VISIONS OF PARADISE by Tianna Xander

VISIONS OF PARADISE by Tianna Xander

Paradise Series Book 16

Can Milla finally settle down and have a family of her own or will the carnival be her life…forever?

Milla leaves the carnival where she made her living for twenty years, with visions of finding the perfect town where she could make a new life for herself. At forty-five years old, it’s too late to hope for children, but happiness is still within her reach. However, the owner of the carnival doesn’t want to lose his best fortuneteller. When he and his carnival follow Milla to Paradise, he discovers that his people aren’t the only ones with secrets.

Being bond mates never crossed Jonas’ and Mel’s minds. Hell, they don’t even like each other and barely get along. However, when they find a woman frightened and alone, they put their differences aside to help her secure the most basic of human, or shifter, rights—the freedom to choose.

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~Excerpt~

Milla stared at the tarot card and sighed. This was the fifth day in a row that she’d turned over the death card in her tarot spread. The storm outside grew fierce, the wind buffeting the walls of the small hotel. She resigned herself to the fact that she would have to leave this place.

“On the winds of change,” she said with a sigh.

Death never meant a physical death like so many people thought. It stood for change. Usually, it meant the death of something old and the birth of something new. In her case, it meant that she had to move…again. It wasn’t surprising. Had she thought she’d be able to stay, she would have rented a house instead of a hotel room. She would pack up her things today and head out in the morning.

For now, though, she wanted to hike up the mountain and look down at the town one last time. She had grown fond of Mason. Not as fond as she’d hoped, but, so far, this town had been the closest to what she’d been looking for in a place to finally put down some roots. It was too damned bad the cards had just told her to move on.



The storm over, the early morning sun broke through the clouds, the rays shining like a beacon, lighting up the spot on the mountain where she wanted to go. It was another sign. One that she interpreted as an indication that she’d made the right decision.

After hiking up the side of the mountain, Milla sat down on a fallen log. Moisture seeped through the seat of her pants, but she didn’t care. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and took a deep breath. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” she said with a sigh.

There was nothing like clean, crisp air to do a body good. There was just something about a fresh mountain breeze after a cleansing summer rain.

Mason was close to what she wanted in a hometown but not quite. Maybe that was why the cards indicated she should leave. Milla wanted a small town with small-town values. She wanted to see men open the doors for women. She wanted common courtesy and chivalry. Maybe, just maybe, she wanted the impossible.

“I was born in the wrong time. That’s my problem.” She gave the picturesque town one last look and headed back to her hotel. It was time to leave—today. Something told her that it was time to go. Now. It was the same strange foreboding that preceded the arrival of the carnies sent out to look for her. Why couldn’t they just leave her alone? It wasn’t as though she owed them money. In fact, they owed her. It was one of the reasons why she left in the first place. There was nothing like working for peanuts.

She hurried down the side of the mountain, the feeling of urgency growing stronger. They were close. It was only a matter of time before they caught up to her. She’d have to take the time to stop at the hotel, pick up her things and hit the grocery store for some sandwich stuff on her way out of town.

After that, she’d head west again. Sooner or later she would run into a town that suited her old-fashioned standards…she hoped.

Until then, she would just keep looking. Milla had been on the road for nearly a year searching for her vision of paradise. She knew the town of her dreams was out there somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it.

After packing, she began lugging her belongings from the room. The worst part of not having a home was living out of her SUV. She carried everything she needed with her, but loading the vehicle was a pain in the butt and growing more painful with every stop.

Every time she moved, she gathered a little more stuff for her dream home. Dish towels here, bath towels there. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fill her truck soon, and then where would she be? She’d have to buy a trailer and haul that around with her, too. Then what?

Out of breath, her heart pounding with exertion, she hauled her suitcase out to the SUV and attempted to lift it into the back.

“Here, let me help you with that.”

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D IS FOR DESIRE by Jianne Carlo

D IS FOR DESIRE by Jianne Carlo

Witchy Women Series

Appointed Barbados' acting Attorney General, Dee Bloom, failed witchy healer, wants one last fling. Alex Mayfield, West Palm playboy fits the bill perfectly. Doesn't he?

An orphan, Alex is engaged to a Mayflower debutante, but he's obsessed with Dee.

Sparks erupt when they meet in Trinidad on Carnival Monday. Belly-button tequila shots, Dee's scanty costume, mud baths, dancing in the streets, explodes into a week of sexual ecstasy. Stunned by his reactions to Dee, Alex retreats.

Three months elapse. A pregnant Dee makes network news when she's kidnapped by a drug-lord.

Show and tell time.

Dee agrees to marry Alex. It's the end of her career, the end of her witchy healing, until her best friend's diagnosed with cancer. At six months pregnant, Dee awakens in a pool of blood.

Can she learn to control her powers? Cure her best friend? Will her baby survive? Will Alex ever trust her again?

"I had so much fun writing Dee and Alex's story. I love the way she's strong and decisive in her career, but terrified and confused when it comes to the simple things like bathing a newborn, or cooking. And she's a control freak who can't manage her own witchy powers married to a dominating man whose devilish good looks and easy charm ooze seduction." ~ Jiane ~

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Excerpt:

 

Alex's gaze swept to Dee, and something tugged at his soul.

Carefree mother earth goddess, hands thrown up in the air, forefingers pointed, eyes closed, sensuality personified. She bent her knees and did a rapid stripper's roll, circling her hip to the left. The burlap flap fell away as her bottom lifted, and Alex got a ten-second glimpse of a high, rounded, naked cheek. A slash of scarlet slashed its edge. Dizzying desire sparked lightning bolts, and primordial instincts wrestled away any remaining veneer of civilized man.

His hands snaked around Dee's narrow waist, and he locked them together. Dee jerked to a halt becoming un-pliant in his embrace. Alex pulled her back to his chest. Her head popped around, and she didn't seem surprised to discover it was he. Dee let him hug her, but Alex felt her doubt in the rigid tension of her spine. He loosened his hold letting a few inches separate them. Gradually, she began moving to the music, hips undulating. Alex drew her closer in small increments until they chipped forward together.

A large man bumped into Alex's shoulder, warm liquid from the bottle in his hand sloshed over Alex's arm. Sparks lit the dark morning to the right of them, and the pungent aroma of marijuana battled those of rum and perspiration for dominance.

"Here comes the rain." Michael materialized at Alex's side. The music halted for a moment, and his shout resonated over the shuffling of feet. "The bubbies, here comes the bubbies. I need some whiskey and a woman to wine on."

A smattering of stinging, cold raindrops assaulted Alex's skin.

Michael passed the bottle of Black Label to Dee. She twisted out of Alex's arms to get it, took a swift swallow, and plopped the bottle into his hands. He took a sip of the fiery liquid and gave it to Jake.

Alex's eyes were drawn inexorably to Dee's breasts. Sure enough, her nipples had hardened under the chill torrent of raindrops, tightening into stiff, round points. His lips dried out, parched, thirsting. His mouth burned with the need to suckle, sip at those nubs. He grabbed the whiskey bottle and took another long swig, trying to eradicate the flood of lust threatening an embarrassing release. When he encircled her waist again, Dee relaxed, snuggling into his arms. His cock grazed the small of her back, feeding on the slight friction. A fierce breeze whooshed down the six-lane road, puckering flesh.

Dee's petite form shuddered, bursting into a series of little shivers. Alex touched his mouth to her ear. "Cold?"

Dainty hands came up to cup her shoulders, and she nodded.

Planting his feet wide apart, Alex shouted, "Stay there." He braced against the crowds milling at his back, hooked his t-shirt over his head, and offered it to her.

The crowd jostled Alex along the length of a blaring music truck. A man wearing black spandex cycle shorts sang into a microphone under the fluorescent lights of a canopied music truck. He warbled a calypso, equal parts Rap and Soca, his bluesy voice climbing above the crowd's sing-a-long and the rain's drumming. The moment proved intoxicating in the extreme. The scent of musky coupling and sweet rum filled the air. The music wove into Alex's brain. Pelvises gyrated friction, from the front, behind, and at the sides.

As individuals, they held no goals, no direction. As a united crowd, bent on sensory pleasure, music, elation, touching, grinding, the scent of heated arousal, a sugary, languid, soaring excitement with one end in sight: climax, the poignant fulfillment of a bacchanalian dawning. J'ouvert, the day opening, the literal translation of the term.

Drunkenness stole over Alex in time to the rising red ball of the sun on the horizon. They crossed the Savannah Stage at six o'clock. The band refused to leave the wide wooden podium, even after some self-important official pleaded with them over a megaphone to let other bands have their turn.

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