large orbs of malachite rimmed in chestnut. However, no matter how pouty her dewy lips were, Lilly still acted like an entitled elitist, so pampered that she probably considered Park Slope to be the ghetto.I watched her standing there looking at me. This woman was used to people fawning all over her, and I was not one to do that. I did not grovel or bow down to anybody. But no matter what I felt about her at the moment, I decided to do the gentlemanly thing.“Ladies first,” I said.Lilly sashayed past me and joined her tacky and deeply moneyed crew. As she crossed the threshold of the elevator, she gave me a “thanks” that was nowhere near sincere. I spent the elevator ride to the third floor listening to her companions’ boisterous gossip about other women at the club. Yet I did not hear Lilly utter any comment. I just felt her eyes laser beaming my back. Apparently she was still shocked and pissed that I didn’t think she was the shit.
* * *
“Lilly, you forgot your water,” Jean-Paul yelled out to me. He had been my Pilates instructor for the past six years—my entire time in New York. After I finished my thirty-minute workout with him, I got some fresh acrylics in the spa. I was preparing for an interview with Paramour Life, fashion’s most prominent magazine, later that afternoon. Though I was modeling, the interview was not about me. It was really about my boyfriend of two years, Sig Krok. Sig had come from Sweden twenty years ago and started his own fashion house, Klå. Klå. It quickly became one of the best-selling clothing lines in the world.This article would be a tribute to Sig. The magazine just wanted my perspective of him and a little insider knowledge of our highly visible yet terribly private relationship.  With discreet sleight of hand, Jean-Paul handed me my property, and it was not really water. It was my bottle of Klonopin.“I know how important water is,” he said then quickly dismissed himself to his next scheduled client. I watched him for a moment. I was in awe and bewilderment over how he mastered the art of prancing and swaying like a seasoned burlesque dancer. He really had to teach me that sometime.Realizing I was running out of time before the interview and still had to get my makeup done, I abruptly turned around to leave. And I turned right into Mr. Scowl—the guy at the elevator this morning. Aw, just great, I thought.“Excuse me,” I said as I started walking away. By then he had put on some more weather-appropriate clothing—jeans and a cable-knit sweater with a white T-shirt underneath. And the creep did not even respond to me, smirking his arrogant mouth instead. Even though he was pompous, he was kind of cute. Though it was the middle of winter, his skin looked sun kissed. He was a giant of a man, well over six feet tall. His luminous, copper eyes seemed like they were always narrowed, like he was annoyed with people because they were merely human and could not withstand his survey.I headed toward the elevator, and he did the same. When we got there, I started pushing buttons in hopes it would make the elevator come faster. The bell dinged, and he let me on first. I could tell he didn’t want to but was trying to be The Man.We stood in opposite corners. By then most men would have engaged me in conversation. He hadn’t. Was he gay? No, I had a fairly accurate gaydar. What was wrong with him then? I was becoming increasingly irritated by this man’s presence. I glanced over at him. He was wiping his sweaty brow, and his hand pushed up his cap a bit, exposing his inky hair cut with perfect precision around the edges. The cap was thready and had a large A on the front. He probably had gotten it from some college a while back. I also noticed that on the underside of the cap’s bill, he had written his name in permanent marker: Cam.  Even though he grated on me, I could not help but be distracted by his body. He had Adonis-like shoulders, broad and protective. His thick thighs were agape, his wide stance taking up a good deal of space. This square-jawed man was definitely broody, but even without a smile, I could make out the dimple in his cheek. And I did not even want to get started on the size of his hands and feet. They were enormous.The air vent was blowing a light, steady stream of air across Cam. I inhaled the heady scent of his newly sweaty body intermingled with a woodsy deodorant. I leaned in his direction. One of my eyes went on autopilot and fluttered—that thing that happens when something is real good. I took another breath and leaned in some more.  Wait! What…the fuck…am I doing? I caught myself right before my nose landed on Cam’s arm. And there he was with the same “what the fuck?” look. He was staring at me going for his pit with my crazy eye. He obviously thought I was about to rape him.Quick, deflect. I pointed at my ear. “I thought you said something.” I regained my composure and returned my gaze forward.But he sure did smell good. And boy, was I horny.Whatever. I wasn’t going to say anything else to Cam. He was still nothing but an aloof, smug asshole to me. And I had to endure what seemed like a forever ride to the first floor with him. I turned my face back to the elevator doors with just the sound of the motors and cables to break the silence.I was so relieved to get out of the elevator, I practically sprinted into the parking garage. I slung my faux fur over my shoulders as I rushed to Sig’s Infiniti QX80. Cam was trailing me, sliding into his leather jacket. And I just knew he was about to ask me for my number despite that fiasco in the elevator. Maybe I hadn’t lost my touch. I was prepared to shoot him down, of course. But he sure was taking his time. I was already at Sig’s SUV.However, not only did Cam not ask me for my number, he was only walking behind me because he had parked his powerful, black Harley 1200 Custom next to me. He spread his thick legs and straddled it then put on his Aviator sunglasses and revved up his baby. I had to say, that motorcycle…the way it just hung between his legs…looked more like a big, hard dick than anything else.Cam turned the twist grip like it was his cock and throttled up. The rumble from the motorcycle bounced off the concrete walls of the garage. It was almost deafening. He didn’t care. In fact, if I hadn’t known any better, I would have sworn he’d done it on purpose. I was totally conflicted. Never had I so detested a man and still wanted to fuck the skin off his dick at the same time.Alas, Cam drove off without even looking in my direction. I let out an audible gasp. No straight male ever looked at me and just turned away. Hmm…maybe my gaydar was in need of a tune-up.  

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Marissa Carmel: Strip Me Bare

Title: Strip Me BareAuthor: Marissa Carmel            Release Day: October 10, 2013Genre: New Adult Cover Design by: Cover Me, DarlingReveal Host: Lady Amber's Tours

Blurb:

“I may have had more lovers than you, and I may take my clothes off for countless women, but you are the only one who can strip me bare.”

Do you ever stop loving someone just because they’re gone?
Five years ago Ryan Pierce disappeared from Alana Remington’s life without leaving so much as a post-it note behind. He was the one she gave her heart to, her soul to and her virginity to. So imagine her surprise when she finds him dancing at one of NYC’s hottest male reviews as Jack the Stripper.
Ryan never stopped loving Alana, and now that she serendipitously dropped back into his life, he’s vowed never to lose her again. But being together has its costs, and challenges Alana isn’t sure she can handle. She finally has Ryan back; but how in the world is she supposed to share the love of her life with half of the women in New York City?
Excerpt:
We stop in front of some hanging crystals. They clink as Ryan pushes them aside, “after you.”  I walk under an orange spotlight, into a small space with a white leather couch deep enough to lie on and walls a warm golden yellow.   Ryan steps in behind me and presses his body flush against mine. My mind races.  Is he really going to do this?  Am I really going to let him? Can I even handle this? Five minutes ago he was with another woman. Quite possibly in this same room doing God only knows what.  “Why do you do this Ryan?” I expel. I know he explained it in words, but I need to experience it to truly understand.  He ambles around me so close; the only thing separating us is a whisper of air.  “I told you, the money,” he says as he unbuttons his shirt.  “You said women too,” I watch him cautiously, my gaze jumping between his eyes and his chest. “That was before you walked back into my life. You’re the only woman I want to touch now. The others, like you saw before, it’s just an act. A business transaction. It’s what I have to do to get what I want.” “Doesn’t it make them feel used?” I flick my eyes up at him. “It mustn’t. They always come back.”   “You like it. I saw your face. That wasn’t an act.”  Ryan stands right in front of me, his shirt unbuttoned and dangling open. “I won’t lie to you Alana, I’ll never lie to you,” his tone is hard, but seductive. “I do like the attention. But it’s not real. It’s my job to sell attractiveness and fantasy, and I do it well. But that’s all it is, fantasy and I know it. When I’m with you, that’s my real.” My breath catches when he says the word real. I can’t help but find the irony in his words; I’m exactly to him what he is to me. Two people one and the same, both living a double life to get what they want; a future and each other.  And that is what I want. A future, with Ryan.   I go to put my hands on his chest, but he steps away shaking his head no. “In this room, it’s all about you,” he walks around, stopping right behind me. “You have to tell me what you want Alana,” he whispers in my ear and I almost go limp, the sound of his voice is erotic as hell.  I swallow hard, but can’t utter a single word, because truth be told, I have no freakin’ idea what I want. At least, not in this scenario.  Ryan starts to rub my shoulders. I think he can feel my hesitation.  “Why are you so tense? This is supposed to be fun.” Fun? The word rattles around in my head. Fun - a time or feeling of enjoyment or amusement. Okay, let’s have some fun.  I turn around to face him and our eyes lock. “Show me.”  “Show you what?” his tone dripping with sensuality.  “Show me Jack the Stripper.”Holy fuck!   
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Falling for an Angel by Laura Prior is out!

Falling for an Angel by Laura Prior is out!
Genre: Paranormal Romance 16+

Synopsis:
When a mysterious stranger enters Jasmine's life with tales of Angels and Demons she refuses to listen to his warnings. Having been raised with dishonesty and treachery, she is under no illusion of the realities of human existence. Abandoned by her family and betrayed by her friends, she find this recent twist in her life too much to handle and spirals out of control.

Zach is ancient warrior Angel. To his disgust he has been sent to guard Jasmine from the beasts that hunt her. Perplexed by her volatile human nature he struggles to control her and make her recognize the signs of the mythical world around her.

Is it possible for two such dissimilar individuals to unite against the evil stalking them? Or will the tension between them explode - leaving catastrophic repercussions?

The Falling series itself, follows Jasmine's story; a woman everyone can relate to. She has weaknesses and flaws and her journey is really a discovery to see if someone is really so flawed, can they overcome them enough to be accepted? Is it really about changing yourself or is it about changing other people's perceptions of you, letting them see that whatever fate has in store, those perceived weaknesses are actually important aspects of who you are?

About the Author
Laura Prior grew up in the north-east of England and has travelled the world while working as a nurse. She is currently living and working in Melbourne, Australia, with her partner. She enjoys snowboarding, long walks, shoe shopping, and cocktails. She loves reading passionate novels with strong female characters.

Links:
Falling for an Angel Amazon.co.uk
Falling for an Angel Amazon.com 
Falling for an Angel Facebook
Web: http://laurapriorbooks.com/

This post is part of the Lady Amber's Tours blitz

A Need So Insatiable Release Day

A Need So Insatiable by Cecilia Robert is out today.

Blurb: “You've owned me from the moment I walked into that music room. You've wrapped yourself in my heart and mind. I can’t get you out. I don’t want to.” ~ Rafael Van Rees

Sophie Fisher’s life is on fire. If she’s not ducking around corners or slipping out of windows to escape the debt collectors her father's death has left knocking on her door, she’s dealing with her rebellious, fifteen-year-old sister, Lilli. And, as if that’s not enough, Rafael Van Rees crashes into her life—literally—bringing with him a past the public has no idea of. Can she unravel his mysteries before he unravels her, or will his presence finally force her to face the demons she's trying to outrun? 

Rafael Van Rees, maestro extraordinaire, prides himself on being in control of his destiny, music and women. As far as he is concerned, his past is a black cloud in the distance--until he meets Sophie, that is, and his world spins out of control in more ways than one. He knows the darkest sins and secrets eventually reveal themselves, but when it comes to Sophie, he'll stop at nothing to protect her from his past. Even if it kills him.

Author Links: Facebook:  Goodreads:  Twitter:  Blog:  Discussion group on Facebook:
Buy Link: Amazon