Saturday, March 29, 2014

Excerpt from Coming Home, featured in Hot Soldier Boxed Set

COMING HOME

CHAPTER ONE


  Morgan Donnelly walked into the small shop as his Uncle's truck sped off behind him. Going to work with his uncle hadn't necessarily been his plan, but it was a hell of a lot better than being at loose ends. Having too much time to think just left him in a bad way. Surveying his surroundings, he frowned.
  Searching his vocabulary for a word to describe the pastry shop, the only thing he could come up with was ‘girly’. The hot pink walls and white wrought iron tables were bad enough, but the delicate crystal chandelier was just too much. He tried to play it cool, as if being in such places didn't make him feel horribly out of place. Setting his toolbox down, he resisted the urge to rub his thigh.
  His leg wasn’t hurting. Not too badly, at any rate. Though never pain free, he did have some good days to counteract the bad. It’d become habit, massaging those muscles throughout the course of the day, so they didn’t seize on him. The shrapnel was gone, but the scar tissue and nerve damage was something he’d be living with forever.
  That was the easy part. It was the loss of his military career, of being forced into an early retirement that made him cringe. He felt old, used up and put out to pasture. At forty two, he’d spent more of his life in the military than out. During the past year, having surgery after surgery, with more physical therapy than any one person should have to endure, he’d tolerated the other kind of therapy too.
Of course, his medical leave would be ending soon, and it would be decision time. Go back and ride a desk, pushing papers around while other men, no more than kids, went headlong into danger. Or…he could embrace civilian life. Those were the choices he'd been given. It wasn't much of a choice.
Initially, he’d resented it. After a time, he’d come to see its purpose. Being out in the world, things worked differently than they did in the military, and he was adjusting to it. It wasn’t easy though.
Without fatigues and a gun, it was like walking naked into a room full of strangers. He’d spent the entirety of his twenties and most of his thirties on army bases or in war zones. The fluffy pastry shop seemed foreign to him, but that was only one of the reasons he’d avoided it. He had a few more.
  A woman emerged from the back of the shop then, her red hair pinned up in some elaborate style that reminded him of old movies. He took one look at her and was instantly, painfully hard. With the physical toll of the surgeries and the painkillers, the exhaustion of therapy and, he was willing to admit it, a raging pity party, his libido had tanked. He’d accepted this as just a part of it, until he came back to Falls Creek and ran into Lexi Flynn.
One look at her and his libido had come back to raging life. It happened every time he saw her. He couldn’t even look at her without feeling all the blood rush south. War zones he could handle. Bullets, bombs, screaming superiors and an entire country wanting his head on a plate, that he could cope with and not even raise a sweat. One curvy redhead and he felt ready to run for the hills.
Try as he might, he couldn’t look away from her. She was what his aunt would’ve described as plump. He didn’t have a word to describe her other than beautiful. Smoking hot also came to mind. Lush. Sexy. Sweeter than any of the desserts she baked. That line of thought wasn’t helping him to keep his embarrassingly apparent boner in check.
  Moving forward, he stood close enough to the counter to provide camouflage. She’s just a woman. Of course, he was a man who hadn’t had sex with another person outside of his imagination in a long ass time. Then the fact she had breasts and a pulse, made it even harder to deal with.
That wasn’t really a fair assessment, he thought. She had amazing breasts—large, full, supported by industrial strength lingerie and perfectly displayed beneath a T-shirt that was snug in all the right places. Look at her face, Donnelly, before you blow more than just the job.
  “Oh! I’m sorry! I didn’t hear you come in,” she said breathlessly.
  She had one of those voices. A sexy, I just rolled out of bed from doing very naughty things type of voice. The southern drawl became just icing on the cake.
  Watching her place the stacks of pastry boxes on the counter, Morgan watched her move as if he'd been hypnotized. “Sorry,” he managed, his own voice cracking like a teenager. Clearing his throat, he continued, “I'm here to do the estimate for the kitchen reno.”
  “It's good that you're working with Jess! I worry about him.”
  Morgan nodded. The truth of the matter was, his uncle was helping him more than the other way around. There weren't too many employers who would be as understanding about all the limitations he faced or the fact of how those limitations came with a certain amount of unpredictability. Uncomfortable with the topic, he just nodded.
  “You know, Morgan, you’ve been back home for months and I think this is the first time I’ve even gotten to speak to you! That’s an absolute shame!”
  “Yes, ma’am.” The ma’am was instinct. Twenty plus years in the military had taught him to be polite out loud, even while being a total pervert on the inside. It made him nervous when he realized she knew who he was.
  “I didn’t think about it when I called...I didn’t realize you’d be working with him,” she uttered all this with a slight, concerned furrow of her perfectly arched eyebrows. “It won’t be awkward for you, will it? I mean, yes, Ashley is my sister, but she’s hardly ever here at the shop.”

  And there was the other reason he’d avoided Lexi Flynn. He hadn’t changed her diapers, but it’d been damned close. Ashley Flynn had been his girlfriend when he was a junior and she was a freshman. At the time, the woman who now stood before him had been a cherubic four year old. Fucking pervert.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Hot Soldier Boxed Set

Okay, anthologies are work. They are a lot of hard freakin' work. Herding cats kind of work. Don't get me wrong, I worked with amazing ladies who also happen to be amazing authors… but you've got kids, families, day jobs, illness and all the general insanity that happens in life, then you multiply all that by 6. Six. SIXXXX!

Still, it was worth it. So much more than worth it. We put together a beautiful book with six fantastic stories of love (with a healthy dose of lust thrown in) featuring men, and in some cases women, who are serving our country.

Sadly, not all of our servicemen and women get their happy endings. Not everyone comes home, and those that do, they don't always come home whole. Whether it's physical wounds and injuries, or the mental and emotional scars of facing horrific situations and your own mortality every day, these are brave people who deserve to be honored. I hope we achieved that. I BELIEVE that we did. Each of these stories takes a different approach. Some feature military personnel still on active duty, dreaming of their loved ones during their deployment. Still others are about the rigors of coming home and adjusting to a civilian life that just doesn't make sense anymore. All of them are about facing the challenges of being impacted by death, violence and injury and responding with courage, duty, honor, sacrifice and a dozen other things that make up what being part of our great military is all about.

I hope you all enjoy Hot Soldier, and I hope that it brings home to everyone, in some small way, that these people who serve our country aren't simply there for two years, or six months, or however long they are deployed. Pieces of them, their innocence, their hope, their faith and sometimes their hearts, will be in those places forever.





EXCERPT FROM COMING HOME by SERAPHINA DONAVAN




CHAPTER ONE

Morgan Donnelly walked into the small shop as his Uncle's truck sped off behind him. Going to work with his uncle hadn't necessarily been his plan, but it was a hell of a lot better than being at loose ends. Having too much time to think just left him in a bad way. Surveying his surroundings, he frowned. 
Searching his vocabulary for a word to describe the pastry shop, the only thing he could come up with was ‘girly’. The hot pink walls and white wrought iron tables were bad enough, but the delicate crystal chandelier was just too much. He tried to play it cool, as if being in such places didn't make him feel horribly out of place. Setting his toolbox down, he resisted the urge to rub his thigh. 
His leg wasn’t hurting. Not too badly, at any rate. Though never pain free, he did have some good days to counteract the bad. It’d become habit, massaging those muscles throughout the course of the day, so they didn’t seize on him. The shrapnel was gone, but the scar tissue and nerve damage was something he’d be living with forever. 
That was the easy part. It was the loss of his military career, of being forced into an early retirement that made him cringe. He felt old, used up and put out to pasture. At forty two, he’d spent more of his life in the military than out. During the past year, having surgery after surgery, with more physical therapy than any one person should have to endure, he’d tolerated the other kind of therapy too. 
Of course, his medical leave would be ending soon, and it would be decision time. Go back and ride a desk, pushing papers around while other men, no more than kids, went headlong into danger. Or…he could embrace civilian life. Those were the choices he'd been given. It wasn't much of a choice. 
Initially, he’d resented it. After a time, he’d come to see its purpose. Being out in the world, things worked differently than they did in the military, and he was adjusting to it. It wasn’t easy though. 
Without fatigues and a gun, it was like walking naked into a room full of strangers. He’d spent the entirety of his twenties and most of his thirties on army bases or in war zones. The fluffy pastry shop seemed foreign to him, but that was only one of the reasons he’d avoided it. He had a few more. 
A woman emerged from the back of the shop then, her red hair pinned up in some elaborate style that reminded him of old movies. He took one look at her and was instantly, painfully hard. With the physical toll of the surgeries and the painkillers, the exhaustion of therapy and, he was willing to admit it, a raging pity party, his libido had tanked. He’d accepted this as just a part of it, until he came back to Falls Creek and ran into Lexi Flynn. 

One look at her and his libido had come back to raging life. It happened every time he saw her. He couldn’t even look at her without feeling all the blood rush south. War zones he could handle. Bullets, bombs, screaming superiors and an entire country wanting his head on a plate, that he could cope with and not even raise a sweat. One curvy redhead and he felt ready to run for the hills. 



Hot Soldier Boxed set is available at Amazon for only $0.99. Get your copy today!  



Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Fat Bashing

I don't typically post things here that aren't related to my books, but considering that I write books that feature plus sized heroines and that I try to portray women of size in a positive light, I guess fat bashing does apply!

Recenlty, two celebrities whom I actually admire, whose work I've enjoyed over the years tremendously, engaged in a ridiculous word feud on twitter because they have different idealogical viewpoints on certain hot button issues. I'm not even going to touch on those issues because for me, that's not why it was upsetting. It was upsetting that two men who rely on the love, affection and loyalty of their fans in order to stay employed would turn into school yard bullies and attack another person verbally, not for their beliefs, but for their weight. Comments like fatass and go have another bag of doritos were thrown about with fervor and a ferocious glee that should be reserved for middle schoolers without adult supervision.  They did this with no thought to the fact that many of their fans are probably not thin. One of these people in particular has a huge sci fi following and nerds the world over love him. Guess what? I know a lot of nerds and they typically don't spend their time in the gym. No, that is not a stereotype. That is what I know of the people in my life who are self proclaimed nerds. We prefer our action to be cinematic or in game form. So thank you for alienating a good portion of your fan base by essentially shouting from the roof top that in your mind they are less than human. Good on ya!

Since, I'm on a tear, I'm going to continue with all the crap that bugs me about being fat. You'll note very little of it has to do with being fat itself and has more to do with what other people believe about me because I am fat.

People make a lot of assumptions about women and men who are overweight. I'm guilty of them myself at times. It makes me angry AT ME when I realize that I slipped for a second and bought into the stereotypes.

Fact, people are fat for a lot of reasons. It isn't always diet and laziness. Sometimes it's a combination of those things and genetics. In order to be thin, I'd have to be miserable. I'd rather be fat and happy then thin and hungry. I'd also be a raving bitch.

So, yes, I'm fat. I'm not demeaning myself when I say that word. Is it demeaning to say that someone is thin, or tall, or short? No. People interpret that description of myself as demeaning because they associate the word fat with being negative. I've been called fat by other people when it was simply a descriptor and I am A-ok with it. I have also been called fat by people who were attempting to belittle me. Well, you can't belittle me, because for that to happen, I would first have to value your opinion.

It's apparently ok to be every color of the rainbow, every sexual orientation under the sun, political viewpoint, religion… but it's not okay to be a different size. Well, I'm sorry, but I don't buy that. For everyone who wants to shout diversity, how about tossing a little bit of that love and acceptance over here and holding the derision, the assumption that I am too lazy to get off my couch, the general belief that I could lose weight if I wanted to, and that I must be eating my feelings.

Food is a pleasurable thing. Just like a glass of wine. Like a good movie or a great book. Like snuggling in the bed on a cold and rainy day. Like slow, lazy morning sex without a rush to the finish line, or the fast and furious variety where you don't even bother to get totally naked for it! Guess what? I don't deny myself any of those things. Fat people have sex too. And orgasms. They get up, they go to work, they come home, clean house, do chores, and some of them ( like me) go to work on their second job. You can call me fat, you can call me a bitch (and most of the time you'd be right), you can call me anything you want, but if you call me lazy, you'll also be calling the police because you'll find out just what a nut ball, redneck bitch I can be.

I work hard. I work when I'm sick, I work when I am in pain. I hobbled through the grocery store on crutches when I had a torn meniscus and nearly tore the head of the little girl who offered me a "scooter" because I have more pride than sense. My being fat has less to do with what I am doing than with the fact that I was genetically predisposed to glucose intolerance and treated for a health problem as a child with a year of low dose steroids which only exacerbated that and started my slow slide into obesity. Tack polycystic ovary syndrome on to that and add a thyroid issue and what you have is a person who will never be thin. I'd have to be dead and decomposing to reach the ideal weight on those damn BMI charts.

I weighed 250 pounds as a senior in high school. I played soft ball, and basketball. I was too poor for a car so I walked everywhere I went. I was still fat.

So the next time you look at a fat person in the grocery store and do the visual sweep of their cart while thinking to yourself, "No wonder" or the next time you say to a woman, "You have such a pretty face", or the next time you're in the ladies room looking in the mirror at your size six or even size twelve body and say, "Oh, my god, I am so faaat!" while a woman my size or even larger is standing next to you, do everyone a favor and take a big ol' STFU on that.

Love your body. It's the only one you're gonna get. You can't trade it in and you're not getting a refund for giving it back gently used. Live your life and be happy. If that means having an oreo every now and then, have the damn oreo. Realize and believe that what makes you sexy is who you are as a whole. You can have a body like a Victoria's Secret model after photoshop and chicken cutlets, but if you've got a cardboard personality, it won't get you very far. No one wants to be around someone who is so miserable from dieting that they have to feel guilty about everything they put in their mouth, and no one wants to be sitting at dinner with a person who is going to judge every bite they eat.

People come in all colors, and they come in all sizes. So, in short, if you don't like the size of my behind, you don't have to look at it.  Rant done!

Tuesday, February 4, 2014

Anthology: Stranded With A Billionaire

Hot Tales By 6 Best-Selling Erotic Romance Authors! 

What happens when a billionaire is stuck in a situation money won't fix? Six authors offer extraordinary tales of love, lust and desperation in Stranded With a Billionaire.


First of all, let me see how fantastic it was to work with Nikki Prince, Brandi Gillian, Siobhan MacKenzie, Kate Baum and of course, I've been working with Wicked Leanore Elliott forever! Okay, not forever, but for a long a$$ time!  

This is the little book that could, let me tell you. Between line up changes, contract issues, and all the backend stuff that no one sees when putting a book together, especially one that involves a group of people with divergent schedules, a little part of me believed we'd never get this thing off the ground. My organizational skills are somewhat lacking. Just ask anyone who has ever seen my bedroom!  But in the end, with the hard work, dedication and some pinch hitting by a few amazing friends, we managed to put it all together.  




I hope you enjoy this book, and I hope it introduces each of you to some new and fantastic authors.  

We're also having a wonderful post launch party on Facebook on February 17th.  Come check it out! http://on.fb.me/1jdK6gU

Right now, Stranded With a Billionaire is only $0.99 at Amazon. Get your copy today! Happy Reading.  

Here's a little sneak peek from my contribution, Wrong For Ms. Wright. 

Excerpt: 


Sam watched her for a moment, noting how nervously she tugged at the sheet she wore. Her dark hair was down, hanging over her shoulders in damp waves. It dawned on him that she never wore her hair down to work. It was probably a good thing for him. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to sink his fingers into those dark strands. 

Stoking the fire, he tried to put those thoughts from his mind.  They were stuck for the night. They would make the best of it and absolutely nothing would happen that would alter their professional relationship. 

Rising from his crouched position, with his libido in check for the moment, at least, he noted that she’d created a small spread for them from the gift basket. It wasn’t the steak he would have preferred, but it still looked inviting. 


“There isn’t a corkscrew for the wine,” she said, a slight pout making her lips look even more inviting. 


It was the bed, he decided. It was impossible to be in a room with a woman and a bed and not have it spark fantasies. That the woman in question was one he’d been fighting an attraction to for months only made it worse. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the small knife he always carried. One of its many attachments was a makeshift corkscrew.

 Holding his other hand out, he accepted the bottle of wine and went to work on getting it opened. At the very least, the task gave him something to focus on besides the woman in front of him. It wasn’t working. He could smell her, the faint scent of her perfume, or maybe her shampoo, and something else that was just her. 

With the bottle open, he placed it on the table. “No glasses.”


“I guess we’ll have to share,”she said, and took a healthy swig from the bottle.


As if having to stand there and look at her in nothing but a sheet wasn’t enough torment for his senses, he’d be touching his lips to the same bottle that graced hers. He could feel the blood rushing in his veins, pooling heavily, anticipating an event that simply could not happen. Was he being punished? 


To add insult to injury, she picked up one of the chocolate dipped strawberries the basket had yielded, biting into the succulent treat. Watching her lips close over the sweet, her eyes closing with sheer delight at the burst of flavor, he clenched his fists at his side. Every muscle tensed, every instinct he possessed urged him to pounce, to take what she obliviously offered.  


“Oh, that is so good,” she said. Her voice sounded breathless, husky. She sounded like sex. Hot, sweaty, rough, mind blowing sex. 


“Stop.” The word escaped him, his own voice sounding barely recognizable to him. She was driving him mad, or maybe he was driving himself mad. Had he really thought he could hire a woman he was attracted to, spend hours with her day in and day out, and never give in to that attraction?


Her eyes widened and she looked at him, puzzled. “What?”


For a long moment Sam was silent, watching the expressions play across her face in rapid fire succession. Her confusion was genuine. She truly had no idea that he wanted her. He should leave it alone, and her, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. Whether it was the isolation, the unforgettable vision of her in that wet shirt with her pebbled nipples beckoning to him, or now, the soft, sensual sounds she made as she enjoyed a decadent strawberry, he’d been pushed beyond the limits of what he could endure. Stepping closer, he grabbed her upper arms, hauling her against him until the softness of her breasts pressed against his chest, until she could feel the unmistakable proof of what she was doing to him. 


“Mr. Kirkland?”


“My name is Sam.” With the tips of his fingers he touched her face, turning it up to his so that their lips were only inches apart. Tracing the lush curve of her lower lip with his thumb, he needed it to be clear before things went any further. “Say it.”“Sam?”


Her confused and questioning tone made him smile. “Say it’s alright... that you want this too. Tell me, Georgie.”


“I’m not exactly sure what ‘this’ is.”


“I want you, Georgie. I’ve wanted you for months. Ignoring it hasn’t made it go away, and being in such close quarters with you has only made it more intense...but if you don’t want me, it stops right here.”


Buy Link:  http://www.amazon.com/Stranded-With-Billionaire-Boxed-Set-ebook/dp/B00I678P9M/ref=sr_1_12?ie=UTF8&qid=1391565108&sr=8-12&keywords=seraphina+donavan




Sunday, February 2, 2014

Lady's Destiny by A.R. Von

Check out this new release from the fantastic and beautiful A.R. Von!

A Unique Magical, Erotic Novel... 
When dreams haunt you in the most delicious ways and fate pulls you into destiny’s path, what can be done other than to accept and submit to it. 
Can Iria truly get what she’s always dreamed of or will it always just remain a memory? Being a rare creature such as her with exceptional beauty and rarity of existence should be enough. Though, all she wants is her desire, her destiny… To be with a man—one man. 
Are these dreams she’s having real? Could she really take on human form and become a Lady to be with the man she craves?
Dezso discovers a magical creature—a being of incredible light and peace. He is drawn to it again and again, and his feelings grow with every encounter. He carries a dark secret that he wishes never existed. The only thing that truly brings light upon his existence is the beauty that warms his heart but seems to only exist in his head—with dreams and visions of a magical woman, full of heartwarming light. 
Will he ever know true love and happiness? Will he ever be able to lighten the weight and share his dark secret with another...? 
Darkness is growing stronger, weakening the light and killing off what makes the world a beautiful place to live in. Enter a world of fantasy and dreams, passions and temptations. A world where dragons, unicorns, magic and mermaids really do exist.A world where love WILL conquer all! 






EXCERPT: 

IRIA

Whenever the moon is full and shining at its brightest, I always dream of myself, basking in the colors and brilliance of a rainbow. In these dreams, a man always appears, right when the rainbow disappears. He always walks over to the crystal clear pool of water and strips down to his skin. Baring a perfectly sculpted masterpiece for my eyes to feast upon, appreciate and remember.
Oh, how I yearn to go to him while he is under the falls, bathing in nature’s finest, purest of waters. Look into his dark blue eyes, which always end up beneath a curtain of darkness that reaches his shoulders, wet and calling me to touch it. To bring his magnificent body flush against mine. I envision caressing his tanned flesh and licking every sparkle of water from all of the warmest places on his body. I would start from the top: his ears, chin, cheeks and lips—and work my way down. Never getting past his center, because that is where I know he will get the most pleasure from my attentions.
The sounds he makes are just as arousing as he is. His sighs of pleasure at times, would seem as if he is in pain. I would take away that glorious pain by giving him even more exhilarating pleasure. Then, he will whisper my name, so sweet from his lips, so sensual, so erotic and thrilling as he reaches his completion, feeding me the finest nectar I have ever tasted.
This dream is always so very intoxicating. It makes me feel so powerful, so satisfied. But alas—it is all only a dream. All of it, something I can never have and never experience—it hurts me to my core. I feel empty and alone. Especially, the times when he whispers, “Lady.” I do not know who he calls from those full lips. But I want it to be me. I always want it to be me…
During the times when I have these dreams, I embody the form of a goddess. I have white blonde hair that flows to my knees, the bluest of eyes and succulent lips-the type of lips only meant for kissing and sucking. I possess two perfectly pert breasts with the pinkest of nipples that would tempt any man into visions of suckling them.
This perfect body of mine is covered in the palest of skin, enfolding some luscious curves that would put an hourglass to utter shame. I walk on two legs instead of four. No more tail or hooves. No more horn on my head or whinnies coming from my muzzle. It is all so very odd. Yet, it feels so very good, so right. As if I was born this way with a lifetime of practice, walking on two legs and swaying my hips to tempt and tease. 
The very best part of this human form is two of my limbs have hands. Hands can do so many glorious things! I remember I once used them to explore my own goddess form and I felt everything. The new skin under my fingers felt so hairless and would prickle with bumps when I reached my breasts. My entire frame would also shiver when I touched my nether region.
I want him to touch me like this. I crave it. He has never touched me in my dreams. He always holds his hands, shaped into fists tightly at his sides. As if he is afraid that if he touches me, I will disappear. So, he restrains himself.
I do not want restraint. I wish for him to unleash his full passion on my dream self while it is here. No man would ever desire a unicorn’s body to be theirs. To own and worship. No. They desire their own kind. Human flesh and human blood.

Oh, how I wish I was a woman—his woman.






Bio:
A.R. was born and raised in Bronx, NY and is the oldest daughter of two girls. She holds an Associate’s Degree in Computer Science and Information Technology, which was only briefly used. She’s a mother of two entertaining teen boys (as well as a lovely fawn Chihuahua, whom she considers her furry daughter.) She’s also a wife to a delightfully handsome and amazingly funny man-beast. She loves anything dragon and fantasy related. In her free time she enjoys exercising, writing, listening to music, hiking, cooking, dancing and reading. She also loves a great adventure in and out of a book!
She writes to free her mind of its constant wondering and clutter. She thrives on the fact she can share some of it with readers that have the same passion for a great story.

She also loves to hear from her reader’s and chat away, so feel free to reach out to her any time.
A.R.’s web site: http://ar-von.com/ 




Monday, January 27, 2014

Severine by Jaden Sinclair

Awesome new book but Jaden Sinclair!  






The year is 9045 and the Nations control almost everything in the universe. They have brought order to many planets and cultivated others, but behind closed doors they’ve raided and pillaged the planet’s resources for their own gain. She is one of the many children who have been ripped from their home for their selfish cause. Trained at a young age, she was developed into just what the Nations hoped to accomplish. A perfect weapon. But when control is lost and the weapon goes rogue, the Nations learn firsthand just what they’ve created and just what their weapon will do for her freedom and for a family she can never forget. He is sent to find her. Another trained and burned by the Nations, Byron Suthland is hired to find the weapon, only he doesn’t want to find her for them. He wants to find her for himself and bring back a woman, not a weapon. Knowing she can kill him instantly means nothing, but caring about her means everything.




                                   *********Excerpt**********

“And where are you going to go?” “Home.” “Do you even know where home is?” “No, but you do and you’re going to be kind enough to give me the information.” “It isn’t that easy.” She lost her temper and walked right up to him, bringing the gun she had tucked behind her right out. He didn’t fight her when she put her hand up to his throat, shoving him back against the wall, her gun now pressed right between his eyes. “What are you going to do, Severine?” Byron asked. “Shoot me?” “If I have to.” “Then what kind of information will you get?” They had a kind of standoff. Both refusing to back down or look away. However, Byron made a move, one she wasn’t expecting. His hand came up slowly, his body didn’t move. With the back of his hand, knuckles only, he touched the side of her face. Severine moved back. “What are you doing?” She frowned at him. “Something I think hasn’t been done to you in a very long time.” “Don’t do that.” His hand went back to her ear and into her hair. “But I want to do this.” When his face began to lower down to hers and both of his hands moved to her waist, Severine changed the position of the gun. She now pressed it up under his chin. “I can shoot you and keep you alive.” His face was mere inches from her own, lips so close she could feel his breath upon her own. “And I think this will be well worth getting shot.” They touched. His lips touched her own gently, softly. She had never been kissed before. The only type of touching she’d been subjected to had always resulted in pain of some kind. Yet this wasn’t painful, but it confused her none the less. He didn’t do much of anything else either. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, she thought he was trying to show her how to kiss. Why she let this happen, she couldn’t answer. But Severine did give in mostly due to her curiosity. She wanted to know what this felt like. What it was like to be held by another and not made to suffer for it. However, before anything more could go on, the gun she held under his chin was taken from her hand and the light kissing simply stopped. He pulled back enough to look her once more in the eye, one arm still around her. Keeping eye contact with her, Byron uncocked the gun, let it drop with his finger still on the trigger so it would flip butt first back to her. “I’m not going to hurt you, Severine. Ever. And I will help you find what you need, but not with a gun at my head. Next time, just say please.” She took the gun from his hand, he let her go, and moved around her toward the steps, taking them two at a time up, leaving her right where she stood.


                                          
                                          *********Bio***********

Jaden Sinclair lives in a small town in Kansas with her husband of eighteen years, two boys and a few pets that keep her hopping. Between sports and the animals it’s a wonder at times how she is able to keep the flow of her writing going. But she does. She has many series in the works and out for your enjoyment, and most known for the Shifter series. Between werewolves, vampires, scifi, new worlds or simple romances, one never really knows what will come out next. So to keep up with what she doing, visit her website: www.jadensinclair.com just simply email her at jadensinclair@gmail.com. She’ll love to hear from you. Jaden Sinclair

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

Spotlight On: Jewel of the East by Victoria Vane


JEWEL OF THE EAST
(The Devil DeVere #5) 
Victoria Vane
Having once lived his life only for larks, laughter, and ladies of easy virtue, Captain Simon Singleton has returned from the war with the colonies a shambles of a man. Now free from six years of captivity, he's still fettered by irrational fears that confine him to a life of seclusion.   
 Once the crowning jewel of the most lavish brothel in London, the exotic Salime finds her reputation and livelihood destroyed by a bitter rival. With a closely guarded secret stripped away, Salime fears no man will ever desire her again. Seeking aid from one who once saved her life, Salime accepts a proposition to repay her debt by becoming a companion to his war-scarred friend.

Circumstance brings these two damaged souls together; but fate ignites a love story worthy of the Arabian Nights.


EXCERPT (in which the stage is set)

         Medford Abbey, Kent- 1785

A sharp rap soon sounded on the door. Ludovic, Viscount DeVere glanced up from his periodical to the entrance of a liveried footman. "A message for you, my lord." 

The servant offered the wax-sealed missive on a silver salver. "It was delivered by a most…unusual…courier." The footman gave a sniff of disdain.

"Indeed? What do you mean?" Ludovic asked in a bored drawl.

"'Tis a behemoth blackamoor, my lord."

"Mustafa?" Ludovic threw down his periodical and snatched up the missive. "What the devil?"

"He awaits in the kitchen. Insufferable rude creature he be. Just stands all akimbo. Refuses to speak or to depart without an answer from your lordship."

"The man cannot speak. He has no tongue. They took it when they castrated the poor devil."

The footman's eyes bulged. He involuntarily crossed his legs. Ludovic broke the seal and scanned the contents with a deepening frown. 

Most honored Efendi,

It is with the greatest humility that I appeal to he who once safeguarded my life. It is with exceeding distress that I must entreat you once more, being much in need of a friend and protector. 

Your most devoted and obedient servant,
Salime

Ludovic read the cryptic note once more. Salime in want of a protector? What a sticky situation that created. At first he wondered why she'd appealed to him, but then again, there were few people she trusted. Given their shared history, he would never deny her aid. Moreover, Salime had been instrumental in helping him to achieve his present state of connubial bliss. For that alone he owed her his undying gratitude.

"Tell him I shall be in touch with his mistress shortly…and that she should notify me at once should her circumstances become any more…distressed."

"Aye, my lord." The much-chagrinned footman departed.

Ludovic glowered after the departing servant. Salime had never been in want since coming to London. He wondered what could be behind her request, but then abandoned both letter and the dilemma the moment another surprise came bursting into his library. "Ned?" Ludovic leaped up to greet his best friend. "What the devil has brought you all the way from Yorkshire to Kent?"

"I have most portentous news, DeVere," Ned sputtered with excitement. "News I could hardly relay by messenger. So I came down myself."

"What kind of news? Out with it, Chambers," Ludovic commanded.
"Mayhap you should pour us a drink first."

Ludovic lifted a sardonic brow. "A drink? Not so urgent after all?"

"'Tis fortification you'll need for the shock you're about to receive."

"Shock? Me? You know I am not easily shocked, Ned." Ludovic paused with his hand on the brandy decanter and a slight frown marring his face. "Come to think of it, I'm damned if I can recall a single occasion that has wrought from me such a profound reaction as shock."

Ned flung himself into Ludovic's favorite chair. "There's a first for everything, DeVere. Now that drink?"
Ludovic sloshed amber liquid into two glasses, handing one to the would-be herald, who downed it in one draught. Ludovic quirked a brow.

"It was a devilish long ride," Ned explained.

"All to deliver this shocking report of yours?" Ludovic perched a hip on the corner of his mahogany desk.
"Yes! It's Lazarus all over again!"

"Lazarus? Am I to surmise that someone has been miraculously raised from the dead?"

"Actually, he might as well have been," Ned declared. "I can hardly countenance it after all this time."

"You are trying my patience, Ned."

"It's Simon. He's returned."

"Good God!" The glass slipped from his hand to shatter at Ludovic's feet. "You can't mean Sin is alive after all this time? He was pronounced killed in action six years ago."

"I mean exactly that!" Ned exclaimed. "He is indeed alive and may even be in London as we speak. I have the news straight from Baron Singleton. His ship was expected to arrive several days ago."

"Why am I only hearing of this now? I see the bloody Singleton regularly at Parliament."

"Probably because the good baron doesn't like you, DeVere. He believes you were an abominable influence on his son."

"Then he would be right." Ludovic smirked and then stared at the shattered glass at his feet. 

"Looking a bit white there, my friend. This is known as shock."

"Admittedly, I am incredulous. How can this be? Where the devil has he been?"

"Interned as a prisoner of war for the greater part of six years."

"Six years? In all that time there were no exchanges?"

"Very few. The colonials refused to give up ours when they claimed their men were only released on the point of starvation and death. I daresay 'tis no exaggeration. I've seen a number of reports on the deplorably inhumane conditions of our prison hulks. Indeed it's said that the colonial prisoners set fire to the Whitby, choosing to go down in flames, rather than die of starvation and disease." Ned shook his head. "What a hellish business war is."

"But if Sin was a prisoner, he should have been released nigh on a year ago when the treaty was signed."

"Apparently he was too ill to travel. Only made it as far as Bermuda before he was struck with the bloody flux or some such and required months of convalescence…poor sod."

"We must go to him, Ned. At once."

"He'll not be the same man," Ned voiced what they were both thinking.

"No," Ludovic shook his head. "Likely never again."

 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Victoria Vane is an award-winning romance novelist and history junkie whose works range from wildly comedic romps to emotionally compelling and intensely erotic romance. Victoria also writes historical fiction as Emery Lee and is the founder of Goodreads Romantic Historical Fiction Lovers and the Romantic Historical Lovers book review blog. Look for Victoria's sexy new contemporary cowboy series coming in summer 2014.

Author Website: http://www.victoriavane.com
DeVere Fan Site: http://thedevildevere.com
Author Blog: http://victoriavane.wordpress.com
Facebook: Author Victoria Vane
Twitter: @authorvictoriav


THE DEVIL DEVERE SERIES AWARDS AND ACCOLADES

A Wild Night's Bride (book#1)

The Virgin Huntress, (book#2)

The Devil You Know (book#3)

The Devil's Match, (book#4) August 2012