Tuesday, July 12, 2011

ANGEL'S WOLF by Rebecca Royce

ANGEL'S WOLF by Rebecca Royce

The Westervelt Wolves Book 6

Angel Kane has always known who her family was and why she was hidden away from them in New Orleans. Now on the run, the last thing she wants is anything that could potentially get in the way of the plan she's made for herself. That is, until she walks into a truck stop in New Jersey and encounters Parker Liberty -  the wolf fate has picked out to be her perfect mate.

Parker Liberty hasn't uttered a word in almost forty years. Not since the horrible day he watched his father murder his mother on the island of Westervelt. He ignores his inner wolf and contents himself with expressing his inner emotions through his tattoos. But when a pair of witches almost kill Angel, he will return to Westervelt to save her.

Meanwhile, Westervelt is under constant attack from Kendrick Kane, the pack's former Alpha, whose evil knows no bounds. His ultimate goal is to see all of his children dead  - and that includes his daughter, Angel. It is questionable whether the Westervelt pack can even survive the week. Angel and Parker's arrival will either turn the tide of the war or end the pack forever.

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Chapter One


Angel Kane had seen enough male shifters begging to be her mate to last a lifetime. Sitting down at the truck stop diner, surrounded by the sounds of the highway outside, she ran a hand through her dark-as-night black hair and wondered if she had finally lost them.

Julian Vincent and Houston Darvill were the most persistent of the pain-in-the-ass men she had encountered lately. They’d been chasing her since she left New Orleans two weeks earlier. She’d thought she’d lost them when she got to Maryland but she’d been wrong. They’d shown up two days later, much to her chagrin.

So she’d run. Again.

You don’t have to run. I told you. We can take them. All of them. Easily.

Angel signaled to the waitress that she wanted coffee before sinking further into her seat and tried to ignore the smell of grease wafting from the kitchen. Her wolf was always so sure of herself, so capable, so completely confident that they could kick the butt of anyone who threatened them.

But Angel had seen enough violence to last a lifetime. She shivered at the thought. After her pack leader’s death, her wolf pack had dissolved into near chaos. The wolves had run amok through the streets of New Orleans, causing havoc everywhere they went, particularly to the women. A wolf pack was supposed to be a safe place for females, but that wasn’t the case when the guys got to simply pick you out and pronounce you their mate whether you or your wolf wanted them at all.

Then again, it sounded like the New Orleans pack was a walk in the park compared to what happened in her native pack on Westervelt Island when she’d been a baby. They’d butchered all their women, including her mother, who had barely managed to send her off to New Orleans for safekeeping before she’d been killed. Even though Angel had recently found out that she had brothers on Westervelt, she didn’t dare go there and find them for help.

No, that would be like exchanging one bad situation for another one. The answer wasn’t just no, it was hell no.

“What can I get you?”

Angel smiled at the waitress. She was a fifty-something woman who wore her bottle-blonde hair in a high ponytail. It wasn’t a good look for her since it made her dyed roots much more evident than they would otherwise be.

Her wolf sat up in rapt attention. Should we make her feel good?

Angel hadn’t used her powers since they’d gone on the run. She’d been terrified to. What if it brought Houston and Julian right to her side? Still, not using them hadn’t exactly kept them away.

Sounds good.

Placing her fingers lightly on the waitress’ white apron, so gently no one would notice, she smiled as she sent her power into the nice lady serving her.

“I’d like a ham and cheese sandwich, please. No french fries, but I will take the coleslaw and maybe you better make it a pot of coffee instead of just one cup.”

It was a multi-cup-of-coffee day. There was no question.

“Oh.” The waitress smiled and swayed slightly on her feet. It was okay, that was a perfectly natural reaction to Angel’s use of power on a human. She’d be okay in a second. “I’m sorry, for a second I was a little bit dizzy but now—oh wow, I feel fantastic. I feel like I could fly to the moon if I needed to and—oh—I don’t want to wear my hair this way anymore. I think I’m going to go back to my natural brown or, better yet, maybe I’ll let myself show the grey. It would look very chic on me.” The woman closed her mouth abruptly. “I’m so sorry. I’m talking your ear off. I have no idea what has come over me.”

“You’re fine.” Angel couldn’t help grinning. “I’m glad you’re feeling so well and, please, wear your hair however you prefer.”

Still grinning, the waitress went away to put Angel’s order in to the kitchen. Or at least that’s what Angel thought she did. She couldn’t read the woman’s mind. She might be going back to the kitchen to dance a jig for all she knew. The only thing that mattered was that she’d made the woman feel wonderful for today. The rest of Nancy the waitress’ day would be a happy, uplifting experience. Angel had been told it was a bit like walking on sunshine.

She rolled her eyes at her wolf. Why did you tell her to change her hair? That was my private thought.

Her wolf lay down, growling low at Angel’s reprimand. You were right about the hair issue. I thought to help her. Don’t you get huffy with me. We’re running away, which makes me mad at you already.

Nancy returned with the coffee pot and set it down. Smiling as she heard the other woman humming to herself, Angel tried to feel satisfied with her own lot in life. Things weren’t really that bad. So what if she currently had no place to call home? She had money thanks to the businesses she ran, and she would find some place that was hers.

Maybe if she went out west…

A sudden scent wafted into the room, catching Angel’s attention. Usually she could ignore the smells that defined the human world. She’d learned how as a child. Some shifters went nuts due to the constant assault on their nasal passages, but not Angel. She knew she was made of stronger stuff.

But this she couldn’t ignore. This was the smell of woods, of man, of hope. She stood up. This was wolf. She took a deep breath. Yes, there was a male shifter somewhere in here and she’d caught his scent.

Breathing deeply, she wanted to grin. She’d never smelled anyone who made her senses feel like this. Usually male shifters, especially ones who wanted her, made her want to gag. This scent was like heaven. She’d had a taste and she wanted more.

She shook her head. Wow, she’d not even seen this guy yet. What was the matter with her?

Mate.

Her wolf’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

Oh no. She knew what that entailed. Soon, she’d be dragged off and locked up never to see the free world again while he screwed her until he got her pregnant. She closed her eyes. No. No. No. She wasn’t doing that. No frickin way.

Her wolf interrupted her internal rant. You have the wrong idea of mating.

Angel sat back down in her seat. She wasn’t going to find the guy. No, in fact, as soon as her food arrived, she was leaving. As fast as possible.

Oh yeah? I have the wrong idea? I’ve watched it for thirty-five years. I don’t want it.

Her wolf huffed. That’s a distorted version of mating.

Mating led to killing on Westervelt.

And thinking of that reminded her that where she was, somewhere in New Jersey, would be as close to Maine as she was going to get. Any nearer and she’d be too close for comfort to Westervelt Island. Yes, she was definitely going west.

A crash sounded in the kitchen and Angel stood up again. It was the scent wafting through the room. It was making her jumpy. She moved quickly toward the scent.

Nancy came out from the kitchen carrying her tray with a dance in her step. “Now Bob, don’t come down hard on him. It’s my fault, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was doing.”

“Everything okay?” Angel asked.

“Oh,” Nancy laughed. “Did you hear that crash? Yes, everything is fine. I knocked over a bunch of glasses. Come sit down.” Angel did as she said following the older woman back to her table. “I’m only concerned Bob, that’s our owner, is going to come down too hard on Parker. It’s not his fault.”

Angel really hoped that Bob—the owner—wasn’t the one giving off the lovely scent that played games with her sanity. He didn’t sound like a nice guy.

The door to the kitchen swung open, slamming against the wall behind it. A man stomped out of the kitchen and Angel caught her breath at her first sight of him.

“Oh dear,” Nancy muttered. “Looks like he gave him hell anyway.”

“Who is that?” Angel could hardly utter the words.

“That’s Parker.” Nancy said his name like it made her sad to do so as she shook her head. “He washes the dishes.”

Parker was tall, maybe the tallest man Angel had ever seen. Well over six and a half feet tall, he towered over everyone else in the place. His hair was cut short, military style, and he had dark eyes to match his dark hair. Built like a linebacker, he had a presence the likes of which she had never encountered before. It was like he took up all the space in the room just by being in it.

His features were hard, like his dark eyes, and she shivered as he walked further into the room. Every part of his visible arms seemed to be marked with some kind of tattoo. She wished she was closer so she could see what they were.

Taking a deep breath, he seemed to jump backwards a step before righting himself. His head darted left and right as he tried to identify what he smelled. Angel was familiar with the look; she did it herself whenever she couldn’t find what triggered a response in her.

And she had a pretty good idea what he was smelling. He had caught her scent the same way she had caught his. Yep, there was no question about it. The huge hunk with the scary eyes and the pissed-off demeanor was her mate.

She narrowed her eyes at her wolf. No way. No how.

We do not determine these things. They’re made in the heavens. Just because the pack you were raised with distorted the natural way that doesn’t mean you get to just decide you don’t want anything to do with it.

Angel raised an eyebrow. Wanna bet?

As if he’d zoomed in on what he smelled, his head turned and he stared straight at her. Angel caught her breath. The linebacker wolf, who might be her mate if she let it happen, didn’t seem any happier about seeing her than she was to see him. In fact, he made a growling sound in his throat that stated his opinion clearly: he hated the idea.

Angel’s cheeks heated as she watched him turn around and storm back into the kitchen. She hadn’t necessarily wanted him but he had outright rejected her on sight. She rubbed a hand over her face.

Sure, she wasn’t looking her best. She’d been on the run for weeks and she was tired. Bone-weary tired. But she’d spent the night before in a motel and she was showered and clean. In the past, all the men had found her attractive enough.

Was she so ugly he’d dismissed her out of hand?

Her heart pounded hard. This was unacceptable. She was Angel Kane. He didn’t get to turn around and walk away like he didn’t know she was his mate.

“Poor guy. He’s never had it easy.”

Angel turned her fuming attention back to Nancy who grinned from ear to ear, thanks to Angel’s magic making. “Oh no?”

“No.” Nancy shook her head. “He can’t speak.”

Angel knocked over her coffee. “Oh, sorry!” Jumping up, she grabbed the napkins before Nancy could and started cleaning up her mess. “Did you say he can’t speak?”

“Not a word.”

Angel tried to digest this news. Her mate was mute? “Is there something wrong with his vocal cords? Has he seen a doctor?”

“No, it’s not a physical thing. I mean let’s face it—the man is a prime specimen of health. He doesn’t appear a day over thirty even though Bob swears he’s got to be close to forty now.”

Angel could have explained that to Nancy. Wolf shifters didn’t age past thirty until they mated. They could live forever looking like they were thirty years old.

“Go on. If it’s not physical, why can’t he speak?”

“Oh now, I don’t like to gossip…”

“Of course not.” Angel touched her arm. “You can trust me”

“Bob says that a social worker came to him with Parker twenty years ago. Told him he was twenty years old and he needed a job.” Nancy stared down at her. “According to Bob, the man said Parker was smart and capable but hadn’t uttered one word to communicate with anyone ever.” Picking up the dirty napkins, Nancy glanced back at the kitchen. “He does a good job, lives upstairs for a deduction in pay, and never utters a word. All I can think is something bad must have happened to him. Something so bad he can’t—or won’t—speak.”

Nancy finished talking and turned to go back to the kitchen.

That seemed kind of dramatic to Angel. Stopped speaking all together? No, he was a wolf, even if his co-workers didn’t know it. There was something magical going on here and, even if she didn’t want to mate, she wasn’t leaving until she found out what it was. Maybe she could help. Yes, that would be her gift to him. They wouldn’t mate—he didn’t seem to want to anyway—but she would fix his magical issues before she left to go out west.

Yes, that was a plan. She nodded her head feeling good about that.

Two repugnant odors wafted through the door and she darted to her feet. Oh no. How had they caught up to her so fast?

Julian and Houston stood staring at her from the doorway of the diner, like they’d stepped out of a Wild West movie side by side ready for a fight.

This is not going to be good.

Her wolf growled. We can take them.

In the diner? In front of all of these people?

Her wolf paced inside of her, itching for a fight. Angel tried her damndest to not lose her cool. If she had to shift and fight, it would be outside. Still, maybe there was a chance left to reason with Cole’s deranged enforcers before she had to resort to violence.

“Listen boys, I get it. Cole sent you after me. He wants to look tough. He told you whichever one of you got me, could keep me as a mate.”

She raised her hands hoping they weren’t getting too many stares from the other patrons. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb were not the brightest wolf-shifters to ever grace the planet. The fact that they worked for Cole, who only made women servants and didn’t rape them, as opposed to Zack who kept his females locked in the basement, made them only slightly less disgusting to her.

“You really don’t want me as yours. I’m not worth it. Truth is, I’m a big pain in the ass.”

Houston nodded and she wanted to deck him. Okay, maybe her priorities were warped but she didn’t want him agreeing. Screw him. He was an imbecile. He had the nerve to think anything but highly of her?

“We agree.” Houston rubbed his chin. “That’s why me and Julian, we think we’re gonna share you.”

She looked between them. Neither of them was taller than her five foot ten frame. Julian had red hair and freckles that might be cute on someone else and Houston had blond hair and blue eyes. They didn’t do it for her. Not in the least.

Her wolf might be right. She could probably take them.

“You’re going to share me? Doesn’t that kind of go against the grain in terms of mating? Isn’t the purpose of mating to own me?”

The door to the kitchen swung open and she had one second to scent him before Parker was in front of her and picking up Houston and Julian by the back of their collars. Three seconds later and they were both out on their behinds in the parking lot.

Parker turned around, not even glancing at her, and walked back into the kitchen. Angel was so confused. What had happened? She turned to follow him and walked into Nancy instead.

“Don’t worry about that. Bob has a standing policy, if anyone bothers a customer, we’re to kick them out. Parker handles this type of thing all the time.”

“He does, does he?”

So he hadn’t come out of the kitchen and charged to her rescue because he had some sort of sense about her? Well, this had to stop. With the two idiots temporarily handled, she moved past Nancy to enter the kitchen.

“I want to say thank you,” she called over her shoulder to Nancy.

The kitchen was surprisingly small, barely ten feet across, but clean and well organized. She’d stomped into it like she owned the place but now that she was inside she felt her nerve leave her. She rocked on the balls of her feet. What was it she wanted to say, exactly?

Clearing her throat, she looked at Parker who kept his back to her even though she was certain he knew she was there. Her scent would have told him if nothing else and she knew he could hear just fine so he had to have heard her enter.

Turning to her left to the scent of the other man in the room, she smiled. “Are you Bob?”

He was older, she would guess from the sounds of his heart struggling and the way his bones creaked when he moved even a little that he wasn’t much longer for this earth. Smiling, she walked to him and placed a hand on his shoulder letting some of her magic make him feel better.

His smile was practically instantaneous and she let go of his arm. “Are you Bob?”

He nodded, moving back to the oven to flip the eggs simmering there. “I am.”

“Would it be okay, sir, if I thanked your dish washer for helping me out back there?”

Bob shrugged. “You can thank him but he won’t answer you. He’s not dumb.” Bob shouted presumably so Parker could hear him clearer. Angel could have told him Parker could have heard him blocks away if he’d wanted to concentrate. “Just stubborn.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

Angel walked from Bob to the other side of the kitchen where Parker washed dishes. She moved up next to him until she stood directly at his side. He smelled better than heaven; he was like ambrosia and her wolf rolled around like she wanted to ingest his aroma.

Angel cleared her throat. “Um, Parker. I wanted to thank you.”

Nothing. Parker didn’t even look up or stop what he was doing to acknowledge she was there.

Okay.

Try again. Her wolf encouraged. Maybe he’s shy.

“My name is Angel. Those men out there, well, they’ve been chasing me for some time and you are the first person to ever help me. Thank you.”

Parker glanced at her from the side of his eyes. It wasn’t much, but halfway to full eye contact was better than nothing.

“Um…” She gazed at Bob and decided he was busy but not wanting to risk exposure, lowered her voice. “I think you and I both know that we’re the same in a very important way. I’m wondering if it would be possible for me to speak to you, alone, at another time? I can wait. The truck driver who is going to take me from here to some place called Poughkeepsie isn’t leaving until tomorrow. I’m supposed to spend the night out in his haul if I can’t find a motel room.”

Silence met her query but really what had she expected? He didn’t speak.

“Would that be okay? Could you meet me whenever it is that you get off work?”

Parker growled and stormed from the room out the backdoor.

Apparently that was a no.

Yeah, sometimes her wolf was the queen of understatement.

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Monday, July 11, 2011

EMERALD DARE by Tianna Xander and Viola Grace

EMERALD DARE by Tianna Xander and Viola Grace

D.A.R.E. Project Book Three

Raised for one purpose Emerald is pulled between two facts. One, she doesn't want to live in a lab forever, and two, her sisters are disappearing into the dimensions they have worked in. When she meets two males of her kind she has to make a choice and doesn't even hesitate. She picks the one who doesn't make her skin crawl.

Aegon is a silver dragon with the patience and creative intelligence of his kind. He is delighted that his random sweep yielded one of the dragonettes that he has heard so much about and he will do whatever she needs him to to keep her happy and with him at all times. He has to release her to win her, a conflict he has to wrestle with while she returns to the lab. A life together glows before him, but when will she call him so they can begin it?

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Excerpt


Emerald continued to trot toward the encampment on the horizon. At least it was in sight now. Before, she could do nothing else but follow the directional beacon on her scanner.

A strange shadow passed overhead and she looked up with a frown. Whatever it was, it looked huge. The wingspan looked at least forty feet wide. The strange whining noise that accompanied the shadow grew faint, then silent. The world around her was quiet once again. The only noise she heard was the faint rustle of the wind through the grass and trees.

Just as the strange whining returned, someone rushed from the nearby brush and tackled her. “Shh… Don’t move or it will see you.” The voice was female.

“What—”

“Hush!” The woman clamped a hand over Emerald’s mouth and whispered, “Not so loud. It will hear you. I’m told they have exceptional hearing.”

Emerald pulled the hand from her mouth and replied in a low voice, “What are you talking about?” She could see how such a large bird could be a predator, but she was a dragon swan. She had little to fear from a beast such as a large bird.

Content to let the other woman hold her down in the tall grass as she awaited an explanation, Emerald looked up toward the sky. She strained to see what it was they hid from. Still, she saw nothing.

“The dragons.” The woman paused as though to give her time for the proper level of horror to sink in. “They never used to come more than once in a life cycle. Now there is a new one almost every day. No one knows why.”

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Sunday, July 10, 2011

ULTIMATE JUSTICE by Ryder Islington

ULTIMATE JUSTICE by Ryder Islington

A Trey Fontaine Mystery

Special Agent Trey Fontaine has his hands full as he tries to juggle three different sets of cases in his hometown. While healing from a bullet wound, and on limited duty, he is charged with helping find out what’s happening to young women who are disappearing without a trace. But that’s just the beginning. Someone is beating and raping women in town, women who are related to his godfather, Detective Russell Coleman. And then the bodies of men start showing up, eviscerated. Are the crimes related? Or are has the town become a haven for all sorts of criminals?

Wile, Rocky, and Drew, three children from a violent home, take matters into their own hands and soon the small town of Raven Bayou, Louisiana is brimming with dead bodies. But the only victims are those whose background proves them to be deserving of such justice.

Can Special Agent Trey Fontaine stop the violence? Or will he only figure out the truth after someone he loves is dead?

"The twists and turns of Islington's excellent plot and dialogue will keep you on the edge of your chair as you turn page after page to find out what happens next."
Bridget Gibson, Editor
The Times-Tribune - Grant City, Missouri

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Chapter One



SPECIAL AGENT TREY FONTAINE

Rural Neighborhood Crime Scene

Raven Bayou, LA

Friday Early Morning, 3 June 2005



Intermittent flashes of the camera gave Trey ugly glimpses of the scene—cobwebs—a broken shovel—a roll of rusty wire—

The body.

Quick flickers of light enhanced the details as the camera clicked—the petite body in a semi-fetal position on the bare dirt, back to the door. Click—naked and bruised, hair matted with blood.

Click—camouflage-mottled skin, swollen and distorted with gases.

“Shit,” he mumbled, forcing a smile, trying not to gag.

His reaction to the dead woman gnawed at him. He’d been on the job with the bureau nine years, long enough to become immune to grisly images of death, so what was it about this scene that affected him so deeply? He’d learned to distance himself from the carnage that came with his profession, or so he thought. He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath as a disturbing thought crossed his mind. Maybe he was losing it. Maybe being shot had done something to his mind. No. That’s not it, he thought. It was just seeing such a scene in his own hometown.

Back when he was a boy, the population was about nine thousand. Now it was closer to fifteen thousand, with two casinos. He hadn’t spent more than a weekend here since going off to Quantico. He took another deep breath, lifted the camera hanging from his neck, and limped a few feet away to get an overview shot of the shed.

Turning away, he wiped rain from his clean-shaven face, swallowed hard, and focused on the small forest across the road, trees fighting for life against the choking kudzu and poison ivy thick as the set of a jungle movie. Rain ran down his forehead from his short-cropped hair.

His Hummer, called “Streak,” for the silver grey paint the color of a lightning bolt, sat at the edge of the dirt road not far from the deputies and crime scene techs who combed the weeds inside the splintered rail fence. They swarmed over the Louisiana mud, fire ants searching for a lost colony. A couple of officers tied off the ends of the overhead tarp and started stringing lights.

Right hand stuffed in the front pocket of his black jeans, Trey stood between a dilapidated tool shed and a shanty some poor Louisiana family had once called home. Paint peeling. Windows broken. The small porch sagging on one end.

He took a breath and turned back to the crime scene. His eyes adjusted from dark clouds and pouring rain to the even darker shadows beneath the canvas canopy. He stared into the maw of darkness, the open door to the outbuilding in question. The canopy gave the detective some relief from the rain and would allow the coroner to remove the body without washing away evidence.

Trey’s cell rang.

“Got answers for you.” It was the smooth Southern drawl of Tamlyn Washington, intelligence analyst down in the New Orleans field office.

“Shoot.”

“May tenth, Ilene Grant reported her sister Kelli Stevens missing. This is the last girl working at Bayou Lights Casino who went missing. And you’ll love this. Four days ago, Michael Grant reported his wife Ilene missing as well.”

Sisters, he thought. “Is Ilene linked to Bayou Lights?”

A service officer set a box of supplies near the detective. Trey hadn’t seen him before, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance. Straight, dark hair. Gray eyes. Large dimples. Patrician nose. He was a damned Boudreaux.

“Nothing suggests that,” Tamlyn said.

He refocused, pulled out a notepad and pen. “I’m ready.”

Tamlyn described Ilene Grant and as much of the particulars as she’d found.

“Much obliged.”

“Is it fun to work a case in a casino? I’ve heard things about Bayou Lights. Hopkins said it was probably a pain in the butt.” Tamlyn giggled.

“Cute. Tell Hopkins...Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.” Bobby Hopkins had been his partner for a little while and there was nothing he loved more than to razz Trey about getting shot in the butt.

“Hey, Trey...How’s Ace doing?” Tamlyn asked.

He bit the inside of his lip. “Just as expected. She’s the rising star. Thanks for asking how I’m doing.”

“Oh...Hey—”

He pressed the END button. Tamlyn had only been with the Bureau for a year, but she was a good analyst. One day when he was feeling more generous, he’d have to take the time out to warn her about his partner. Bobby Hopkins was a bad influence on young women.

The service officer walked away before homicide detective Russ Coleman could introduce them. “A Boudreaux on the force?”

“Yeah.” Russ worked the camera. “Near about a deputy. Hope I’m out to pasture by then. The youngest boy. Has a year to go but he’s on it. How’s Georgia?”

Trey stepped back. “Mom left town for a conference before I got here. She’ll be in Baton Rouge until Monday. Then she’s going on a cruise with a friend.” A sigh of relief managed to escape his lips and Russ chuckled. He offered a faint smile. Russ knew him too well. “Brother-in-law of one of the missing girls filed a missing persons report on his wife.” He gave Russ the rest of the details. Unless an I.D. proved the body to be of one of the missing women linked to Bayou Lights, he had no business here. Hell, he had no business here anyway.

Trey wouldn’t have gotten the call if any other detective were in charge of the scene. It pays to be an agent in your home state. It’s even better if your godfather is a senior detective for the Sheriff’s Department.

The camera clicked away in Russ’s mocha-colored hands as he took interior shots of the outbuilding. Below the camera, Trey noticed the gray in Russ’s goatee. He’s getting old, Trey thought.

When the flashes stopped, the body became barely visible through the dimness within.

The portable light had just been hung and strung. The generator kicked on. Trey flipped the switch. The sight made his heart thump against his ribs. Bile burned the back of his throat and he swallowed hard. He’d seen hundreds of bodies and had smelled worse things than this. Maybe he should have taken a little more time off after the shooting. Maybe being wounded had affected his mind. No. That’s not it. My mind is fine. He took a breath, lifted the camera hanging from his neck, and limped back a few steps to get an overview shot.

He had intended to keep his hand in his pocket like a good observer. It wasn’t his damned case, but he was antsy, ready to do something, not just stand around being useless. Besides, doing something would give him an excuse to stay at the scene.

Since the shooting, he’d been given nothing but scut work. And now he was Ace’s babysitter. While she went undercover on a potentially huge case, he played boyfriend, a perfect position for collecting info from her and updating her on any new evidence. It wasn’t a perfect position for Trey.

The last nine years with the Bureau had taken him across the country, though he worked out of the New Orleans field office. The bad guys had taken to traveling, forcing agents to pursue. But he’d never had to pursue one to Raven Bayou. He only remembered one murder in this town in all of his childhood. This town was an oasis, so different from the big cities. And now his safe oasis was the scene of an ugly murder, a place where young women were disappearing.

Squatting near the door of the shed, he winced as the half-healed wound in his butt sent a shot of pain up his hip. He returned to his standing position, eyes glued to the child-like body of a woman.

Could be either of the sisters. Or not. With her back to him and her skin stippled, he couldn’t tell much about her, other than her hair was dark brown and relatively straight, though neither of those things could be relied upon in determining ethnicity anymore. People colored, straightened, or permed their hair on a whim these days.

He slid the button on the digital camera hanging from his neck and snapped a few shots. It would be easier to see the truth when the pictures were printed in black and white. His mind filtered through the thousands of photos and textbook descriptions of decomposition and its many manifestations, calculating how long this body might have lain here.

After a breath, he stepped back and returned his right hand to its proper hiding place. The size of the body was a match for Ilene Grant. That wasn’t much. When all the evidence was in, he’d load it into his computer and make some calculations. Then he’d have something concrete to work with. If Russ needed his help, Trey would be ready.

Russ took a few more shots before putting his camera down and beginning a sketch.

“Any crime spree against females I don’t know about?” Trey shifted his weight.

“Naw.”

“Any similar crimes?”

His godfather gave him a quick look, jaw flexing. “Nothing leading to death. Had a rape and beating of a young woman, Endri Cheramie, a month or so ago. In the hospital two weeks.” He looked down at the body. “Guess we’ll know more after this autopsy. I suspect this one wasn’t raped, and the cases aren’t related.”

“I know, your famous gut.” Trey noted the name Cheramie on his pad.

“And nearly forty years doing this.”

Trey averted his gaze and kept his mouth shut. He scanned the site again and saw that Russ was the only detective there. “Where’s your partner?”

“On her way. Some people sleep in till five, sometimes even six.” Russ didn’t bother to look up.

“Her?”

“Taylor.”

“Taylor who?” Trey said.

“No, Gemini Taylor.”

“Gemini? Like in twenty years ago, Gemini.”

“That would be the one.” Russ raised his gaze. “You know her?”

“Everyone in Raven Bayou at least knows of her. I met her right before she left town.” He rubbed two fingers up the ridges between his eyebrows. “I can’t believe she came back here.”

“I think a coyote just run over your grave.”

Was it just a coincidence Taylor and Trey were in town at the same time? It had to be. There was no such thing as fate. Not that he meant anything to her. She probably didn’t even remember him. But he sure remembered her. The bad girl of Raven High.

“I’ll check with them.” He motioned toward the techs, heads down like hens after scratch.

Russ nodded and went back to work.

Trey limped, carefully avoiding possible evidence beside which sat bright yellow markers. Most of this shit’s probably just trash someone threw out a car window. Mud seeped above the soles of his black boots, staining the sides an ugly brown.

He pulled a small mint tin from his pocket, opened it, removed two Lortab, and tossed them past his tongue, dry-swallowing without so much as a flinch. A tingle ran up his spine and tickled his neck, and he took a quick peek behind him only to find his godfather’s eyes boring into him. Having an almost familial relationship with a detective was a dagger. And both edges were razor sharp.


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Saturday, July 9, 2011

TAINTED BLOOD by Stacey Kennedy

TAINTED BLOOD by Stacey Kennedy

The Dark Element Book One

Darkness is settling over San Francisco - vampires in the throes of blood lust are taking innocent lives. One witch will need to see past her fear, and trust her Guardian, before everyone is in danger, including herself...

Earth Witch, Sabi, has been gifted with the ability to see premonitions of the darkness that threatens human lives. Safe in the Otherworld, she adjusts to these new visions...which isn't going so well. Luckily, she's got the sexy Guardian, Ryker to help her work through these visions. He's intent to show her how to distance herself from them and help her gain control of life. Not that it's really helping. The visions are leaving her crippled and unable to help pinpoint the killer's locations to stop the acts from happening.

If that's not enough to deal with, she soon begins to see vampires on a killing rampage in San Francisco. Vampires are being born and left to fend for themselves, resulting in innocent lives being taken while they're in the throes of blood lust. But as Sabi's visions begin to kick up a notch, personal matters need to be put aside. And as the mystery begins to unravel, Sabi will begin to see that these visions are getting far more dangerous and that humans are not the only ones at risk - she is.

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Excerpt:

Ryker took another step toward her, but Sabi raised her hand to stop him.“Don’t give me that smoldering look. I mean it, if my dessert goes in the garbage again, there will be hell to pay.”

“I’m only interested in comforting you.”

“Sure you are.” She continued to step away from him. Her stare focused on his, and good heavens, they burned with desire. The one part of their relationship that had never been an issue was the spectacular passion between them.

“Now come on, I only want to hug you.”

She knew him all too well. “A hug will lead to nakedness, and the dessert will be forgotten.”

He continued to approach her, moved her out of the kitchen as she backed away from him while he gave her his sexy grin. “You think so little of my restraint?”

“I know you don’t have any,” she retorted, suddenly aware her legs were stopped by something. She glanced back to find he had herded her into the bedroom. “I mean it, Ryker. You’ve ruined too many of the treats I’ve made for you.”

He pinned her, leaning his body against hers, and his gaze said he enjoyed the position he put her in. “May I remind you, I’ve said to stop all this baking and let me just enjoy the taste of you.”

Classic Ryker—bold, yet somehow charming. He could say something dirty and make it sound endearing. He closed the distance between them, raised his hand and ran a finger down her cheek. “What if I touched you here, would this change your mind?”

“No,” she said, determined. Oh, she would fight him, and ignore how sexy he looked in his Guardian gear—all warrior—all man. She enjoyed baking for him, liked doing nice things for him, and he’d made it a habit to let her efforts burn to a crisp. No, she would hold her ground and refuse him. They needed to wait forty-five minutes, if that, and then they could play.

“What if I did this?”

He ran his thumb over her lips, and on instinct, her lips parted as her breath followed in a whoosh. “No, my mind would not be changed.”

He grinned, and she almost succumbed to him. The confidence oozing from him, the pure sex appeal emanating from him, plus his gorgeous face―she was screwed.

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Friday, July 8, 2011

I CAUGHT THE SHERIFF by Cerise DeLand

I CAUGHT THE SHERIFF by Cerise DeLand

There’s a new sheriff in town with a strong need to show folks who’s boss.

But rancher Lex Coltrane has steered things here his way too long to let the sassy redhead with the curvy bod run wild. He figures he’d better catch the luscious sheriff and lay down the law.

Lana jumps at the chance to get Lex into her bed and show him what’s really beneath her badge. How she needs him, tough, tender, attentive. How she likes him, fierce, eager and dominant.

She knows who’s in charge in Lex’s bed is always Lex. But who’s in charge out of it?

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An Excerpt From: I CAUGHT THE SHERIFF

Copyright © CERISE DELAND, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



On a one-hundred-degree Fourth of July in south Texas, Lex Coltrane gazed out upon his two burning problems. One stood across the street glaring back at him. He was the crusty old dude who’d bought the ranch down the road a piece and hogged all the water in High Maria Creek. The other headed toward Lex on a horse. She was a long, tall drink of cool tea by the name of “Red” Foster, the newly appointed local sheriff, who filled out a pair of jeans like she’d been born in them and who, if she did not help him soon with his neighbor, needed a whipping something bad.

“And I am just the man to give it to you, too,” Lex murmured as he watched her ride past, waving to the Fourth of July crowd like a prize filly at a beauty pageant.

“Nice piece of horseflesh.” Lex’s buddy Zack Christianson nodded toward the redhead who sat her quarter horse as regal as the barrel-racing queen she had been at fifteen. “She looks even better than when she was the captain of the cheerleading squad. That was more than ten years ago. How does she do that?”

“She’s used to the saddle, Zack.” The way her thighs hug that mount, she’s an expert at controlling animals. Too bad she has failed to ride herd on my new idiot neighbor. “Working as a deputy down in Zapata County, she patrolled the Rio Grande border every day on horseback.” Lex knew because he sat on the county council that had reviewed her resume.

Zack cocked a brow. “She could patrol me every day and I’d be just fine about it.”

“Dream on, man.” I do. Shifting to calm his cock, Lex watched her pass and kept his eyes glued to her firm little ass. “Word around town is she’s not looking for a man to keep her bed warm at night.”

Zack pushed his white Stetson up his forehead and grinned. “Hell, that’s fine by me. I just want a taste of that sugar, not an all-night meal.”

“Your divorce has got you down, Zack. Not good to limit your time with a woman before you’ve even talked to her. Come on,” Lex urged his friend, “let me buy you a beer over at the fairgrounds. I want to take a look at a few of the entries in the 4-H competition.”

“I never refuse the offer of a beer and I’m always looking for good stock.” Zack fell in step beside Lex as they strode through town toward the pens on the fairgrounds.

The crowds were thick, and it just so happened that Lex and Zack kept pace right behind the end of the parade. This, Lex noted with a twist of his lips, allowed him a continuing view of the rear end of the Bandera County Sheriff’s Posse and the tight butt of their new boss lady.

But Ted Plumber stepped right in front of him and obstructed his vision.

“Hey, hey, hey, Red!” he called to her above the din of the brass band and the happy crowd. “Hey, baby!”

“Drunk at eleven in the morning?” Zack winced. “Hell, Ted’s getting worse every day.”

Lex saw him reach up to pull the sexy sheriff from her saddle. “Oh, brother. Look out now. She won’t stand for that.”

Zack growled. “She shouldn’t either. The long arm of the law doesn’t want to be cuddled.”

“Or manhandled. Come on.” Lex thumped his buddy on the shoulder and plowed his way through the crowd to get to Lana Foster.

He and Zack got to her side just as their very drunk pal was tugging at her long, white shirt sleeve.

“Sir!” She leaned over in the saddle to frown at the man who plucked at her clothes. “Take your hands off me.”

“Lana! Baby!” Ted grinned like a slobbering kid. “Come on down here, girl, and gimme a big smacker. Right…” He tapped his puckered lips. “Here.”

“Sir, I am very sorry,” she told him in a no-nonsense tone, “but please remove your hands from me.”

“Aw. You remember me! Ted! From high school! Math class. You were so good.” He swept his wide-brimmed cowboy hat from his head in a gentleman’s gesture of respect. “A kiss. Let’s get to it.”

“Ted!” Lex looped an arm under Ted’s while Zack took the man’s other arm. “What say we take you home?”

“No! Party’s jush getting started, Lex. Lemme go.” He tugged to get loose.

Lex held him tighter. “You are making a scene here, Ted. Time to go.”

In a wrench that broke him free of Lex and Zack, Ted lurched toward Lana Foster who had, in the meantime, climbed down from her horse.

This time when Ted went to grab her, he got her around the neck.

She yelped, but braced her legs and in a lightning move, shrugged and threw the man off her back. Zap. Ted was on the dusty ground, scrambling up, dirty and mad as a wet hen.

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FREYA'S MATES by Stacey Espino

FREYA'S MATES by Stacey Espino


Pack Seduction Series Book Two


Freya's on her own, lost in a new city. Being of royal blood, every male shifter would kill to have her as a mate. Staying in hiding is her number one priority.

When hunger leads her to the rear of a night club in search of food, she comes across a human who arouses a new desire within her.

Once inside the club, she's caught skipping out on her bill and forced to deal with the club owner and bartender, both sexier-than-sin shifters. Will she be able to submit to the three men? Can there be a future with a human mate?

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Excerpt

"You look cold," said Gideon. All three men moved in on her once the door closed. "How about we warm you up, pretty little wolf?"

Heat already bloomed in her core, lighting up her extremities. Her lion and cougar looked absolutely savage, sexual hunger burning in their eyes. She wasn't immune to their desire. It pulled her in, making all her insecurities, worries, and doubts fizzle away. All that remained was need.

They hadn't asked Darius to leave even though he wasn't yet her mate. And Darius hadn't shown signs of revulsion to the idea of sharing her…yet. Vincent stripped off his shirt, offering his perfectly chiseled body for her pleasure. She loved every inch of him, from his lean muscled frame, to his armband tats, to his unkempt dirty-blonde hair. When he approached, she eagerly wrapped her arms around his neck and sought his mouth. Her bare flesh pressed against his sizzled, making her pussy pulse, strong and demanding.

"She smells ripe, Vincent," said Gideon.

"That she does." He nipped his way down her neck and across her shoulder. Pleasure bordering on pain, and the promise of the intense, feral sex she craved.

"Do we let the human play?"

"The human is standing right here." Darius plucked off his own shirt. He was gloriously bronzed and wickedly tempting for a non-shifter. The faint scent of cigarillos and alcohol clung to him, increasing her arousal. She'd do anything to ensure he joined in with them tonight, even if she had to drop down to her knees and suck his cock in front of her mates.

"He gets to play," said Carna. She reached for Darius' hand and placed it on her breast. Gideon's golden eyes traced the movement. She half expected him to snap the human's wrist in two for daring to touch her, but his guarded stance softened and he began unbuckling his pants instead.

Once shirtless with his zipper down, Gideon ordered her to her knees. She knew his alpha lion would demand to dominate with a new male in the room, and she reveled in every minute of it. The floor was cool on her knees, but only an afterthought. She pulled the flaps of his pants wider and freed his cock from his boxers. Up close, he was massive—long, thick, and virile. She imagined that heavy cock being rammed into her achy pussy, but her needs would have to wait a little while longer.

"Go on, Freya. I want to feel you sucking me. Suck me while your human watches."

She opened her mouth as wide as she could and sucked on the bulbous tip. Her womb continually spasmed, coiling tight with her increasing desperation to be fucked. She could hear Darius in the background, insisting the human wasn't the only other man in the room. Gideon's cock was hot and pulsed each time she suckled it. She lost herself in the act, grabbing the base in a loose fist, pumping and sucking, licking and teasing. Before long, he pushed her shoulders back, releasing her suction. "No more. You'll have me coming in no time with a mouth like that."

He hoisted her to her feet as if she weighed mere pounds. His mouth on hers was demanding and probed deep. As they backed up, she hit a wall of hard male flesh, an aroused dick prodding her back to match the one to her front. Her desires grew sinfully high and she couldn't help it when her fangs lengthened. She didn't want to startle Darius too much. He'd already been taking all the revelations so well.

"Bite me, Freya," Gideon growled. She didn't hesitate, but lashed forward in a vicious, yet erotic attack. Her teeth sinking into his thick muscles was heavenly, transporting her to a new realm. She didn't care what they did to her at this point, she needed so much more.


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Thursday, July 7, 2011

BUMP 'N' GRIND by Sam Cheever

BUMP 'N' GRIND by Sam Cheever

Attractive divorcee, Felicia Jeffries, is turning 45 and her friends have dragged her to a male strip club to celebrate. If she had her druthers, Felicia would be hiding in a dark corner with her friends. Instead, she finds herself on stage, dirty dancing with a sexy hottie whose smoldering glances tell Felicia that he could care less about the difference in their ages.

Garrett Holcomb has always liked older women. He enjoys convincing them that their bodies' natural changes are sexy, rather than the negative they perceive them to be. When Felicia slides her sexy body against his that night in the dance club, he knows they're meant to be together.

But someone else doesn't think their love is healthy. And he'll do anything to make sure they miss out on the future they want together. Including nearly murdering a man...and pinning Garrett for the attack.

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An Excerpt From: BUMP ’N’ GRIND

Copyright © SAM CHEEVER, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Felicia pulled into the lot and parked. She stared at the low-slung brick building, chewing her bottom lip nervously. She wasn’t gonna be able to do it. It was crazy.

Bliss was nuts.

A forceful knock on her window made her jump and shriek in alarm. She turned to see Bliss’ attractive café mocha face grinning through the glass at her. “I knew you’d get cold feet, so I was waiting for you.”

Felicia climbed out of the car. “You bitch. You scared the shit out of me.”

Bliss laughed, linking her arm through Felicia’s. She looked incredible as always. Bliss was tall and well built, with huge boobs and a firm, round ass. She kept herself in fine shape and nature had been kind to her, giving her high sculpted cheekbones, gorgeous golden-brown eyes, and a wide mouth with full, sexy lips. She wore her hair in a soft, seventies-type ‘fro, and it worked for her. Her clingy, extremely short black dress looked as if it had been made for her, and only Bliss could get away with red shoes that had four-inch-high stiletto heels without looking like a hooker.

Felicia smoothed a hand nervously down the front of her Oriental-style red dress. The dress had a high neckline and cap sleeves and she knew she looked good in it but it was a little tight for her comfort level, showing every curve in her body. Even the ones she didn’t want to advertise. Compared to Bliss’ “fuck me” shoes, Felicia’s simple black heels seemed dowdy.

“You look sexy as hell, Miss Felicia.” Bliss purred. She gave Felicia’s arm a tug and all but dragged her toward the door of the club, stopping with her hand on the knob and turning to her nervous friend. “Are you ready to have your life changed?”

Felicia closed her eyes and filled her lungs with air. Stars burst in front of her eyes. “I can’t go in there, Bliss. Don’t make me.”

Bliss laughed and threw open the door. The low pulse of music throbbed from the room, the bass set so low Felicia’s jaw vibrated as she stepped over the threshold. As loud as it was, the music was occasionally eclipsed by a burst of feminine shrieking.

Felicia looked past the bar toward the long, curvy stage that split the room in half. The stage was about chest high and had chairs all around it, with a narrow ledge for the customers sitting in the chairs to set their drinks on. Connected to the drinking bar across the back, the stage was lit with colored strobe lights and had dancers on it.

Male dancers.

Scantily clad male dancers.

Felicia blushed and averted her face from Bliss, not wanting to endure the razzing she knew would follow if her friend noticed.

Bliss’ throaty laugh told her it was too late. “Come on, Polly Pureheart. The girls are saving a seat for you.”

A welcoming cheer erupted as Bliss dragged Felicia over to the edge of the stage, where all her friends were seated with nearly empty glasses in front of them.

“I see you’ve gotten a head start on me.” Felicia grinned at Elizabeth Collins, her best friend since college. Elizabeth had turned forty-five a few months earlier but didn’t look a day over thirty-five, due to some really good genes, some strategic sculpting and monthly visits to a great hairdresser.

In response to Felicia’s jab, Elizabeth pursed her lips and made a fart noise. To which every one of Felicia’s friends hooted as if she’d told the world’s best joke.

Felicia rolled her eyes. “How long have they been here?”

“I think since about five o’clock. Betty’s already met all the dancers. She has their names and phone numbers in her little notebook.”

Felicia looked down the row of her friends to the short, pudgy librarian with glasses. Betty was the oldest of her friends and didn’t try to hide it. She looked every bit of fifty years, right down to the short bob with bangs she wore her graying brown hair in. “Betty?”

Betty lifted the notebook over her head and yelled, “Oo-rah!”

They all burst into laughter again.

Beth patted the seat next to her. “Sit down, honey. We saved you a seat.”

Felicia glanced from the seat at the dancing bar toward the scantily clad young man on top. There couldn’t have been more than five feet in distance between them. She’d be close enough to catch a flying drop of sweat…or get soaked in an errant wave of pheromones.

“Why don’t we move over there?” She pointed to a dark corner that was just about as far away from the dancers as they could get.

Beth grabbed her hand and yanked her into the chair. “Not a chanch, honey,” she slurred.

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Wednesday, July 6, 2011

KINFOLK by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

KINFOLK by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

The last thing that writer Katherine Vaughn expects when she flees California for her native Arkansas is to fall in love, especially not with a former Navy SEAL and her cousin’s widower. Nor did she expect that the thugs seeking retribution for her late husband’s drug debts would follow her back to Arkansas.

As she and Ben Hatfield fall in love, their happiness faces trials that include an unexpected illness and his grandfather’s death. But Katherine has little time to mourn her own losses as the California drug lord’s minions kidnap her in a final effort to collect on the debt.

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Excerpt:

Several months had passed since her flight from California and hope that no one might trace her stirred. Optimistic in a tentative fashion, she sought Ben’s input and advice on Monday.

“There are business details I need to handle,” she told him, filling his cup with fresh coffee. “I need to get in touch with my agent and with my financial manager. I’m afraid, though, that if I do, Hu Sing’s minions might track me down. Do you think that’s possible?”

He didn’t answer immediately but pondered the question. “There’s that chance but then again they might not. If you want access to your money, then it’s a chance you’ll have to take, unless you want to go to work at the chicken plant.”

Serious as the subject was, she smiled. His attempt at low-key humor banished her fears but concern remained.

“I don’t want anyone to come here. If they find me, they want their money and I still don’t have it. I don’t want to put you or Aunt Ruby in danger.”

“Don’t worry about it. If they come, they come. You can’t hide out for the rest of your life, can you?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then don’t. I told you I’ll protect you if it comes to that.”

His rich, deep voice changed as he spoke and although it seemed ludicrous that this quiet man could be violent as well as dangerous, she knew he meant it. There was a side of Ben that most people never noticed and that man would do whatever was necessary.

“Then I’ll make some calls later today.” She made her decision. She could either take care of business or forget about her career as K.A. Benton. “I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“If you’re still up when I get home from work, I’ll stop by.”

His eyes met hers and a rush of potent desire spread through her body. Judging by his expression, he felt a similar glow and she nodded.

“I’d like that.”

Strengthened by her growing relationship with Ben, she retrieved her cell phone from the charger. With the sounds of Aunt Ruby’s favorite soaps resonating from the living room, she sat at the kitchen table and dialed Tina’s number from memory. Pippi answered in her throaty, pseudo Marilyn Monroe voice.

“Tina’s. Your business is our pleasure.”

“Pippi, this is Katherine Vaughn. I need to speak with Tina.” Martina Maldonado had been her accountant and financial manager since she arrived in California.

“Bitch, where you been at?” Pippi shouted in her ear. “People were looking for you, up, down, and around.”

That was disconcerting to know but Katherine willed herself calm. “I’m out of town.”

“I know that, girlfriend! Where are you hiding out? Let me guess—some tropical getaway.”

She had forgotten the funky California line of bullshit, the endless attempts to impress with hip style but it eroded her patience and grated her nerves. “I need to talk with Martina, Pippi.”

“Oh, all right!”

Muzak blasted her ear until Tina’s voice replaced it.

“Katherine, this is Tina. Babe, I’m glad you called in—your creditors have been crawling over me like cockroaches but I kept them dancing until Gene-O came through with royalties. You’re current now, sweetie, but don’t do this to me again. How’s tricks?”

“I’m fine. Thanks for handling the bills. That’s why I called—I want everything I owe paid and then I need you to liquidate all my assets, the house, cars, everything. I don’t plan to come back to California.”

“So you’re doing the relocation thing! Cool! Are you coming out to help?”

If flights were free, she would not go to California but Tina didn’t need to know that. “No. I have everything I need from the house. Just take care of it and put the money in my accounts. I’ll transfer everything later.”

“Will do but I’m going to need some papers signed, chick, you know that. I’ll FedEx out what I need. Just tell me where.”

Hesitation slowed her thoughts. She didn’t want to reveal her location to anyone but she could not refuse a reasonable request. “Promise not to share with anyone and I’ll give it to you.”

“Your secret’s safe in my hands, honey. Give me the details.”

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Tuesday, July 5, 2011

VAMPIRE INSTINCT by Joey W. Hill

VAMPIRE INSTINCT by Joey W. Hill

Book VIII of the Vampire Queen series
As servant to vampire mistress Lady Daniela, Elisa’s devotion is unwavering - until Lady D makes it clear that the children entrusted to Elisa’s care may be destroyed, if they cannot be integrated into the vampire world. Elisa's young charges are vampires of such potent desires as to belie their youth, given to a reckless bloodlust that makes their assimilation nearly impossible. But Elisa has one desperate option.

His name is Malachi, a Native American vampire who is a legend for his work with rehabilitating feline predators. With his primal understanding of the rules of survival, he is the fledglings’ last hope. But it is Elisa who is feeling the heat of his irresistible animal instincts. Now, as Malachi struggles to control the children's impulses, he opens himself up to those of Elisa - and the passion they all share for the night could seal their fates forever.

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Excerpt:

As Elisa got out of the plane, she looked for him, this Malachi. He was not a Region Master or even an overlord, so he bore no lord or ladyship title as did Lady Danny. Elisa decided she would use Mr. Malachi until he indicated otherwise. She wasn’t unhappy about Thomas’s presence with her, though. The weight he brought as Lady Lyssa’s human servant—Lady Lyssa being Region Master of the southern United States, as well as a consultant to the current Vampire Council and the last royal blood of the vampire clans—would be helpful, even knowing Thomas would not stay long from Lyssa’s side. Three days… She had to convince Malachi to let her stay, to convince Danny it was okay as well.

For one thing, she couldn’t bear to go back to the station and see the empty spot that should have been Willis. Riding the stock in, or whittling in a chair leaned back against the barn. Tipping his hat to her with a lazy smile when she came out to beat the rugs. If she went back, she’d have nothing to do but being a maid. Having the children had filled her days and nights. It kept her from thinking so much.

Once being around vampires, it wasn’t difficult to spot one. The exceptionally graceful, predatory way they moved, the intense focus of the eyes. And of course, every single one of them was beautiful beyond words. It should get tiresome, her senses unaffected by it. Perhaps because of his unexpected appearance, that wasn’t the case when the island’s owner made his appearance, striding toward the plane.

Even the untitled vampires she’d met took care to appear as aristocracy. Well-dressed, well-groomed, well-spoken. Most had lived long enough to accumulate money, education, making themselves appealing to human prey if they didn’t have a servant for a regular bloodsource. In contrast, Mr. Malachi wore jeans and workboots, an untucked and snug-fitting dark T-shirt. The outfit was no more formal than what Dev or Willis might have worn for their stockman duties. Black hair, unruly and brushing his shoulders, looked like a lion’s mane. He had an aquiline nose, the features of a hawk. He was an Indian.

When Danny bought her a book about the United States, they’d compared Western Australia with the American Wild West. In the pictures of the Native Americans whose tribes had once been scattered over the United States, the resemblance was unmistakable.

A black stone carving of some kind of cat, threaded on a braided strip of leather and worn around his neck, only added to the impression. When she at last focused on his dark brown eyes, he possessed a predator’s strength and authority in his focus, but it was far more...primal. None of them were exactly what she’d call gentle or safe, but he had an untamed look that said he’d always be more at home among wild animals in a dense forest than among his own kind. A strange thought.

He stopped before them, gave Thomas a curt nod. “My greetings to your lady.”

“And hers to you. She thanks you for assisting Danny.” Thomas cleared his throat, his gaze flashing with amusement. “She says one of these days she expects you to stop playing with your kittens long enough to visit a cat with real claws.”

“It may take me a century or two to find that kind of courage.”

Elisa drew in a breath, not expecting the quick flash of a male grin that showed fang tips. But then Malachi’s glance turned toward her, and the deceptively approachable expression was gone. “Where are the fledglings?”

“They’re in the plane,” she said. “We didn’t wish to unload the children until—”

“They are not children, girl.” He cut across her. “You are a child. They are vampires. For the very brief time you’ll be here, you will not call them children.”

“You haven’t even met them yet,” she retorted. “You don’t know what they are or aren’t.”

“Elisa.” Thomas put a quelling hand on her shoulder, but Malachi had already stepped forward, bumping her toes, moving her back a step with his greater height. He wasn’t heavily muscled, but there was a lean, tensile strength to him that suggested he spent a great deal of time doing manual labor. Another thing vampires didn’t do. But daring a brief look into his face, she revised her earlier opinion. He might be different, but she saw that full blast of dominant authority a vampire could quickly bring to bear in the face of a challenge by a weaker opponent. What was the matter with her? She’d been trained better than this, but they’d barely stepped foot off the plane and now he assumed—

He settled a strong hand on her throat, tipping her chin up. She froze all over. “In time, I will ask you questions, and I will hear your thoughts. But I’ll make the decisions, and you’ll follow them instantly. You will not question me. If you have difficulty with that, I’ll stick you back on this plane and we’ll cut our three-day ordeal two days shorter. Understood?”

“Mal,” Thomas said. Malachi cocked his head toward him. Only a faint flicker showed in Thomas’s face, but the vampire glanced back down at her. Then his hand was gone and he’d taken a step back. While his face remained implacable, she realized why Thomas had spoken. She was shaking, and there was a swirling panic in her chest threatening to cut off her air flow.

Damn it. Firming that chin he’d handled so familiarly, ignoring the quaver in her voice, she spoke. “Mr. Malachi, I’ve served a vampire since I was seventeen years old. I’ll have no problem being respectful and obedient to your wishes, but I also have a responsibility to these…young vampires. They’re mine,” she added with determined stare that locked with his gaze, despite the breach of vampire-human etiquette. I’ve paid in blood for the privilege.

* * * * *

Danny had described Elisa as an obedient and efficient servant, naturally submissive. She was trembling like a leaf, her hands knotted together like a frayed rope. When he’d stepped into her space, she’d given every indication she’d bolt, but she’d dug in and stood fast under his touch. She had soft skin.

This was the one that had been violated. Christ. Her foolish defiance had driven it right from his mind. He took stock of the paleness from recent serious injury, the flash of automatic terror at an aggressive, unknown male. Danny was a fool for permitting her to come. She wasn’t up for this. Grudgingly though, he acknowledged the fortitude it had taken to make this kind of trip and to continue to champion them.

On the other hand, she could be a complete mental case. A smile tugged at his lips, unexpected. One could say the same of a vampire who chose to live away from his own kind and play nursemaid to “kittens”, as Lyssa had taunted him.

How many scars had healed on his body from his missteps with his cats? At the beginning, while he was learning their ways, how often had he gone down under them? He could be considered prey with one wrong communication of body language or scent. It was unexpected to see that same history in her eyes, misguided though it was. A vast difference existed between a vampire’s mind and a cat’s. And a woman’s was entirely incomprehensible.

“You’re absolutely correct. I’ve not yet met them.” Gesturing, he directed her toward the plane. “Take me to them.”


* * * * *

Mal strode into the cargo area and came to a halt, gazing about the silver semi-circle of cages. The six reacted in myriad ways to his arrival. Three bolted to the back of their cages, silent, skulking shadows. In contrast, the one that looked the oldest moved forward, baring fangs. Holy Christ, Ruskin had taught them nothing. Their fangs couldn’t retract, permanently locked like saber-toothed tigers. The sickness that twisted in his gut now was what Mal felt when a half-starved juvenile lion was brought in, some misguided idiot’s pet or the whipped failure of some circus. He had an active dislike for humans, but before him was the reminder that malicious brutality and unforgivable ignorance weren’t limited to them.

That didn’t change what needed to be done here, though, so he made sure neither his scent nor his expression emanated such sympathy. Instead, he glanced at one of the handlers. “How do you open the cages?”

“A combination on this control, sir.” The man pointed at it.

Mal nodded. “Open his cage.” He gestured to the most aggressive fledgling.

“Sir?”

Mal cut a glance in the man’s direction, but Thomas was already attending to it. “Obey him,” he said. The monk put a reassuring hand on Elisa’s quivering shoulder. Her eyes had moved to the young snarling male, then skittered away, her skin paling further.

“Open it,” Mal snapped.

As the cage door retracted, Elisa fully expected Leonidas to leap out. Anticipating that, her body refused all rational thought, going rigid with the desire to bolt. Instead, moving faster than she could follow, Malachi was already in the door, chest to chest with the gangling boy. Leonidas was a few inches shorter, but had the lanky length of a teenager who’d been starting his growth explosion when he was turned.

Baring his fangs, Mal snarled in a way that made Leonidas look like a house cat standing up to a fully grown lion. Leonidas attempted to snarl back, but fear suffused his expression. Malachi moved into him so the boy shuffled back, further and further, until he was in the corner. However, Malachi continued to lever the advantage until the boy was shrinking down onto his knees under his looming body, cowering.

“There’s no reason to be that cruel,” Elisa muttered, starting forward. Thomas clamped down on her arm anew, but then Mal spoke.

“Elisa, come here.”

She’d intended to come a couple steps and admonish him. Faced with the actuality of coming into that cage, something happened to her feet, as if they were lodged in concrete.

Mal, his gaze still locked on Leonidas’s bowed head, stretched out a hand in her direction. “Trust me, Elisa. You are coming to me, not to him. Nothing will happen to you. Look at me only. Do not make any eye contact with him.”

Somehow, responding to the sure authority in his voice, her feet were moving, a blessed miracle. One step, two step, and she kept her eyes locked on Malachi. Was his hair long enough to braid, she wondered. Did he put feathers in it? Of course, this was the 1950s and Indians did not run around half naked on horseback with feathers in their hair, but she made herself imagine Malachi in such a way, anything to keep her mind away from what she was doing.

He’d be breathtakingly bare, on the back of a pinto. His bowstring drawn back to his ear, an arrow ready to fly. He’d be painted with symbols for a good hunt, wearing only that and the stone necklace on his upper body. Those brief leggings that showed the muscular curve of buttock would be his only clothing. The horse wouldn’t have any tack, man and horse as one, which fit with her idea of Mal as more wild creature than vampire.

As distractions went, it was a good one. It wasn’t the first time she’d used visual image to get her through a moment, but it was the first time since that terrible night she’d used imaginings like this. It made her want to scowl. Bloody vampires and their pheromones, as Danny called them. But if it did the trick, got her to him, then so be it.

She hesitated at the threshold, and then she was over it, placing her trembling hand in the grip of his. She tried hard to stare just at him, but then, nervously, her gaze skittered to Leonidas.

The boy struck. Elisa screamed. A flash of movement, a resounding thud and cry of pain. Not hers. Malachi was holding Leonidas against the bars of the cage. One long-fingered hand squeezed his throat, the boy’s feet half a foot off the floor. She had somehow ended up against Malachi’s chest, her face buried into it, his other arm curled protectively around her.

“Look at me, Elisa.”

Taking a breath, Elisa managed to get to his throat, her eyes glued to that dark stone totem in the bronzed hollow. She was used to pale vampires. When his fingers tightened along her back, she felt that odd dichotomous shudder again. Don’t touch me. Please touch me.

As Leonidas choked against his hold, she wanted to tell him to ease up, that he’d proven his point. But she did as Mal told her to do, at least for this volatile moment. They could argue about it later. Gathering her courage, she raised her gaze to his face. Without looking down, Malachi eased his hold on her, guided her around so she was facing Leonidas. She kept her head turned to stare only at Malachi. She wasn’t sure if it was because he hadn’t told her to do otherwise, or she couldn’t do anything else.

Mal let the fledgling’s feet touch the ground. As he loosened his hold, he bared his fangs again, a rumble coming from his chest, unmistakably a warning growl. The young vampire capitulated to it, going down until he was crouched in the corner again on his knees, his eyes downcast.

“I will taste your blood tonight, every one of you.” He swept his gaze over the room. “You will be marked by me as a sire, and I will have access to your minds. If you want to live, I will find complete submission to me there.” As he moved his grip on Elisa, she tried not to shake harder. He curved his fingers in her hair, an easy, stroking touch that startled her, because it was unexpectedly soothing, despite his fierce, steel-muscled posture. “And this is mine.”

When she would have jerked her head up, his hand tightened in her hair, warning her to stillness. Lifting a booted foot, he pressed it against Leonidas’s chest, drawing the boy’s attention and holding him against the cage wall.

“With one push, whelp, I can crush all your ribs. Rip them out of your chest and stake your heart a good dozen times. You’d live long enough to feel pain such as you’ve never felt from anyone. You ever even look at her in a way that displeases me, that will be your fate. She is mine, and that’s the end of it.” Malachi passed his attention over the assembled cages, making sure he had the acknowledgment he wanted from each. As he did, he gathered her hair in one hand, and tilted her head to the left.

“What—” But she had no time to react before he’d pierced her with his fangs, taking a draught of the blood she had to offer. Her gaze briefly locked with Jeremiah’s, squatting in the middle of the cage, his eyes intent on her face. Then he looked away.

The shock of it rippled down to her toes as Mal marked her. Dropping his hand to her waist, he caressed her there, while her body warred between panic and something not like panic at all. Dizzy, she leaned into him, and the warmth of his arm came across her chest as the electric stimulus of a marking burned through her blood.

You’ll be safe from them from here forward, fierce Irish flower. But you are still getting on that plane in three days.

Holy Mary. He’d given her the first and secondmarks, as smooth and easy as she’d ever seen it done. He was in her mind now. She should have felt violated, and part of her perhaps did, but another part felt something she’d experienced for only a short time during Danny’s employ. So short that the terrible incident with Victor had made her think everything before that night had been a lie, or something she’d never feel again.

She felt safe. Despite her mortification, it made her begin to cry again, but she pressed her face into his T-shirt that smelled like animals, grass and man, and let the tears absorb there.

He didn’t seem to mind.

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Sunday, July 3, 2011

LOOKING FOR PARADISE by Tianna Xander

LOOKING FOR PARADISE by Tianna Xander

Paradise Series Book Nine

When Kayla finds her fiancé in bed with another woman, she does what any self-respecting woman would do. She leaves him. Let him have his tiny and trashy bunny-sex baby. Kayla didn’t want him anyway. What she wants is a real man. One who can see her for her real worth. Instead, she lucks out and finds two.

Alex and Ryder are looking for the sister of their alpha’s mate. What they find is the woman of their dreams. Their mate. Ripe and ready for them. If only they can convince her she needs them as much as they need her before the mating heat takes the choice away from them all.

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Excerpt


Reaching up, she rubbed her forehead. She was going mad. It was the only explanation. Why were these things happening? She wasn’t psychic. She didn’t hear people’s thoughts either. Yet she felt something in that thick fog on the mountainside and she would swear she could hear these men’s thoughts. What’s more, she imagined she could hear them having complete conversations telepathically.

Apparently living with Edward had driven her over the edge. Not only was she running scared, she was crazy. Sudden tears blurred her vision and she stumbled.

Alex caught her to him. “Are you all right?” Stopping, he took her by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Are you crying?” He frowned. “Have I offended you in any way? If I have, I apologize at once.”

Kayla smiled sadly. He couldn’t help her. She wasn’t sure anyone could. “It’s not you.” Reaching up, she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from his shirt. “It’s me. I…” She had to stop for a moment. Swallowing thickly, she continued, “It’s nothing…something stupid, really. Forget about it.”

Alex cupped her cheek, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “I do not like to see you cry.” He took her hand in his. “For some reason, it hurts me.” He pressed her palm to his chest, just above his heart. “Here.”

What could she say to that? Kayla bit her bottom lip, sucking into her mouth. When she did, his eyes darkened to the deepest mahogany. He pulled her tight against him. She could feel every hard muscle in his body, including the ridge of his cock pressing against her lower stomach. She looked up and up at him. She loved the fact that he was so much taller. He and Ryder both were well over six-feet tall. They made her feel small and feminine—something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

When Alex’s eyes darkened even more, he pulled her tighter with a low growl and slanted his mouth over hers in a long, deep kiss.

Delicious heat curled in her middle. Every nerve ending in her body came alive with awareness and she pressed closer into his embrace. White-hot energy seared her from the inside out when she opened for him and his tongue made contact with hers. Something grew deep within her. That wild thing that raised its ugly head when she growled at Ryder and Alex made itself known again. The heat increased, making her burn. Her skin felt as though it was on fire as his tongue continued his slow exploration.

A slow burn began in her toes and worked its way up her body as he turned and pressed her back against the wall of the hallway. The photos on either side of her head rattled at the impact. Kayla didn’t care. All she could think of was the sensation of his tongue delving deep into the recesses of her mouth.

Kayla reached up and thrust her fingers through his inky hair. She tightened her fingers around the silky strands and held him tight. It had been a long time since she kissed anyone like this. The passion in her last relationship had cooled a long time ago. This…this was everything she ever wanted, ever dreamed of in a kiss. Liquid heat pooled low and slid from her painfully empty channel, soaking her panties.

“Ah…um…wow! That’s some kiss. This is a lodge. Can I get you a room?”

The amused female voice interrupted their kiss. It was probably a good thing, seeing as somehow Alex’s hands went from both rubbing her back to one on her rear and the other on her breast. It was only a matter of moments before both of them lost their heads and stripped right here in the hallway. What the hell had come over her? Her face burned as she pressed her back harder against the wall. Why wouldn’t the damned thing just open up and swallow her?

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Friday, July 1, 2011

EXTRASENSORY by Desiree Holt

EXTRASENSORY by Desiree Holt

Book 2 in the Phoenix Agency series.

Mia battles with skepticism about her precognitive skills. But her visions about Carpenter Techtronics are so vivid she sends anonymous emails. She also has a vision of a gorgeous naked man who arouses her so vividly she is forced to satisfy herself. She is shocked when the man shows up in her office sending her silent erotic messages.

Dan is helping Chase track down whoever is threatening Chase's company. When he meets Mia he has a hard time thinking about anything but off-the-charts sex with this intriguing woman. But bodies begin falling. As Mia's visions escalate so does the explosive sex between her and Dan as well as an unexpected emotional connection. When Mia is shot and almost killed, Dan and his team race to find the killers before they can strike again.

Publisher's Note: You just can't keep a good story down. Previously published as VISIONS OF DARKNESS with The Lotus Circle and then Cerridwen Press, this book has been revised and the bedroom door opened for Ellora's Cave.

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By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: EXTRASENSORY

Copyright © DESIREE HOLT, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



Where was the damn helicopter? They couldn’t hold these bastards off much longer.

Dante “Dan” Romeo wiped his forehead on the sleeve of his camo shirt and slammed another magazine into his rifle. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to turn out, although they always had to prepare for it. A sign over his desk back in Baltimore read, “Nothing in life is ever simple.” In his business, Dan Romeo considered it a motto.

He was so sure their mission had been successful. Five days ago Drummond Laboratories had placed an emergency call to Phoenix, the agency in which Dan was the senior partner. Drummond’s CEO, Hank Nolan, had been captured by guerillas in Mexico, the kidnap capital of the world. They’d snatched him right off the street in Acapulco where he’d been vacationing with his family.

The people from Drummond made sure Phoenix understood the feds could not be involved. The guerilla group had threatened to cut off Nolan’s head if the feds were contacted. Cut their losses, so to speak. These kidnap-for-ransom groups were getting bolder every day, especially in Mexico.

Drummond didn’t balk for an instant at the fee Dan quoted him.

So Dan had put the team together and using bribes, snitches and other sources of information, they’d found the location of the guerilla camp. They’d suited up and Mike D’Antoni, pilot extraordinaire and another of the partners, dropped them into the humid, insect-infested Mexican jungle. Where they were going was definitely not a vacation spot.

They hiked to the camp location in stealth mode, using the sounds of the jungle animals as cover for their movements as often as they could. Then they concealed themselves in the surrounding jungle. Watching. Waiting. Timing the guards. Identifying where Nolan was being held. Learning the rhythm of the camp. For Dan, a former Force Recon Marine, jobs like this were no different from the missions he’d led in Afghanistan and Iraq. The same methods applied.

At last, when they’d gathered sufficient information, the men put their plan together. Waiting until full dark and with the covertness they’d learned from years in the military, they made their way to the rear of the camp. Silently, the team working like a well-oiled piece of machinery, all the parts moving as designed, they took out the two guards in front of the shack where Nolan was being held. Then, moving swiftly, they backed out of the camp, half-carrying Nolan, until they reached the safety of the surrounding flora and fauna.

As soon as they were far enough away to use the satellite radio safely, Dan had called in for extraction and Mike radioed he was on his way to get them. The two men set their coordinates and the team took off to meet the chopper. But Nolan had been tied up for two weeks and half-starved. In his deteriorated condition he had trouble keeping up, so they finally had to carry him. That delayed them and gave the kidnappers, when they realized their prize was gone, time to take off after the rescue team with AK-47s and other assorted weapons.

Now Dan and his group were pinned down at the extraction point and the guerillas were moving closer. Machine-gun bullets rained everywhere, punctuated by the screech of the howler monkeys and the squawking of tropical birds. Dan could only pray the kidnappers didn’t have rocket-propelled grenades with them. That could take down not just the team but the helicopter too. Disaster didn’t begin to describe what that outcome would be.

Then, at last, he heard the distinctive slap! slap! slap! of the helicopter blades and his comm unit crackled in his ear.

“I am above you and ready to extract,” Mike said. “Looks like you need a little covering fire.”

“No shit,” Dan answered. “Get that ladder down and have the shotgun riders start peppering these bastards.”

The chopper now hovered directly over them. Someone pitched the rope ladder from the open cabin door and it hung tantalizingly in the air. Two Phoenix men were balanced on the chopper skids, spraying the area around them with machine-gun fire. The occasional shrieks let everyone know that at least some of the bullets had found a target.

Dan hoisted Nolan onto the ladder and motioned for one of the guys in the cabin above just to pull the damn thing up. In seconds the man was inside the chopper and the ladder dropped again. Firing into the surrounding area as they climbed, aided by the gunners above them, each man scrambled up to the helo’s cabin, then reached to help the one behind him.

Dan was last, as usual, holding to the ladder with one hand and his machine-gun with the other. He was gratified to hear more screams of pain as hands pulled him through the opening to safety.

“Go now,” he shouted to Mike, who needed no urging to pull away and up. As they lifted into the sky, the two Phoenix gunners continued to fire until the chopper reached a safe altitude.

“Sorry to cut it so close, Danny boy,” Mike yelled at him. “We had to wait for some other air traffic to clear. They didn’t look like they wanted to invite us for afternoon cocktails.”

“These damn thugs are getting better equipped all the time,” Dan cursed. “We’re having to run our asses off just to stay ahead of them.”

He looked around him and studied the activity. The men were all checking their guns, making sure they had full clips just in case a surprise awaited them somewhere along the line. The medic on their team was attending to Hank Nolan, expertly starting an IV even under the extreme conditions and then cleaning his wounds.

“Mostly malnutrition,” he told Dan over the roar of the chopper’s blades. “And shock. He’ll be a long time forgetting this little trip.”

Dan leaned back against the cabin wall, regulating his breathing, checking again to make sure everyone else was okay.

“You earned yourself a little downtime after this,” Mike yelled from the cockpit. “Don’t you think? A break from the office? Maybe a little R and R?”

Dan gave his partner a lopsided grin. He knew what that meant. Get your ass out of town and get some rest before taking on another mission. Give your body some rest. He had to agree that Mike was right. At forty-three years old, he was getting a little past the age for this kind of activity.

“Chase Carpenter invited me to come to San Antonio,” he replied. “His company has created a sophisticated new robot that supposedly is undetectable and can do everything but sing and dance. He’s having a big unveiling next Friday, with lots of military brass, top cops and international corporations. He thought it might be something the agency could use.”

Mike grinned. “Knowing Chase it’s a high ticket item. Do we get a discount for being friends?”

Dan laughed. “I’ll ask him.”

“You ought to take him up on it,” Mike insisted. “And while you’re there, you could see Mark and Faith.” Mike chuckled. “And interrupt his vacation.”

Mark Halloran was the newest partner in Phoenix. He and his wife, a best-selling author of political thrillers, were both telepaths, and that psychic ability had been the single reason for Mark’s own rescue from terrorists in Peru. At the time he’d been a Delta Force team leader. A highly-placed defense department official, taking payoffs from the arms dealer Mark’s team was sent to take out, had blown the whistle on the mission. Only Mark and one member of his team survived the ambush they walked into.

Joey Latrobe, whose brother was a Phoenix partner, had managed to hide himself from the terrorists even though he was seriously wounded. The details of his rescue were yet another story.

Mark had been held in the terrorist camp and his only communication with the outside world had been the telepathic messages he exchanged with Faith. Like a raging virago, she’d taken on Washington and the Pentagon and when no one else would help her, had turned to Phoenix, even going along on the rescue mission.

Dan had to smile now when he thought of her courage. It would be nice to see her again.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” he said. “But not before taking the world’s longest shower and eating the biggest steak I can find.”


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