Showing posts with label Samantha Sommersby. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Samantha Sommersby. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

SHELTER FROM THE STORM by Samantha Sommersby

SHELTER FROM THE STORM by Samantha Sommersby

Not everyone has to go looking for love-for a lucky few, love finds them.

In any other circumstance, Jennifer Jones's first meeting with Maclain Moore would have been called serendipity, a happy coincidence. She's looking for a new roommate; he's looking for a place to live. It doesn't hurt that he's sexy as hell, either.

But the man who crosses her threshold isn't there to sign on the dotted line-he's the bearer of news bad enough to shake the very foundation of her life. A life built around a fierce sense of independence, born of a violent incident from her past.

Mac is no stranger to heartache. His career in social work immerses him in it, plus he has his own share of skeletons rattling around in his closet. His attempts to comfort Jennifer bring the two of them closer together. With each touch, she becomes harder to resist. Mac's body's response would try the patience of a saint. And a saint he's not.

Baring her soul isn't high on her list, but she finds herself opening up to Mac in ways that make it hard to hold him at arm's length. And as her life spins out of control, their growing passion becomes the only tangible thing she can cling to...

This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release. Warning: This book may spoil you for real relationships. It contains a beautiful woman with a dark and dangerous past, sensational sailboat sex and a leather-wearing, motorcycle-riding man who loves kids, knows how to cook and actually listens.

BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK   ***   BUY IN KINDLE *** READ THE EXCERPT

Excerpt:

“Stop!” Antonio laughed. “You’re killing me!”

“Let me guess, you’re sharing my story.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” Mike said.

Mac nodded. “Let’s all have a great big laugh at Mac’s expense.”

Antonio quickly sobered. “You mean it’s true?”

He threw his hands up in the air. “Is there anyone here who hasn’t heard about my humiliating experience?”

Ava stepped into the office. “Sorry, Mac. I think we’ve pretty much all heard. I just came from the deli across the street and they’re even talking about it in there.”

Mac rounded on his office mate. “Mike, I swear you’re like an old woman! Can’t you keep anything to yourself?”

Before Mike could answer, the nervous administrative assistant stepped between them. “I hate to break this up. But the boss just got a call about a new case and Mike’s next on the roster.” She pushed the glasses that were forever sliding down the bridge of her nose back up.

Mike took a step backward. “Sorry, guys. Duty calls.”

“Don’t worry,” Ava quietly assured Mac. “I won’t tell anyone you’re moving in with a prostitute.”

“I am not—” He rounded on Mike. “We’ll finish this when you get back.”

“Will there be spanking? If so, can I watch?” Antonio asked with a great big smile on his face.

Mike scowled. “If there is to be any retaliation, it will involve manly punching or crude practical jokes. I’m telling you, Antonio, you keep joking like that? Someone’s going to think you’re gay.”

As soon as they were alone, Antonio shut the office door. “Your half of the office looks like it’s occupied by a monk.”

Mac pulled out his chair, sat down and propped his feet up comfortably on top of his desk.

“I’m still getting a feel for the space.”

Decorating his office was the last thing on Mac’s mind. He had transferred to San Diego from Los Angeles County a few short weeks ago and was far more concerned with completing the training for his new job.

“I could loan you my New York firefighter’s wall calendar. That would cheer the place up.”

“I’ll think about it.” Mac absently picked up a Rubik’s cube and began to fiddle with it.

“A family photo would be nice. Or, maybe one of those little miniature Zen gardens like Zoe has.”

“Why doesn’t Mike know you’re gay?”

“He’s a bit homophobic.” Antonio perched on top of Mike’s desk. “It would make him nervous, so he stays comfortably in the land of denial.”

“But the other night, when we were at your apartment playing poker, you introduced Mark as your partner.”

Antonio shrugged. “People see what they want to see.”

“But, you and Mark live together.”

“True.”

“In a one-bedroom apartment.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What kind of partners does he think the two of you are? Business partners?”

“Who knows?”

“Like, by day you’re a mild-mannered social worker and Mark is a third-grade teacher, but during off hours you band together to… What?”

“Oh, this is fun. Maybe we fight crime like Batman and Robin, those two were obviously gay. Besides, I’ve always wanted a big, latex codpiece.”

“Batman and Robin?” Mac mulled it over for a moment. “I think you might be right. No self-respecting straight guy would walk around wearing tights or trying to resist the temptation of Cat Woman.”

Mike walked back into the office. “Cat Woman? We’re talking about comic books now? So what’s your pleasure, Michelle Pfeiffer or Eartha Kitt?”

Antonio moved so Mike could sit back down. “Actually, I was just about to hear Mac’s version of yesterday’s events.”

“Bloody hell!” Mac brought his feet back down to the floor and leaned forward in his chair. “All right! Here’s the long and short of it.”

Antonio eagerly rubbed his hands together. “I’m all ears.”

“I get off a bit early yesterday and head back to my Uncle Henry’s place where I’ve been staying. I get in the elevator and there’s this bird—”

“Translation,” Mike interjected, “hot chick.”

“Oi! Who is telling the story?”

“Sorry, Mac.”

“The elevator door opens and we both get out on the same floor. Apparently she lives across the hall from my uncle. Just as we get close to our respective doors the bottom falls out of her grocery sack and stuff goes everywhere. Course, being the helpful bloke I am, I start to help her gather her belongings—”

“And here’s where the story really begins. I swear this is like one of those movies with Doris Day and what’s his name?” Mike asked.

“Rock Hudson?” Antonio suggested.

“Yes!”

“Go on, sweetie,” Antonio encouraged.

“She says something about my being her four o’clock. She unlocks the door and invites me into the apartment. My arms are full of the chit’s groceries.”

“So he follows her inside,” Mike added.

“Right. I start to lay the stuff out on her counter. Next thing I know, she’s pointing out the way to the bedroom and saying something about hoping the queen-size bed will be sufficient. She tells me to go on in and she’ll join me in a minute.”

“So you think she’s offering…”

“Nookie!” Mike leaned back in his chair. “I swear this never gets old. Tell him what you said!”

“I think it was something profound, like, ‘huh’?” Mac admitted. “Then she says, ‘I assumed you’d want to, you know, see stuff before filling out the application. I mean, there’s no need to fill out an application if you’re not interested.’”

“And here’s the best part. Our Romeo says, ‘Oh, I can’t imagine there’s a bloke alive who wouldn’t be interested in this offer, blondie.’”

“And, that’s when she gave me the application to rent the room in her apartment,” Mac finished.

Antonio shook his head. “You left out the part about the ball gag and leather pants.”

“What?”

Mike grinned. “I might have embellished a bit.”

The Rubik’s cube sailed through the air, narrowly missing Mike’s head.

“Does the young lady have any idea you thought she was a hooker?” asked Antonio.

“No! And she’ll never know!” Mac pointed back and forth between the two of them. “Got it?”

“Right! It’ll stay between you and me and the rest of the Department of Social Services.” Antonio rolled his eyes. “Our little secret.”

“Man, you’re lucky you were actually looking for an apartment.” Mike retrieved the toy that had rolled under his desk. “Where is this place?”

Mac started to turn his attention back to his e-mails. “Over on Goldfinch, in Mission Hills. It’s a great old building, lots of character. My uncle’s been there for years and apartments don’t open up often.”

“Goldfinch?” Mike looked down at the paper he held in his hand.

“Yeah, 4435 Goldfinch.” Mac selected the newest item in his inbox. It contained a long list of names, cases he would be assuming responsibility for as of January second. “Looks like they’re not wasting any time assigning stuff to me.” He pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of his top drawer. “I’ll have to hit the ground running after the holiday. No more slacking off for me.”

“We’re too short-staffed to let you just sit around looking pretty.” Antonio pulled his ringing cell from his pocket. “Hi, honey, I’m almost ready to call it a night.”

“Mac? What did you say your new roommate’s name is?” Mike asked.

“Jennifer Jones, like the actress.” He finished scribbling down the list of case numbers. “Only this one’s a blonde. Why?”

“I’ll be damned.”

Mac turned around. “Do you know her?”

Mike held up the sheet of paper. “My new assignment. Seems she’s the only living relative of a court dependent from L.A.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. They want someone to go down there in person and talk to her about taking the kid.”

“Tonight?”

Mike nodded. “Otherwise they’ve got to find long-term placement on New Year’s Eve. You know that’s going to be damn near impossible.”

“Why wouldn’t they call her? That’s what they normally do.” Mac stood and walked over to Mike.

“There are extenuating circumstances. This is strictly a courtesy request. Seems like the girl’s mother passed away. They found the kid in the apartment, locked up with the deceased. She’d been there a few days.”

“Christ!”

“The coroner notified the next of kin, it was the deceased’s estranged husband. He’s the one who gave CPS the name of your Jennifer as the girl’s sister,” Mike explained.

“I take it he’s not the girl’s father?”

“No, it says father unknown. The worker from L.A. thought it would be best to deliver the news to Jennifer in person.”

Mac reached for the report and frowned as he reviewed the details. After a moment he looked at his new friend. “Why don’t you run along home to that pretty wife of yours? I’ll have a chat with Ms. Jones and call L.A. back.”

“You’re sure?” Mike started to put on his coat. “It’s my case and—”

“You have plans. I don’t. Go.”

Mike slapped Mac heartily on the back before heading for the door. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you.”

“It’s still your case. I’m just doing this one thing, got it?” Mac shouted out, only Mike was long gone.

Antonio hung up the phone. “Sweetie, tell me I didn’t hear what I thought I heard.”

“You were talking on the phone the entire time. How could you have possibly tracked our conversation?”

“I can multitask. It comes in very handy when trying to eavesdrop.”

Mac stood and slipped on his leather coat. “Well, there’s no good time for news like this. Might as well get it over with. Seems I’ll be searching for an apartment again.”

“Happy New Year!” Antonio called after him as he took off down the hall.

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Saturday, October 16, 2010

FORBIDDEN: THE ASCENSION by Samantha Sommersby



There's only one way to safeguard the future - fight free of the past.


Byron Renfield is a master of climbing the social ladder. He's successful, handsome, independently wealthy...and a vampire. As a member of an elite group of immortals, the Dominie, Byron's spent centuries isolating himself from humanity in order to pursue redemption. It's a good plan...until Violet Deeds comes along.


Violet is beautiful, sexy, outspoken...and human, which makes her completely off limits. His society's canon may forbid it, but Byron is rocked by a longing so intense that in one impulsive act of passion, he claims Violet as his mate.


Irrevocably bound together, Byron and Violet enter one another's worlds, threatening the balance of society and nature. He takes steps to protect them both from the Dominie's inevitable retribution, but it isn't enough. Violet is hunted down and kidnapped. If Byron wants a life - any life - with Violet, he must defy the very core of the Dominie itself. And win.


This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.


WARNING: This book by Samantha Sommersby contains one fabulously feisty redheaded heroine, one hunky holy-man-turned-rebel vampire, a group of corrupt religious zealots, women in chains and plenty of scorching hot sex.



Excerpt:

PLEASE NOTE: BY READING ANY FURTHER YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE OF THE LEGAL AGE OF 18. IT IS NECESSARY TO EXIT THIS WEBSITE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

Violet reached over and brushed her fingers across my wrinkled forehead. "You’re thinking awfully hard about something. Care to share?"
I reached for her hand, intending to brush it away. Instead I held onto it. "Have you ever found yourself questioning whether what you believed was true?"

"Daily," she admitted, sounding somewhat amused.

"I’m not talking about the little things, like whether it’s going to rain or not. I’m talking about the big stuff."

Her expression turned serious. "Like?"

"Like, what if you didn’t have to die? What if you could live forever?"

She shook her head and laughed. Well, of course she would laugh.

"Do I get to be rich and beautiful?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What’s the catch?"

"Catch?"

"The down side. What do I have to give up?"

Now, they don’t talk about that much, vampires don’t. They don’t talk about the things they miss, the things they will never have. Perhaps it’s because we have no control over it. Why brood about what can’t be changed?

"Being around people." I shrugged, passing it off as if it were nothing.

"I’d have to be alone forever? No. Not worth it. I’m not that interesting."

"Not alone, exactly. You could be around others who are like you."

"It would be me and a bunch of me clones? Kind of creepy, don’t you think?"

God, this woman was exasperating.

"No. That’s not what I mean. Let’s say you’re American."

"I am American. Why can’t I be Italian?"

"Okay. Let’s say you’re Italian, and you can only be around other Italians."

"But what if I meet and fall in love with a man from France or Spain or Greece or—"

I held up my hand to stop her. "I get it. You can’t."

"I can’t fall in love with them? So, I can’t feel love?"

"You can’t be with them," I told her.

"Why?" she challenged. She clearly didn’t like the idea.

"It’s a rule."

"It’s a stupid rule," she declared.

"Yes," I agreed.

She bit her lower lip. It was full and red, ripe. I wanted to sweep my tongue across it, to suck it into my mouth, to take just one tiny nibble.

"Ren?"

"Yes?"

"Let me see if I have this straight. I’m going to live forever. I’m beautiful and rich, and I’ve met a drop-dead gorgeous French guy who promises to be the love of my life?"

"That’s right."

"Let’s say I break the rule. What happens? Instant death?"

"Death, yes. Instant? No. You live for quite some time, a hundred years, two hundred, maybe more."

"I’m still beautiful and rich?"

"You age slowly."

"Does my Frenchman leave me?"

I couldn’t help but smile. "You’re a romantic. No. He adores you. He has eyes only for you. Even when you are old, and gray, and disgusting."

Her mouth fell open. "Disgusting?" She gave my shoulder a little shove. "You should take lessons from my Frenchman. He tells me I’m getting better with age, like fine wine."

"He says stuff like that so you’ll sleep with him," I replied, goading her and suddenly disliking the Frenchman.

"You’re clearly projecting," she countered. "I’m leaning toward saying yes, then breaking the rule and living happily ever after for a few hundred years with Pierre."

"He has a name now?"

"Yes. He’s also an attentive lover, and a devoted father." I was envying Pierre more and more.

"You have children?"

"Two."

"Risky."

"Why?"

"If they aren’t like you, you must send them away."

"Another rule?"

"Yes," I said, remembering my mother’s pain. It all had occurred long ago. Yet it seemed in many ways to have happened yesterday. "So they can live with others like them and have a normal life."

"Ren?"

"Hmm?" For a moment I’d gotten lost in the memories.

"Nobody has a normal life. It’s a myth."

"Like vampires are myths?" I said hesitantly, trying to gauge her reaction.

"I’m a vampire now?"

"Immortal," I clarified, not that she would understand the difference between those who are immortal and those who have crossed the line.

"Do I have to drink blood and sleep in a coffin?"

"You don’t have to drink blood. You can eat regular food and sleep in a regular bed. Only the warped vampires traipse around biting people and draining their blood, Violet."

"Right. Sunlight?"

"It’s a problem. The older you get, the more powerful, the easier you can tolerate it."

"I’m still saying I’d go for it and break the rules."

"You’d break the rules?"

"Yup. I’d marry Pierre, keep the kids and live to a ripe old age with no regrets."

She seemed quite pleased with herself.

"You’d break the rules," I repeated.

"Sure, why not?"

Why not, indeed? My father had broken the rules. I was here, after all. My parents died when I was still young, and Fred had essentially raised me. She certainly broke the rules. She didn’t seem to regret it, either. Not one bit. Although she never had children, never had to face the pain of giving them up.

"Have you no respect for rules in general?" I asked her.

"Are you asking vampire me? ’Cause I hear vampires are pretty morally flexible, being evil and soulless and all."

"You’re not evil and soulless. You’re different."

"With stupid rules that make no sense. Okay, I have one now. You’re stuck on an island for three whole days with a moderately attractive woman who finds you interesting and would like to get to know you better. Do you pretend you’ve already eaten and make her dine alone in the guest room, or do you do the polite thing and have dinner with her?"

"How big are her tits?" I asked.

I saw it coming. I probably saw it coming before she even realized she was going to do it. Immortals are like that, especially those of us who have been around for a long time. We anticipate and we defend. She grasped the throw pillow and swung it toward my head in a wide arch. Long before it connected, I had her wrist grasped firmly in my hand and her arm held over her head. My body was hovering over the length of hers and the rumble of a low growl was still emanating from my chest. She glanced down briefly before searching my eyes. And, that’s when I made the biggest mistake of my three-hundred-and-seventy-nine years. I kissed her.

I kissed her, and in that moment nothing else mattered. I wasn’t thinking about next year, or next month, or even the next minute. All I was thinking about was how incredibly good she felt beneath me. Her lips were soft and sweet and willing. No, wanting. I wasn’t tender. I wasn’t careful. And I wasn’t holding back. Not anymore, and maybe never again.

As my tongue entered her mouth, Violet arched up, her breasts coming into contact with my chest. My breath hitched at the sensation and our kiss deepened. It was slow and languid. I had never experienced anything quite so exquisite. Stroking, exploring, over and over. All that existed was her—this moment. I wanted it to last forever. Then I realized, with an almost blinding clarity, I didn’t want to last forever without it.

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Thursday, September 9, 2010

FORBIDDEN: THE REVOLOUTION by Samantha Sommersby

FORBIDDEN: THE CLAIM - Book 3 in Samantha Sommersby's Forbidden Series

Twenty-five years ago Dell Renfield's father started a revolution, and Dell plans to finish it. Sorcerer, vampire, secret weapon, he's spent a lifetime training for his fate. The one distraction he isn't equipped for? Special Agent Alexandria Sanchez. A woman he desires above all others - and a woman he dare not get close to.

Alex's love life is already cursed. She doesn't need the added complication of a sexy new partner. Especially one who's touch is literally magic. Posing as his lover for the sake of their investigation is pure hell - and pure heaven. Now if she can just get him to quit casting spells long enough to prove she's capable. And keep her hands to herself in the process.

As they infiltrate a dangerous culture, temptation becomes too much to resist. And their torrid affair triggers an epic battle for power that could forever alter the future for them...and their kind.

This book has been previously published and has been revised and expanded from its original release.

Product Warnings - This book contains spectacular magical ass-kickings, copious amounts of blistering sex, one super-sexy, gun-toting heroine, and a very delicious, very powerful sorcerer...who sometimes sports fangs.

BUY THE BOOK *** BUY THE eBOOK *** READ THE EXCERPT *** WATCH THE TRAILER

Excerpt from Forbidden: The Revolution

Copyright © 2009 Samantha Sommersby
All rights reserved — a Samhain Publishing, Ltd. publication


If I were to be totally honest I’d tell you that the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I was in trouble. What’s worse, I knew there was absolutely nothing I could do to save myself.

There she was, standing on top of what was to become my desk, hanging a sign on the wall above it that said “Welcome Dell”. She was wearing brown patent-leather high-heeled shoes and was reaching up on tiptoe. The calves of her shapely legs were flexed, well toned, and they acted like a homing beacon—sending a signal that went straight to my cock.

I’d never before confused work with anything personal. So why was I here now? Two words. My father.

Like most men in their mid-twenties, I’m determined to make it on my own. I want to lead my life the way I want, choose my own career path, make my own decisions. But I’m not like most men. I’m a vampire. Does my boss know? Hell, no. But I can guarantee you someone at the branch knows, someone high up, or else dear old Dad wouldn’t have been able to pull these strings. And now I’m stuck. There’s no way I can turn down this assignment without causing undue attention to myself.

She stepped back to admire her handiwork, the heels of her shoes resting precariously at the edge of the desk. She stood there for a minute, her hands on her hips and her full lips pursed into a delicious pout that told me she wasn’t quite satisfied.

A long strand of her brown hair had escaped what had once been a neat chignon. As she lifted her arm to tuck it back into place my phone rang.

She turned quickly in my direction, too quickly, throwing her arms out in an attempt to regain her own balance. But she was too late and falling too fast. Like the chivalrous guy I am, I was there to catch her. For one long, endless moment we silently stared into one another’s eyes. Hers were a brilliant green, amazingly inviting and surrounded by thick, dark lashes. It was like falling into springtime.

She blinked, slowly.

I glanced up at the sign.

“You the welcome wagon?” I asked her.

She reached down and fingered the badge clipped to my collar, lifting up the edge and turning it toward her so she could read it.

“Agent Renfield,” she said. “You’ve got some fast reflexes there. I’m Alex, your new partner. I think it’s safe to put me down now.”

“Right.”

The instant Alexandria Sanchez’s feet touched the floor, my cell phone went off again. I didn’t have to check to see who it was, the ring tone told me. Dad was nothing if not persistent.

“Excuse me,” I told Alex before slipping out of the office.

“How the hell did you pull this off?” I growled into the phone.

“Pull what off?” my father replied innocently. He knew damned well what I was referring to.

“Come on, Dad. Don’t bullshit me. I told you I didn’t want to get involved,” I reminded him.

“Out of our entire network of operatives, you make the most sense. All it took was getting you a transfer from Chicago to L.A. It would have been far more complicated if we had to get someone into the Agency to begin with and start from scratch. You’re a natural for this assignment, Dell. We’re pretty sure it’s her. We’ll do a DNA check, get the confirmation, then—”

“I’m not one of your operatives,” I hissed.

As if being a vampire wasn’t enough to have to overcome, I also had the legacy of being the son of Byron Renfield. Not that anyone outside of his inner circle would know. According to clan folklore Byron was the youngest of the Dominie, an elite group of vampires empowered by Cain, our prophet. The Dominie were supposedly destined to lead us all into redemption. They were holy men, they didn’t mate, and they certainly didn’t have kids. None of the good “practicing” vampires did, though those were becoming fewer and fewer with each passing year. It was a trend my father, as the leader of a quietly subversive revolution, had been working toward my entire life.

Dad was succeeding, too. Gradually, little by little, he was changing the social and economic structure within the vampire world. My father was a brilliant strategist and the smartest man I knew. I had no doubt that within my lifetime his goal to mainstream our race, to integrate us into the human world, would be realized. It wasn’t his goal I disagreed with, it was his methods. They were simply taking too long. I wanted to be a part of the real world now. That’s why I left home. Not because I didn’t believe in what he was doing. I did believe in it. It made sense, his carefully crafted plan. But it required patience and that wasn’t one of my virtues. I wanted to taste it now…real freedom.

I imagined him pacing back and forth, wearing down the carpet in his neat and tidy office.

“No, you’re not,” he acknowledged. “You’re not one of my operatives. But you understand how important this is, Dell. This is personal.”

I rubbed my eyes, still gritty from lack of sleep and jetlag. I sighed heavily into my phone, hoping to somehow convey, across the miles, the depth of my frustration. It’s a fine art, supporting my father’s ideals and yet staying out of the fray. He has a way about him, a way that inspires people, a way that makes them want to do the right thing, the noble thing, the selfless thing, even me.

“She’s prettier in person.”

“Keep it professional,” he warned me.

“Says the man who just reminded me this was personal for him.”

“Point taken.”

Score one for me.

“Have you made contact with her?” he asked.

“Yeah. And we already have our first assignment. I just picked up the file. It’s an undercover operation, her first. We could be gone a while.”

“Can you delay?” my father asked. “You know if it’s her we’ll want you to bring her in. If you can overnight the sample to the lab in Manchester, we could have the results in a couple days.”

I smiled. “Dad, first I have to get a sample. Look, I know you’re going to find this hard to believe, but we have a job to do. And it’s a job I take seriously. I’ll get you your sample, but it’s not my number one priority right now. Sophie’s been missing for over twenty-five years. How many times does this make that you thought you’d found her?”

“Seven,” he replied without hesitation. “But—”

“I know; Jennifer has a feeling about her.”

“Don’t be dismissive of Jennifer’s feelings. She’s the most reliable intuitive I’ve ever come across. When you met this Alexandria, did you sense anything?”

“Like what?” I asked, glancing, furtively down at my crotch.

“Sometimes the Chosen possess a stronger pull. They can be more…deeply arousing.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-five. I find anything with tits deeply arousing.”

“Good to know,” I heard Alex say.

I closed my eyes and silently prayed I’d started hallucinating.

Alex coughed.

Damn!

I swallowed down the lump in my throat and braced myself for humiliation before turning around. She was leaning casually against the doorjamb, her long legs crossed at the ankles, her arms folded over her stomach, stretching the silk fabric of her cream-colored blouse and further accentuating the fullness of her breasts.

I didn’t bother to say goodbye to Dad. I just hung up.

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Wednesday, August 25, 2010

UNDER FIRE by Samantha Sommersby

Samantha Sommersby's historical romance UNDER FIRE is now available in ebook and print from Red Rose Publishing.

It's 1917 and Lieutenant Jackson Crawford is in Arabia on an important mission. A seasoned soldier sent to ensure a victory that will secure British interests in the Suez Canal, Crawford was prepared for resistance from the prince; he was prepared for the crude weapons, the hellish sun, and the never-ending sand. What he wasn't prepared for was Harvard bred archeologist turned spy Lillian Barton Drake.

Weeks after Lilly's arrival in the desert she found herself in the center of a bloody massacre. Rescued by the prince she travels as part of his entourage, doing her utmost to gain his trust while avoiding becoming a part of his harem. Then into the camp rides an exhausted Jackson.

In a twist of fate Jack fights for Lilly's honor risking life and limb to claim her as his own. Casting aside common sense the couple begin a passionate affair that sets the desert on fire and is guaranteed to melt your heart. Will their love be strong enough to survive the ravages of war, the duty they've sworn to their country, and the secrets of Jackson’s past?

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Excerpt:

The interior of the tent was illuminated by dozens of small oil lamps. On the floor were layers of lush carpets woven in bright jeweled tones. The interior walls had been covered over in silk fabrics that matched the numerous throw pillows strewn carelessly around the floor for the guests to lean on. There were bowls and platters aplenty scattered about and the few guests present were eating while they watched one of the prince's many concubines dance for his pleasure.

She was not dressed in the traditional dress. Her costume was revealing. The red veiled material was of the sheerest silk and it was lushly beaded. The beads clacked against one another as she moved her body in time to the sensual music. The prince openly admired her curves and it was clear to everyone in the room that the erotic display was meant for him alone. As she neared him he stood up and possessively reached out grabbing her around her waist. He pulled her roughly against his body and crushed his lips to hers taking what was his. As the prince broke off the kiss he noticed, for the first time, that Crawford had entered the room. Without a second glance he pushed the woman away carelessly so that she fell at his feet onto the floor.

"Lieutenant Crawford, come and join us!" he called out, waving Crawford into the room. "Sit! Enjoy a delicious meal with me!"

"It would be my honor, my lord," responded Crawford, bowing with deference. "I have been anxious to discuss business with you. The British—"

"Enough!" shouted the prince. "Tonight is not about business, Lieutenant, it is a night for celebration. You have traveled far. Enjoy yourself."

"Thank you, my lord," responded Crawford as he accepted food and drink from one of the prince's concubines.

"She is lovely, yes?"

"Quite, lovely," responded Crawford politely.

"I enjoy beautiful things," said the prince as he ran a finger down the side of the woman's face. "How long since you have been with a beautiful woman, Lieutenant?"

Crawford choked slightly on the mouth of food that he had begun to swallow.

The prince laughed, "That long? We will rectify that tonight. You may have your pick. I am feeling generous."

"Your kindness overwhelms me, my lord, but—"

"Where is Hessa? Jemal!" bellowed the prince.

"Yes, my lord. I regret to say that Hessa seems unwell. Perhaps it is the fever the Lieutenant had earlier. She helped me ready his tent when he arrived. She is still frail, you know," Jemal started to explain.

"Nonsense! Bring her to me. I wish it so. And have her wear the garments I sent over this afternoon," demanded the prince.

"Of course, my lord," said Jemal, a combination of panic and fear briefly flitting across his face as he bowed to the prince.

"Would you excuse me for a brief moment, my lord," asked Crawford. He stood up. "I have a gift for you that I seem to have left in my tent. I will return directly."

"By all means, Lieutenant. And don't forget my offer. I assure you, I have spent considerable time ensuring that they each have a wide range of skills. You will undoubtedly be pleased."

"I am confident that you are right, my lord, but—"

"And I am quite certain that you do not wish to insult me by refusing," interrupted the prince.

"I was going to say. But the choice will be difficult. I will have to give it careful consideration, so many beauties. With your permission I will take my leave and return momentarily," concluded Crawford.

"Yes! Yes! Go!" said the prince, waving him off.

Crawford quickly slipped out of the prince's tent. He saw the tent flap of the servant's tent flutter close. He swiftly followed Jemal through the entrance.

"Jemal!" he called as he walked into the tent. "What is going o—"

Crawford stopped mid-sentence. He had obviously walked in on an argument.

Both Jemal and Fatima were begging - no pleading - the woman he knew as Hessa to reconsider and join the prince.

"You cannot insult him, Hessa. He will have you executed without a moment's thought!" warned Fatima.

Hessa was sitting on a small stool, her arms stubbornly folded over her bare stomach. She wore white beaded undergarments that were covered by a sheer cerulean blue silk fabric. A matching veil covered her dark blonde hair and part of her face. She was a portrait of perfection, the personification of every man's fantasy. Except for the positively enraged look on her face and the waves of intense fury that seemed to emanate from her, that is. The forcefulness of her anger engulfed him—anger and humiliation.

"She won't come," said Jemal, hopelessly.

"Let me try," said Crawford, gently. "Leave us for a moment."

Jemal and Fatima shared a worried glance, then nodded and left the tent.

"Hessa," he began kneeling before her. "Do you remember me?"

She responded by slightly nodding.

"Of course you do. So, you're not daft. You realize the prince is very powerful, yeah? The good news is that I don't think he's very bright. I can only imagine how humiliating this must be. Well, honestly, I probably can't. But you must push that aside. You must come Hessa. Chin up and all that," he said attempting an encouraging smile.

She turned and looked at him. Not a sideways glance. Not a fleeting look. Not a shy glimpse stolen through her dark charcoal lashes. Her eyes, moist with stubborn tears that she refused to let fall searched out his. His eyes, his heart, his soul, and as they silently pleaded, they stole them all.

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Monday, August 16, 2010

FORBIDDEN: THE SACRIFICE by Samantha Sommersby



There's a fine line between mysticism and madness...one they must cross to win.


London psychiatrist Wesley Atherton is a man of science. He doesn't believe in love at first sight...until he finds himself inexplicably drawn to a green-eyed American beauty he bumps into on the Tube. Just his luck, Katherine, a fashion design intern, has an engagement ring on her finger.


Wes knows a thing or two about people, though. Instinct tells him there's something more than irresistible temptation behind their attraction. She doesn't love her fiance, he's sure of it - now if only he can convince her they're meant to be together.


Surviving a deadly train wreck is the first sign his intuition is spot on. The second - a psychic who warns them the Reaper doesn't like to be cheated out of its quarry. The situation defies all logic, but a string of strange and lethal events convinces Wes that he and Katherine are living on borrowed time. Pitted in a battle against death itself, Wes will do anything, make any sacrifice, to protect the woman he loves.


This book has been substantially revised and expanded from its original published version.
Warning: This book by Samantha Sommersby contains one bad-ass demon, spectacular shagging, a feisty American heroine, and one very hot, very British, knife-wielding shrink.




PLEASE NOTE: BY READING ANY FURTHER YOU AGREE THAT YOU ARE OF THE LEGAL AGE OF 18. IT IS NECESSARY TO EXIT THIS WEBSITE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

"Don’t move."

I locked the front door, pulled off my boots and socks, then shed my coat, letting it all fall to the floor. There was another roar of distant thunder. Katherine’s back was to the door. I stepped closer to her, then leaned down, lightly brushing my lips across hers.

"I swear, the rain tastes like wine on your lips," I whispered, resisting the urge to deepen the kiss.

I crouched down on one knee to remove her boots. Then as I climbed back to my feet, I pulled the T-shirt I’d been wearing up over my head. Before I had time to toss it onto the growing pile of clothes, Katherine boldly reached out for me, slipping a finger inside the waistband of my jeans and pulling me toward her.

She unfastened the buckle of my belt then paused, her hand at my zipper. I lifted my hand to cup the side of her face and searched out her eyes. "Lift up your arms," I told her, gathering up the edge of her sweater and raising it. We lost eye contact for the briefest of moments as I pulled it over her head. Her cap came off as well. I carelessly tossed them aside.

"Wes."

I placed my hand around Katherine’s neck and, ever so slowly, slid it down, gliding it over her damp flesh, heating it, warming her.

A sigh escaped her lips as I brushed my fingertips across the tops of the full mounds of her breasts.

"White lace." I reached down to palm one. "It looks so innocent, pure, virginal. I’m having horrible, nasty thoughts."

"Are you now?" she asked in a breathy voice as I lowered my hands to her zipper.

"Oh, yeah." I pulled her wet pants past her hips and watched them fall to the floor, then I quickly shed my own jeans. "You have no idea how much I want you right now."

I crushed my lips to hers in the heat of passion. The lace of her bra scratched against my chest as I pressed my body flush against hers. She parted her lips, and I slipped my tongue inside, boldly exploring the warm, wet cavern, holding nothing back.

Katherine released an intoxicating moan into my mouth that made me want her even more.

I slid my arm around her waist and then snaked my hand inside her matching lace knickers to caress her bottom. My kisses followed the path to her neck and I nibbled gently at her pulse point. She was trembling with need and in truth, so was I.

"Tell me you’re cold."

"I wasn’t shivering from the cold." She was flushed with arousal.

"I’m going to go get your robe. I’ve got to get some distance." Before I could step back, she reached down between us, the back of her hand brushing across the front of my boxers.

"Or what?"

I moved in close, pressing my rock-hard cock into the softness of her belly, my face just a hairsbreadth away from hers.

"I spontaneously combust from all this pent-up sexual tension."

Katherine’s breath hitched.

"Or I throw you onto the cold marble floor and have my wicked way with you."

"I vote for—"

I placed my fingers over her mouth to silence her.

"I’ll be right back with a robe. Then I’ll start a fire and get the chill out of the air."

It took me only a few moments to dash up the stairs, put on a dry pair of jeans and grab the robe I’d promised.

I returned to find Katherine in the living room. She was bending over to turn on a lamp, her back to me.

"Here you go, love." I held the robe out, behind her. Its hem brushed up against the calves of her legs.

When it did, Katherine let out a terrified scream. She spun around and her scream rippled, echoing throughout the room.

"Christ!"

"Sorry, you startled me," she gasped placing her hand over her heart, trying to catch her breath.

"Didn’t mean to. Here, slip this on." I held out the robe. She wasn’t moving. "Katherine?"

She was looking past me, over my shoulder. I turned. She was staring at the large mirror that hung on the wall in the entryway.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. It’s…"

"Yes?"

"It’s nothing."

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