An Excerpt from Cruel Memories

Cruel Memories

(#erotic romance #gothic #MF #contemporary)

cruelmemories_cover_smTwo men…one her attacker…the other her savior…

Gavin Killian was evil right to the core. His half brother, Devon Masters, was the complete opposite. Ten years ago, it was Gavin who practically destroyed Haley Lancaster when she was seventeen, and Devon who healed and protected her. But in saving Haley, he had sacrificed himself. The cruel memories are what keep them separated, while a marriage in name only binds them together.

Now, Gavin is gone, his violent life followed by a violent death. Haley returns to Falcon Hill one last time, hoping to finally put to rest the past that haunts her. And this time it will be Haley doing the saving because she’s determined to make her marriage real.

But will the dark secrets of Falcon Hill continue to keep Haley and Devon apart? What will Haley do when the truth is finally revealed?

EXCERPT

Haley walked to the fireplace. She knelt and laid a fire from the logs and kindling resting next to it. It was a common, routine occurrence in her own home in Ohio. She felt Dev’s gaze burn through her, yet she didn’t turn around to look at him.

Slowly, she picked up one of the long matches and touched it to the kindling. It took several attempts, but finally the fire roared to life, helping to dispel some of the chill and gloom from the library. Then she rose and turned around to face Dev.

“You have to get out of those wet clothes. You’ll catch pneumonia if you stay like that.”

He didn’t look at her, just stared into the fire and took a long swallow from the glass.

She shifted to stand in his direct line of vision. Slowly his gaze lifted to her face.

“Why did you come back?” he said in a rough, hoarse voice.

“I think you know why.”

“I’m not worth it, Haley. Is Nikki with you?”

Haley shook her head. “No, she’s staying with a friend back in Cincinnati. I thought it best.”

After a long moment he nodded. “Yes, you’re right. She shouldn’t be touched by this place. Anyone who comes to this damned house is cursed.”

“Does that include me, Dev? Do you think I’m cursed?”

He leaned forward, and then reached out to stroke a hand over the curve of her hip, trailed his fingers down her silk-clad thigh. It was only now she realized the dampness of the black sheath had the dress clinging to every curve. Even with the chill, she felt the heat of the man. Haley began to shiver, but she couldn’t be certain if it was the aftermath of the dank weather or the closeness of the man.

Like a sleek black panther he unfolded to his feet, their bodies touching as she refused to step back. Thigh against thigh, his hand still clamped to her hip, his fingers stroking over the damp cloth of her dress. He towered over her, his whiskey scented, hot breath feathered across her cheek. She met him stare for stare. Her nipples pebbled, and this time she knew it wasn’t because she was chilled.

He trailed the back of his fingers down the side of her face, across her shoulder and the trembling was not because she was cold. A fire started to build in her belly, crawling down into her vagina, dripping from between her labia lips to drench her panties.

Could Dev really ignore what was between them?

She tilted her head, her lips parted. He lowered his head. She could almost feel the brush of his lips. She inhaled his male scent. Her eyelids fluttered closed.

And she waited. Long moments passed. His hot breath feathered across her skin. Time stopped. It was almost as though she felt the heat of the summer sun on her flesh, like that day on the covered bridge so long ago. She was seventeen once again and she felt new and alive and in love. With this man.

“Leave, Haley. Leave now, before it’s too late.” And then he was gone. Leaving her standing there by herself.

She opened her eyes and turned her head. The only thing she saw was the library door closing. And she was alone.

But she wasn’t seventeen. And she wasn’t going to let him shut her out.

Not this time.

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An Excerpt from Gulietta

Gulietta

(#eroticromance #darkfantasy, #mfm)

guliettasmallOne explosive encounter with an immortal shapeshifter finds seductive Gulietta embracing her powerful, magical destiny…and so much more…

Kansas City-raised Gulietta. Fathered by a far more magical species than human – the identity of whom her mother never shared. Sexual needs and desires not fully understood. Secrets abound.

Gulietta’s uneasy reality is tossed onto its head when a handsome stranger enters her life and whisks her away. Games played, lives and freedoms hang in the balance. This ain’t Kansas City, and Gulietta isn’t Dorothy, but she may be the hope for the future of the Sabine females in Antius’s court. Will she also be the savior of the immortal shapeshifter, Quintus–apparently the one man who has the ability to satisfy her in so many ways? Or is he the only one? The biggest prize in this game may be love…once all the secrets are finally revealed…

EXCERPT

Kansas City, Six Months Before

 Quintus watched her from the darkening shadows of a damp, garbage-infested alley, having only just arrived in Kansas City on orders from Antius. To approach the woman too quickly would send her running like a doe sighting the hunter who tracked it. He glanced up at the black sky. No, the moon would drive her to him. He slowed the breaths in his huge body, and his cock surged as he watched her pass slowly along the dark, wet pavement.

“She’s beautiful,” the man standing next to him murmured.

“She won’t be happy when she discovers what Antius has planned for her. You should go to her apartment and wait there. I will bring her along when she is more…agreeable.”

Within moments the other man had shifted to wolf form and loped off, swallowed by the darkness. Quintus turned back to watch Gulietta as she made her way along the deserted street.

She was not what he’d expected for the daughter of a Sabine woman and a powerful, lusty satyr. Although, as far as Quintus knew, she was not aware of her heritage and perhaps that was the reason for her easy grace. She didn’t look the predator. She looked human. Thus, his purpose for being there—to make her aware of her ancient lineage. To return her to her proper place at the side of her father, Antius.

She was…striking. A fitting mate for a man of Roman blood. She walked with purpose, her strides measured yet graceful, shoulders back, forcing her firm, young breasts up. Temptingly full. Lean hips, strong flanks. Perfect proportions. Not as tall as some of the women of Antius’s court. Many of them were almost Amazonian in their lusty proportions. Strong, fierce women.

Not this wench. She intrigued him. More dangerous than the others. Her sexual energy, a gift from her sire, undulated, crackling the night air, surrounding her, beckoning lovers to her side. No problem for this female to assuage her sexual hunger.

Man after man passed her, giving her hungry looks that she scorned. She could take her pick of the lot. Humans unable to resist her. Quintus could tell she had not yet peaked. He had chosen the time with care. The only way to bring a female like her to heel was to take her at her most vulnerable moment.

She rode the edge carefully. Quintus had never seen such self-control in a Sabine of the satyr court. They usually submitted to their instincts quickly and effortlessly. This one fought the natural order.

She staggered and clutched at the hard edge of the brick building, hunched over in pain. Her knees started to buckle, but she didn’t drop. It was the satyr blood—it had to be what kept her on her feet. Most of the women of his acquaintance would have shed their clothes long before this, flat on their backs, legs spread, welcoming man after man to quench the lust.

He smelled the earthy cinnamon scent of her and dragged the smell deeply into his lungs, filling his lungs with her aroma.

Another man passed by. Quintus saw her clench her fist. She fought valiantly against her sexual nature. He was impressed by her control. But he knew that eventually she would have no choice. She would give in to the lust. The need for that connection only fucking would provide. Straightening her shoulders, she staggered forward. Two steps and another attack claimed her. Her natural-born instincts would win out.

Quintus heard the soft groan. The breathless siren’s call spun through him. Her need was desperate. Twenty feet more and she would reach where he stood in the shadows. And the full moon would drive her passion. It would be her most vulnerable moment. And then he would take her. Binding her to him in the most elemental way of their immortal kind. Only then would he take her back to Antius. The old satyr would not cheat him of the prize. Not this time.

His cock pulled hard, demanding surcease. His muscles knotted as he readied himself to pounce. A deep growl rolled from his throat. Fangs bared, he gathered strength, calling from his animal core. There would be time for explanations later.

Would she fight him? Or would the need be too fierce? Would she spread her thighs for him without a battle? Did she cry out when she climaxed? Would the juices of her quim taste of honeyed mead, sweet enough to quench his millennia of thirst?

The night reeked of danger, cutting through the scent of her. Could she smell it as well? Did her mother’s warrior blood flow hot and heavy through her veins? Or was she too far gone to be able to detect the danger, her drive now only to appease the lust burning her up?

How soft would the female petals between her legs be? How tightly would her cunt grip him? By the gods, her strength crackled through the air. The need to mate her ruined his mind. Quintus studied the light and shadow of the street.

His preternatural awareness heightened, honed in and caught the scent of immortal attack. But who?

And then he saw what he had missed. A portion of the mist solidified into form.

“Fuck.”

As soon as he formed, the man rushed at Gulietta, shoving her to the pavement. One who would usurp his right to her. Quintus shifted to his wolf form and leaped at the attacker, fangs bared, a growling rage erupting from his throat as he fastened his teeth onto the thick wrist of the satyr.

The satyr howled and struggled to free himself. These lesser satyrs were by no means fighters. The woman was no victim. She curled her fingers and scratched at her attacker’s face, causing him to yelp even louder with pain. Tracks of blood decorated his dark skin.

Quintus used his large furry body to shove him off Gulietta and onto his back. A human corner of his brain warned him not to kill the fool beneath him. Too many questions if his kind where discovered on human soil. Quintus shifted back to human form.

“Leave now, Titus, before I forget Antius’s law and kill you right here. You will not claim what does not belong to you.”

“Damn you, Quintus. You can’t have it all. She doesn’t have a speck of Roman blood.”

“She is not for you. Try it again and the next time you will die and your satyr’s horns will hold a place of honor on my mantel. Now get out.”

He cautiously lifted off the blood-streaked satyr.

“One of these days, Roman, you will pay.” He flung the words at Quintus.

“She’s Antius’s daughter. Do you really think he’d let her mate with you? All you want is the power you think she has or will have. I am here to safeguard her from the likes of you.”

“She doesn’t even know what she is. How can she begin to use her power? She doesn’t even look like one of us.”

“Leave, Titus. Now.”

“This is not the last of this, Quintus.” And then he was gone, a trail of mist rising into the sky and vanishing.

Quintus whirled around only to find that Gulietta was no longer where Titus had dropped her to the ground. Already one block farther along, she was on her hands and knees in front of a man. Her hands at his belt.

Quintus raced down the street, ripped her away from the stranger, and shoved her back into the dark alley. He turned and growled at the man, baring his fangs. It was enough. The man spun around and ran down the street.

Quintus turned back to face Gulietta.

“You don’t need him. I’ll give you what you need.”

Her arms were wrapped around her waist as she tried to hold back the pain. When she looked up at him, her eyes blazed with blue-violet fire. Her teeth clenched tight, her lush, red lips drawn back in a grimace. He understood the war waged behind that look.

The lust was upon her. He saw it in the lines of her body as they softened and yet the sexual aura intensified, the look of the siren predator in every line. Her fingers slowly unfurled to shove her jeans down over her hips. He gripped her hand and felt the red-hot heat of her skin that almost singed him. The glow of sex, ruby silk flesh, the scent of hot cinnamon, spicy and enticing permeated the air as she revealed her sex.

“Then take me, damn you. I can’t stand the pain any longer.”

Quintus shoved her back into the alley as he released his cock from the confinement of his pants. It bobbed thick and tall. Larger than most men’s. But Gulietta was not most women. She would take him. Again and again and again.

She was a satyress and was meant for him.

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Best Friends Forever…

Best Friends Forever…

EyeforthePrize_cover_smThere’s something about childhood friendships.  I don’t know if it’s that as children, we possess that sheen of innocence, that certain unquestioning acceptance about the people who are a part of the formative years of our lives.  But there’s also a fear of losing special friendships if we reveal too much of what is in our deepest heart.  The moment is lost and we live with the regret of things not said. Sometimes we move on as we mature to new friendship spheres, and then sometimes not.  And we’re left with that lingering question in the back of our mind, “what if”?

Perhaps we have to move on, experience other things, follow different adventures before, maturing into our true self, like Dorothy discovering where the home of her heart truly lay, we recognize that one person who undeniably touches us heart and soul, giving breadth to our lives in a way we would never know without them.

Eye For the Prize is a discovery not just of an odd, supernatural object, but the rediscovery of friendship, of love, and perhaps the one person that makes anywhere truly home.  What would you give up to be united with that one true soulmate?  How far would you go?  And what if it came down to a choice between the man you love, or the family who raised you, whose blood you shared?  And there was no middle ground.  And what if the incident you’ve been set to investigate will eventually be the thing that changes your whole life?

In every object is a story, in every story there is a pulse of truth.  Finding the truth is Detective Larke Ava’s job.  Finding the object is Zhalazti researcher Roan Dwellen’s purpose. Reuniting with the boyhood friend who completed you was never part of the plan for either man.

Mystery, danger, heritage, and love.  Was there ever a more explosive combination?

Read an excerpt from Eye for the Prize

Buy link on Amazon

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection

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Morphing Into Pandemonia

 

Pandemonium: a place or scene of riotous uproar or utter chaos.  Bedlam.  Turmoil.  Babel.  The capital of Hell.

 I saw a cave, I saw two men, and I began to write, and I called this piece, “Dragon City.” I let it take me where it wanted to go.  Crispen had heard the rumors, but until this moment, he hadn’t believed they were real.

Combustible_smOne sentence leads to another, one thought follows, and barrels into the next.  The man glared at him steadily until Crispen was certain he could see flames in both his eyes.  He reared back, landing against the wall.

 And suddenly a premise materializes: It was the animals who ran the asylum and the humans who served.  But tied into that premise is the next: that humans are sometimes the savages, the predators.  And thus the crazy world of Pandemonia began to morph.

“You have no life anymore.  You belong to me now…”

 “Forfeit,” Crispen said.

 “For as long as I want it.  Isn’t that the law in Dragon City?”

 And so it began, the morphing of a world, the shaping, the creation, the defining of character.

Pandemonia is a dangerous future, where earth is now made up of prison colonies and societies are not what they once were.  Pandemonia is controlled by a conglomerate of scientists called the Nucleate.  And mutants, such as Drayce, one of the gen species they gleefully, maniacally create, have been incarcerated in Pandemonia when the end of the most recent intergalactic war ended their usefulness to the interglobal councils.

Societies and civilizations turned and twisted, no longer recognizable, laws of humanity mutilated by needs, instinct, and the powers of the Nucleate.  This is the world of Pandemonia, a future world gone reimagined darkly.

 

Read an excerpt of Pandemonia: Combustible

 

Purchase on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B079674H85

Currently a #kindleunlimited selection