The Hot and Deadly Blog Hop is here!

Sexy athletic body

He comes into the room and your eyes immediate gravitate. He’s hot, he’s built, he is a man in his physical and sexual prime and, ladies, he is on the prowl tonight. There’s just one problem: when you see him smile that sinful smile…when you feel the hard, sinewy heat of him backing you up against the nearest wall…when he dips his head towards yours and all you can breathe is that dark and hungry chuckle that rumbles up from deep down in his chest…when he finally–finally–puts his hands on you…will you survive it? Welcome to the Hot and Deadly blog hop.

As with any other blog hop, there are prizes for participation on this and many other sites, so while you’re here, enjoy my sneak peek of Incubus Moon and the hot and very deadly male within. Leave a comment with your contact info and you’ll automatically be entered to win your choice of my books. And when you’ve finished, don’t forget to click the icon above to visit all the other talented authors offering their own contests and prizes.

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“What do you want?” she demanded. Again, her voice did not tremble, but the sword and her arms had begun to.

Another smirk. She was beginning to think maybe, like Scar, that was his only way of smiling. “The alarm is sounding. We’re under attack.”

“Why aren’t you defending the walls with the others?”

Delsin startled, but like a blink, his surprise winked through his eyes and vanished again. “I am not a Light-Bearer and far too important to risk standing on the walls at night. Emen didn’t tell you?”

“I’m sure there are many things he hasn’t yet told me.”

Delsin leaned toward her, lowering his voice as he confided, “He kept me this close when I was new, too. It won’t last. He never keeps any of us for long.”

Veda slid back another step. It wasn’t retreating, per se; she just didn’t want him so close as to make the sword—the increasingly heavier tip shaking badly now and beginning to angle downward—a useless defense in her hands. It didn’t work anyway. For every backwards step she took, Delsin advanced.

“He needs us to love him,” he said, “before he releases us to fend for ourselves out amongst the rest of the refugees. Do you know why?”

“No.” Her next step back bumped her into the wall. When Delsin pursued, she reflexively raised the sword until it was almost touching him, but Delsin hardly looked at it. Instead, he reached for her, catching the tip of her sword between his fingers and lightly pushing it aside. One more lazy step closer, and he was standing directly before her. She stiffened, lowering the now useless sword until it bumped against the floor, and he leaned into her, bracing his arm against the wall at her back.

His echoing exhale brushed across her collar. His fingers played in her hair. “If we love him, we’re less likely to kill him.”

Veda willed herself to stop trembling. She refused to tremble, to cower against the wall like a frightened child, her knuckles white on the hilt of her now useless sword. “Why would we?”

A pause only a heartbeat long, and then Delsin tipped his head again. “Because,” he said with exaggerated patience, “they are all demons.”

“Have you not seen your own reflection? What do you think we are?”

Delsin stiffened, affronted. “We weren’t born like this! It was an accident!”

“What difference does that make?” she demanded, and suddenly she was more tired than either angry or scared. “We are as trapped here as anyone else. Our own people would find us terrifying. We are one missed feeding away from committing murder.”

His brows furrowed. “I am no demon.”

“Your skin is black as pitch,” Veda said, her voice dropping into that same sarcastically patient tone he’d just used. “You have talons and claws. Horns sprout from your head and your eyes are glowing. You are a mortal-born incubus, Delsin, regardless of how it came about.”

He glared, his resentment obvious. “You think yourself any different?”

“My point exactly.” Leaving the sword leaning against the wall, she pushed past him to open the door. “You should leave.”

“I always take shelter here when the attacks come.” Delsin followed her, but did not leave. “Emen likes to feel protective of his mates.”

If he thought to shock her by that admission, he should have let it drop hours ago. Veda held the door open wider and waited. “Hide somewhere else.”

Every nuance of his expression had stilled into unreadable stone. “When I become a Light-Bearer, we will see who he wants then.”

A great amber fist punched past Veda’s shoulder, seizing Delsin by his tunic and yanking him out the door. Turning, Scar flung the smaller male violently off the stoop, chasing only far enough to send him scrambling with a derisive kick to the ass.

“Crazy, bug-eyed sheep-sucker,” Scar muttered, ripping the door out of Veda’s hand and slamming it shut before a now furious Delsin could pick himself up off the ground.

“And you can follow him!” Veda hissed when he rounded on her next. She grabbed the door handle, but he wrenched it from her hands and promptly slammed it again. The rasp of her voice cracked, giving way to squeaks of fury. “I said get out!”

She punched her fists against his shoulders and shoved, but Scar shoved back and the whole door shuddered when she hit it. He moved in, the hard length of his body pinning her to the unyielding wood.

“I’ve missed this,” he said, smiling, all winsome teeth and arrogance. When he leaned into her, all the inches of him pressed against all the inches of her. “Not quite where we left off though, is it?”

He pulled back, gazing admiringly down the length of her. Two thick fingers wandered down off her shoulder, dipping into the vee of her shirt to feel the softness between her breasts. She slapped his hand only because she didn’t think she’d like the repercussions from slapping his cheek.

Yanking her off the door, Scar snapped her around and shoved her back against it. He fell against her back, catching each of her hands and forcing them flat against the planks by her head. He buried his face in her hair. His breath steamed her shoulder and her ear. “This is better, yeah?”

Her efforts to squirm out from under him did little more than rattle the door. She gave up, and glared at the hard planks instead. “You should be helping Emen defend the Settlement.”

“I should be stuffed to the balls right up your sweet crack. Of both options, guess which one I favor.”

Fury exploded red-hot behind her eyes and she threw herself into another fit of useless squirming. She bumped her own chin, felt the bite of splinters stabbing through her shirt into the soft flesh of her belly, breasts and thighs, and thoroughly exhausted herself in the process.

“I like you like this,” Scar murmured behind her ear, when she at last fell panting, fuming and still once more. “Fiery, angry…beneath me. Want to fuck?”

“No,” Veda said through her teeth. She twisted her head far enough to glare at him. “I am done with this. I won’t be a bone for you to fight over anymore.”

“I like this bone.” He tugged at her shirt, inching the cloth up to her waist until his fingers found her bare skin. He rubbed her hips. “You sure you don’t want a little pump and tickle before Numbfuck gets home?”

She growled.

Scar rumbled laughter just behind her ear. “Gods, I could come on that sound alone. Do it again.”

“He’s going to smell you, first thing when he walks through this door. And when he comes after you, I won’t try to stop him.”

“No?” He pressed his hot mouth to the back of her neck. “Well then, let’s make sure he gets the right message, yeah?”

Her whole body stiffened when she felt him jerk at the fastenings of his pants. When he pushed back, Veda twisted sharply away. She spun to confront him, but Scar was moving away from her, his pants held up with one hand, his cock gripped in the other. His weapon of choice, he put it to a wholly unexpected use. While Veda stood aghast, he urinated all over the house, splashing the floor, the furniture, spraying in wide arcs to reach as much of the room as he could and, when that failed to go far enough, began to walk around. As the steady flow weakened, he turned back to her and deliberately splashed a golden arc across both her feet.

“There,” he said over Veda’s squawk of disgust, refastening himself into his pants. “That should state things clearly enough, don’t you think?”

Tearing her shocked gaze from her feet, Veda stared at him.

Chucking her lightly under the chin and giving a lock of her hair a playful tug, Scar opened the door to go. “He knows where I bed. Tell him I’ll wait up.”

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Incubus Moon available now on Amazon Kindle: $4.99

We have a winner!

Congratulations to the winner of a free ecopy of Incubus Moon: Anne (acm05)! I have sent you an email. As soon as you reply, I’ll send you your copy.🙂

And thank you very much to everyone who played! Another copy is being offered to anyone who comments on any Sizzling Summer post, so there is still a chance to win another copy of Incubus Moon if you want to participate.

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Sizzling Summer Reads Blog Hop

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If you haven’t already joined the Sizzling Summer Reads hop hosted by The Romance Review, it’s not too late! Prizes are already being awarded, but the fun continues to run all through to the end of June! More than 400 participating authors equals more than 400 prizes and you don’t have to buy anything to enter. Just click the link above to join the fun, and for a chance to win a copy of Incubus Moon in my own private giveway, simply comment on any of my Sizzling Summer posts. Only 1 comment per post will be accepted, but if you leave 1 comment on each post, your name will be entered for each comment.🙂 So, for this week’s hot as summer excerpt, here’s a sneak peak at Incubus Moon.

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Veda held herself still, staring into the shadows beyond the ladder and the hatch until she felt that familiar itch of awareness that precipitated the approach of an incubus. Emen. It had to be. But from the sound of the footsteps trudging the cobblestones toward his door, he was not coming to her alone.

Careful not to wake the spikey, Veda disentangled herself from his clinging limbs far enough to roll partway onto her back. She looked toward the loft rail, watching the amber glow of flickering firelight dancing on the far wall and the cut of shadow that temporarily banished it when Emen opened the door.

There was a moment of silence below, one that seemed to stretch on forever before Emen’s calm voice drifted up to her ears. “Come inside, but speak quickly and quietly.”

Heavy boots crossed over the threshold and the spiraling curve of Emen’s horns moved out of the door to cast their own long shadows on the wall. A second, lighter set of footsteps followed his and, an instant later, the unmistakable scent of a human male drifted up through the cracks in the loft floor. Veda closed her eyes, breathing it into her—his sweat, his skin, the blood pulsing through his veins. She could practically hear the alluring beat of his heart.

Rolling quickly away, Veda covered her nose with both hands. She breathed in the slight insect smell of Keegee instead, her claws digging into her own cheek with the effort it took not to spring straight over the loft’s rail and drop down on the man like some mindless beast. She swallowed convulsively, forcing the succubus within back down again.

“How many did we lose?” Emen asked.

“Four,” the human answered. “Not including the Light-Bearers. How our walls were breached, I don’t know. It’s as if they knew where to attack and how. Three Light-Bearers—three! And no one saw it happen? Were we not in the midst of an attack—if it weren’t madness just to think it—I would suggest the culprit likely a member of this community.”

Struggling to calm her breathing, Veda opened her eyes. Her brow beetled as she turned a hesitant ear back to listen.

“Emen,” the human lowered his voice. “We have two Light-Bearers left. That’s not enough.”

Emen was somber and quiet. “I know.”

“There will be panic come morning.” The human drew a hard breath and held it before, with a softly expelled sigh, he said, “I know your reasons, but Delsin…”

“Will never be a Light-Bearer,” Emen firmly finished for him. “Do not ask again, Cleavon. I will not allow it.”

“Who, then? Palo’s boy—”

“Is barely nine. I have done many things wrong in this life, Cleavon, but to pit a child against butchers…No. I may not be able to shield his ears from their night screams but I can guard the innocence of his eyes. At least, for a while longer.”

Both men fell silent, and in that silence, Veda’s skin began to crawl. She couldn’t tell from Emen’s shadow, but she had the distinct feeling that he was staring up at the loft.

A moment later, the human confirmed her suspicion with a much more softly spoken, “Dalen says she’s wounded.”

“We are all wounded,” Emen replied, sounding tired.

“If she can’t control her hunger—”

“She has not attacked you yet.”

Veda hardly dared to breathe, much less move. Her mouth watered. Her skin crawled.

A few seconds later, one set of footsteps retreated under the protection of the loft. Very softly, his tone not far above a whisper, the human asked, “What if she can’t hold the Light? You said you—”

“In that regard, what I want doesn’t matter,” Emen interrupted. “Let it be, Cleavon. Tomorrow is soon enough to find what answers we still need. I am tired. I would to bed.”

“Kimara,” the human said finally. “She’ll be gentle with her. And she’s mortal-born, so the feeding urge…”

“Yes. Good night, Cleavon.”

Emen’s shadow shifted and then the door swung open again. After a brief pause, the human, Cleavon, retreated back across the floor. At the threshold, though, he hesitated, the topmost curve of his shadowed head glimpsed on the wall beyond the loft’s rail. “Emen? It’s good to have you home again. Regardless of what some might say.”

Horns dipping into a nod, the incubus waited for him to go. Silent and still, he remained standing there long after he’d closed the door. And when he did finally come to bed, the sound of him climbing the ladder seemed weary.

He was halfway up through the hatch when he noticed Keegee in his bed. He paused, his dark eyes moving beyond the spikey to her. There was no point in pretending sleep; she held his gaze until, with a shake of his head, he finished climbing the last few steps.

“He was scared,” Veda whispered over Keegee’s head.

“And you?” Emen asked, adjusting the swaddle of blankets over that bed on the floor.

“Maybe just a little.” It didn’t feel so bad a lie since she could tell by looking at him, that he knew it for exactly what it was.

He shook his head and came back to bed. His fingers brushed her cheek, smoothed back her hair, and then he bent and picked the sleeping spikey up. Keegee roused, but snuggled down into the blankets when Emen lay him down and wrapped them over him. Even with the spikey, his hands were never anything but gentle.

Veda rolled to face him as he moved around the bed to sit at the edge of the mattress on his side. “What’s a Light-Bearer?”

He reached back, stroking her hair once. “Not tonight, please.” His palm came to rest, warm on the bare slope of her shoulder. “There will be time enough to talk of it in the morning. I have doubled the watch. Know that we are safe. Close your eyes. Sleep.”

Veda did not argue, but she didn’t close her eyes either. She watched instead, wincing with him when he pulled his arm back and bent to unlace his boots. “They are broken, aren’t they?”

“I’ll be all right.” Emen moved stiffly, pulling each boot off and setting them aside where, hopefully, they wouldn’t be tripped over later. “Did you have company while I was gone?”

And just like that, the question she had been dreading was lying in bed between them.

“Delsin,” she said reluctantly.

He turned his head, though not far enough to look at her. “Delsin?”

“Scar threw him out.” She suspected she was telling him nothing he did not already know.

Emen grunted. “And who threw him out?”

“I asked him to go.” Those words sounded silly falling from her mouth.

“Asked.” Emen grunted again and looked down at his hands.

“I did not lie with him,” she offered softly, her face burning.

He did turn now, reaching across to cup her cheek. His fingertips caressed. “I would not send you away if you had.”

She turned into his palm, curling into his touch and let hers wander up the length of his arm to his shoulder. She would have stroked down his back, but her fingers would have trailed over the same place that Scar had struck. His skin was so dark and with the only light being the fire in the hearth below the loft, she couldn’t make out bruises, but he was moving stiffly, his breath softly catching as he leaned back to lie down beside her. He didn’t take off his pants first.

Rising up on one arm, Veda shifted closer. Careful where she touched him, she let her hand settle on his stomach and then his cheek.

“I am tired,” he said, cupping her hand in his and giving her fingers a squeeze.

“I know,” she said softly. “But you’re hurt too. Don’t you want me to heal you?”

Uncertain, she would have drawn away, but he hooked his hand around the back of her neck and drew her down instead.

“Yes, I want you. Yes, you can heal me. And no, I am not angry with you. Though I know you did not ask that, I can hear it in your voice. It is not my intent to hurt you. I meant only what I said. Tonight has been long, tomorrow will be even longer, and I am…I am tired.” In the faint light, she thought she saw him smile. If he did, it was very slight. “Little sips,” he murmured, his warm fingers playing across her nape. “That is all I need from you tonight.”

She gave it willingly, moving close to him, careful of how and where she touched him so as not to hurt him any more than he already was. He smelled good, a little smoky, a little sweaty, but still good. Heady. Like his kisses, soft against her lips, coaxing her to open and drink of him. She refrained. He was the injured one now, and she let him tug and pull at all her sensual strings, twining them even as he drew them out of her and leaving himself behind, whether she drank or not.

The heat and scent of him flavored each breath she took. His heartbeat quickened, and his kisses deepened. She caressed his chest, letting her fingers trace the hardened dips and planes. His hands moved over her in turn, hungry possession overriding tenderness until that moment when he abruptly rolled with her, laying her upon her back as he rose above her. It hurt him. His breath caught, tearing partway between a grunt and a gasp.

“Are you all right?” she asked, breathless.

“Yes.” He pulled back onto his knees, and for a moment she thought that her answer, until she realized he was pulling her up too, working her shirt out from under her hips in short jerks until it came free. He gathered the folds between his hands, sweeping it off over her head and discarding it to the floor even as he pushed her back down. He covered her, his hands moving to her hips, his mouth finding hers once more.

“I thought you were tired,” she said, lifting her chin and turning slightly away when he began to drift down along her jaw. Her toes curled when he reached her ear, her fingers ran along the waist of his pants where cloth met midnight skin.

“Exhausted,” he rumbled as she found the fastenings and worked them open. When she slipped her hand inside, he closed his eyes and his breath caught.

“Oh well,” she teased, smiling and wrapping her other arm around him. “Don’t let me keep you up, then.”

Bowing, he pressed his forehead lightly to hers. “Woman,” he breathed, his whole body beginning to rock to her stroking touch.

He groaned when he entered her and while that, in part, might have had something to do with his ribs, all the moans that followed after did not.

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Don’t forget to check out the Bad Boys of Romance Blog Hop before it ends!

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Bad Boys of Romance Blog Hop!

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Oh, the allure of bad boys. Don’t get me wrong, heroes are lovely. But there’s just something about bad boys that women can’t resist, and I am certainly no exception. I don’t know what it is about them that holds me so hypnotically spellbound, but I do know each and every one of them holds a very special place in my heart. Allow me to grant you a peek at my secret list.

Do you remember your first bad boy crush? I do. His name was Snake Plissken. He walked onto screen for the first time wearing futuristic military-ish fatigues, prison chains and an eye patch. He spoke in whispered rasps and you just knew he was dangerous.

An even worse movie, who remembers that campy horror b-flick ‘I Come In Piece?’ Pick your alien, good or bad, didn’t matter. Gravelly voices, long trench coats, killing practically everyone unfortunate enough to happen across them.

Riddick in Pitch Black, enough said.

The Predator, 6-foot plus in height and so secure in his manhood as to stalk through not just one movie, but five—armed to the teeth and dressed in fishnet body stockings.

In movies, they are visually stunning, but in books they are even more so, tickling our cerebral need for a lover so strong, so powerful, so deadly that we can’t help but fall enthralled even as we wonder whether or not we’ll survive the sex. And yet, what a way to go.

Despite my long-standing love affair with the Lords of the Underworld (pick a lord, any lord), my lastest cerebral love affair has been with none other than Kresley Cole’s Lothaire. Oh, and he is so deadly—arrogant, handsome, charming, ambitious, deviant, and did I mention, a vampire driven insane by all the memories he’s stolen from those he’s…shall we say, sampled? What’s not to love about that?

Not a thing.

No, I am a hard-core bad boy lover, and when I discovered this blog hop, I just knew I had to be a part of it. Go. Don’t walk, run (yes, with computer in hand) and visit the talented authors offering up snippets of their very own bad boys for you to sample. Leave your comments to enter for chances to win free ebooks, chock full of heroes, anti-heroes and the bad boys we love to lose ourselves in. Every comment left on my blog will be entered into my own personal contest with the prize being an ecopy of Incubus Moon. So, allow me to offer you a sneak peek glimpse of my favorite bad boy of all. He is the incubus Scar. For four years, he held my heart and he is truly irredeemable.

Or is he?

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“We were in no position to help,” Emen said, as if he could see the direction of her thoughts. “We were outnumbered. We have no shelter and you are vulnerable. Though I know you do not wish to be, Veda, you are much too important to risk, not even for the sake of that poor woman. I swear, I will hunt for her when we get back. I will find her if I can.”

Furious, with them as much as her helpless self, Veda threw up her hands. “I know, all right? I know.”

“Doesn’t change anything though, does it?” Scar asked, smirking. “You’d go running after them right now if we let you.” She glared until he barked, casting derisive laughter to the tree tops. Slinging her pack off his shoulder, he tossed it on the ground at her feet. “Go then.”

Veda bent to grab it, but Emen managed to snag the straps ahead of her.

“Stay,” he told her, shouldering it himself and turning his reproving scowl on Scar. “This constant bickering will bring nothing but the hungry Horde to investigate. You said there was a place we might den not far ahead?”

“If it’s not already occupied.” Scar studied her through narrowed eyes.

“We need to find it before it gets too dark.”

Shifting his sullen gaze to Emen, Scar must have agreed because he turned and started walking again. But after only a few steps, he snapped around and came back to her.

“Don’t,” Emen warned, throwing out a staying arm, but Scar knocked it aside.

He came toe to angry toe with her, catching her chin and jerking her back to face him when she tried to side-step around. “Tell me, infant, did you actually have a plan or was it all half thought out gut-fire bravado and stupidity?”

“Of course, I had a plan!” she snapped back.

“Fuck if you did.”

“I was going to rescue her!”

“They’d have caught you,” he scoffed. “They’d have thrown you over their shoulders and run, weaving a path of confusing scents through the brambles and brush, going just as far and as fast as they could make that bitch and her brats move, until they were sure I was no longer behind them…”

“And Emen,” Veda said stiffly, shooting him another hard look. “Don’t even try to say he would not come for me if he could, Scar. I know better!”

“Yeah, he’d come,” Scar smirked. “But it’s not him they’d be the most afraid of.” Then he thumped her on the nose. “And don’t make trouble where it doesn’t need to be.” He yanked her back when she tried again to push past him and walk on. “You didn’t answer my question. What were you going to do when they threw you down and began taking turns? Or didn’t you think that far?”

“I know what would happen!” She caught his wrist and tried to pry free, but he only tightened his hold until her increasing fury finally broke free. “I’d have spread my legs and pretended my eyes were every bit as hollow as hers were!”

His jaw clenched twice. “You wouldn’t know how.”

“I’m the harem prize of the Shadow and his Devil,” she spat. “They’ll believe I’m every bit as docile as I pretend, and they’ll relax. They’ll become complacent!”

Scar growled, his grip tightening on her arm. “How fucking complacent do you think I’d get, yeah?”

She opened her mouth only to close it again, the obvious answer not at all to her liking. “Eventually, even they have to sleep.”

As if speaking to a very small child, Scar said, “There were four of them.”

His tone much gentler, Emen added, “They will take turns standing guard throughout the days and nights.”

“For potential ambush from you or the Horde, yes!” Veda cried. “But not from two women they consider helpless and cowed!”

“That’s your plan?” Scar laughed at her. “To stand your own watch until you finally spy an ill-guarded moment and a forgotten knife?”

She lifted her chin. “That’s right.”

“Then you’ll steal it?”

“Yes.”

“Hide it in the folds of your bedding, endure rut after fumbling rut until that perfect opportunity when, in the quiet of the night, only the weakest of the bucks remains awake. Then what? Will you slip unnoticed from out beneath whoever lies sprawled on top of you, cozy to him, pet your pretty cunt until the breeding oils are flowing and fragrant? Will you hold yourself open to him, showing him where his cock most wants to go, until his fear of the big male diminishes just enough for him to allow you closer?” Scar sidled in closer himself, bending his head until she felt the heat of his breath against her lips. His dark eyes bored into hers. “Will you hold yourself cold while he buries his face between your treacherous thighs, drinking you in like bitter water?” He tipped his head, his face hardening. “Nah, I’ll bet you make it taste as sweet as clover honey.”

Veda glared at him, shaking.

Reaching up, Scar caught an errant wisp of her hair and curled it between his fingers, giving an almost playful tug. “You’ll pull your stolen knife then, yeah?”

She swallowed hard, her throat feeling almost too tight to allow it.

“Plunge it into his back?”

She shook. “Yes.”

“Spear his beating heart and hope you can muffle the sound as his muscles spasm and push out his grunting cry.”

“That’s enough,” Emen said, but Scar’s smirk only grew and Veda’s shaking grew along with it, coiling inside her, becoming something dark and furious all on its own.

“He was gray, wasn’t he?” Scar lowered his head a few inches until his eyes were even with hers, staring into her as if he could read the answer for himself. “Yeah, that big fuck who ate your throat; I seem to remember he was gray. You didn’t get to kill him, did you? So now, our poor, weak, unlucky nomad is going to pay that price. You’ll make him feel that debt in every cold steel inch that you sink into him. Tell me, my pretty, venomous little infant—” Scar leaned in to her, his voice dropping intimately low, his breath caressing her cheek like the hand of a lover. “—will you twist the blade? Before you rescue your poor, defenseless Niva, will you stand with his blood dripping through your fingers, twisting the hilt until it lodges in his bones? Will you do it just to watch him writhe, to see the look in his wide, disbelieving eyes when he realizes he’s been killed by a mortal-born cock-sheath?”

Veda stared at him, but she couldn’t see. She couldn’t breathe. She barely felt the tips of her claws cutting into the flesh of her palms as she clenched them, tighter and tighter, shaking and glaring, hating him—hating everything—in that moment with a depth of passion she had not thought herself capable of.

“Yes,” she hissed.

Scar closed his eyes briefly. “Ha,” he exhaled, savoring the honesty his viciousness had wrung from her before rumbling his soft mocking laughter. “That’s my girl.”

More than 400 authors, Fun, Reads and PRIZES!

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Welcome to the Sizzling Summer Blog Hop! Starting June 1st and running all the way to the 30th (yeah, I know, I’m a little late), theromancereview.com has signed on more than 400 authors, rounded up more than 400 prizes (plus those given out by the authors themselves!) and tons of fun games that get you entered in to win, win, WIN! Simply click on the button above or on the side bar to start hopping. Visit your favorite authors, find a few new ones, and enjoy the free and sexy sizzle of hundreds of spicy hot romances.

Falling into the full spirit of the thing, and being a soul who is not beyond a little shameless self-promotion, I am offering my own contest with the grand prize being a chance to win a free ebook copy of my newest release, Incubus Moon. What do you have to do to win? Each week I will post a sizzling excerpt from one of my books. All you have to do is comment and your name will be automatically entered into the drawing. Then check back on the 30th to see if you’ve won!

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Today’s sizzling excerpt is from Golden Song, my paranormal dragon shape-shifters romance, available now on Amazon!

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She was dreaming; she had to be.  And if she was, then thank God, because that meant she’d finally fallen asleep.

Standing on the roof of her building, her toes aligned with the very edge of the raised brick ledge, Polly held out her hands, not at her sides as if for balance but straight out in front of her.  It was late.  Wind and drizzling rain kissed her skin, and even in sleep, her eyes were burning, a testament to how truly tired she was.

Spread out around and below her, the city was anything but silent.  Like the gold tucked up under her mattress, it sang at her, but with a cacophony of honking cars, TVs and radios, arguing and fighting…and growling.  He was out there.  Somewhere.  She breathed in, finding that familiar scent hanging so heavy in the damp air—the man with the amber eyes—haunting her dreams, making her body heat, her belly coil, and her pussy thrum and throb.

Jump, a soft voice whispered in her mind.

She looked down at the wet concrete below, compelled to obey and not at all sure why.  A reflection of yellow street lights rippled on the wet pavement below.  Drops of cool rain dampened her nightshirt and panties, beading everywhere it found her bare skin, and a wealth of golden song, hidden in the pockets of a stranger, beckoned.

Jump.

A baby bird on the verge of her first flight, Polly spread her arms wider and, as if on cue, the wind picked up.  It shoved at her, pulling on the damp hem of her t-shirt and tugging at her hair.  She shivered, unafraid, Need warring with excitement and music itching under her skin.  Her bare legs tipped her forward.

Jump, the voice commanded, and spreading her arms to catch the air, Polly did.

She fell like a rock.

For four very short stories, she felt the fluttering of her damp nightshirt rippling around her, and something else—some deep and dark thing inside her—writhing to break out as the pavement came rushing up to meet her.

She was just wondering if the pain of impact would wake her when her back was hit.  Bands of soft steel latched onto her arms, hips and legs and a hard yank at the very last second, followed by the sound of loud flapping, like laundry snapping in the wind, sent the tips of her hair smacking against the ground.  Her fall reversed.  She rose again.  Not straight down the way she had fallen, but sideways, rising fast as she travelled the length of the dark street, soaring up and over the top of the corner streetlamp so close that, could she have worked one hand free of the talons that clutched her, she could have touched the smooth metal dome.

Talons?

Polly looked down at herself and at the three-toed claws—four giant scaly feet, all hugging her securely close.  She looked over at the shadowy wings, beating so effortlessly to either side of her, lifting her into the hazy yellow-black of the sky, high above the buildings and weaving her over rapidly diminishing streets and apartment complexes, around tall corporate skyscrapers, up and up into the chill of the night sky.

Stinging rain flew in from under those wings to pelt her bare skin.  They soaked her clothes, plastering thin cotton into a second skin, and she shivered.  Twisting back her head, she looked up through the blonde curtain of her own flying hair at the black scaly chest, the long slender neck, the massive horn-ridged head of the dragon who had caught her.

Twisting, he looked down at her.  The fiery yellow of his eyes burned into her.  He rumbled, a soothing vibration that rolled out of his chest and into hers.  His claws tightened, as if expecting her to struggle, but Polly was dreaming and she was not afraid.  She turned her hands, clasping his talons in turn and marveling at the smoothness of the scales she felt.  The heat of him was like a furnace all around her, off-setting the cold of the rain as he turned, banking sharply right, aiming for a tower of luxury apartments on the wealthier northern side of town.

Circling the tallest structure, he veered onto a penthouse terrace overlooking both a garden and a pool.  His wings beat harder as he slowed, coming in as close to the patio doors as a beast his massive size could get.  His grip on her slender body relaxed.  He let her go in slow stages, one claw at a time, until her feet hung free.  She was dangling bare inches above the patio bricks when he finally let her drop. She landed, stumbling slightly before catching her balance, and watched with a curious absence of fear as the dragon shimmered, melting down into the lean and muscular form of that dark-haired man from the subway.

He dropped lightly down a short distance away, utterly naked, thoroughly aroused and already moving toward her, his eyes burning in the night, his smile dark and feral and every bit as predatory as the Need within her now felt.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, and reached for her.

Polly trembled at the touch of his fingers sliding up her arms, but it was not from fear.  With every breath, she could smell him.  She could feel him, the heat of his body doing battle with the cold of the drizzling rain.  Her own was all too eagerly responding to him, her nipples tightening into peaks that the wetness of her nightshirt clearly exposed.

“I’m dreaming,” was all she could think to say.

“Are you?”  His smile broadened, darkened.  “Give yourself to me, then.  We’ll make it a dream worth remembering.”

* * * * *

Don’t forget to comment to be entered to win a copy of Incubus Moon, a Sizzling Summer excerpt of which will be posted next Monday!

Sneak Peak Sunday & Weekend Writing Warriors

Sneak Peek Sunday Banner     wewriwa_square_4

Welcome to another weekend and another snippet! This is going to be my last Demon Seduction snippet, and then I’m going to move on to other books.🙂 When you’re done here, don’t forget to click either of the two above links and return to the lists where you can catch up on what all the other truly talented authors have been up to!

The set-up: Kael is back in the bar talking to his favorite bartender. He has also just realized he was never the hunter. He’s been the prey right from the very start.

* * * * *

“Divorce?” Jackson asked, his assessing gaze softening slightly.

Kael laughed, and it was not a happy sound. “If only it were that simple. No, but it does involve a woman. A beautiful, lying, conniving, voluptuous, sexy as hell, witch of a woman, one who has in an inconceivably short amount of time wormed her way so deeply into my very soul—yes, soul, try though you do to convince yourselves that I have none—and not all the dog-desperate clawing can wrench my being free of her. All night long I dominated her body, only to find myself conquered by her. I battled and battered at her, bathed my seed upon her thighs, drew my breaths from between her breasts and yet I drowned. I bound her, only to find myself thoroughly ensnared! My life is gone. Everything I have worked for…everything that I am has, for the sake of pride, boredom, a fine pair of tits and an ass unparalleled by any other known to man—indeed, on the face of this whole miserable planet!—been utterly destroyed.”

“Women,” Jackson commiserated.

“You have no idea. I’m doomed.”

“Ah, don’t say that.” Reaching over the bar, Jackson gave his shoulder a bolstering smack. “I’ve been married three times. So while it’s no consolation right now, trust me when I say this is not the end of the world. She may not be the right woman for you, but eventually you’ll find another.”

“God help me,” Kael scoffed. He covered his mouth with a wince. He really needed to stop saying that.

Available now on Amazon!
Demon Seduction_ARE

Blurb: Kaelythus the Corruptor was a demon of the ninth echelon. He was strong, formidable, one who has walked the world for almost two millennia—and he has a problem.

It wasn’t that he’d been mugged on his way home, or that subsequent slip in self-control when he’d revealed himself in all his demonic glory and sent his would-be mugger running down the street. It wasn’t that news of his disgrace seemed to be developing wings, spreading farther and faster than he could counter. It wasn’t even that Kael was going to have to join forces with the infamous Hesoniel, a demon turned Redeemer, in a desperate bid to save himself before the Powers That Be judged him…retire-able. No. No, a clever demon could still come back from all that. Unfortunately for Kael, his biggest problem was who had seen him: his lovely, across-the-alley neighbor, Delilah.

The name alone should have told him something…

Note: This is an erotic romance with coarse language and sexual situations (because really, what kind of erotica or romance would it be without them).

Wednesday Hook!

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This week I’m drawing from Golden Song by Penny Alley. The setup: It’s that time of year again, and Penny hasn’t slept in days. She’s exhausted, trying to make her way back home again, while her senses are going crazy. In particular, that nameless, senseless arousal that makes her want to jump every man she passes until, finally, she snaps and attacks one.

* * * * *

She paced, propelled by relentless Need, up and down in short, tight passes in front of the locked door, and she growled. Over and over again, she growled.

Until something in the shadows of that alley growled back.

Deep and low, it was a sound that trembled through the darkness, shuddering her as it surrounded her, so soft and yet filling her up inside. It came from everywhere at once, shivering up out of the concrete, raining down on her from the rooftops, a veritable wash of sensual vibration that rattled into her flesh and down through her bones, punching in straight through to her quivering pussy, surrounding her clit in humming sensation and dropping Polly, quite literally, to her knees.

With a gasping cry, she grabbed herself with both hands, bowing as she came, shouting both pleasure and defeat into the wet concrete that she pressed her face against. Her back bent, her hips pumped. She rode helplessly at her own fingers, wave after wave of orgasm triggered by that low growl that went on and on and on, seeming to last forever before dissolving into a slow, seductive hiss. Then, silence.

Panting, Polly clutched herself in shock.

* * * * *

Golden Song_ARE

Blurb: Psychic Polly Martin saw him for the first time standing across the subway car. She knew he couldn’t be real. No one was that tall, that strong, that handsome. No one growled like that, so low and seductive under his breath, a rumbling sound that moved through her traitor’s body like a physical caress. Certainly no one had eyes like he did—glowing and yellow, vaguely reptilian in the way he watched her, so hungry and intent. Predatory, even as he smiled.

No, there was no way a man like that could be real. She had to be hallucinating. And really, after four very long days without sleep, the only thing that ought to surprise her about that was that it hadn’t happened sooner.