I need your votes!!!
My erotic paranormal Unending Desire, Book One in my Outlawed Realm series, is up for BOOK OF THE MONTH at LASR (Long and Short Reviews). Wow – I am so thrilled!! The winner receives recognition for her work and advertising.
Voting begins today, Saturday February 4 and runs through tomorrow, Sunday February 5.
You can vote here: http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/
And here’s the review from LASR on Unending Desire
Unending Desire by Tina Donahue
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Genre: Paranormal, Action/Adventure, Suspense/Mystery
Length: Full Length (154 pages)
Rating: Best Book
Reviewed by CarnationHis hunger for one woman will make him a traitor to his world…
Outlawed Realm, Book 1
From a portal in his lab on E2, one of the five dimensions of Earth, quantum physicist Nikoli Zorr gazes on everything forbidden to him. Passion. Desire. The exquisite pleasure of running his hands over the lush curves of a young woman he should have stopped watching weeks ago.
His duty is to close the portals that keep the monsters out of E2—and never interfere with the inevitable fate of those on the other side. Yet he can’t bring himself to abandon the woman who has captured his soul.
Psychologist Regina Page is trying to keep her mind on her client, and off the mysterious, unbearable sexual cravings that consume her when she’s alone in her bedroom. The next moment she’s attacked by vampires, then swept into another realm by a stranger whose touch awakens that same raw desire. Whose eyes are already filled with farewell.
Yet beneath their undeniable carnal lust, something else stirs. The beginnings of illicit love. The unexpected need to protect him. Even if it means risking body, blood and soul to defeat the merciless horde…for a future that was never meant to be.
Nikoli Zorr watches through a portal into another dimension on Earth… an alternative reality. This looking has become longing for the thing he can’t have…a burning that grips his heart with need for the lovely woman he has watched for weeks. He watches from his science lab on E2, aware that he must find a way to save her from the horror he knows will otherwise befall her, this beautiful, innocent woman he already loves.
E2 is a dull, sterile world. It is an orderly, clean place devoid of bright colors, scents or intensity of any kind, including emotion. Genetic engineering there has left humanity mostly devoid of personal differences of appearance, and illness has been completely conquered. Nikoli longs for the passion, creativity and love he sees in this other world.
Psychologist Regina Page is having occasional flashes of erotic sensation that follow her in spurts throughout her day. She has the irrational feeling of a phantom lover that keeps bursting into her mind. Those feelings become visions of a lover caressing her…of his sensual lovemaking, which leaves her hot and needy. Then he passes through to her side and they meet. Both are so affected by the passion and hunger they have for each other that nothing else matters. Soon they are in one another’s arms.
But before he can love her as he has longed to, the vampires appear and together they must flee into the dimension from which Nikoli has come, where he explains their desperate situation. The vampires cannot follow to E2, but neither can Nikoli stay there for long due to the poison from a wound given him by one of the creatures.
Regina is a strong, courageous and nurturing heroine…traits we all want for ourselves, so it was easy to identify with her. I love how she was often the creator, leader and gifter, the one with the solutions and answers in their relationship as well as their terrifying dilemma. The sensitive and vulnerable Nikoli allows Regina to possess her personal power and direction. But Nikoli has a deliciously dominant side to him as well, which often makes this exciting story even more interesting!
I won’t give away the details of this suspenseful and captivating story, but I must say that there is not a moment in it that isn’t wonderful and thrilling. The worlds are painted with precision and eloquence. The scenes describing the vampires are chilling and appropriately horrific, setting the story’s stage and creating the urgent suspense and danger required to make the plot believable and engrossing. The love and need between Nikoli and Regina is beautifully portrayed and supported by their well told pasts. Their deep passion sizzles the ink right off the pages.
This is a book not to be missed. Tina Donahue has done amazing work that shines way above and beyond the average. The erotic scenes are so hot and the love affair so compelling that I couldn’t put the book down. If you love exciting paranormal-adventure romance with a generous dose of erotic action, pick up a copy of, Unending Desire. I recommend it enthusiastically!
How nutty are you??
This blog post by the mega-talented author Cerise DeLand ran on my other site Sweet n Sexy Divas. It so describes writers, I just had to run it again here. Enjoy!
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How nutty are you? We authors have our share of gems!
A few weeks ago I did a luncheon talk. One of those sing-for-your-chicken events.
I wanted to do something different and not talk about my latest book, which I figured the other 3 speakers would do. (They did.)
I came up with a list of nutty traits of authors.
Bet you have one or 2 of your own. And of course, because each of us–author or tinker, tailor, solider, spy– is goofy in our own tiny ways, I wonder if you have a trait that your family considers Ding-Dong.
Here are mine:
Writers are glamorous people.
We are obsessive, compulsive.
We don’t dare eat bonbons. We’d weigh 500 pounds.
We’re lucky if we get up from our chairs to down a glass of water.
We work in our robes.
And our pjs. (They are usually ratty. Please donate to your favorite author a new robe or set of pjs at every birthday and Christmas.)
I do love great French and Italian (expensive!) lingerie. (Pictured here from: http://www.agentprovocateur.com)
We walk around with glazed eyes.
You can talk to us, we often don’t hear.
You know we don’t hear you. Why? You must repeat everything and ask us to regurgitate it later.
Also, please be warned: We are not neat people.
Our desks have no visible wood.
Our files are scattered everywhere.
We read so much, so often that we leave piles of TBR books everywhere. As well as on our e-readers.
Why? Because NOTHING is beyond our interest.
We can tell you at any moment any of the following:
If Napoleon died of arsenic poisoning. (He didn’t.)
Who King Tut’s father and mother were. (Aknaton and his second wife.)
Describe how a cow’s C-section is done. It ain’t pretty.
How much an adult longhorn weighs. 1000-2500 lbs.
How to kill someone in a locked building without leaving trace evidence.
The differences between MI5 and MI6 and why exactly you should know this.
What’s more, we tell you these things often!
At dinner. At cocktail parties. During soccer or ballet class carpools.
Our children are filled with this stuff.
MY children call it: MOM”S USELESS FACTS.
Please note, all 3 of my children are writers. One was a poet. One is a filmmaker. The third writes for the corporate world’s CEOs.
All my children now spout their own interesting tidbits! Therefore, this kind of odd behavior is INFECTIOUS.
Where do we go for fun and excitement?
Authors go on great research trips…and if you belong to our families, you may come too.
What are they?
The Forensic Lab of the Texas Rangers in Austin, Texas.
Vineyards in Napa or France. Wine as education! Where else could that be such a joy?
SHAKEPEAREAN FESTIVALs. Where one learns more going on those back stage tours than ever in a book. We learn how to make wigs and when and how period costumes are made.
We go to intriguing places. BARCELONA and the 4 Cats where Pablo Picasso dined.
Venice and old cafes.
The creepy underbelly of rickety 12th century castles!
We authors never tire of this stuff!
What is your quirky little tendency? Any that affect your family?
Tell us!
And this is my latest release, out for Valentine’s Day from Decadent Publishing with my TOYS-4-US buddies! 5000 brief words of love and scorching hot sex!
Guest blog with Lillian Francis
Lillian’s hijacked my blog today to talk about her very FIRST published novel!! Is that great or what? She says some lovely things about me (*blush*) and is showing off her cover for Lesson Learned and an excerpt. So sit back, relax and leave a comment to show your love. 
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When Tina put out a general call for authors eager to pimp their wares, I jumped at the chance to get my first novel out there. I sent off the email, bouncing happily when her reply confirmed she could blog on my release date!
Then it hit me. I’m a first time author with an almost skin-crawling aversion to talking myself up. What would I write about? What was expected of me? What would people want to know about someone who they had never heard of before?
In a panic, I emailed Tina back, almost ready to pull out and hide back under my rock. Her reply was swift and held none of the disparaging tone I was half expecting. She explained exactly what she needed from me, without making any assumptions that I would know what format she required the files in, thus saving me the embarrassing task of having to email her back to ask. Then she suggested that I take a look at previous visiting author blog posts to get an indication of what to write. It was like a gentle hug in a warm duvet and just what my over-thinking mind needed.
Then it dawned on me—as I huddled in the warmth of her assistance and patience—a creeping knowledge of something I had been vaguely aware of since I started this whole process: Just how helpful other authors are to someone that is ultimately a rival for the readers’ hard earned buck.
Not that Tina and I could possibly be classed as rivals. Just a glance at my first book cover with its distinct lack of a scantily-clad buxom beauty should tell you that there is unlikely to be much of a crossover in our readership. Nevertheless, without knowing anything about me or the tale I am telling, she is willing to give up her time and a space on her blog to help me increase awareness of my book.
It is a gesture which I have seen time and time again since starting this journey.
The ‘many times’ published author, who hounded convinced me that I should try to send something off to a publisher and then held a gun to my back my hand through the whole daunting labyrinth of synopsis, agent letters and formatting.
My ever patient editor, who didn’t seem to mind the numerous emails with copious questions, and never once made me feel stupid about asking the things I did.
The people who blindly follow me on Twitter, despite not knowing who I am and that I have nothing interesting to say, and yet still help me with anything from English/American translations to setting up a blog site.
It is an eagerness to assist and share expertise which I never expected to find in the ‘cut-throat’ world of publishing. At first I thought it was the kindred spirit of that ever-growing band of published male/male erotic/romance writers. It isn’t. Maybe it is just romance writers in general, many of us who are finally living a long-held dream while still holding down a ‘proper’ job. I don’t know.
Never fear, I am not so naïve as to believe that everyone I come into contact with will be as welcoming or willing to impart their knowledge. Not everyone will like what I write or the style in which I write it, and I’m damn sure there will be as many reviews that are cruel as there are that are kind. I’ve learned to develop a thick skin and hold my tongue, you have to when you write m/m and aren’t afraid to tell people. Surprise, shock and, sadly in some cases, derision and disgust are all reactions I am used to having to deal with.
What I do know is that I have never once felt like I am on my own in this whole wonderful process.
For someone who didn’t have a clue what to say, I am aware I have babbled on long enough. So maybe it is time to do what I came here for and introduce you to Nathan and Drew.
Lesson Learned
By Lillian Francis
Released by Ellora’s Cave on 2nd February 2012 (http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9797-lesson-learned.aspx)
Blush sensuality level: This is a sensual romance (may have explicit love scenes, but not erotic in frequency or type).
Tired of having been constantly on the move, Drew is determined to make Cardiff his home. When Drew starts his new job as teacher in Cardiff, he strikes up an immediate friendship with Nathan Morgan, a young History teacher.
Nathan is instantly attracted to Drew, but doesn’t want to risk their fledgling friendship by declaring the extent of his desire. Completely oblivious to Nathan’s quandary, Drew doesn’t realize the true nature of his own feelings for Nathan until accusations from a student force both men’s hands.
But Drew has spent his life running away. Running away from his mistakes, his desires and a secret-filled past. Drew is forced to choose between running away once more and a possible future with Nathan.
I am particularly proud that this story is the first male/male romance released by Ellora’s Cave under their Blush range.
An Excerpt From: LESSON LEARNED
Yet another long corridor punctuated by wooden doors. The smell of paint still lingered, indicating the pale-green walls had been recently spruced up for the start of a new school year. The color also told Drew Jackman, as he glared at the floor plan in his hand, that this should be the Humanities department and consequently not only was he in the wrong corridor, but almost certainly the wrong block.
Damn his male pride, if he had accepted the assistance the Principal had offered, he would be safely ensconced in his new teaching domain by now. Instead he was wandering the corridors, lost. Yep, there was no other word for it, he was well and truly lost and this floor plan of the school made no sense what so ever.
And, of course, there wasn’t a student or teacher around anywhere to point him in the right direction.
The slap of rubber-soled shoes on the staircase to his right caught his attention and Drew moved through the double doors toward the sound. Maybe he wasn’t completely out of luck. There was a brief flash of denim as the sneakers carried on up the stairs and then Drew could hear the unmistakable sound of the doors above as they swung back on themselves.
It was the only movement in an otherwise silent building, so he followed it, but even as he did, Drew frowned, wondering who was prowling the corridors. The Principal had stated that all the students in school today, which was only the new intake of year sevens and the senior years, would be in orientation for the first two lessons, meeting tutors and student advisors.
Coming out into another green corridor at the top of the stairs, Drew spied his intruder at one of the notice boards that graced the walls in this particular part of the building.
Maybe he could get directions and exert a sense of authority at the same time. It wouldn’t hurt for the student body to get the impression that whilst he was a new teacher at the school, he was not going to be a pushover. And who better to start with than one of the senior students who, from the way he carried himself, looked like he would command respect and possible adoration from his peers.
“Shouldn’t you be in lessons?” Drew spoke clearly as he strode toward the young man.
Dark wavy hair flicked out as the young man’s head whipped round. Drew got the impression of amusement in gray eyes and a raised eyebrow in the blur of movement, but his face had been schooled into a deferential expression by the time his gaze settled on Drew.
“Actually, I’ve got a free period—” the young man started. A local boy, Drew realized. That was definitely a Welsh accent, and after four years in South London, it was a like a gentle caress to his eardrums.
“Still, library or sixth form center,” Drew interrupted the young man and saw that brief flash of amusement once more. “No hanging around the corridors.”
This time a grin split the young man’s face and he appeared to be struggling to get it back under control. “You must be Andrew Jackman.”
“That’s Mr. Jackman to you,” Drew reprimanded, although he was curious as to how he was already known when so far he had only met Shirley Hartley, the Principal. “What’s your—”
“I’m Nathan Morgan.” The pause was barely a heartbeat. “History teacher.”
He rarely got embarrassed, but Drew could feel his cheeks start to heat under the amused gaze of the other teacher. “Ah. Oops?”
In a desperate bid to bring this uncharacteristic blush under control, he glanced over the other man’s broad shoulders at the poster he had been pinning to the board. ‘Join the History Detectives’, it proclaimed, the remainder of the text disappearing behind a solid biceps which flexed as Drew focused on it, if the shift of material was anything to go by. This movement dragged his attention back to the unwavering gaze of the young history teacher.
Turning on the charm to save face—it had been his way of avoiding trouble and awkward situations since he’d been a boy—Drew grinned. “Aren’t you a little young to be a teacher?”
“I’m twenty four. I’ve been told I have a baby face,” Nathan confirmed with a shrug.
The gray irises were flecked with blue, and despite the nonchalant roll of his shoulders, Nathan had yet to look away. A sloping snub nose led down to full, but masculine lips and a strong chin, the skin smooth now, but Drew could imagine it would already be darkening with stubble before the school day was over.
He wondered how he could ever have mistaken this man for an adolescent. The baby face was an illusion, Drew decided. He glanced at the low slung jeans, the wide belt barely holding them up over narrow hips. A casual shirt, sleeves rolled up to expose the pale flesh of muscular forearms, was unbuttoned far enough to reveal an obscure band t-shirt.
“The clothes don’t help,” Drew teased, feeling almost instantly at ease in the other man’s company. Nathan, Drew reminded himself. His name is Nathan.
“What should I wear? Corduroy and tweed?” Gray eyes twinkled mischievously, the azure flecks multiplying until Drew would swear Nathan’s eyes were blue now if anyone had asked.
“You did say you were a history teacher.” Drew grinned, relishing the easy banter that they had slipped into. Relaxing against the wall, Drew crossed his feet at the ankles, the leather of his new boots creaking as they rubbed against themselves. He rolled his shoulders experimentally. The knot of tension that he had been carrying in his neck since he’d woken up that morning had disappeared at some point in the last ten minutes.
“And you teach science, but I don’t see a lab coat or test tube in your pocket.” Nathan jibed.
“How do you—?” Andrew asked, his confusion at being recognized once more reasserting itself. He pushed himself off the wall and thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers, the paper map of the school crushed in his fingers.
“The American accent,” Nathan confirmed. His eyes narrowed and it appeared he had picked up on Drew’s discomfort. “Shall we start again? Hi, I’m Nathan Morgan, a history teacher here at Everwood Community College.” Nathan thrust out his hand.
Slowly, Drew tugged his hands from his pockets, the paper map catching on the thin lining.
“Andrew Jackman. But everyone calls me Drew. I’m new here, in case it isn’t obvious. In fact, I’m new to Cardiff, just moved here from London.” Drew grasped the offered hand, noting the firm grip and shook it vigorously. “Do I call you Nate?”
“Hell, no. Nathan’s short enough, but Nathaniel’s a bit of a mouthful.”
“Nathan then.”
The intensity of Nathan’s grin was blinding, but Drew suspected it matched his own. Warm skin pressed against his palm. Drew felt the apprehension that always accompanied yet another fresh start slip away.
Nathan indicated the crumpled plan of the school Drew was still holding in his free hand. “You’ll get lost using that. I’m doing nothing first period. Want me to show you around?”
“Thanks.”
Nathan’s gaze flicked down to their hands. “You might want to let go of my hand first. The kids do like to tease.”
* * * * *
About the author
An avid reader, Lillian Francis was always determined she wanted to write, but a ‘proper’ job and raising a family distracted her for over a decade. Over the years and thanks to the charms of the Internet, Lillian realized she’d been writing at least one of her characters in the wrong gender. Ever since, she’s been happily letting her ‘boys’ run her writing life.
Lillian now divides her time between family, a job and the numerous men in her head all clamouring for ‘their’ story to be told.
Lillian lives in an imposing castle on a wind-swept desolate moor or in an elaborate ‘shack’ on the edge of a beach somewhere depending on her mood, with the heroes of her stories either chained up in the dungeon or wandering the shack serving drinks in nothing but skimpy barista aprons.
In reality, she would love to own a camper van and to live by the sea.
Find me at my blog here http://lillianfrancis.blogspot.com/
Or follow me on Twitter @LillianFrancis_
My February Contest is Now Open!!
BE MY VALENTINE
Rules: Simply leave a comment about the above picture AT THIS LINK and yummy guy and you’re entered in my January contest! WINNER CHOSEN AT RANDOM.
Duration: Contest begins February 1 and runs through February 25 – Winner announced February 26
Prize: Winner chosen randomly and will receive her choice of one of my following books:
1. Lush Velvet Nights – ebook – Reviewer’s TOP PICK the Pagan & the Pen; 5 ANGELS Fallen Angles Reviews; 5 STARS JERR
GOLDEN NIB AWARD – MIZ LOVE LOVES BOOKS
FINALIST – EPIC 2011 COMPETITION
2. Adored - ebook – 4 stars Romantic Times; Second Place Winner NEC RWA contest!
FINALIST – EPIC 2011 COMPETITION
3. Deep, Dark, Delicious - ebook – 4 stars Romantic Times; nominated for Book of the Week Whipped Cream Reviews; 5 Stars, Reviewer TOP PICK – NOR
FINALIST – EPIC 2011 COMPETITION
AWARD OF MERIT – HOLT MEDALLION 2011 COMPETITION
4. In His Arms – ebook – 6 FIVE STAR REVIEWS – recommended read TwoLips Reviews
FINALIST – DDRWA PICTURE PERFECT CONTEST
4 STARS – ROMANTIC TIMES
5. Sensual Stranger - ebook – Book of the Year 2010 (erotic category) Blue Moon Reviews
Recommended Read TwoLips Reviews – Best Book rating Whipped Cream Reviews – Five Siren Stones Siren Books Reviews – 5 STARS Top Pick Night Owl Reviews
4 STARS – ROMANTIC TIMES
6. The Yearning – ebook – Bestseller
Recommended Read Two Lips Reviews; Nominated for Book of the Week Whipped Cream Reviews; 4.5 Stars Sensual Reads
7. Take Me Away – ebook
Hot Stuff – #1 Pick – Miz Love Loves Books; 5 Stars – Romance Writers Reviews; 4.5 Hearts – The Romance Studio; 4 Stars – JERR; 5 Siren Stones – Siren Book Reviews
GOOD LUCK!!!
(Picture courtesy of PhotoBucket)
My February Newsletter is Available Now!!!
There’s great stuff inside:
1. Eye Candy (guys to drool over)
2. Upcoming events (what authors will be visiting me and where I’ll be so we can meet & chat), including CONTESTS!!!
3. News of my February contest
4. Free Reads (excerpts from my popular novels)
5. And more. . .
To get a copy of my newest newsletter and all my back issues, all you have to do is click here.
Guest Post with Shona Husk
Shona’s taking over my blog today to talk about the science behind myths and her great title Brightwater Blood.
So pull up a chair, relax and leave a comment to show your love.
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Science Behind The Myth
Brightwater Blood is set in what I call my ‘Fendrake’ world. Fendrake is the name of the organisation that polices the non-humans, and the hero of this story works for them as a tracker. My Ellora’s Cave series is also set in this world although none of the characters work for the organisation (they’re sexy Vampire rock stars). All the stories can be read as standalone novellas.
When I built this world I knew I’d use it for a few different stories as there was a lot I could do with it. But I also wanted scientific, not magical, reasons for the different subspecies. Here’s a peek at how my non-humans came into existence:
Vampires: being a Vampire is genetic. There’s a change in the junk DNA that binds the etheric body close to the physical body, this results in the fast healing…but also in the need for food rich in etheric, like blood.
Weres: Weres are caused by mitochondrial disease and transmitted through the maternal line. However if someone is bitten they can be infected but most die. Different strains of the disease cause the different creatures.
Shaman: these are my witches. They draw their power from the earth and emotion (especially during sex). It’s a recessive blood line that requires both parents to be Shaman to have a Shaman baby. As a result the Shamanic Council keeps very detail family trees.
These are my main non-humans, and each condition keeps them from becoming too powerful and overrunning the world. But it also built in conflict between the different non-humans even if they have to occasionally work together and fall in love.
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Blurb:
To survive, they’ll have to think outside the circle.
Were-lion Lachlan Garvey is closing in on the Brightwater women, the last of a Shamanic line that the Council wants eradicated for their murderous use of magic. One minute he’s in his animal form, examining a dead body in a patch of charred grass. The next, he wakes up human—naked, shot and lying in a circle of his own blood.
Dayna Brightwater is sure the man she’s bound with a blood spell is the one who just murdered her twin sister. Yet even if she did have the stomach for revenge killing, she doesn’t have the power. But what to do with him now? If she lets him go, he’ll kill her, too.
Trapped in the path of a deadly magical fire, Lachlan has to think fast—and talk faster—to convince the beautiful Shaman he’s innocent. As the roaring flames creep closer, Dayna must choose. Trust Lachlan and use magic to save them both…or flee. And live with the knowledge she caused his death, proving that no Brightwater is capable of love.
Warning: Contains a naked hero who’ll do anything to save his life…including saving hers.
Buy links:
http://store.samhainpublishing.com/brightwater-blood-p-6625.html
http://www.amazon.com/Brightwater-Blood-ebook/dp/B005Z73J4C/
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/brightwater-blood-shona-husk/1106974020?ean=9781609285791
My links:
Excerpt:
Lachlan squinted against the sunlight slicing through his head. He was sprawled on the ground, and his thigh was throbbing and burning as if a metal picket was speared through the muscle. His gut tightened as he remembered—he’d been shot. He closed his eyes and let his cheek rest on the ground as he slid his hand to his thigh. His skin was warm and wet and sticky beneath his fingers. His hand stilled. He’d been shot as a lion, yet he was human now, which meant his body had shifted in an attempt to heal while he’d been out cold.
A shiver rippled down his spine. He hated shifting while unconscious. Had she watched? Where was the woman with the gun now? The Brightwater shamans weren’t known for their merciful nature, but for the moment he was still alive. Probably not good.
He forced his eyes open. The sun was past the zenith, so he’d been out for at least an hour, more like two. Either way it was longer than he liked to be unconscious while on a job. It was longer than he ever liked to be unconscious. His head ached, but his jaw still worked and nothing seemed broken. His biggest concern was the bullet wound. He swallowed and gathered his thoughts.
Assess the injury, shift and get the fuck out of here before he got shot again or worse. An enraged shaman could make dying look like a good idea. The gory details of some of the old Brightwater files skittered around the edge of his consciousness. How long could a person live while a tree grew through them? Judging from the grimace of agony on the victim’s face in the grainy black-and-white photo, too long.
His plan was simple, but the best he could come up with while blood oozed through his fingers. Generally he didn’t mind blood, unless it was his. Then it became a whole lot more worrying. He glanced down his body but couldn’t see the wound while he was lying on his stomach in the dead grass.
Despite the protest in his skull he eased himself up. The world spun twice before settling. Cautiously he lifted his hand, hoping movement hadn’t made the wound worse. Blood wept in time to the beating of his heart. Not a gush, but more than he’d have liked. His heart sped up as terror searched to break free. He sucked in a breath and shut it down, years of training and experience keeping him almost calm. He didn’t have time to panic.
He slid his hand around the part of his leg he couldn’t see, searching for an exit wound, but there wasn’t one. That meant the bullet was still in his leg. Not good. Shifting with a bullet still inside him was risky because as his muscles and bones reshaped the bullet would move, possibly doing more damage, and he’d already, unwittingly, done it once.
On the other hand he was five kilometers from his car, and he’d never make the distance as a man, however as a lion he’d have a chance. He glanced at the house. For all he knew the other sister was inside. He doubted she’d ring him an ambulance or let him place a call. Risking the shift and making a run for safety was looking like the best idea…assuming he didn’t lose too much blood and go into shock on the way there. How much blood had he lost already?
Lachlan licked his lips. He was thirsty and his heart was beating too fast. He was already showing signs of shock. He didn’t have time to debate. The longer he waited the more blood he would lose and the more likely it was the shaman would come back and finish what she’d started.
He drew up the heat that brought on the change. It shimmered up his spine in a flood of warmth, then stopped as if it hit a barrier. He closed his eyes and tried again. He hadn’t failed to shift at will since he was thirteen and just learning. Instead of letting the energy blossom naturally, he pulled hard, as if he could push through whatever was blocking the heat. His muscles shook and his head pounded where he’d been struck. Sweat beaded on his skin where fur should’ve formed. He gritted his teeth. The agony of trying to force a shift grated on every nerve and forced his breath to come in hard pants. He let the shifting heat go and hunched over, weakened from the exertion.
Really not good.
The panic he’d been keeping a rein on slipped its collar and started running around, yelling, “you’re going to die”, making it very hard for him to concentrate.
This was bad. There were only a few ways to prevent a were from shifting. Lachlan swallowed with his jaw clenched tight. He couldn’t walk far like this—if he could walk at all. Maybe he could make it to the woman’s car. He opened his eyes and twisted around, trying to see if it was still here, then paused, a frown creasing his brow.
Around him was a thin white rope, stained dark red. Blood.
He was willing to bet a year’s pay it was the blood of the last European lion in existence. His blood.
Win $75 Amazon Gift Card at RBRU’s Valentine’s Day Contest!!
The Truth about Newt
(Photo from inquisitr.com)
I’m not a political person. Given that I’m liberal on social issues and fiscally conservative, I suppose that makes me an independent. I worry about where this country is going and whether our economy will ever stop tanking.
I’m also very sick of politicians. Right now, I’m really sick of Newt Gingrich.
The current brouhaha is whether or not he asked his second wife for an open marriage so he could continue dating his mistress. When asked that question during a debate, he turned on the media and blasted them for being negative.
Say what?
He doesn’t think it’s important whether the voters know if he’s trustworthy and honorable? I may not care if the person who bags my groceries is having multiple affairs or is cheating on his/her taxes, but I sure as hell do when it comes to someone who’s going to be passing or signing into law rules that affect my life. Especially rules that say I have to be a pillar of society when s/he can do whatever the hell s/he damn well pleases.
Newt’s anger was a disturbing thing to see. His rant was ridiculous. This is the guy who couldn’t wait to crucify Clinton for an affair when he (Newt) was having one of his own. My God, does he have no shame?
The thing that bothers me the most is the standing ovation he got for taking the media to task as if they’d done something wrong by simply asking him for clarification or to tell the truth. It also bothers me that he can be so blatantly dishonest and no one seems to notice or care.
Is this really the kind of person we want running this country? Have we fallen so far that we can’t even come up with someone worthy of the office?
Guest post with BJ McCall!!
BJ’s taking over my blog today to talk about her awesome books. So sit back, relax and be sure to leave a comment to show your love.
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Year of the Dragon
2012 is the year of the dragon and I love writing dragon shifter stories.
Dragons appear in myths and fairy tales and they are the keeper of treasure, protecting hoards of gold and jewels and the occasional maiden. I bring those mythical elements into my dragon stories.
My dragons soar and dive. Their wings flap, flutter and snap. Although their wings are important, dragons are far more complex. They have horns, scales, talons and beautiful long tails. They breathe fire and blow smoke and that’s why I love dragon shifters. All that fire stirs my imagination and I want the reader to feel the burn.
Dragon shifter characters are so unique and exciting I decided to do a series titled Dragonfire. My dragons must find their one true mate for only then will they experience dragonfire.
Book one, Captured, was released by Changeling Press in the fall. My heroine, Zira, has been captured and placed in an aviary as a pet for the tyrant, Targus. Her keeper, Laros, is a handsome, human thrall and his job is to take care of the fierce dragon and see that it flies for his master’s pleasure. In this story the dragon is the maiden and Laros is a modern knight who saves her.
Book two, Chosen, is the story of Karis, a female shifter whose fate was preordained because of a gold deal struck between her ancestor and a powerful sorcerer a thousand years ago. Born with a dragon on her hip, Karis is the chosen. According to legend, the location of a hoard of gold will be revealed when Karis bonds with her true mate. She’s been guarded all her life because even good dragons will do bad things for gold.
Book three of Dragonfire will be released later this year. I promise it will have fire, smoke, treasure and a hunky hero.
I wish you a very happy and lucky Year of the Dragon.
BLURB for DRAGONFIRE: Chosen
A thousand years ago, two dragon clans went to war over a cache of gold. To end the war, a sorcerer hid the gold and foretold of the birth of a female bearing the mark of the dragon.
Born with a dragon on her hip, Karis Nordrath is the chosen, and because of the mark she’s been guarded all of her life. According to legend, the location of the gold will be revealed when the chosen is bonded with her dragon mate, but the only dragon that stirs Karis’ fire is bodyguard, Rett Aurumon.
Rett left the Fire Mountains to follow a wanderlust he couldn’t explain until he laid eyes on Karis. Hired as her bodyguard, Rett doesn’t know if his true role is protector or mate. He doesn’t know Karis is the chosen, but he knows she’s the one.
CHOSEN is the second book in my Dragonfire series and is available now from Changeling Press.
http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1758
EXCERPT
Rett Aurumon stood in the front foyer of Gaden Hazac’s apartment waiting for his client. He walked to the end of the foyer, careful not to step into the spacious living room of glass, chrome and leather. The room had all the warmth of the man who lived within its pale gray walls.
Barefoot and wearing a pair of black sweats, Hazac entered the living room. “She’ll be ready shortly. Her hair was mussed.”
The tone of the lawyer’s voice and his lack of clothing got the point across. Hazac wanted Rett to know he and Miss Nordrath had had sex. Rett had often wondered why the man felt it necessary to make this point to a bodyguard.
Rett liked his job and his growing feelings for the woman he was hired to protect were disturbing, but he was certain of one thing. He disliked Gaden Hazac. “Thank you, Mr. Hazac.”
The lawyer walked over to a wet bar and poured himself a drink. Then Hazac turned his back on Rett and stared out the window at the city skyline.
Rett hadn’t expected his client’s boyfriend to engage him in conversation, and he’d never been invited into the living area of the apartment. Rett didn’t mind remaining in the foyer without benefit of restroom or a drink of water. The job required hours of tedious waiting. At least Rett didn’t have to listen to Hazac and his client making love.
The driver called to tell Rett the armored vehicle was in front of the building. Rett disconnected and his client entered the living room. Her dark gold hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders. She wore a bright blue blouse that complemented her eyes and a gray skirt that accentuated her trim figure.
Rett longed to let his gaze drift slowly down her shapely legs to the high heels she wore, but he kept his focus.
Hazac hustled to her side and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Hey, baby.”
When Hazac leaned down to kiss her, Miss Nordrath turned so that his lips brushed her cheek. She looked at Rett. “Is the car ready?”
“Waiting out front, Miss Nordrath.”
His client stepped back, extricating herself from Hazac. “Goodnight, Gaden.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Hazac said.
Rett opened the front door and checked the hallway. As he escorted his client out of the apartment, Rett glanced at Hazac. “Goodnight, Mr. Hazac.”
The lawyer glared at him, then downed his drink.
When they reached the elevator, Rett pushed the call button. “Did you have a nice evening, Miss Nordrath?”
She sighed. “Not one of my best.”
They stepped into the empty elevator. “Are you headed home, Miss?”
“Yes, thank you.”
As the car descended, Rett took advantage of the private moment to admire his client. She was twenty-seven, stunningly beautiful, with a generous smile and a musical laugh. Her features were delicate, her pale golden skin was flawless, her neck graceful, her breasts nicely rounded, her waist trim, her ass perfect and her legs long.
And the dreams she wrought were making his nights pure agony.
She glanced at him and smiled. Rett was sure she’d caught him looking, but was saved by the loud ding of the elevator bell, announcing they’d descended to the lobby floor. The doors opened. Rett stepped out first and checked the building’s foyer before his client exited the car.
He repeated the security check as they exited the building.
“Rett, why don’t you call me Karis?”
Because I need the reminder that I’m just an employee.
“I’m following instructions, Miss.”
“My father’s instructions? You have my permission to call me Karis.”
“Thank you, Miss.”
He opened the back door of the Nordrath vehicle. Karis’ car was heavily armored with a trained driver at the wheel. Rett rarely left her side.
She climbed into the vehicle, then looked up at Rett and grinned. “You’re not going to do it, are you?”
He grinned back. “No, Miss.”
Rett shut the heavy door. He’d never say it out loud, but that wouldn’t stop him from thinking of her as Karis.
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