Ayden K. Morgen's Blog, page 18
October 5, 2015
Join us at: 
#PostPurple for Prematurity this November #preemieawareness
Can we be serious for a minute?October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, and November is Preemie Awareness Month. Those who know my family know and/or who have followed my blog know how deeply we've been touched by pregnancy loss and preterm birth. My niece, Abby, and my nephews, Kaia and Aloshua, were all micro-preemies, born months before they should have been.
We spent months in the hospital with the kids. It was days before my sister was able to hold her babies in her arms. Weeks before she took Kaia home. Months before Abby and Aloshua were able to leave the hospital. They spent their first days, weeks, and months in incubators with wires and tubes running every which way. Aloshua was readmitted time after time after time.
Why? Because the effects of preterm birth don't end when the kids leave the hospital. Aloshua had his first surgery at two days old. He's had twenty three more in the ten years since that day. He's wheelchair bound, was on a ventilator for seven years, and had a tracheostomy tube for nine. He still has a feeding tube. Kaia just graduated from speech therapy at 11 years old. He battles a learning disability and Tourette's Syndrome. Abby, at age seven, also just graduated from speech therapy. She's painfully shy, and borderline diabetic.
They're considered the lucky ones. 1.1 million premature infants will die in the first thirty days of life. 35% of all preterm births end in death. Fifteen million children are born too early every year, over 380,000 in the United States alone.
Last year, my husband and I learned that, due to a genetic abnormality with my uterus, the chances of me carrying to term weren't great. Having watched my sister struggle with three preemies, having been there through their individual battles, and having miscarried our first and only pregnancy, we made the devastating decision to forego having children of our own. It wasn't an easy decision by any means, and it's one we still struggle with every day.
But we're the lucky ones. My sister didn't know why she couldn't carry to term. Most women don't. The fear and guilt are crippling. And it's something parents experience every single day. We can save babies born as early as 23 weeks now. But we still don't know why so many are born early or how to stop it. We still can't save more than 17% of those born at 23 weeks. We still don't know how to ensure they don't suffer lifelong consequences like my niece and nephews will.
We know far too little. And we're doing far too little to change that.
That has to stop.
Pretending the problem doesn't exist because it's too sad to think about is the absolute worst thing you can do. Because it's even sadder when it's your child (or your sister's child, or your best friend's child) spending his or her first days in an incubator. It's even more devastating when it's a child in your circle of friends and family that doesn't survive or when its one of them that miscarry. Believe me, I know. I've been there. So has my family. And it's awful.
So what can you do?
For starters, stop and think before passing on the memes floating around about how organizations like the March of Dimes don't donate enough or how they pay their people too much. The March of Dimes didn't get their name because they donate only .10 of every dollar. They got their name because they asked children to donate a dime back when the organization first started. In truth, .76 cents of every dollar donated to the March of Dimes goes to fund research and prevention activities, both of which have made a serious impact worldwide. Dr. Jennifer Howse, the Executive Director of the March of Dimes, has been with the organization since 1990. She has a Ph.D. in psycholinguistics, has worked in top spots in public health for years, and has helped the March of Dimes save countless thousands of children over the years. Does she get paid a lot to do her job? Absolutely. Is she the only one? No; a lot of charities pay their top people a pretty penny, including highly rated ones such as the Make-a-Wish Foundation. Is their work worth the cost? I think so.
When you see those memes floating around, take a minute to post the truth. If you don't want to take my word for it, do your own research. It'll tell you the same things I just told you.
Next, get involved on a more personal level. Volunteer for the March of Dimes or another organization. Participate in the annual March for Babies. Donate baby items to your local NICU, or take a cooler of sandwiches for the families spending their time there. Hold a car-wash and donate the proceeds to organizations like the Ronald McDonald House Charities, which keeps families together by giving them a place to stay when their children are in critical care units far from home.
Tell your story. Whether you've had a preemie, lost a preemie, or volunteered to help a preemie, talk to others about your experience and what you've learned. The more people know about preterm birth, the better.
Review the Prematurity Report Card when it's released (in November of every year) to see where your state falls, what progress has been made, and what's still left to do. Keep up to date with the latest data, and share it with others.
If you're pregnant, please ensure you're receiving adequate prenatal care. Can't afford prenatal care? Call 800-311-BABY (800-311-2229). This toll-free number will connect you to your local health department, which can help you locate free or low cost care. Spanish speaking families can call 800-504-7081.
Finally, Post Purple this November to help raise awareness. Participate in World Prematurity Day on the 17th Write a post about prematurity for your readers. Share the posts of others on Social Media. Write a letter to your Congressional Representatives and Senators, reminding them that they have the power to help save lives.
September 29, 2015
Rhapsody (The Teplo Trilogy): Chapter One #teasertuesday #romance
A broken DEA agent
a violent cartel
and one hell of a crazy night
changed everything for Lillian Maddox.
RHAPSODY, the second book in the highly erotic Teplo Trilogy, will release on October 19, 2015!
After Anton Vetrov brutally murders a young girl as a warning to Tristan Riley, the broken DEA agent believes the best thing for Lillian Maddox to do would be to stay far, far away from him. But Lillian knows a thing or two about fear, and she's not willing to let the man she loves push her away that easily. If he won't fight for them, she will... even if that means risking her life to prove she's strong enough to live in his world.
Her plan ends in disaster when she's dragged out of Teplo at gunpoint, forcing Tristan onto a collision course with the Vetrov family and Pedro Francisco. With nothing left to lose except the only woman who has ever mattered to him, he will do whatever it takes to stop Vetrov and Francisco from ever hurting her again.
But he doesn't know they've been waiting for him to make his move. When he does, all hell breaks loose, and his life is on the line. It's up to Lillian and the DEA to save him, and she's terrified they won't make it in time.
Thrust headlong into a violent, bloody confrontation with the Vetrov family, Lillian comes face to the face with the heartbreaking realization that maybe she doesn't belong in Tristan's world, after all. When the smoke clears, will he be able to convince his ballerina that she's the best thing for him, or will he lose her and the chance at a real future once and for all?
Rhapsody is intended for readers aged 18 and over due to graphic scenes of violence, drug abuse, and sexual situations.
RHAPSODY is available fo r Pre-Order on Amazon.
Add RHAPSODY to your TBR list on Goodreads.
Need an ARC for review? Want to participate in the Rhapsody Blog Tour (running Oct. 19-26)? Sign up here.
CHAPTER ONE
"Ugh!" Lillian Maddox cried, throwing her hands up in frustration as loud electronica music invaded her home through miniscule cracks, slipping in like unwanted guests. Disembodied peals of laughter and shouts from the nightclub across the street floated through the room between loud pulses of sound, rubbing raw her already frayed nerves. Once upon a time, she'd craved those sounds and the connection they gave her to the outside world. Not anymore. She knew them for what they were now: false promises of something better.
Teplo had nothing to offer her except heartache and tears.
Why didn't anyone else see what she saw? Hear what she heard?
She paced back and forth in her living room, her gaze riveted to the clock on the mantle. Despite the lateness of the hour, the crowd at Teplo had not dispersed, instead growing larger and more frenzied. Those within were content to party away the night, happily snatching up the drugs passed around like candy beneath the vivid lights beamed throughout the club. Those lights hid all types of awful deeds: drug abuse, prostitution, trafficking, murder.
The fact that not a single one of the people who trickled through the doors cared what really happened within was a damn shame. They were too far gone, the demons on their backs screaming for the drugs that kept the crushing weight of sobriety at bay.
Even if Lillian stepped outside and screamed the truth, they wouldn't listen to her.
No one cared what happened inside Teplo. Not those who found their way inside, and not those who stayed firmly outside, turning their heads so they didn't have to see the grim reality the Vetrov family and Pedro Francisco had engineered so many weeks ago. Teplo was the DEA's problem, not theirs. What did it matter to them if another addict died?
It mattered to Tristan Riley.
"Where is he?" Lillian asked for the thousandth time, her fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the mantle. It'd been three interminable hours since he'd sent her home from Teplo, fury burning in his beautiful blue eyes. After learning of yet another death, he'd stormed off, refusing to tell her anything. He had yet to come back from wherever he was. From whatever he'd decided to do.
The first hour, she'd sat on the couch, trying not to think too hard. A futile attempt, of course. She couldn't stop thinking. The Vetrov family had murdered the only person she and Tristan had spoken to inside the club, a young girl named Emma. Lillian was horrified, scared, and angry. All she wanted was for Tristan to walk through the door and tell her there'd been a mistake. That she'd heard wrong, and the girl she'd met wasn't the victim. Or that no one at all had died this time. And that he hadn't done something incredibly stupid as a result.
She wasn't nearly naïve enough to mistake that fantasy for reality, though. For weeks, his cover had been tenuous, nearly blown before he'd ever dragged her onto the dance floor and into the middle of an investigation she had no business participating in. From day one, he'd been at risk, and so had she. But she'd agreed to help anyway: for him.
And now all of her efforts might have been for nothing.
"Dammit," she growled, pacing back and forth from one side of the room to the other until her bad leg ached from her restless, endless circuits. She called Tristan's boss, Jason Ames, and got no answer. She called his cousin, Zoë, with the same result. She tried his number again and then again.
No one answered. No one called her back.
Waiting was agony.
She made her way into the kitchen, her eyes glued to the clock over the kitchen table. Anger and fear battled for dominance in her head, and in her heart. Tristan had shut her out. After promising her that he'd try to let her in a little, he'd shut down and sent her on her way like a child.
Had he even heard her tell him that she loved him?
Oh God, what if he had heard her and simply didn't feel the same? What if he avoided her now because he didn't want to have the awkward conversation that ended with him moving back into the guest room, and her being forced to continue their fake relationship while her heart broke?
"No," she said to herself, refusing to believe that. Tristan felt something for her, she knew he did. She felt it in his every touch, saw it in his blue eyes when he gazed at her, and heard it in his desperation to keep her safe. Maybe he didn't love her, but he was as caught as she was, tangled in lust and the web of lies and truth they'd weaved to save his case.
Was it their fault Emma had died? Is that what happened when people like Lillian, people with no business in the middle of a federal investigation, forced their way inside, refusing to leave because of foolish pride? God, she hoped not. But she had a feeling it did.
Tristan had tried to warn her, tried to tell her how badly things could go, but she hadn't listened to him. She hadn't wanted to listen to him. Sure, she knew how dangerous drugs were and how far people would go in the pursuit of them. She was living proof of how much people could hurt others for a drug. A year ago, her dance partner had viciously attacked her, seriously injuring her leg and destroying her ballet career. But she hadn't really considered that forcing Tristan into a corner, forcing him to ask for her help because she refused to leave her home, might end with innocent people dying.
"Oh God," she groaned, realization making her sick to her stomach. This was her fault. Because of her, Emma was dead, and Tristan was…God only knew what he was doing right now.
Was he okay? Was he safe?
She couldn't breathe at the thought that he might not come home. That he might not be able to do so. She felt as if a weight sat atop her chest, forcing air to come in shallow, painful pulls. Forcing blood to pump in sluggish, cracked drags. She was stretched thin, brittle, ready to snap in half.
Someone tapped on her back door.
Lillian jerked in her chair, nearly falling out of it as she attempted to get her feet beneath her. Her bad leg protested, the aching muscles knotting painfully. She ignored them, her heart thumping loudly as she pressed her body into the wall, the gun Tristan had bought for her clutched in her trembling hands.
"Lillian Maddox?" a male voice called through the door.
She'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't place it. She bit her lip hard, fear running like a current through her. She was alone, defenseless. Where the hell was Tristan? Or Jason? Or anyone who could keep her safe if whoever stood on the other side of the door came from Teplo on behalf of the Vetrov family?
"Jason Ames and Tristan Riley sent me," the man said.
Lillian said nothing, barely daring to breath. She fumbled with her phone, gritting her teeth when it knocked loudly against the weapon in her hand. With stiff, trembling fingers, she tried to dial Tristan's number, only to have to backspace and enter it all over.
"My name is Michael Kincaid. I promise I'm one of the good guys," her unexpected visitor called out. "Can you please let me in before someone across the street realizes I'm out here and Riley kicks my ass for putting you in danger?"
The line went straight to voicemail.
Tristan still had his phone off.
Lillian hesitated for long moments, terrified to open the door, but unsure what else to do. She couldn't reach Tristan or Jason to confirm that the guy on the other side of her door really was Michael Kincaid, one of the DEA agents helping with the investigation into Teplo.
"I have a gun," she warned him.
"Awesome," he said, his tone laced with dry amusement. "I'm not really feeling the whole getting shot thing, so if you'll step up to the door, I'll show you my badge."
Reaching deep for a little courage, she shoved her phone down her bra, clicked the safety off, and aimed the gun at the door. Taking a step in that direction, she sent up a prayer that she wasn't being a complete moron for trusting that Tristan really had sent Michael.
A bolt of relief wound through her when she saw the silver DEA badge held to the windowpane of the door. Wariness whispered right on its heels. "Put your face to the door, please."
A loud sigh sounded from outside before the badge disappeared. "If you shoot me, I'm going to haunt Riley for the rest of his life," Michael muttered. Despite expecting it, Lillian still reeled backward when he shoved his face against the window, offering her a cheeky smile.
She had only seen him once, but a flash of recognition shot through her at the sight of his familiar close-cropped blond hair, hard blue-gray eyes, and disconcerting dimples. Letting the arm holding the gun sag, she flipped the deadbolt.
He stepped away from the door long enough for her to pull it open and let him in. As soon as he crossed the threshold, she took a quick step away, eyeing him nervously. He wasn't quite as tall as Tristan, but he was intimidating. Tristan was a solid wall of lean, contoured muscle, raw emotion, and piercing good looks. With dark hair, olive skin, and scorching blue eyes, he looked exactly like the fierce, intelligent man he was.
Michael Kincaid looked nothing like she expected a DEA agent to look. He had a piercing in his left eyebrow, and small gauges in his ears. Dressed in faded jeans and a white tank that stretched across his defined chest, he appeared dangerous even without the gun tucked into his pants. Vivid tattoos ran up and down his muscular arms, bold words inked in flowing script amid tribal designs and what reminded her of the gang graffiti sprayed across parts of the city. He was beautiful in a way that screamed trouble.
He flipped the deadbolt and stepped further into the room, his eyes roving over her. Lillian tugged at the hem of her skirt, trying to make it longer when his eyes lingered on her legs before raking up her body.
Heat suffused her cheeks, his blatant perusal unnerving her.
"Damn, Little Mama," he whistled, one brow arching and an appreciative smirk lifting the corners of his lips. "No wonder Riley's all fucked up over you."
"Excuse me?"
"Never seen my boy in love before," he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's some funny shit."
"He isn't in love with me," Lillian said, averting her gaze as her heart threatened to crack wide open at the thought.
"If you say so," he snorted.
"H-have you seen him? Is he okay?"
"He's straight. Ames is reining his ass in." Michael leaned back against the wall, glancing around the kitchen before looking back to Lillian. "How fast can you pack your shit?"
She blinked at him. "Um…."
"We don't have all night, Little Mama. Riley wants you out of here ASAP."
"Where am I going?"
"Ever been in jail before?" he asked.
She eyed him, trying to decide if he was joking or not. But he didn't crack a smile or laugh. He appeared serious with one brow arched and his arms crossed over his broad chest. She felt her mouth drop open, but no words came out, no sound.
She shook her head, her eyes wide.
"It's the worst damn plan I've ever heard next to getting you involved in the first place—no offense—but it might work," he said, rubbing his jaw with a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.
Plan? How was going to jail a plan?
He must have seen the confusion on her face because he chuckled. "In about twenty minutes, Seattle Police Department will start pounding on your door. You're going to let them in, and they're going to walk you out of here in handcuffs on some fake ass drug charge," he explained. "They'll transport you downtown, where you'll spend an hour or two cooling your heels, and then they'll sneak you out the back door to me, and I'll take you to a safe location. As far as anyone else will know, you'll be in jail, awaiting arraignment on drug charges."
Lillian stared at him, speechless for the second time in as many minutes.
"I told you it was the worst damn plan I've ever heard," he said, flashing a mischievous grin. "But it's the only one we could come up with that might keep you safe when the fuckers across the street send hell raining down on us."
She licked her lips. "What about Tristan?"
He watched her for a long, silent moment, the amusement in his eyes dying. Something else flickered in its place, wariness and concern. Wherever Tristan was and whatever he was doing, Michael was worried about him, too.
"He's with Ames," he said.
She straightened, her shoulders going back as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I want to talk to him."
"Can't. He's busy right now."
"I'm not leaving until I speak to him." She stared Michael down, refusing to budge. If Tristan wanted her to go along with his insane plan, he needed to man up and tell her so himself.
Michael exhaled sharply, and then swore, rubbing a hand through his short hair. "Look," he said, "I'll try to reach him, but not here. This is the last place you need to be. So please cooperate because he will kill me if anything happens to you."
Lillian stared at him for another minute before shaking her head. She had a feeling digging in her heels now wouldn't get her very far. Michael Kincaid might not have been as bossy as Tristan, but he didn't look inclined to stand around and argue with her, either. Besides, she didn't really want to be right across the street from Teplo anyway. And the thought of sleeping alone in the bed she'd shared with Tristan made everything inside her squeeze painfully tight. Even jail was preferable to that intense pain.
"Give me ten minutes," she said, stumbling away from the kitchen.
***************************************************************************************************************************
Lillian kept her head down as Officer Brett Warner led her out of her home with her hands cuffed behind her back. Michael had already slipped out the back door with her overnight bag in hand, promising he'd meet her at the precinct soon.
"We're almost there, sweetheart," Warner murmured under his breath, trying to reassure her.
It didn't help. Her legs trembled as she walked, fear making her weak in the knees. Even though this was fake, little more than a performance designed specifically for the Vetrov family, the cold metal around her wrists sent a chill through her. So did the blue lights flashing through the darkness, and the unusual quiet coming from those standing in groups outside of Teplo, watching. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't with Tristan by her side.
But he was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't back out of this now. It was far too late for that.
Warner opened the back door of his police cruiser. "Duck your head."
She did as instructed, ducking into the backseat of the car. Her injured leg protested the lack of room, the damaged muscles cramping as she forced them into the narrow space between the metal cage and the edge of the backseat. Biting her tongue to hold off the pained cry threatening to escape, she nodded at Warner, letting him know she was ready for him to close the door.
For the first time since walking out of the house with him, she risked a glance across the street. Her eyes immediately landed on one of Anton Vetrov's people, Malachi. He stood by the doors to the club, his arms crossed over his massive chest, a smirk pulling his lips up at the corner as he held her gaze. His propensity for violence was written all over his face. He appeared sinister, like the villain he was.
Funny how she hadn't noticed that malice and wickedness the first night he'd lifted the rope and let her walk through the doors of Teplo. He'd looked at her like he wanted her, and that had embarrassed her, but he hadn't seemed dangerous to her. Now that she knew the truth, knew the horrible things he'd done for the Vetrov family and for his own amusement, having his gaze on her chilled her to the bone.
Did he know she wasn't really in trouble with the police?
Did Anton and Paulo?
She shivered at the thought of any of them finding out the truth about her arrest and broke his gaze, fear pounding through her with each beat of her heart. They'd killed so many people already, forcing lethal doses of drugs into them and then leaving their bodies scattered around the city. She didn't know for certain if they'd killed intentionally, but she didn't doubt it. They were working with a drug cartel, for God's sake. Who knew how far they were willing to go to push their drug into the market? They'd certainly been willing enough to murder Emma, an innocent teenager.
Would they do the same to her? To Tristan?
She jumped when Warner slammed the driver's side door.
His gaze sought hers in the rearview mirror. "We'll be there soon," he promised. Despite the shadows cast from the bars of the cage, kindness and compassion burned in the depths of his eyes. He reminded her of her father in that way, and that made her throat tight.
She missed her father so much all of the sudden. He always knew what to say to make her feel better, to reassure her that things would work out. Even when she'd been at her lowest, fighting to walk, he'd been able to give her hope and make her smile. What would he say if he knew what she'd spent the last several weeks doing? If he learned of the thing she'd let Tristan do to her in the middle of the club? The things she'd wanted him to do to her?
Lillian glanced across the street at Teplo, at the people Tristan wanted so badly to save. Would her father understand why she'd said yes? What had driven her?
She didn't know, but she prayed he never found out the truth.
Malachi's gaze burned as Warner pulled away from the curb, driving her away from the chaos her life had become since meeting Tristan. As Teplo faded in the shadows behind them, she had a feeling whatever waited ahead would be even worse.
COMING OCTOBER 19th.
a violent cartel
and one hell of a crazy night
changed everything for Lillian Maddox.
RHAPSODY, the second book in the highly erotic Teplo Trilogy, will release on October 19, 2015!
After Anton Vetrov brutally murders a young girl as a warning to Tristan Riley, the broken DEA agent believes the best thing for Lillian Maddox to do would be to stay far, far away from him. But Lillian knows a thing or two about fear, and she's not willing to let the man she loves push her away that easily. If he won't fight for them, she will... even if that means risking her life to prove she's strong enough to live in his world. Her plan ends in disaster when she's dragged out of Teplo at gunpoint, forcing Tristan onto a collision course with the Vetrov family and Pedro Francisco. With nothing left to lose except the only woman who has ever mattered to him, he will do whatever it takes to stop Vetrov and Francisco from ever hurting her again.
But he doesn't know they've been waiting for him to make his move. When he does, all hell breaks loose, and his life is on the line. It's up to Lillian and the DEA to save him, and she's terrified they won't make it in time.
Thrust headlong into a violent, bloody confrontation with the Vetrov family, Lillian comes face to the face with the heartbreaking realization that maybe she doesn't belong in Tristan's world, after all. When the smoke clears, will he be able to convince his ballerina that she's the best thing for him, or will he lose her and the chance at a real future once and for all?
Rhapsody is intended for readers aged 18 and over due to graphic scenes of violence, drug abuse, and sexual situations.
RHAPSODY is available fo r Pre-Order on Amazon.
Add RHAPSODY to your TBR list on Goodreads.
Need an ARC for review? Want to participate in the Rhapsody Blog Tour (running Oct. 19-26)? Sign up here.
CHAPTER ONE
"Ugh!" Lillian Maddox cried, throwing her hands up in frustration as loud electronica music invaded her home through miniscule cracks, slipping in like unwanted guests. Disembodied peals of laughter and shouts from the nightclub across the street floated through the room between loud pulses of sound, rubbing raw her already frayed nerves. Once upon a time, she'd craved those sounds and the connection they gave her to the outside world. Not anymore. She knew them for what they were now: false promises of something better.
Teplo had nothing to offer her except heartache and tears.
Why didn't anyone else see what she saw? Hear what she heard?
She paced back and forth in her living room, her gaze riveted to the clock on the mantle. Despite the lateness of the hour, the crowd at Teplo had not dispersed, instead growing larger and more frenzied. Those within were content to party away the night, happily snatching up the drugs passed around like candy beneath the vivid lights beamed throughout the club. Those lights hid all types of awful deeds: drug abuse, prostitution, trafficking, murder.
The fact that not a single one of the people who trickled through the doors cared what really happened within was a damn shame. They were too far gone, the demons on their backs screaming for the drugs that kept the crushing weight of sobriety at bay.
Even if Lillian stepped outside and screamed the truth, they wouldn't listen to her.
No one cared what happened inside Teplo. Not those who found their way inside, and not those who stayed firmly outside, turning their heads so they didn't have to see the grim reality the Vetrov family and Pedro Francisco had engineered so many weeks ago. Teplo was the DEA's problem, not theirs. What did it matter to them if another addict died?
It mattered to Tristan Riley.
"Where is he?" Lillian asked for the thousandth time, her fingers tapping restlessly against the edge of the mantle. It'd been three interminable hours since he'd sent her home from Teplo, fury burning in his beautiful blue eyes. After learning of yet another death, he'd stormed off, refusing to tell her anything. He had yet to come back from wherever he was. From whatever he'd decided to do.
The first hour, she'd sat on the couch, trying not to think too hard. A futile attempt, of course. She couldn't stop thinking. The Vetrov family had murdered the only person she and Tristan had spoken to inside the club, a young girl named Emma. Lillian was horrified, scared, and angry. All she wanted was for Tristan to walk through the door and tell her there'd been a mistake. That she'd heard wrong, and the girl she'd met wasn't the victim. Or that no one at all had died this time. And that he hadn't done something incredibly stupid as a result.
She wasn't nearly naïve enough to mistake that fantasy for reality, though. For weeks, his cover had been tenuous, nearly blown before he'd ever dragged her onto the dance floor and into the middle of an investigation she had no business participating in. From day one, he'd been at risk, and so had she. But she'd agreed to help anyway: for him.
And now all of her efforts might have been for nothing.
"Dammit," she growled, pacing back and forth from one side of the room to the other until her bad leg ached from her restless, endless circuits. She called Tristan's boss, Jason Ames, and got no answer. She called his cousin, Zoë, with the same result. She tried his number again and then again.
No one answered. No one called her back.
Waiting was agony.
She made her way into the kitchen, her eyes glued to the clock over the kitchen table. Anger and fear battled for dominance in her head, and in her heart. Tristan had shut her out. After promising her that he'd try to let her in a little, he'd shut down and sent her on her way like a child.
Had he even heard her tell him that she loved him?
Oh God, what if he had heard her and simply didn't feel the same? What if he avoided her now because he didn't want to have the awkward conversation that ended with him moving back into the guest room, and her being forced to continue their fake relationship while her heart broke?
"No," she said to herself, refusing to believe that. Tristan felt something for her, she knew he did. She felt it in his every touch, saw it in his blue eyes when he gazed at her, and heard it in his desperation to keep her safe. Maybe he didn't love her, but he was as caught as she was, tangled in lust and the web of lies and truth they'd weaved to save his case.
Was it their fault Emma had died? Is that what happened when people like Lillian, people with no business in the middle of a federal investigation, forced their way inside, refusing to leave because of foolish pride? God, she hoped not. But she had a feeling it did.
Tristan had tried to warn her, tried to tell her how badly things could go, but she hadn't listened to him. She hadn't wanted to listen to him. Sure, she knew how dangerous drugs were and how far people would go in the pursuit of them. She was living proof of how much people could hurt others for a drug. A year ago, her dance partner had viciously attacked her, seriously injuring her leg and destroying her ballet career. But she hadn't really considered that forcing Tristan into a corner, forcing him to ask for her help because she refused to leave her home, might end with innocent people dying.
"Oh God," she groaned, realization making her sick to her stomach. This was her fault. Because of her, Emma was dead, and Tristan was…God only knew what he was doing right now.
Was he okay? Was he safe?
She couldn't breathe at the thought that he might not come home. That he might not be able to do so. She felt as if a weight sat atop her chest, forcing air to come in shallow, painful pulls. Forcing blood to pump in sluggish, cracked drags. She was stretched thin, brittle, ready to snap in half.
Someone tapped on her back door.
Lillian jerked in her chair, nearly falling out of it as she attempted to get her feet beneath her. Her bad leg protested, the aching muscles knotting painfully. She ignored them, her heart thumping loudly as she pressed her body into the wall, the gun Tristan had bought for her clutched in her trembling hands.
"Lillian Maddox?" a male voice called through the door.
She'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't place it. She bit her lip hard, fear running like a current through her. She was alone, defenseless. Where the hell was Tristan? Or Jason? Or anyone who could keep her safe if whoever stood on the other side of the door came from Teplo on behalf of the Vetrov family?
"Jason Ames and Tristan Riley sent me," the man said.
Lillian said nothing, barely daring to breath. She fumbled with her phone, gritting her teeth when it knocked loudly against the weapon in her hand. With stiff, trembling fingers, she tried to dial Tristan's number, only to have to backspace and enter it all over.
"My name is Michael Kincaid. I promise I'm one of the good guys," her unexpected visitor called out. "Can you please let me in before someone across the street realizes I'm out here and Riley kicks my ass for putting you in danger?"
The line went straight to voicemail.
Tristan still had his phone off.
Lillian hesitated for long moments, terrified to open the door, but unsure what else to do. She couldn't reach Tristan or Jason to confirm that the guy on the other side of her door really was Michael Kincaid, one of the DEA agents helping with the investigation into Teplo.
"I have a gun," she warned him.
"Awesome," he said, his tone laced with dry amusement. "I'm not really feeling the whole getting shot thing, so if you'll step up to the door, I'll show you my badge."
Reaching deep for a little courage, she shoved her phone down her bra, clicked the safety off, and aimed the gun at the door. Taking a step in that direction, she sent up a prayer that she wasn't being a complete moron for trusting that Tristan really had sent Michael.
A bolt of relief wound through her when she saw the silver DEA badge held to the windowpane of the door. Wariness whispered right on its heels. "Put your face to the door, please."
A loud sigh sounded from outside before the badge disappeared. "If you shoot me, I'm going to haunt Riley for the rest of his life," Michael muttered. Despite expecting it, Lillian still reeled backward when he shoved his face against the window, offering her a cheeky smile.
She had only seen him once, but a flash of recognition shot through her at the sight of his familiar close-cropped blond hair, hard blue-gray eyes, and disconcerting dimples. Letting the arm holding the gun sag, she flipped the deadbolt.
He stepped away from the door long enough for her to pull it open and let him in. As soon as he crossed the threshold, she took a quick step away, eyeing him nervously. He wasn't quite as tall as Tristan, but he was intimidating. Tristan was a solid wall of lean, contoured muscle, raw emotion, and piercing good looks. With dark hair, olive skin, and scorching blue eyes, he looked exactly like the fierce, intelligent man he was.
Michael Kincaid looked nothing like she expected a DEA agent to look. He had a piercing in his left eyebrow, and small gauges in his ears. Dressed in faded jeans and a white tank that stretched across his defined chest, he appeared dangerous even without the gun tucked into his pants. Vivid tattoos ran up and down his muscular arms, bold words inked in flowing script amid tribal designs and what reminded her of the gang graffiti sprayed across parts of the city. He was beautiful in a way that screamed trouble.
He flipped the deadbolt and stepped further into the room, his eyes roving over her. Lillian tugged at the hem of her skirt, trying to make it longer when his eyes lingered on her legs before raking up her body.
Heat suffused her cheeks, his blatant perusal unnerving her.
"Damn, Little Mama," he whistled, one brow arching and an appreciative smirk lifting the corners of his lips. "No wonder Riley's all fucked up over you."
"Excuse me?"
"Never seen my boy in love before," he laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's some funny shit."
"He isn't in love with me," Lillian said, averting her gaze as her heart threatened to crack wide open at the thought.
"If you say so," he snorted.
"H-have you seen him? Is he okay?"
"He's straight. Ames is reining his ass in." Michael leaned back against the wall, glancing around the kitchen before looking back to Lillian. "How fast can you pack your shit?"
She blinked at him. "Um…."
"We don't have all night, Little Mama. Riley wants you out of here ASAP."
"Where am I going?"
"Ever been in jail before?" he asked.
She eyed him, trying to decide if he was joking or not. But he didn't crack a smile or laugh. He appeared serious with one brow arched and his arms crossed over his broad chest. She felt her mouth drop open, but no words came out, no sound.
She shook her head, her eyes wide.
"It's the worst damn plan I've ever heard next to getting you involved in the first place—no offense—but it might work," he said, rubbing his jaw with a thoughtful gleam in his eyes.
Plan? How was going to jail a plan?
He must have seen the confusion on her face because he chuckled. "In about twenty minutes, Seattle Police Department will start pounding on your door. You're going to let them in, and they're going to walk you out of here in handcuffs on some fake ass drug charge," he explained. "They'll transport you downtown, where you'll spend an hour or two cooling your heels, and then they'll sneak you out the back door to me, and I'll take you to a safe location. As far as anyone else will know, you'll be in jail, awaiting arraignment on drug charges."
Lillian stared at him, speechless for the second time in as many minutes.
"I told you it was the worst damn plan I've ever heard," he said, flashing a mischievous grin. "But it's the only one we could come up with that might keep you safe when the fuckers across the street send hell raining down on us."
She licked her lips. "What about Tristan?"
He watched her for a long, silent moment, the amusement in his eyes dying. Something else flickered in its place, wariness and concern. Wherever Tristan was and whatever he was doing, Michael was worried about him, too.
"He's with Ames," he said.
She straightened, her shoulders going back as she crossed her arms over her chest.
"I want to talk to him."
"Can't. He's busy right now."
"I'm not leaving until I speak to him." She stared Michael down, refusing to budge. If Tristan wanted her to go along with his insane plan, he needed to man up and tell her so himself.
Michael exhaled sharply, and then swore, rubbing a hand through his short hair. "Look," he said, "I'll try to reach him, but not here. This is the last place you need to be. So please cooperate because he will kill me if anything happens to you."
Lillian stared at him for another minute before shaking her head. She had a feeling digging in her heels now wouldn't get her very far. Michael Kincaid might not have been as bossy as Tristan, but he didn't look inclined to stand around and argue with her, either. Besides, she didn't really want to be right across the street from Teplo anyway. And the thought of sleeping alone in the bed she'd shared with Tristan made everything inside her squeeze painfully tight. Even jail was preferable to that intense pain.
"Give me ten minutes," she said, stumbling away from the kitchen.
***************************************************************************************************************************
Lillian kept her head down as Officer Brett Warner led her out of her home with her hands cuffed behind her back. Michael had already slipped out the back door with her overnight bag in hand, promising he'd meet her at the precinct soon.
"We're almost there, sweetheart," Warner murmured under his breath, trying to reassure her.
It didn't help. Her legs trembled as she walked, fear making her weak in the knees. Even though this was fake, little more than a performance designed specifically for the Vetrov family, the cold metal around her wrists sent a chill through her. So did the blue lights flashing through the darkness, and the unusual quiet coming from those standing in groups outside of Teplo, watching. She felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn't with Tristan by her side.
But he was nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't back out of this now. It was far too late for that.
Warner opened the back door of his police cruiser. "Duck your head."
She did as instructed, ducking into the backseat of the car. Her injured leg protested the lack of room, the damaged muscles cramping as she forced them into the narrow space between the metal cage and the edge of the backseat. Biting her tongue to hold off the pained cry threatening to escape, she nodded at Warner, letting him know she was ready for him to close the door.
For the first time since walking out of the house with him, she risked a glance across the street. Her eyes immediately landed on one of Anton Vetrov's people, Malachi. He stood by the doors to the club, his arms crossed over his massive chest, a smirk pulling his lips up at the corner as he held her gaze. His propensity for violence was written all over his face. He appeared sinister, like the villain he was.
Funny how she hadn't noticed that malice and wickedness the first night he'd lifted the rope and let her walk through the doors of Teplo. He'd looked at her like he wanted her, and that had embarrassed her, but he hadn't seemed dangerous to her. Now that she knew the truth, knew the horrible things he'd done for the Vetrov family and for his own amusement, having his gaze on her chilled her to the bone.
Did he know she wasn't really in trouble with the police?
Did Anton and Paulo?
She shivered at the thought of any of them finding out the truth about her arrest and broke his gaze, fear pounding through her with each beat of her heart. They'd killed so many people already, forcing lethal doses of drugs into them and then leaving their bodies scattered around the city. She didn't know for certain if they'd killed intentionally, but she didn't doubt it. They were working with a drug cartel, for God's sake. Who knew how far they were willing to go to push their drug into the market? They'd certainly been willing enough to murder Emma, an innocent teenager.
Would they do the same to her? To Tristan?
She jumped when Warner slammed the driver's side door.
His gaze sought hers in the rearview mirror. "We'll be there soon," he promised. Despite the shadows cast from the bars of the cage, kindness and compassion burned in the depths of his eyes. He reminded her of her father in that way, and that made her throat tight.
She missed her father so much all of the sudden. He always knew what to say to make her feel better, to reassure her that things would work out. Even when she'd been at her lowest, fighting to walk, he'd been able to give her hope and make her smile. What would he say if he knew what she'd spent the last several weeks doing? If he learned of the thing she'd let Tristan do to her in the middle of the club? The things she'd wanted him to do to her?
Lillian glanced across the street at Teplo, at the people Tristan wanted so badly to save. Would her father understand why she'd said yes? What had driven her?
She didn't know, but she prayed he never found out the truth.
Malachi's gaze burned as Warner pulled away from the curb, driving her away from the chaos her life had become since meeting Tristan. As Teplo faded in the shadows behind them, she had a feeling whatever waited ahead would be even worse.
COMING OCTOBER 19th.
September 26, 2015
A Crime is Only a Crime If... #writingtips #crimewriting #plothelp
Having spent most of my adult life in the CJ field in some capacity or another, I find that I really struggle to get into books when the research doesn't quite mesh. For instance, I recently read a novel in which the main character kills two others, while the police are on the way, and is never questioned... even though only one of them was killed in self defense. This threw me out of the story, because it's just not realistic.
And then there are those books in which a character is charged with something that, based on the totality of the circumstances and elements of a crime, wouldn't necessarily even be considered a crime.
Wait, what?
Repeat after me: A crime is only a crime if it's a crime.
In order for a crime to be prosecuted, certain things must first be established. These things are known as the elements of the crime. Necessary elements are:
o Law
o Intent
o Act
o Concurrence
• Law – A law governing the behavior must exist whether you're aware of the law or not (meaning ignorance of the law isn't a defense).
Example:
It's not against the law to pick up a $10 bill you find in the middle of the street, but it is against the law to rob someone for that $10.
• Intent – ("mens rea" or guilty mind) - one must intend to commit the crime and have the mental capacity necessary to establish or support the intent.
Intent Example:
If I run over someone who walks out in front of me, I lack intent. But if I hit someone on purpose, I do not lack intent. Additionally, if I hit someone because I'm driving recklessly, I can be charged with a crime.
Mental Capacity Example #1:
I aim a gun at you and pull the trigger. I know the gun is loaded, and that it will kill you. I also know this is wrong. - I had the mental capacity to form intent.
Mental Capacity Example #2:
If a toddler aims a gun and pulls the trigger, he or she lacks the mental capacity to form intent because of age.
Diminished Capacity – (the inability to form intent due to a lack of mental capacity or understanding) - can occur in instances of mental illness or retardation, in youthful offenders (as in example 2), in crimes of passion, or during periods of intoxication.
Strict Liability – crimes in which intent is not required in order to be charged. Strict liability crimes include minor crimes like parking violations, as well as crimes such as drunk driving or statutory rape.
Example:
I don't see the "No Parking" sign, so I pull up and park. When I get back to my car, I have a ticket on my windshield. Even though I didn't mean to break the law, I still did so, and can be required to pay the fine.
Felony Murder Rule – if someone dies during the commission of the crime, all individuals participating in that crime can be charged with murder regardless of intent.
Example: Tom and Jane decide to break into Bob's house and steal his safe while he's not home. Jane brings a gun without telling Tom. Bob hears them, and bursts into the room. Jane shoots Bob and he dies. Even though Tom didn't touch the gun or know Jane had it, under the Felony Murder Rule, Tom can be charged with Bob's murder.
• Act – ("actus rea" or guilty action) – In order for a crime to happen, steps to commit the act must occur or the act itself must occur
Examples:
I buy a gun to commit a murder – I can be charged with a crime
I commit a murder – I can be charged with a crime.
I conspire with John to commit a murder, and John buys a gun – I can be charged with a crime of conspiracy.
I decide to commit a murder but never take any further action – I can't be charged with a crime.
Inept Criminal – if I attempt to commit the crime, but fail because of my own ineptitude, I can still be charged with the crime. Being a bad criminal is not a defense.
• Concurrence – act and intent must occur either at roughly the same time or the act must be motivated by the intent
Example:
I'm doing the speed limit, and I accidentally run someone over who stepped out in front of me, killing them. When I get out of the car, I realize the victim is Bob, who I hate. I dance and exclaim how happy I am Bob is dead. – I did not commit a crime because the act was not motivated by intent nor did the act occur when intent was established. It was purely coincidental.
Temporary Concurrence – Intent and Act occur at roughly the same time.
Example: Jane discovers her boyfriend is cheating on her, so she decides to kill him. She grabs the knife on the counter and stabs him to death.
Motivational Concurrence – The Act is motivated by the establishment of Intent.
Example: Tom needs money to pay his rent, so he decides to commit a crime. He learns that Jane has thousands stashed around her house. One month later, Tom breaks in to Jane's house to steal the cash.
Not sure if your plot works based on this information? Ask a professional! Lawyers, judges, CJ professors, and police officers are great sources of information, and many are more than willing to help answer research questions for authors.
And then there are those books in which a character is charged with something that, based on the totality of the circumstances and elements of a crime, wouldn't necessarily even be considered a crime.
Wait, what?
Repeat after me: A crime is only a crime if it's a crime.
In order for a crime to be prosecuted, certain things must first be established. These things are known as the elements of the crime. Necessary elements are:
o Law
o Intent
o Act
o Concurrence
• Law – A law governing the behavior must exist whether you're aware of the law or not (meaning ignorance of the law isn't a defense).
Example:
It's not against the law to pick up a $10 bill you find in the middle of the street, but it is against the law to rob someone for that $10.
• Intent – ("mens rea" or guilty mind) - one must intend to commit the crime and have the mental capacity necessary to establish or support the intent.
Intent Example:
If I run over someone who walks out in front of me, I lack intent. But if I hit someone on purpose, I do not lack intent. Additionally, if I hit someone because I'm driving recklessly, I can be charged with a crime.
Mental Capacity Example #1:
I aim a gun at you and pull the trigger. I know the gun is loaded, and that it will kill you. I also know this is wrong. - I had the mental capacity to form intent.
Mental Capacity Example #2:
If a toddler aims a gun and pulls the trigger, he or she lacks the mental capacity to form intent because of age.
Diminished Capacity – (the inability to form intent due to a lack of mental capacity or understanding) - can occur in instances of mental illness or retardation, in youthful offenders (as in example 2), in crimes of passion, or during periods of intoxication.
Strict Liability – crimes in which intent is not required in order to be charged. Strict liability crimes include minor crimes like parking violations, as well as crimes such as drunk driving or statutory rape.
Example:
I don't see the "No Parking" sign, so I pull up and park. When I get back to my car, I have a ticket on my windshield. Even though I didn't mean to break the law, I still did so, and can be required to pay the fine.
Felony Murder Rule – if someone dies during the commission of the crime, all individuals participating in that crime can be charged with murder regardless of intent.
Example: Tom and Jane decide to break into Bob's house and steal his safe while he's not home. Jane brings a gun without telling Tom. Bob hears them, and bursts into the room. Jane shoots Bob and he dies. Even though Tom didn't touch the gun or know Jane had it, under the Felony Murder Rule, Tom can be charged with Bob's murder.
• Act – ("actus rea" or guilty action) – In order for a crime to happen, steps to commit the act must occur or the act itself must occur
Examples:
I buy a gun to commit a murder – I can be charged with a crime
I commit a murder – I can be charged with a crime.
I conspire with John to commit a murder, and John buys a gun – I can be charged with a crime of conspiracy.
I decide to commit a murder but never take any further action – I can't be charged with a crime.
Inept Criminal – if I attempt to commit the crime, but fail because of my own ineptitude, I can still be charged with the crime. Being a bad criminal is not a defense.
• Concurrence – act and intent must occur either at roughly the same time or the act must be motivated by the intent
Example:
I'm doing the speed limit, and I accidentally run someone over who stepped out in front of me, killing them. When I get out of the car, I realize the victim is Bob, who I hate. I dance and exclaim how happy I am Bob is dead. – I did not commit a crime because the act was not motivated by intent nor did the act occur when intent was established. It was purely coincidental.
Temporary Concurrence – Intent and Act occur at roughly the same time.
Example: Jane discovers her boyfriend is cheating on her, so she decides to kill him. She grabs the knife on the counter and stabs him to death.
Motivational Concurrence – The Act is motivated by the establishment of Intent.
Example: Tom needs money to pay his rent, so he decides to commit a crime. He learns that Jane has thousands stashed around her house. One month later, Tom breaks in to Jane's house to steal the cash.
Not sure if your plot works based on this information? Ask a professional! Lawyers, judges, CJ professors, and police officers are great sources of information, and many are more than willing to help answer research questions for authors.
September 21, 2015
Rhapsody by @AKMorgen Cover Reveal #theteplotrilogy #romance #erotica
A broken DEA agent
a violent cartel
and one hell of a crazy night
changed everything for Lillian Maddox.
RHAPSODY, the second book in the highly erotic Teplo Trilogy, will release on October 19, 2015!
Cover by L.J. Anderson of Mayhem Cover Creations
SUMMARY:
After Anton Vetrov brutally murders a young girl as a warning to Tristan Riley, the broken DEA agent believes the best thing for Lillian Maddox to do would be to stay far, far away from him. But Lillian knows a thing or two about fear, and she's not willing to let the man she loves push her away that easily. If he won't fight for them, she will... even if that means risking her life to prove she's strong enough to live in his world.
Her plan ends in disaster when she's dragged out of Teplo at gunpoint, forcing Tristan onto a collision course with the Vetrov family and Pedro Francisco. With nothing left to lose except the only woman who has ever mattered to him, he will do whatever it takes to stop Vetrov and Francisco from ever hurting her again.
But he doesn't know they've been waiting for him to make his move. When he does, all hell breaks loose, and his life is on the line. It's up to Lillian and the DEA to save him, and she's terrified they won't make it in time.
Thrust headlong into a violent, bloody confrontation with the Vetrov family, Lillian comes face to the face with the heartbreaking realization that maybe she doesn't belong in Tristan's world, after all. When the smoke clears, will he be able to convince his ballerina that she's the best thing for him, or will he lose her and the chance at a real future once and for all?
Rhapsody is intended for readers aged 18 and over due to graphic scenes of violence, drug abuse, and sexual situations.
RHAPSODY is available fo r Pre-Order on Amazon.
Add RHAPSODY to your TBR list on Goodreads.
RAVISHED (Book One of the Teplo Trilogy) is a Kindle Countdown Deal. Grab a copy for .99 through September 23rd!
GET IT HERE.
Want to participate in the Rhapsody Blog Tour (running Oct. 19-26)? Sign up here.
Follow the Reveal and participate in the giveaway here .
EXCERPT
A frightened whimper bubbled in the back of her throat.
"Little Mama? You okay?"
Oh, thank you, God!
Breath left Lillian's lungs in a dizzying rush.
"I-I'm fine," she wheezed, falling onto her back on the ground as her entire body went limp. The arm Malachi had grasped throbbed as it twisted, pulling a soft cry from her lips. She was so relieved to hear Michael's voice, she didn't even care about the pain.
"Thank Baby Jesus," Michael huffed and then metal clicked. Another groan sounded, though she wasn't sure if it came from him or Malachi. "You, motherfucker," he said, panting, "Have the right to remain silent. Don't say shit. Don't do shit. We'll fuck you six ways to Sunday in a court of law if you do. And call a fucking lawyer, you asshole. If you can't afford one, we'll find you one. But I swear to God, if you move so much as a finger, I am going to shoot you."
"Ha!" A third voice sounded—slightly breathless and amused—from somewhere to Lillian's left. She cried out in fear, and then realized the voice belonged to Tori Dodd. "That was the most pathetic rendition of the Miranda Warning I've ever heard," the woman said, coming closer.
"Yeah, well," Michael responded, "the asshole broke my hand. He's knocked out anyway. I just felt a need to say it."
Tori snorted and said something about "having her." Lillian dimly registered that she was talking to someone else, another member of her team probably. How many had Vetrov's people taken out?
"She's fine," Michael said. "This big bastard's out cold. He was–"
"They have Jason and Tristan," Lillian interrupted desperately, the thought spearing through her like a lance again.
"What?"
"There was a woman, a redhead. S-she s-s-said they have Jason and Tristan." Tears started rolling down her face, adrenaline giving way to fear. She struggled into a sitting position, crying out at the pain shooting through her arm and leg in tandem.
It hurt. Christ, it hurt like hell.
RHAPSODY will be available on October 19th. Pre-order a copy here for $1.99
September 15, 2015
Cover Reveal: Devil In Duke's Clothing by @NinaMason #romance #erotica
Today we are revealing the new covers for Nina Mason's Royal Pains, an erotic series set in Scotland and England during the Restoration period (the latter half of the 17th century, for those who don't know). Ms. Mason decided to put new, sexier covers on the series to celebrate the launch of book three, THE DEVIL'S MASQUERADE. All three new covers, the blurbs for the books, and the buy links follow:
Royal Pains, Book OneDEVIL IN DUKE'S CLOTHING
Innocence lost. Paradise found.
Maggie York, a convent-raised foundling, knows the Duke of Dunwoody’s sexual tastes are a shade or two darker than most, but marries him anyway—partly because she has no other prospects and partly because, try as she might, she can’t seem to stop fantasizing about her dashing rake of a guardian.
Robert Armstrong, the duke, is a Roman Catholic whose extreme devotions as a child warped his desires as a man. He’s also a slave to the times in which he lives--and to his king. Everything he is, everything he holds dear, depends on staying in Charles II’s good graces. Unfortunately, Maggie isn't the bride the king selected for him. Now, to make amends, the duke must either whore his wife or be reduced to a penniless and unprotected commoner at a time when Catholics are persona non grata in Great Britain.
Buy it now!
Royal Pains, Book TwoTHE DUKE'S BEDEVILED BRIDE
The tawdry tale of the Duke and Duchess of Dunwoody continues…
Maggie Armstrong, the long-lost illegitimate daughter of the heir presumptive to the throne, is bedeviled by her husband's limited definition of fidelity. After observing him in a ménage à trois at the court of King Charles II, she is determined to bring him around to her way of thinking—
by any means necessary.
Robert doesn’t mind being punished for his transgressions. Rather, he enjoys being whipped, especially by his beloved bride. Unfortunately, her heart might not belong to him alone. His younger brother, who he’d sent abroad to clear the way for himself, is coming home sooner than expected, and Maggie’s feelings for Hugh may not be as dead as her husband had hoped.
Both duke and duchess soon learn, to their peril, Hugh Armstrong is not the honorable man they’d been led to believe. Insanely jealous of his brother’s situation, Hugh will stop at nothing to strip Robert of all he holds dear—including his life.
But the real danger for Robert and Maggie is not the villainous Marquess, but the growing friction betwixt Catholics and Protestants in Restoration Era Great Britain.
Can their love survive the trials that await them?
Buy it now!
Royal Pains, Book ThreeTHE DEVIL'S MASQUERADE
Beware the devil in disguise...
The year is now 1685 and Maggie's father has just been crowned King of Great Britain, but that doesn't mean trouble is over for the Duke and Duchess of Dunwoody. Rather than cool the flames of hatred between Papists and Protestants, the coronation of a Catholic monarch has only added accelerant to the already raging blaze. Two-faced devils lurk in every corner of the royal court, as do diseases with the power to kill and maim. When Robert falls prey to the smallpox virus, it looks as though Maggie will lose the two people most precious to her--her beloved husband and their only child--the son she bore three months before after five years of heartbreaking miscarriages and stillbirths. The one person in London who can help save her son demands a steep price in exchange her services. Will Maggie trade Robert's hard-won fidelity to save her only child...or offer the apothecary an even more scandalous alternative?
Preorder now!
Disclaimer: Royal Pains, intended for readers 18 years and older, features flagellation, bondage, group sex, and other highly erotic situations.
About the Author
Nina Mason is a hopeful romantic with strong affinities for history, mythology, and the metaphysical. She strives to write the same kind of books she loves to read: those that entertain, edify, educate, and enlighten.
She has four books out at present and three more on the way. Her current releases are, in order of publication: The Queen of Swords, a darkly erotic Scottish paranormal romance/urban fantasy; The Tin Man, a political thriller; and Devil in Duke's Clothing and The Duke's Bedeviled Bride, the first two installments in an erotic historical series titled Royal Pains. Book three of Royal Pains will be released in October.
Starry Knight is the first book in a four-part paranormal romance series titled The Knights of Avalon. The series combines Arthurian legend, Celtic mythology, and Scottish history to tell the story of four mortals taken by the faeries after falling in battle. The Knights of Avalon are the breeding drones of the legendary sorceress Morgan Le Fay. Book Two, Dark and Stormy Knight, will be released in January 2016. The series is being published by Lyrical/Kensington.
Here are Ms. Mason's social-media links:
Author website: http://ninamasonauthor.com
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/ninamasonromance
Twitter handle: @ninamasonauthor
Goodreads page: http://goodreads.com/ninamasonauthor
Blog: http://ninamasonromance.blogspot.com
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/ninamason165
YouTube Channel: http://www.youtube.com/ninamasonauthor
Royal Pains, Book OneDEVIL IN DUKE'S CLOTHING
Innocence lost. Paradise found.
Maggie York, a convent-raised foundling, knows the Duke of Dunwoody’s sexual tastes are a shade or two darker than most, but marries him anyway—partly because she has no other prospects and partly because, try as she might, she can’t seem to stop fantasizing about her dashing rake of a guardian.
Robert Armstrong, the duke, is a Roman Catholic whose extreme devotions as a child warped his desires as a man. He’s also a slave to the times in which he lives--and to his king. Everything he is, everything he holds dear, depends on staying in Charles II’s good graces. Unfortunately, Maggie isn't the bride the king selected for him. Now, to make amends, the duke must either whore his wife or be reduced to a penniless and unprotected commoner at a time when Catholics are persona non grata in Great Britain.
Buy it now!
Royal Pains, Book TwoTHE DUKE'S BEDEVILED BRIDE
The tawdry tale of the Duke and Duchess of Dunwoody continues…
Maggie Armstrong, the long-lost illegitimate daughter of the heir presumptive to the throne, is bedeviled by her husband's limited definition of fidelity. After observing him in a ménage à trois at the court of King Charles II, she is determined to bring him around to her way of thinking—
by any means necessary.
Robert doesn’t mind being punished for his transgressions. Rather, he enjoys being whipped, especially by his beloved bride. Unfortunately, her heart might not belong to him alone. His younger brother, who he’d sent abroad to clear the way for himself, is coming home sooner than expected, and Maggie’s feelings for Hugh may not be as dead as her husband had hoped.
Both duke and duchess soon learn, to their peril, Hugh Armstrong is not the honorable man they’d been led to believe. Insanely jealous of his brother’s situation, Hugh will stop at nothing to strip Robert of all he holds dear—including his life.
But the real danger for Robert and Maggie is not the villainous Marquess, but the growing friction betwixt Catholics and Protestants in Restoration Era Great Britain.
Can their love survive the trials that await them?
Buy it now!
Royal Pains, Book ThreeTHE DEVIL'S MASQUERADE
Beware the devil in disguise...
The year is now 1685 and Maggie's father has just been crowned King of Great Britain, but that doesn't mean trouble is over for the Duke and Duchess of Dunwoody. Rather than cool the flames of hatred between Papists and Protestants, the coronation of a Catholic monarch has only added accelerant to the already raging blaze. Two-faced devils lurk in every corner of the royal court, as do diseases with the power to kill and maim. When Robert falls prey to the smallpox virus, it looks as though Maggie will lose the two people most precious to her--her beloved husband and their only child--the son she bore three months before after five years of heartbreaking miscarriages and stillbirths. The one person in London who can help save her son demands a steep price in exchange her services. Will Maggie trade Robert's hard-won fidelity to save her only child...or offer the apothecary an even more scandalous alternative?
Preorder now!
Disclaimer: Royal Pains, intended for readers 18 years and older, features flagellation, bondage, group sex, and other highly erotic situations.
About the AuthorNina Mason is a hopeful romantic with strong affinities for history, mythology, and the metaphysical. She strives to write the same kind of books she loves to read: those that entertain, edify, educate, and enlighten.
She has four books out at present and three more on the way. Her current releases are, in order of publication: The Queen of Swords, a darkly erotic Scottish paranormal romance/urban fantasy; The Tin Man, a political thriller; and Devil in Duke's Clothing and The Duke's Bedeviled Bride, the first two installments in an erotic historical series titled Royal Pains. Book three of Royal Pains will be released in October.
Starry Knight is the first book in a four-part paranormal romance series titled The Knights of Avalon. The series combines Arthurian legend, Celtic mythology, and Scottish history to tell the story of four mortals taken by the faeries after falling in battle. The Knights of Avalon are the breeding drones of the legendary sorceress Morgan Le Fay. Book Two, Dark and Stormy Knight, will be released in January 2016. The series is being published by Lyrical/Kensington.
Here are Ms. Mason's social-media links:
Author website: http://ninamasonauthor.com
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/ninamasonromance
Twitter handle: @ninamasonauthor
Goodreads page: http://goodreads.com/ninamasonauthor
Blog: http://ninamasonromance.blogspot.com
Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/ninamason165
YouTube Channel: http://www.youtube.com/ninamasonauthor
Submission and Query Etiquette: What To Do (and Not Do) #writing #writingtips
A couple of months ago, I wrote this up for my writing group, who had a few members preparing to query and submit for the first time. This is information I wish I'd had when I first started the process. Instead, I had to guess and ask a million questions and learn through trial and error. Hopefully this will help you skip past that last, sometimes awkward part. :)
This is by no means a how-to on writing queries or formatting submissions or any such thing. It's helpful pieces of information on etiquette that you might not easily find through Google or on a publisher/agent's website.
Sending Queries:
For queries that request items be posted in the body of an email instead of attached, don’t double space lines or indent paragraphs. Single space lines, and place one empty line between each paragraph. This goes for the query letter, the synopsis, and any chapters they request. Very few publishers will request that the body of an email be formatted otherwise. It makes it more difficult to read (and may result in important pieces being truncated by the email service provider).
Follow all guidelines for items submitted as attachments or via snail mail to the best of your ability. Publishers and agents do reject for failing to follow instructions. Only send what they request, and send all of it. Don't skip a synopsis because you don't want to include it, or send chapters 5, 7, and 9, when they specifically asked for chapters 1, 2, and 3. On the reverse, don't send the entire m/s if the only want chapters, or a 10 page synopsis if they ask for a 2 page synopsis.
Wait patiently for a response. If you haven’t heard anything beyond the advised response time, send a gentle nudge asking if they have had time to review the manuscript/query. Do not be rude or demanding. As hard as waiting for a response is for an author, publishers and agents are crazy busy. Respect that. If you still don't hear anything after your nudge, assume they aren't interested and move on.
Always, always, always advise them if you have submitted the manuscript elsewhere, and if the manuscript is complete (most publishers will state whether they accept unfinished works or not). Publishers or agents will typically list if they're interested in series or series potential.
Partial Requests/Full Requests:
The first page of your manuscript should be your initial query letter with a few small changes. The first will be who you address it to… if a specific person requested, address the query to him or her. In your first paragraph, you’ll say something like, "As requested on date , you will find the full/partial manuscript for title below. As you may recall…" and then go into your original query letter. Make as few changes as possible to the original query letter so the publisher/agent can easily recall your novel and what stood out to them in that letter.
Include everything requested, in the format requested. In your email response, you can simply say something like, "As requested, I have attached the partial/full manuscript for TITLE . If you require anything additional, please let me know. Thank you for your time and consideration."
Offer of Publication:
If you receive an offer (yay!) but have your full manuscript out with other publishers or agents, you will want to notify each of them before you accept the offer. This is a professional courtesy. Advise the offering agent/publisher that you are excited about the offer, but would like some time to review the contract and let the others reviewing the m/s know about the offer. Publishers and agents expect this, so don’t feel bad or rushed!
To the publisher/agent offering, your email might say something like, "I was very excited to see your offer for TITLE today. I am very interested in working with you, however, I would like to request time to review the contract and make a decision. As you may remember, this manuscript was a multiple submission. As a professional courtesy, I would like to advise those publishers currently reviewing the manuscript of the offer, and provide time for their response. You can expect a final decision from me by DATE . Thank you again for this exciting opportunity."
To those who are reviewing your manuscript when an offer comes in, your email might say something like, "I am writing to inform you that I have received an offer TITLE . I have not yet accepted the offer, as I wanted to check on the status of the manuscript with you. If you require additional time to review TITLE , please let me know. The publishing house expects my decision by DATE . Thanks for your consideration."
Make this notice the latest response to the email chain so they can quickly access all of your previous communications.
Try to give publishers/agents a week to respond. If you’ve heard nothing by the end of that period, take it as a "not interested" and move on to reviewing the offers you have received. Since they know there is a deadline, those who are interested will typically respond within a few hours, a day or two at most.
Do not keep the offering agency waiting for a decision for longer than two weeks (three at the very maximum) from the date you received the offer. It's not polite.
Accepting an Offer:
Unless otherwise specified in the contract, most contract terms are typically up for negotiation. If you have questions about something, ask! If you aren’t happy with something, politely ask for what you want (within reason). Have someone familiar with publishing review the contract for terms that aren’t in your best interest. You can absolutely have a lawyer review, but remember that unless they are versed in publishing law, they might not know what is industry standard and what is not, so make sure you find someone who knows his or her stuff.
Follow any instructions provided for signing the contract. Keep signed copies!
Rejecting an Offer:
If you decide an offer just isn’t what you’re looking for, let the publisher know that you have carefully considered your options and have decided to go with someone else, but would love to work with them on future projects if they’re interested (or if you are). You can let them know who you went with. Be polite. Even if you think the terms are insane and you hate everything about the offer, don’t burn your bridges. You may run into that person again at a publishing house or agency that you DO want to work with in the future.
Dealing with Rejection:
Rejection happens to everyone. Every. One. If you receive a rejection, you’ll receive either a form letter (pretty easy to spot) or a personalized note. If you receive the former, there’s no need to respond unless you really wish to do so. If you receive the latter, say thank you and move on. Do not be rude or argue! I repeat: Do not be rude or argue! Not everyone is going to love your story like you do. Don't get angry and lash out if that's the case. It will reflect poorly on you, and people will hesitate to work with you or read your stuff in the future.
Revise and Resubmit:
Consider what they’re asking and whether or not you’re willing to make the changes requested. If not, say thanks but no thanks and move on. If you are willing to revise, take your time, but not too much of it. Publishers/agents would rather you take two months than to do it in two days and not do it well. Remember that even if you do revise, there may not be a guaranteed acceptance.
If you revise and resubmit, update your query letter to reflect that you have revised as suggested, briefly discuss the changes, and remind them of the storyline and your bio. Follow the guidelines for resubmitting. If you aren’t sure, ask. If possible, submit your revisions as the latest email in the change, changing the subject where appropriate. If it's a crazy long email chain, you might cut all but the latest couple of responses.
This is by no means a how-to on writing queries or formatting submissions or any such thing. It's helpful pieces of information on etiquette that you might not easily find through Google or on a publisher/agent's website.
Sending Queries:
For queries that request items be posted in the body of an email instead of attached, don’t double space lines or indent paragraphs. Single space lines, and place one empty line between each paragraph. This goes for the query letter, the synopsis, and any chapters they request. Very few publishers will request that the body of an email be formatted otherwise. It makes it more difficult to read (and may result in important pieces being truncated by the email service provider).
Follow all guidelines for items submitted as attachments or via snail mail to the best of your ability. Publishers and agents do reject for failing to follow instructions. Only send what they request, and send all of it. Don't skip a synopsis because you don't want to include it, or send chapters 5, 7, and 9, when they specifically asked for chapters 1, 2, and 3. On the reverse, don't send the entire m/s if the only want chapters, or a 10 page synopsis if they ask for a 2 page synopsis.
Wait patiently for a response. If you haven’t heard anything beyond the advised response time, send a gentle nudge asking if they have had time to review the manuscript/query. Do not be rude or demanding. As hard as waiting for a response is for an author, publishers and agents are crazy busy. Respect that. If you still don't hear anything after your nudge, assume they aren't interested and move on.
Always, always, always advise them if you have submitted the manuscript elsewhere, and if the manuscript is complete (most publishers will state whether they accept unfinished works or not). Publishers or agents will typically list if they're interested in series or series potential.
Partial Requests/Full Requests:
The first page of your manuscript should be your initial query letter with a few small changes. The first will be who you address it to… if a specific person requested, address the query to him or her. In your first paragraph, you’ll say something like, "As requested on date , you will find the full/partial manuscript for title below. As you may recall…" and then go into your original query letter. Make as few changes as possible to the original query letter so the publisher/agent can easily recall your novel and what stood out to them in that letter.
Include everything requested, in the format requested. In your email response, you can simply say something like, "As requested, I have attached the partial/full manuscript for TITLE . If you require anything additional, please let me know. Thank you for your time and consideration."
Offer of Publication:
If you receive an offer (yay!) but have your full manuscript out with other publishers or agents, you will want to notify each of them before you accept the offer. This is a professional courtesy. Advise the offering agent/publisher that you are excited about the offer, but would like some time to review the contract and let the others reviewing the m/s know about the offer. Publishers and agents expect this, so don’t feel bad or rushed!
To the publisher/agent offering, your email might say something like, "I was very excited to see your offer for TITLE today. I am very interested in working with you, however, I would like to request time to review the contract and make a decision. As you may remember, this manuscript was a multiple submission. As a professional courtesy, I would like to advise those publishers currently reviewing the manuscript of the offer, and provide time for their response. You can expect a final decision from me by DATE . Thank you again for this exciting opportunity."
To those who are reviewing your manuscript when an offer comes in, your email might say something like, "I am writing to inform you that I have received an offer TITLE . I have not yet accepted the offer, as I wanted to check on the status of the manuscript with you. If you require additional time to review TITLE , please let me know. The publishing house expects my decision by DATE . Thanks for your consideration."
Make this notice the latest response to the email chain so they can quickly access all of your previous communications.
Try to give publishers/agents a week to respond. If you’ve heard nothing by the end of that period, take it as a "not interested" and move on to reviewing the offers you have received. Since they know there is a deadline, those who are interested will typically respond within a few hours, a day or two at most.
Do not keep the offering agency waiting for a decision for longer than two weeks (three at the very maximum) from the date you received the offer. It's not polite.
Accepting an Offer:
Unless otherwise specified in the contract, most contract terms are typically up for negotiation. If you have questions about something, ask! If you aren’t happy with something, politely ask for what you want (within reason). Have someone familiar with publishing review the contract for terms that aren’t in your best interest. You can absolutely have a lawyer review, but remember that unless they are versed in publishing law, they might not know what is industry standard and what is not, so make sure you find someone who knows his or her stuff.
Follow any instructions provided for signing the contract. Keep signed copies!
Rejecting an Offer:
If you decide an offer just isn’t what you’re looking for, let the publisher know that you have carefully considered your options and have decided to go with someone else, but would love to work with them on future projects if they’re interested (or if you are). You can let them know who you went with. Be polite. Even if you think the terms are insane and you hate everything about the offer, don’t burn your bridges. You may run into that person again at a publishing house or agency that you DO want to work with in the future.
Dealing with Rejection:
Rejection happens to everyone. Every. One. If you receive a rejection, you’ll receive either a form letter (pretty easy to spot) or a personalized note. If you receive the former, there’s no need to respond unless you really wish to do so. If you receive the latter, say thank you and move on. Do not be rude or argue! I repeat: Do not be rude or argue! Not everyone is going to love your story like you do. Don't get angry and lash out if that's the case. It will reflect poorly on you, and people will hesitate to work with you or read your stuff in the future.
Revise and Resubmit:
Consider what they’re asking and whether or not you’re willing to make the changes requested. If not, say thanks but no thanks and move on. If you are willing to revise, take your time, but not too much of it. Publishers/agents would rather you take two months than to do it in two days and not do it well. Remember that even if you do revise, there may not be a guaranteed acceptance.
If you revise and resubmit, update your query letter to reflect that you have revised as suggested, briefly discuss the changes, and remind them of the storyline and your bio. Follow the guidelines for resubmitting. If you aren’t sure, ask. If possible, submit your revisions as the latest email in the change, changing the subject where appropriate. If it's a crazy long email chain, you might cut all but the latest couple of responses.
September 8, 2015
Blog Tour: Diverging Cadence by @KatieTeller1 #newadult #romance
When Cadence Anderson woke to find her husband and infant daughter had been killed, she thought her life was over. Instead, she was offered a second chance and sent back in time to do it all again.She’s made the most of this opportunity, repairing her relationship with the best friend she lost the first time, avoiding the romantic mistakes she made originally, and even bringing her family closer together. But she’s also done something she wasn’t planning on—she’s fallen in love with someone other than her future husband.
Stepping onto a plane and flying across country to attend university is the hardest decision she’s had to make. But unless she follows through with it, her future with Austin might never happen. And what becomes of her beautiful baby if she stays with James, the man she was never supposed to love?
The only thing she knows for certain is that she has to see Austin again, and she’s intent on reliving that part of her previous life exactly like she did the first time. Even if that means she has to lie to James to do it. Because, deep down, she can’t quite bring herself to let him go.
Now, past and future are about to collide, and Cadence has to make her final choice—follow the uncertain path of a life with James, or the one she came back to save . . . with Austin.
In this emotional conclusion to the story that began in Deceptive Cadence, relationships will be tested, identities revealed, and the past will overshadow the future, putting the finishing touches on an unforgettable tale of courage, sacrifice, and, above all, love.
Get Diverging Cadence from Amazon or other retailers today!
EXCERPT:
At home, I climbed into bed with my scrapbook. The first time, we hadn’t done a group date, but I had spent that evening with Austin and Aaron. My heart warmed with the memories. Although things were slightly different, they were mostly the same.
Someone sat by my feet. I gasped, pulling back. “Angel?”
He smiled sadly at me. “You might want to turn that back on.”
I followed his gaze to my phone. “Oh.”
I snatched it up.
“Why are you doing this to him?”
My heart felt like it tore itself in two. I clutched at my chest from the pain. “I can’t break up with him over the phone.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
I pursed my lips, my chin quivering as I stared down at the picture of Austin. “Yes. I did this for Austin and Melody.”
“I told you, Melody will always be yours.”
I shook my head, confused. “What does that mean?”
“Mortality isn’t the beginning or the end.” He stood, offering me his hand.
With a sigh, I took his hand and stood. He wouldn’t give me any more on Melody, so I decided to go along with what he wanted to show me.
We stepped through my bedroom door into James’s room. I drew a sharp breath as he paced the room, ruffling his hair.
Dusty sat on his bed, his brows furrowed and wearing a deep scowl. “That is really weird.”
“I can’t help thinking she must still be upset about how I reacted to Mel bringing home a guy. I mean, I was being way too overprotective. Maybe she’s thinking I’m like that with her. I hate this distance. It makes things a million times worse than they should be. If she were here, we’d have had it out that night and that would be it. But this? This is driving me mad.”
“Is this tonight?” I asked.
The angel nodded, gazing ahead.
“She hasn’t said anything about it to any of us,” Dusty responded to James.
“It’s just so frustrating.” James rubbed his temples. “I don’t mean to be overprotective, but Mel doesn’t exactly have a great track record. Can you blame me?”
“Mmm.” Dusty stared at his lap.
“Can you maybe get Geri to talk to her?” James swung to face Dusty, hands on his hips.
Dusty’s head snapped up. “Who? Mel?”
“No.” James ran his hands through his hair.
“Oh, Cadence. Of course.” Dusty cleared his throat. “What makes you think Geri would listen to me?”
James raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’m not oblivious to your sneaking around.”
“Don’t tell Dad,” Dusty muttered, staring at his hands.
“I’m not stupid. Of course I won’t.” James sat beside him, resting his head on his hand. “I just want her back.”
“You can’t have Geri.” Dusty smirked.
James punched his shoulder. “Moron.”
Dusty chuckled, rubbing his arm. “Seriously though, I really don’t get Cadence lately. She’s all weird and elusive.”
“Do you think . . . ?” James swallowed, looking to Dusty. “Do you think she might be cheating on me?”
Dusty scoffed. “Cadence? No way.”
“It’s just . . . she seems to be busy a lot lately. I wouldn’t blame her. She’s gorgeous and amazing, and I’m not exactly—”
“I really don’t think she’s cheating. That’s not her. Yeah, there’s definitely something weird going on, but I doubt that’s it.”
James’s face fell into his hands. “I just love her so much. I have to get out there to be with her. When we’re together, everything is always okay again. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
I swung to the angel. “Stop. I can’t watch this.”
He raised his hand and the scene froze. He stared me dead in the eyes. “What do you see?”
“I see that I’m destroying him.” I walked over, squatting in front of James. “I can’t keep on like this. He deserves so much better.”
“All he wants is you.”
I sighed, letting a tear fall. “It can’t be him. It’s supposed to be Austin. I did all of this for Austin.”
“James already loves you. Austin’s on his way, but he’s not quite there yet. Which heart do you think will break the most?”
I leapt to my feet. Fists clenched, I yelled, “It’s always been Austin. How can you say that?”
His dark eyes turned cold and everything went black. As light faded back in, my bedroom formed around us. The man stood in the corner with his back to me. “Choose wisely, Cadence. It’s not just about their hearts; yours is at stake too.”
In a flash, he vanished.
About Katie Hamstead:Born and raised in Australia, Katie’s early years of day dreaming in the “bush”, and having her father tell her wild bedtime stories, inspired her passion for writing.
After graduating High School, she became a foreign exchange student where she met a young man who several years later she married. Now she lives in Arizona with her husband, daughter and their dogs.
She has a diploma in travel and tourism which helps inspire her writing. Katie loves to out sing her friends and family, play sports and be a good wife and mother. She now works as an Acquisitions Editor to help support her family. She loves to write, and takes the few spare moments in her day to work on her novels.
Find Katie Hamstead on twitter, facebook, and her website.
September 6, 2015
Sinful Sunday: Rhapsody (Teplo Trilogy #2) #romance #teasers #erotica
Happy Sinday, loves!Sunday is my new favorite day of the week... mostly because I get off at 6:30am and don't have to go back to work until Tuesday night. A weekend is a beautiful thing. :)
I haven't shared much of Rhapsody , nor have I posted anything for Sinful Sunday in quite a while, so I thought I'd take care of both and give you guys a little teaser today.
Summary: After Anton Vetrov brutally murders a young girl as a warning to Tristan Riley, the broken DEA agent believes the best thing for Lillian Maddox to do would be to stay far, far away from him. But Lillian knows a thing or two about fear, and she's not willing to let the man she loves push her away that easily. If he won't fight for them, she will... even if that means risking her life to prove she's strong enough to live in his world.
Her plan ends in disaster when she's dragged out of Teplo at gunpoint, forcing Tristan onto a collision course with the Vetrov family and Pedro Francisco. With nothing left to lose except the only woman who has ever mattered to him, he will do whatever it takes to stop Vetrov and Francisco from ever hurting her again.
But he doesn't know they've been waiting for him to make his move. When he does, all hell breaks loose, and his life is on the line. It's up to Lillian and the DEA to save him, and she's terrified they won't make it in time.
Thrust headlong into a violent, bloody confrontation with the Vetrov family, Lillian comes face to the face with the heartbreaking realization that maybe she doesn't belong in Tristan's world after all. When the smoke clears, will he be able to convince his ballerina that she's the best thing for him, or will he lose her and the chance at a real future once and for all?
Rhapsody is intended for readers over the age of 18 due to graphic scenes of violence, drug abuse, language, and explicit sexual situations. The story is quite a bit darker than Ravished . It's also full of action. And not just the naughty kind. There are kidnappings and explosions and fights and all kinds of craziness. But that's all I'm saying about that. :)
If you haven't already signed up for the Cover Reveal (scheduled for September 21st), you can do so here.
And don't forget, Rhapsody is now available for pre-order on Amazon!
"Tell me you don't want me," she demanded."I don't." He avoided her gaze.
She reached out and wrapped her hand around the bulge in his pants. He groaned, his head smacking the window hard. "Liar," she whispered, squeezing lightly when his gaze flew back to hers. Even now, when everything was so incredibly messed up, his was hard for her.
"You want me," she challenged him. He swallowed harshly when she rubbed him through his jeans, causing his cock to twitch against her palm. "You're dying for me, Tristan. Standing there, not touching me, is fucking killing you."
"No," he groaned, muscles tightening all over his body as he tried to hold himself in place.
She tugged at the zipper of his jeans. "You do want me. You want me so badly you're ready to beg me for it." He groaned wordlessly as she popped the button. "Don't tell me that's not true. I can feel it." She pressed her palm to him through the fabric of his boxers, indicating exactly what she meant. "You ache for me."
"I… oh, Christ!" he cried out when she delved into his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his hard length, gripping him firmly.
"Tell me you don't want me now, Tristan," she whispered as she pulled him free of his jeans and began to stroke his length. His eyes were shut tight, his expression one of painful pleasure. Tears welled in her eyes as she worked her hand up and down his cock, overwhelmed by how much she wanted him in this moment. By how much she always wanted him. "Tell me you don't love me. If you mean it, tell me."
"Baby, please," he groaned as she continued to stroke him, merciless in her assault on his willpower.
"Please what?" She reveled in the feel of him in her hand. That he could be so out of control and still want her as desperately as she wanted him took her breath away. He hardened further as she stroked him, pumping along his shaft and playing with the soft skin on the underside of his cock.
"Oh fuck, please." He lost the fight with his body, his hips surging forward, thrusting himself harder into her hand. "God, baby. I need you. Fuck! I need you."
A thrill went through her as his willpower crumbled, leaving him pleading with her for release. She suddenly understood exactly how he felt when she begged him for more, why he craved it so much. To know that she'd reduced him to this sent a rush of power through her. She was the reason broken pleas fell from his lips. She was the reason he trembled in her hands, so turned on, he thrust without thought, seeking more of her warmth. She'd done this to him with nothing more than a few words and her hands on his body.
"You want me, Tristan," she said. "Say it."
"I…"
"Say it," she demanded, pumping her hand up and down his length again.
"Fucking Christ, I want you, beautiful. I need you… so fucking much… please…" he moaned, surrendering. "Don't stop. Fuck, don't ever stop."
Desire rushed through her in a wild surge at his surrender. "Come with me," she demanded, wrapping her hand around him and guiding him away from the windows toward the couch.
He followed willingly—the look of unfettered desire on his face spellbinding to her—until the backs of her knees hit the couch. She lowered herself down, not even flinching when pain shot through her leg. Right then, it didn't matter to her. This mattered to her. He mattered to her.
And he wanted her. Desperately.
He was begging for her.
"Look at me," she whispered. She pumped her fist up and down his length once more, her gaze riveted to the sight of her hand wrapped around him. He was so big in her palm, so hard and perfect.
He groaned again, but his eyes didn't open.
She shifted her position on the couch, licked her lips. "Look at me now."
His eyes flew open.
"Oh, fuck!"
September 1, 2015
Teaser Tuesday: Call Your Name #erotica #romance
I haven't shared much of anything from Call Your Name, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to remedy that today. Call Your Name is a short erotic novella. It's full of heat and steam, Noah Maxwell (a dirty Chicago detective), and Ava Cameron (the school teacher who drives him wild).Summary: After four months of falling for Ava Cameron, Noah Maxwell has finally found the nerve to tell her how he really feels about her. But when the words come tumbling out of his mouth over an intimate dinner, they aren't at all what he intended to stay. His confession sounds like nothing more than an attempt to get her out of her clothes and into his bed.
Now faced with losing Ava for good, Noah has to find the courage to tell her the truth. Can he do it or will his fumbling ruin everything?
Intended for audiences aged 18 and above for graphic sexual content.
Get it at: Amazon | Add Call Your Name to your TBR list on Goodreads
“Did you ever think about me when you touched yourself, Ava?” A gentleman wouldn’t ask that question, he knew, but he was too far gone to care. The thought of her running her hands down her body, or dipping them between her legs while she thought about him, or moaned his name.... Goddamn, what man wouldn’t want to hear her confess to that?The way her pupils dilated until bright green gave way to desperate black, and the way her body trembled before him, told him everything he needed to know.
Ava Cameron had been a bad, bad girl.
She’d thought about him when she came. All those nights he spent alone, fucking his hand to thoughts of her, she’d done the same to thoughts of him.
He groaned aloud, the sound torn from deep within his chest. “Fuck, I like knowing that.”
