Monday, 1 September 2014

Confessions of a Chocoholic #newrelease @LSJRomance #ROTG @evernightpub

Happy Monday, folks, and it really is, because.... look at the yummy treat I have on my blog for you today. Abs and chocolate, and the awesome London St.James.

*grins*

Take it away, London!

*****

Thanks so much for having me over to visit today and talk about my new release. When I sat down with my trusty laptop to write a story about love and chocolate here’s what I had to draw inspiration from: My love of writing romance. My own little addiction to almost everything chocolate. A picture of a sexy woman with melted chocolate dribbles on her lips, chin, hands and chest. And a cute quote from Dave Barry about…. You guessed it—chocolate. I connected all the dots and came up with Confessions of a Chocoholic, which is a contemporary erotic romance and part of the Romance on the Go line through Evernight Publishing.

I had a great time writing Lexi and Colton’s story, and hope the readers enjoy it, too.




Blurb

Like countless single mothers, Lexi Collins wears many hats. Loving daughter. Big sister. Sole breadwinner. Freelance photographer. Graphic designer. Best friend. But while those roles are fulfilling, the one thing that eludes her is finding the right partner in life.

When Colton Westmore, the sexy owner of the popular dating site, LoveMatch.com sweeps Lexi off her feet, her chances of finally grabbing that golden ring increases exponentially, but a bleached blonde bombshell threatens to put an end to Lexi’s new found happiness.

Are her assumptions about Colton wrong? And if so, there’s only one woman who can ruin the magic between them, and that woman is Lexi herself.



Excerpt

Colton took the few steps it required to cross the space, put his drink on the table behind me, and took the camera from around my neck. He placed it on the plush banquette tucked around the table. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he said.
“You’ve been thinking about removing my camera?”
“No.” He dipped his head, and brushed his lips across mine in a whisper-soft touch. A burn started and seemed to smolder between my legs. “I’ve been thinking about tasting your lips.”
Unable to stop myself, I dropped my unopened can. It made a dull thud when it hit the floor beside me. I stood up on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his strong neck, and pressed my lips to his.
His large hand rested between my shoulder blades and the other on my lower back. I actually hated the shirt I had on. Even though it was lightweight, the barrier of the material kept me from feeling his flesh on mine. My thoughts quickly changed back to his tongue as it traced along the curve of my upper lip. He nibbled at me. His hand slipped up to the back of my moist neck. He twined his fingers into my curls and tugged gently at the base of my hair, pulling my head back. He kissed my jaw. My exposed throat. Nuzzled his nose in the hollow there.
“You taste salty sweet,” he said in a voice that tantalized.
Feeling lightheaded, I moaned when he did a combination of open mouth caresses and teeth-nibbles on my skin. But, when he swept his lips up to my ear and drew the fleshy lobe into his mouth, I wanted to crumple.
“That feels so good,” I said. I shuddered in his arms.
“You’re beautiful, Lex.” 
His warm breath gusting across my hot flesh and his words were enough to make chills ripple down my spine. 
I slid my hands along the back of his shirt, feeling the muscles I had to see. I tugged at the bottom, lifting. “Take this off,” I said in a breathless pant, throwing any pretense of caution to the wind.
Colton brought his head up from my neck. Without hesitation, he ripped the T-shirt from over his head and dropped it. Tanned skin, immense biceps, large pectorals with small, pebbled, copper-colored nipples, and a slab of abdominal muscles greeted me.
I reached for him and fingered the ripples on his stomach before I kissed his flesh, peppering his chest with hot kisses. When I flicked his nipple with my tongue, the muscles beneath my hand and mouth jumped. I lightly bit. He groaned and moved the hair from my face. I glanced up at him from beneath my lashes. He was looking at me with an intensity that shook me for a moment, but I didn’t have time to dwell upon the emotion because he picked me up and sat my backside down on the table. My legs dangled over the edge. My flip-flops took a nosedive.
“Are you sure you want this?” Colton asked.
“What if I said I never wanted anything more?”
He unbuttoned my shirt and folded back the cotton fabric. “What if I said, I know.” It wasn’t a question.

Buy Links:


About London:
London Saint James has lived in many places, but never felt “at home” until she met the real-life man of her dreams and settled down in the beautiful Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. London lives with her husband and their fat cat who thinks he owns them.
As an award-winning, bestselling, multi-published author, London is living her childhood dream. She knew all the scribbling she did, that big imagination of hers, and all those clamoring characters running around in her head would pay off someday.
Stalking Links:

google.com/+LondonSaintJames






Sunday, 31 August 2014

#SexySnippets from Awoken by the Sheikh #punishment #bdsm #ROTG @evernightpub


The happiest of Sundays to you all. I'm changing things up a bit today and am bringing you seven hot sentences from my upcoming release Awoken by the Sheikh, which releases on Friday!

*happy dance*

To set the scene, Rashid is delivering his very own brand of creative punishment.

****

 “You don’t want me to stop.”
  His low chuckle had to be the sexiest sound she’d ever heard. His stubble grazed her neck as he suckled on her skin and sank his teeth into her flesh at just the right side of pleasuring pain.


He took her moan into his mouth, and his tongue dueled with hers, before he nipped at her bottom lip hard enough for her to taste her own blood. Startled, she tried to pull away from him. His iron grip wouldn’t let her, however, and his predatory smile held her captive. “I can smell your pussy, and I’m going to taste you until you scream for my cock to fill you, deep and hard, right here.”


Loosen up and awake your inner Sex Goddess … call it services to sisterhood.
The mere thought of an all-expenses paid trip to a tropical island of sexual abandonment makes straight laced school teacher Astrid break out in a heat rash.
What fantasies is she supposed to live out, exactly? You kinda need to have them to re-enact them, right? However, she can’t really turn down a birthday present, even if her outrageous best friend would let her.
Everything changes when she wakes up in her very own Arabian Fantasy. Prince Rashid expects her complete obedience, and Astrid can’t help but respond to the demands of the enigmatic Sheikh. Maybe it’s just the ambience of this place but Astrid finds new strength in her submission, and the sex is out of this world.
What happens, however, when reality beckons? Can she hold onto the fantasy?

Releases Friday 5th September

****

Before I go, a little heads up. Evernight Publishing has a fantastic sale on this weekend, so if you're missing any of my titles, now is the time to stock up :-)



Do check out the other Authors participating today, and why not join us next week? Sexy Snippets are seven sexy sentences taken from a work in progress or published work.


Saturday, 30 August 2014

Saved by Perseus #newrelease @Stein_Ela #NFT @evernightpub

Happy Saturday, Folks.

In the second of today's  book spotlights, I have a lovely new addition to Evernight's Naughty Nursery Rhymes line, and Ela is here to tell you all about it.

****

Thank you so much for having me here today! I’m really excited to share my new release. This story is special to me because I have loved Greek Myths since I was a child. My mom used to read them to me at bedtime, before I had even learned to read. I’ve always wondered what those times must have been like in reality – the truth behind the myth. On the other hand, I was just as fascinated by the fantasy part of it – a world where gods really do walk the earth. In my story, I’ve created a world that’s as authentic as possible, but still holds onto all the fantasy. So it’s a bit of historical fiction mixed with fantasy, and with a whole lot of naughtiness sprinkled in. I mean, the myths do leave all the “fun” details out, so I made sure to put them all back in, just as they were meant to be ;)
There are lots of funky happenings going on here, and it’s part of Evernight’s exclusive multiple-author series “Naughty Fairytales”.  Andromeda is a curvaceous princess, and Perseus is the son of Zeus. Which, of course, explains his god-like body! I’m also pleased to share that this story was an “Editor’s Pick”.



Blurb:

Andromeda’s world comes crashing down when the Gods proclaim that she is to be chained to a rock and offered as a sacrifice to the sea monster that has been ravaging her lands. Terrified, she has no choice but to obey, though the tentacled creature is her worst nightmare come to life, and he has ominous plans for her. Perseus witnesses her plight and comes to her rescue, but liberating Andromeda requires more than just skill with his sword. Will his love be enough to save her not only from the monster, but from her dark past that conspires to never let her go?



Excerpt:

When I was a little girl, a snake bit me on the ankle. My mother told the story of how I barely survived, how I had gone in and out of consciousness, flushed with fever, eyes glazed. When I dreamed, I called out about falling into a pit of vipers.

And now before me, my nightmare came to life. Tentacles surged out of the water, but they far more resembled teeming snakes. Unlike octopus arms, they had no suction cups, and ended in blunt tips. Glistening and sinuous, they blindly explored the harsh rock, covering its entire surface, exploring each crevice, and inevitably coming closer and closer to me.

I dug my heels into the rock behind me and curled my toes in. I turned my head and would have shut my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself to stop staring at the monstrosity. Tugging at the shackles did no good and only made the panic surge to a higher pitch until I felt like a wild animal about to become prey.

Only a foot from my toes now, the snake appendages roamed over the rock, some thick and large, like a man’s thigh, and some thin like my little finger. One, about the thickness of my arm, separated itself from the others and moved higher up the rock, coming toward me. I gasped and pulled away from it as far as the chains would allow.

It slithered audibly over the rocky surface and nudged at my toes. I did shut my eyes then, and turned my head into my arm.

It slipped over my foot and wrapped itself about my ankle. I raised my leg and tried to shake it off, but it only coiled tighter about me, digging into my flesh as though to warn me. It wrapped more and more around my lower leg and then began to slowly travel upward, twisting over and over, over my knee and then over my thigh.

I clamped my legs together to halt its progress, but it was far stronger. It wormed its way between my limbs and under my skirt. Slowly it came ever closer to the apex of my thighs, and when it finally reached it, and brushed against my sex, I jumped. The strong muscle rubbed against my clit as it continued to flow upward, along my torso, slowly winding its way. The friction of it rubbing at me terrified and excited me at once. My eyes still closed, I only felt it when other snake limbs joined this one. Another one twined around my other leg, and still others wrapped themselves about my arms.

“My bride,” a rough voice whispered, loud as a thunderclap and yet so quiet I was sure I only heard it in my mind. It carried the same implacable weight of power as the words of the Oracle.

My eyes flew open, and I came face to face with Cetus.


Available at:
Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/saved-by-perseus-by-ela-stein/

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Saved-Perseus-Naughty-Fairy-Tales-ebook/dp/B00MUC5FYM/ref=la_B00KIO5ZE4_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1408624994&sr=1-3

All Romance eBooks: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-savedbyperseus-1602829-143.html

BookStrand: http://www.bookstrand.com/saved-by-perseus-mf

About Ela Stein:

Reading was my entertainment and salvation as a child, and it transferred into a passion for writing. I am still very much a reader, and love many different genres, from erotic romance, to fantasy (dark, dark fantasy!), to historical fiction, and that love is reflected in my own writing as well (I don't do contemporary very often). If you'd like to learn more about me, or chat about books and life, you can find me all over the web:

Website: www.ElaStein.com
Blog: http://elastein.blogspot.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Stein_Ela

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ela.stein.735

Pinterest: http://www.pinterest.com/elastein/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8142001.Ela_Stein


Sex, Love, And Rock'n'Roll @AndrewKJericho #mmmmm @sirenbookstrand #newrelease

I have a treat for you today. Two spotlights, two very different stories, and I reckon you will love them both. Here is Andrew Jericho with his new release,  Sex, Love, and Rock'n'Roll.






[PolyAmour ManLove: Erotic Alternative Multiple Partner Romance, M/M/M/M/M, intersex hero, cross-dressing, sex toys, HFN]

Sex, love, and rock ‘n’ roll are all Adam believes is holding the band Rock Hard together. In the week’s following their last concert, Adam, Deuce, L.T., and Jamie have not held a practice, and their new album is unfinished. The jealousies and secrets that almost tore them apart have changed to new conflicts. In a fit of rage, Jamie tells Adam that the five of them are nothing but “jealous hearts,” when the insanity hits.

Zane, the band’s physician, is now living at the Rock Hard mansion full time. He believes that the four men, who have captured his heart, need the love of a real man to keep them grounded. As each man turns to Zane for comfort, Adam realizes they all need time to heal. In what Zane calls a “tremendous act of love and devotion,” Adam gives a heartfelt message to Rock Hard’s fans in the hopes they can begin a new chapter in their lives.

Note: This book contains drug use.

A Siren Erotic Romance



Story:

Adam felt a combination of emotions, all fighting their way for recognition. Sitting down on his bed, he reached for some loose pieces of sheet music on the nightstand. He looked at the finished product of Zane’s song, “A Forever Love.” Jamie was right, what had started as his heart speaking in lyrics to his new husband, should now be a testament to all of their jealousies. Picking up his pen nearby, Adam angrily scratched out the title, replacing it with “Jealous Hearts.” When that didn’t appease him, Adam ripped the pieces of paper in one smooth motion, tearing them in two. As the torn music fell at his feet, the front man thought for a brief moment that his actions were symbolic of the drama and chaos still present in his household.

He decided there would not be a song titled, “A Forever Love.” Nor would he ever write another power ballad for just one man. He made that mistake himself. Closing his eyes, Adam sank backward onto the bed. His thoughts returned to the last night of their tour, six weeks ago, at the arena in Little Rock. I’m dedicating this next song to Zane. The guys and I are in the process of working on a new album. There will be another power ballad titled, “A Forever Love.” The song was written in love…written for the man I’m holding in my arms.

As those words circled though his mind, Adam knew one of his mistakes was singling out Zane that night. He also felt that somewhere in the marriages he shared with each man, his greatest flaw was not being the support they needed. That not only washed sadness over him, but anger. Rock Hard’s fans didn’t know the half of it. He was not about to let their private life become a media sensation. Even Deuce’s detox had been hidden from prying eyes. The worst thing to hit the tabloids was that Zane had forged nonprofessional relationships with the band members.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Adam heard Deuce’s voice behind him. Sitting up, he hadn’t realized his husband had walked into their bedroom.

“Deuce, you should be with L.T. He doesn’t need to be alone, especially after what I told him,” Adam said, with his back turned to his husband.

“I’ll check on him in a few minutes. Right now, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Deuce. I was supposed to be the strength of this family. I saw the disappointment and pain in all of your eyes while we stood together in the kitchen.”

“Maybe Zane should counsel us all…as a family.”

“Honestly, Deuce, at this point?”

Adam watched as Deuce took a seat next to him on the bed. His lover twined their fingers together.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about the pills and L.T.”

“Baby, you already told me that.”

“The first time I couldn’t get a hard-on was with Zane, about a week after the detox. The next was the first time Jamie let me touch him a few days later. We were kissing and nothing was happening. Luckily, Jamie stopped the affection. I don’t how I would have explained it to him.”

“It happens, Deuce. There’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’m not mad about the pills. I’m upset because something so intimate should have been shared with me. If you were having that type of problem you should have felt like you could talk to me. I don’t want you to feel pressure about having to be intimate with me, or any of us for that matter.”

“Zane thinks it’s a temporary reaction to the stress of the detox. I have four husbands I love with all my heart. I want to restore what we all shared. I felt like I couldn’t do that unless I could also be intimate with each of you. I know there’s more to this than just sex, but—”

“A lot more,” Adam stopped Deuce’s words, placing a finger over his partner’s lips.

For a moment neither man spoke, as Adam looked deeply into Deuce’s eyes. Everything he needed to see was present in his lover’s stare. He silently wondered why the five of them couldn’t make it work.

“I also should have told you about L.T, but I didn’t want to hurt you anymore. I wanted to try and bear that burden for as long as I could, in the hopes I could help him. He’s really messed up, Adam.”

“I know,” Adam felt tears forming in his eyes. Instead, he closed his lids tightly, stifling the display of emotion.

“Are you sure you’re all right with what Zane wants?” Deuce asked.

Adam felt his partner’s fingers lightly caressing his forearm.

“Are you?” Adam countered.

“I don’t know. I mean, I think I am,” Deuce replied, sighing. “Sometimes, I feel like the five us are running like confused mice in some type of experiment. We’re caught in a maze, but can’t get out. We take a few steps one way, and then we find ourselves back at where we started.”

“I know I’ve always taken the lead in making decisions for this family.”

“I know that, golden boy.”

“There’s a part of me that wants to try Zane’s suggestion, but I don’t want it to change what we share. Despite our problems, I feel closer to you now than I ever have, Deuce. I love you so very much.”

Watching as Deuce walked to the door and locked the doorknob, Adam knew what they had started in Zane’s bed earlier that afternoon was going to be finished. Zane’s suggestion of a ménage would have to wait, because right now, he felt his lover’s arms pulling him close.



Adult:
“Zane!” Jamie moaned.

“That’s right, James. While I get you opened up, Adam is going to straddle my face and put his cock in my mouth. Adam, do you want me to suck your dick?”

Adam had begun to rub his own cock as he watched the erotic play forming before his eyes. He felt Deuce swat him on the ass, as he positioned himself over Zane’s upper chest. While he rested both his knees on the bed, his dick went flush with Zane’s face. Then Adam’s head went back in pleasure as he felt the warm heat of Zane’s mouth sucking his entire length.

“Zane, finger-fuck me good!” Jamie moaned.

Zane’s other hand was now rubbing Adam’s sac, as the front man felt the doctor’s fingers tenderly caressing each of his nuts.

“Don’t stop,” Adam whimpered, as Zane pulled back for just a second.

“Sweetheart, I have got to tell our other two husbands what to do. They want this commitment, too.”

“Mmm…Zane!” Jamie cried.

“I still make the decisions for us in this house, Zane Foster,” Adam spoke breathless.

“That you do, Adam, but right now I’m in control.”

“Oh holy shit, Zane, that feels good!”

Zane’s fingers were continuously rubbing his groin, as his sac swelled, tight against his body.

“Adam, look at our two husbands over there,” Zane whispered.

Adam turned his head to see Deuce lying between L.T.’s legs on the king-sized bed. The couple was French kissing, as their tongues danced wildly in each other’s mouths.

“Sweetheart, James is almost ready for me to penetrate him, and then we’re going to get Deuce and L.T. to join us.”

Adam closed his eyes, as he felt his heart beating hard inside his chest. His skin tingled, as he listened to the sounds filling the room. His own whimpers were mixing with Jamie’s cries of pleasure, as he heard the groans of the couple lying beside him.

“James, slowly slide down my dick,” Zane said. “Surrender to me.”

Adam tried to look over his shoulder because he wanted to see Jamie’s expression.

“Look at me, Adam. James will make enough noise to arouse all of us.”

When Adam turned his face back to Zane, he saw the arousal in the doctor’s eyes.

“L.T. and Deuce, stop making out over there, and become a part of this commitment,” Zane whispered. “Adam, there’s enough room for your Dom to straddle me, too, and put his dick inside you, don’t you think?”

Adam saw Zane toss the lube to L.T., and within a matter of seconds, he felt the drummer’s breath warm on his neck. He let his head fall back against his husband, as L.T. began to kiss their secret spot on his shoulder.

“Whimper all you want, sub,” L.T. whispered in his ear. “Zane is going to have your cock buried so deep within his mouth, while I get you ready to take me. No one knows about our spot except us. I’m sure other secrets will be shared between lovers tonight, too.”

“Are you aroused, hot rocker boy?” Zane asked Deuce.

“Don’t make me wait anymore, Daddy,” Deuce replied.

Adam turned his head again to see Deuce rubbing his cock, while the entire shaft glistened with pre-cum.

“Dammit, I need to be made love to!” Jamie moaned.

“We will…all of us to each other,” Zane responded. “Damn. Damn. Damn. I cannot believe how aroused I am right now! Adam is right, you are one tight little bitch, James.”

“You said that about me, Adam?” Jamie asked, breathless.

“He did not have to, James. I have heard him making love to you. Next, you are to allow Deuce to touch you.”

“I don’t know—”

“James,” Zane interrupted, “let your husband touch you. I have more than just a ménage planned. Adam is reconnecting to L.T. So, you need to show Deuce what is in your heart, because I see it written all over your face every time you see him.”

“Adam?” Jamie asked.

“Little bitch, do what the doctor asks, he’s only trying to help us.”

Adam saw Deuce moving behind them, as he imagined the tenderness in his hands for Jamie. He could almost feel Deuce’s touch, even though the guitarist’s hands were nowhere on his body. Instead, two of L.T.’s fingers were inside Adam, pumping him gently.

“Zane, there’s a black bag in my nightstand,” L.T. said. “Can you reach it?”

“Adam is blushing, Lemmuel,” Zane said.

“He always flushes when he’s aroused. He’s got this conversation we have, too. I listen while his heart submits to me in high-pitched whimpers.”

“Adam,” Jamie said seductively, “does moan like a bitch.”

“Shut up, bitch!” Adam spoke playfully.

“Candy cane,” L.T. said, “hush and concentrate on Zane’s cock up your ass, and Deuce’s hands on your body.”

“David, you are the man of my dreams, now let James know he is the man of yours,” Zane said.

Adam felt Zane’s lips back around his dick, as he heard the hum of L.T’s prostate massager. He gasped, when he felt the device being inserted inside his anal cavity.

“I love you, sub,” L.T whispered. “Zane’s making you feel good, too. The moaning you hear is Jamie giving his heart to Deuce again. God, that sounds so good!”

“Sweet boy, I love you,” Deuce crooned to Jamie.

“Tell us what Deuce is doing to you, James?” Zane asked.

“His hands are all over my body…including my cock,” Jamie replied.

“We have figured out the physical part of loving as a ménage à cinq, I want us to experience the emotional part of this commitment,” Zane spoke again.

Not only was Zane still rubbing Adam’s sack, but L.T. was checking the smooth area of flesh between his sac and entry. His husband always rubbed his fingers over the skin before penetrating him.

“Sub, you’re more than ready to take me,” L.T. whispered into Adam’s ear.

Available from Bookstrand

*****



Andrew Jericho is a ManLove erotic romance author for Siren-BookStrand Publishing, and a long supporter of LGBTQ rights. His writing proves love and erotic attraction are the same regardless of gender and/or sexual orientation. In their purest forms, Andrew has seen those concepts transform characters into better individuals.

He is a gay transgender man, who lives with his partner, John Jericho, and family. He enjoys photography, eclectic tastes in music and the arts, and browsing the local library and art galleries. All of Andrew’s work can be found at: Andrew Jericho.

Find Andrew on Social media:


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Friday, 29 August 2014

FlashFiction Friday - Playtime #FFF

Happy Friday, folks.  Here's your flash for today - Playtime.



What passed for Art these days never ceased to amaze Erika. In this room of the gallery two figures were arranged in a—she wasn’t quite sure what pose they were supposed to be in—really.
If that was erotic, Erika would eat her mop. Looked more like a torture chamber to her, and not of the fun kind. With a shrug and grin at her errant thoughts, Erika set to work cleaning the large glass that made up the viewing area.

Her scream died in her throat, when both figures stood right on the other side, beckoning her.

****

Friday Flashers have 100 words to tell a story from the provided picture prompt. Do check out the other flashers. You won't be disappointed. :-)

Till next week, folks.
D x

In The Pages of a Good Book Blog Hop #winKindle Celebrating Friendships #ebooks #giftcards


Welcome to my little corner of the In The Pages Of a Good Book Blog Hop!
First off, Happy Anniversary to Beckey. I’m thrilled to be celebrating with you.

So, this hop is all about friendships, and I don’t know about you, but some of my strongest friendships have been formed over books. Be that the latest book boyfriend you just have to share or the solidarity I have found with other writers, to the friendships I forged with readers, there is something about the written word that draws people together.
I am an only child, and for a long, long time books were the best friends I had. From the minute I learnt to read, I devoured books. As I grew older my tastes changed. Enid Blyton was replaced by Sci-fi stories, and eventually romance, the hotter the better. When I discovered Erotic romance I was hooked, and I very rarely read anything else these days.
Not that I find that much time to read these days. As an author I always have characters clambering to have their story told. No one understands that dilemma better than another author, and I have to give a big shout out here to my friend Raven McAllan.
We met on-line when we were still aspiring authors, finding our voices, but we clicked straight away. We’re both pansters, so you will often hear us moan about those pesky characters taking us off on a tangent, and I’m sure if someone read some of our conversations in Skype they would have us committed to the loony farm.
*grins*
Like I said no one understands another writer like a writer. Over the last almost four years since we met, our friendship has grown into something quite special. We’ve met many times in real life—not an easy feat, as I’m down south, and Raven is all the way up in Scotland—but we talk every day via Skype. On the days we’re both in the writing cave, snippets of our WIPs fly through the ether and we egg each other on. It’s not only great fun, but also proves very productive.
Raven and I are both prolific writers, and each other’s harshest critics. We redit (red pen editing) our manuscripts before we submit them, and I know I wouldn’t be half the writer I am now, were it not for Raven’s critiques, and I’m pretty sure she feels the same way about me.
Having that shoulder to bounce ideas off, tell you where you’re going wrong, or right as the case might be, rant and rave at that review or rejection, or indeed celebrate our successes, is just invaluable.
Raven, or Grammy Jo, as she’s called by my toddler, who she has been adopted by as honorary grandma, is part of my family now, and I feel very blessed to have her in my life.
(I have just been told by Raven – ditto, lol)
Told you we constantly talk via Skype!
Okay, before you reach for the bucket with all this mutual appreciation society going on here, let me draw your attention to my latest release. If you like hot, dominant Aliens, who love each other as much as they love their feisty human heroines, you might like my Warriors. Book two of the Series, rescued by her Alien Warriors has just released.






[Siren Ménage Amour: Erotic Futuristic Sci-Fi Ménage a Trois, M/M/F, with M/M elements, HEA]

A warship is no place for a human mother and her child. However, Drakan Commander Alzaar and his second-in-command, Bentaan, have no choice but to bring Sapphyre and Jayde on board. Not least, because their instincts scream at them that she is the one woman who can turn them into a family again.

Sapphyre just wants to keep her daughter safe. How on earth does she do that surrounded by droolworthy Aliens, when her libido keeps leading her astray? It is abundantly clear that Alzaar doesn't want her on board the ship. At least Bentaan does and the sex is out of this world. If only her heart wasn't involved, and she didn't want both of them.

When the Tamarillion is attacked, Sapphyre has to fight for her men and the ship she now calls home. Without her all would be lost, and Alzaar finally shows his emotions.

However, when regulations and their pasts collide, can they rescue each other?



A Siren Erotic Romance

Available from Bookstrand




Now for the Giveaway Part of this hop.

Raven McAllan and I are both giving away an e-book from our back lists. You can find mine HERE and the lovely Raven's HERE. We have quite a collection between us, so you are bound to find something in there you fancy reading.

*smiles*

To be in the draw, just leave a comment on this blog with your e-mail address, please, and tell us what you value most in a friendship.


And don't forget to enter the Rafflecopter tour wide giveaways!


a Rafflecopter giveaway and a Rafflecopter giveaway and a Rafflecopter giveaway

  Stay naughty, folks and hop along to the other fab authors, and bloggers in this hop.

D xxx


Thursday, 28 August 2014

Blood Series Blog Tour and #giveaway @EMorgan2010 #shifter #urban fantasy

I have the awesome Elizabeth Morgan on my blog today. She's stopping by on her tour, and not only is she giving you the chance to win some fantastic goodies in her tour wide giveaway, she is also debating that old question... Werewolves VS Shifters.

Take it away, Elizabeth :-)


****


Werewolves VS Shifters


By Elizabeth Morgan



Werewolves VS Shifters: Is there a difference between the two?


"A Werewolf - also known as a lycanthrope - is a human with the ability to shapeshift into a wolf or a wolf-like creature, either purposely or after being placed under a spell or being bitten/scratched."


Okay, a human with the ability to shapeshift i.e. a shapeshifter, but there is still a difference between them and Werewolves. Shapeshifters by definition are actually able to shift in to any animal form they like, whereas a Werewolf can only shift in to the form of a wolf, or a wolf like creature. So despite the line being rather thin, is there still a distinct difference between the two?


I guess it is completely dependent on what your personal views are on such creatures. All writers - for example - have their own idea of what a Shapeshifter is, or how a Werewolf should look, and we will all give such creatures our own personal twist. It is our job to keep such creatures fresh and interesting, plus we will always see such things differently.


Personally, as both a reader and a writer, I view Shapeshifters and Werewolves to be two separate groups.


To me a Werewolf is a creature that is a mixture of both man and wolf - an old school monster in a sense. Whereas a Shapeshifter is a man/woman who completely transforms in to a wolf - or whichever creature they desire - instead of a mash-up of the two.


The Werewolves in the Blood Series are old school grab-your-pitchforks-and-torches creatures. In my head they’re a lot furrier and taller - there are plenty of pictures of how I see them on my pinterest board. My Werewolves are big bads. They skulk around in forests and watch you from the tops of buildings. They don't run around on all fours, but instead move around like human beings. They are scary-cool, and in my head I can totally see such huge, bulky creatures creeping around in the Scottish highlands, or in London at night.


There are a number of different creatures throughout the world who can transform shapes, so I suppose Shapeshifter in a sense has just been dubbed as the title of a category of many magical and mythological creatures; even so, each have their own names and descriptions dependant on their locations. A few examples:-


Skin-Walkers (American Indians) are able to shift in to any animal they desire.


Nagas (Asia) are snake people. And just like Werewolves, and Boudas - Hyena-men (Africa) - they are another type of creature that are a cross between human and animal.


Selkies (Ireland/Scotland) are seal-maidens that shed their skin to become human. If they put the skin back on they will shift back in to their original forms.


There are so many different types and if I were to sit here and list them, well, this post will never end. So I’ve added the following link - which is one of many - great site that will list a number of creatures with the ability to shift:- http://www.seekerworld.com/legends/werewolf.html


I guess after a ton of books, and movies about such fascinating beings, descriptions/definitions have twisted and merged and changed to a point where the line is rather broad. Then again it is up to our own imagination on how we wish to paint the creatures in such stories, and whether we wish to view them as different groups or one in the same.


What are your views on such creatures? When reading paranormal or urban fantasy stories, do you see horror monsters in your head, or bigger versions of regular animals? Which would freaky you out more if you bumped in to them in the dark?



****






Scottish Werewolves: freaky Vampires and a Slayer with a bad addiction and an insane legacy. Add a big dose of sarcasm, sizzling chemistry; a lot of silver and a ton of blood and . . . Welcome to the Blood Series.

They're back! The Blood Series has been revamped and repackaged and is available to buy now!
Note: She-Wolf and Cranberry Blood are both previously published titles, but have been polished, improved, and have even had scenes added for their re-release. Both books as well as all that will follow will be self-published.

~ * ~




She-Wolf
Blood Series Prequel

Blurb:

Dealing with the Rogue Werewolves terrorizing his Pack? Simple.
Trying to convince his mate he does want to be with her? Bloody impossible.

Owen MacLaren is the Alpha's son and the Pack's second, and he has never been one to let anything get to him. So when a bunch of Rogues begin purposely dumping mutilated bodies around the Pack Keep, he is more than ready to deal with the Werewolves responsible.

But one night off and a trip to a local strip joint for a colleague's stag night changes things, and Owen soon discovers he isn't immune to everything . . . .
 

Being an independent Loup and travelling the world? Easy.
Having to come home and face the Werewolf who broke her young heart? Challenging.

After five years away, Clare Walker finds herself back home in Scotland, working in a strip club. The tips are decent, and she gets to dance, but it isn't a place she thought she would ever be, let alone Owen, her Pack second and the mate she has always desired.

Although Owen is determined to prove he wants to be with Clare, things can't go smoothly between them, not when they have past issues to sort out and a bunch of unusual 'Rogues' to deal with.

This title contains explicit language, violence, and graphic sex.

Author: Elizabeth Morgan| Length: Novel| Content: Paranormal Erotic Romance| Publisher: Self-Published

Buy Links:
Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/463701
Barnes&Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/she-wolf-elizabeth-morgan/1120057363?ean=2940046079852

Also available on Amazon! 


Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/She-Wolf-Prequel-Blood-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00MT091TK/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408735068&sr=1-4&keywords=Elizabeth+Morgan



Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/She-Wolf-Prequel-Blood-Book-1-ebook/dp/B00MT091TK/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408734869&sr=1-2&keywords=Elizabeth+Morgan

And will soon be available in print!
~ * ~
Excerpt:
The music ended. The two women grabbed their clothes and headed backstage, hips swinging, as one and five pound notes hung out over the edge of their thongs.
“Give it up for Jenny and Jean, our tantalizing duo,” said an invisible male, his gruff voice echoing throughout the club.
“Christ, they’ve got a voice-over.”
“Oh aye, this is a real classy joint.” Luke knocked back his beer.
“Better than some places,” Karl said.
“And now, gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I introduce you to the newest Lollypop.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus.” I stifled my amusement with another swig of beer.
“The feral goddess with the wildest moves.... The one, the only, She-Wolf.”
“This should be interesting.” Martin grinned, slinging his right arm over the back of his chair and making himself comfortable.
A familiar guitar riff began leaking through the speakers as the stage lights turned from hot white to dusky blue. The guitar riff kicked in.
“Follow You Home” a song by my favourite band, Nickleback.
“At least she’s got good taste in music,” I murmured to no one in particular while rolling the neck of my beer bottle between my hands.
The red velvet curtains parted and the verse started. A black iron chair slid along the stage and then stopped, perfectly in the middle. The female strolled out of the shadows, one long leg in front of the other, smoking her cigarette. She wore a large black hoodie, dark denim hot pants, and black leather knee-high boots.
The prickling sensation sharpened along my spine, causing me to shiver.
“Weird fucking costume for a stripper,” Martin said.
Her long black hair hung back in a high ponytail. Black and silver eye shadow framed her eyes, the blended shades bold against her smooth, pale skin.
Smoke rolled along the stage as she stopped before the chair. At the sound of the singer’s voice, she flicked her cigarette to the side and stretched both her arms above her head. She then bent forward until she pressed her hands flat on the stage.
“What is this shit? Bloody keep fit?” Martin grunted.
“Take your fucking clothes off,” Karl shouted.
She pulled herself up slowly, and as the bass guitar kicked in, her body swayed to the right and she fell straight into a spin, which seemed to last forever.
“Looks like the stripper knows ballet,” Robert said.
“Fuck the stripper.” Luke laughed. “How d’ya know that’s ballet she’s doing?”
“My little sister has studied it for years,” Robert said, his focus glued to the stage.
The woman dropped into splits. After a moment, she brought around her right leg from behind to join her left, and then fell backward. She pushed herself off the floor, then jumped up and landed on her feet. A wicked grin curled the corners of her mouth as she rolled down the zip of her hoodie, exposing inch by inch of creamy, pale flesh.
The familiar sweet scent touched my nose once more, growing more potent with each second, battling against the other smells to stand apart.  With a deep breath, I dragged the stuffy air of the club deep into my lungs, cancelling out each odour until all that remained was the aroma of . . . flowers? Not the sickly fragrance of floral perfume, but actual flowers.
Her hips began to sway as she shrugged off the hoodie and let it fall. The curve of her waist, and the sight of her supple breasts in her black lace bra, made my mouth dry. I knocked back the rest of my beer, hoping like hell it would help my sudden thirst.
The pale blue light caught the shimmer of her glitter-dusted skin as she brought up her right arm and then placed her hand behind her head.
Sizzling heat spread through my entire body as the distinct taste of wild flowers and sea salt exploded on my tongue. The bittersweet mixture filled me, conjuring images of the meadows bordering my father’s manor; of a young girl laughing as I chased her across the grounds, the scent of the sea wafting from her blonde hair.
My Wolf groaned. My blood heated.
“Great breasts,” Luke said.
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about.” Karl leaned forward and banged his fists on the table. He threw back his head and howled. Any other moment, I would have found such a reaction hilarious, but I couldn’t pull my focus from the woman on the stage; couldn’t move due to the heavy beat of my heart banging against my ribcage. I knew that scent, would know it anywhere.
She made a slow turn as she loosened her ponytail and shook her head. Her hair streamed down her back like a glossy black waterfall. She finished her spin, then her focus landed on me, and the air caught in my throat.
Clare.
Her body went rigid. Her sultry gaze hardened as she stared at me.
Clare Walker. I’d know those moonlit eyes anywhere.
What in God’s name is she doing working in a fucking strip club?
Straightening, I tensed as my wolf skimmed the surface. My energy pulsed as his focus zoned in on her. A moment was all it took. My Wolf settled. Satisfaction hummed through me. Acceptance.
What the fuck?
Her jaw tensed, chin tilted up as she stared us both down for a single moment, before she ran and grabbed hold of the stage pole on the right. Her feet left the floor as she wrapped her legs around the brass and spun.
I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, but the tension didn’t drain from my body.
Her feet hit the floor, the pole between her perfect thighs. She pulled herself upwards, rubbing herself against the warm metal.
Every drop of blood in my body headed south.
She swung round and pressed her back against the pole. Her hands traveled down her breasts, then her stomach, to stop at the waist of her hot pants.
My jeans suddenly felt too tight, and the sound of my heartbeat drowned out the loud music.
She slid her hot pants down her thighs and....
The neck of the beer bottle broke in my hands.
“You okay?” Robert looked at the bottle.
I let my gaze slip down to the broken glass and grunted. “Oops.”
Throwing the shards on the table, my attention turned back to Clare. She crouched before a group of men pushed up against the stage. Fire licked through me at the sight of them slipping notes into her cleavage and the band of her knickers, their fingers skimming her milky flesh. The sight caused a strangled snarl to break from my throat.
Easy boy, this is Clare. It’s just Clare.
My Wolf began to pace, hackles rising, the urge to beat the shit out of them and protect her overwhelming me. No man had any right to touch her. I didn’t want any other man to touch her, let alone look at her, and the sudden realization scared the hell out of me.
She stood and danced away from them. Every move she made was graceful; each step seemed to have a meaning. Touched by the fake moonlight, her body shimmered with sweat and sparkling body dust. She looked exotic, feral. She was Loup-garou. She was mine.
No. Not mine. She’s not mine. It’s fucking Clare, for Christ’s sake!
That simple fact didn’t stop the images filling my mind—images of her writhing across the damp earth of the forest floor, the light of the moon bathing her pale flesh. I’d explore every curve and crevice with my fingers and tongue until she begged me to mark her. Claim her.
Those wants alone had me hard as a rock, and on the border of having a panic attack.
Fuck, this is bad. Margaret Thatcher dancing naked in the rain. Margaret Thatcher dancing naked in the rain . . . .
 Hiding my hands under the table, I pulled the small shard of glass from my right palm, ignoring the tingle of my flesh pulling together and closing the small wound.
Five years since I had last seen her. She’d been nineteen and preparing to go to London to live with her mother while she studied dance at university. By the look of her body, she had studied damn hard.
My fingers sank into my thighs as she curled around the left brass pole.
Last time I had seen her, she wore dungarees she could hardly fill. Now, her body looked athletic, but she had more curves than a damn racetrack.
She turned her back to the audience. My focus slipped to the four, tattooed paw prints climbing up her right hip. I couldn’t stop the smile forming on my lips, nor stop the thought of tracing those delicate designs with my tongue.
She stepped up on the chair and spun again.
“I think I’ve found my lap dancer.” Karl’s words came out slurred.
The urge to punch his head through the wall rushed through me.
Clare dropped onto the chair. Her knees spread wide, showing the audience the soft junction of her milky thighs.
I swallowed the groan lodged in my throat. The zip of my jeans was two seconds away from splitting.
Applause roared throughout the room as she struck her final pose and the music ended. Tension wound through my entire body, and I had to fight to stay in my chair as a string of crude comments left the mouths of the majority of men around me.
She grabbed her clothes and made her way off stage. The hypnotic sway of her hips, and the sight of her perky arse sitting in those lace panties, struck as painfully uncomfortable. The blood in my veins burned; the tension in my muscles pulsed.
She disappeared from view.
What was this insane, ecstatic joy that she hadn’t removed her underwear in front of these perverted bastards about? All I knew was that if she had, I would have had to kill everyone.
Not good, Owen.
The sweet smell of her sweat had mixed with her natural aroma which now seemed to cling to my nostrils, teasing me. I wanted to find her, rip those knickers off her with my teeth, and bury my head between her thighs until she came apart on my tongue.
Not fucking good at all.
Deep breath. What I needed to do was calm the fuck down and then talk to her. And I really needed to talk to her. This was Clare, for fuck’s sake. I had watched her grow up. This was wrong. So fucking wrong.
The metal frame of the chair dented under the pressure of my fingertips as the others continued to talk about her.
What the fuck was she doing here, anyway? Taking her clothes off and dancing in a shitty strip joint?
She was supposed to be performing on cruise ships. In clothing.
Her life is not my business. It’s not my business. At least it wasn’t, until now.
“So, Owen, you having a lap dance or-or not?” Karl burped, then knocked down the rest of his beer “Going to be a bit fuck-king boring sitting ’ere on your own. Maybe we can find you a nice blonde.”
Fuck it! I needed to speak to her.

~ * ~



Cranberry Blood
Blood Series: Book One
Blurb:

Killing Vampires? Easy.
Tracking someone? Simple.
Helping, and protecting a Vampire slayer . . . . Bloody hard work!
Thirteen years ago, Brendan Daniels made a deal with a psychic. In exchange for information on the whereabouts of a Rogue Werewolf, he promised to help and protect Sofia's granddaughter. Unfortunately, he had no idea what he was letting himself, or his Pack, in for.
Nothing about Heather is simple, from her weird dietary needs to her life’s mission. The girl can handle herself, but the promise to protect her soon becomes a need, and one he can't fully understand.
Vampire Slayer.
Born Infected.
Addicted to blood . . . but not by choice.
Heather Ryan is the current Slayer in a long family line. Like all before her, she has spent her life searching for her ancestor, Marko Pavel, the Vampire her family has sworn to kill. If that isn't complicated enough, she is also a born "Infected", and to keep her from becoming insane or giving in to her darker side, she is on a very strict diet.
Now that her Grandmother Sofia has passed, it is up to Heather to take the family legacy into her own hands. Or at least, it would have been...if her Grandmother hadn't sent a Werewolf to help her.
What is the irritating Brendan supposed to help her with? Sofia never told either of them. Luckily, it doesn't take long for Heather and Brendan to find out that the Vampires have big plans, and that the Leeches have waited a long time for them both.

This title contains explicit language, violence, and some scenes of a sexual nature.

Author: Elizabeth Morgan| Length: Novel| Content: Urban Fantasy with Paranormal Elements| Publisher: Self-Published

Buy Links:
Smashwords:
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/463706
Barnes&Noble:
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cranberry-blood-elizabeth-morgan/1112119033?ean=2940046079869

Also available on Amazon! 

Amazon US: http://www.amazon.com/Cranberry-Blood-Book-Elizabeth-Morgan-ebook/dp/B00MXDVWDQ/ref=sr_1_5?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408735068&sr=1-5&keywords=Elizabeth+Morgan



Amazon UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cranberry-Blood-Book-Elizabeth-Morgan-ebook/dp/B00MXDVWDQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1408734869&sr=1-1&keywords=Elizabeth+Morgan


And will soon be available in print!
~ * ~
Excerpt:
Lights spluttered above me, fighting with some relentless attempt to come back on, even though the battle appeared hopeless.
It is hopeless.
I’m trapped.
Fresh waves of pain rippled around my skull and down my spine as I fought to see everything around me, but thick grey smoke flooded the corridors. It crawled down my throat; the taste and feel of ash coated my tongue, making me gag. The need to cough kept grabbing me while ash blocked my nose and stung my watering eyes. My head throbbed, pressure in my skull tightened, as I fought hard to keep my eyes open.
There has to be a way out.
My eyesight had clouded from the smoke; my nostrils burned with it.
The awareness under my skin blazed as hot as the fire that currently threatened to bring the entire structure down on my head, but I had to walk down here; every impulse in my body forced me forward. I had no idea what I hoped to find, but I knew in my gut that I could get out.
My right hand hit the uneven wall before me; my heart sank as I stood before the dead end.
My lungs burned as the smoke continued to consume my body.
I wasn’t supposed to die down here.

Chapter One

~ Heather ~
Air scorched my throat as my body jerked into consciousness. Eyes wide and unfocused, I shot into a sitting position, fisting my hands against my chest as I fought to breathe. My heart hammered, each beat loud and clear as it thumped in my ears. My gaze darted around the room. Relief settled over me like a gentle summer’s breeze as each small familiarity of my bedroom filtered into my jumbled mind: the tall, old mahogany wardrobe to the right side; the window, where light desperately tried to seep through the blinds; and lastly, across from the foot of my bed, the vanity table in the same dark shade of wood. Everything exactly where it should be, including me, in my bed, exactly where I should be.
I inhaled, the simple motion causing a stitch to run up my sides, but I ignored it. Sinking against my pillows, I rested my head against the wooden bed frame and closed my eyes. One breath, two, three; my heart steadied back into its usual rhythm. I rubbed my hands across my face, wiping away the sheen of sweat that had broken over my skin. On my exhale, the quietness of the room embraced me. The usual knots in my stomach started to tighten as the confusion of the recurring dream faded. I forced my mind to reach out and grab the escaping images, but, as always, reality quickly settled in and made my vision nothing more than a blank canvas.
Dull throbbing picked up at my temples. Shit. A sigh escaped me. Not again.
I threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, suddenly aware of something gripping the skin of my stomach and back.
“What the—?” The raised hem of my black vest allowed a glimpse at the white bandage strapped around my torso. “How the hell did that get there?”
Shuffling steps took me over to the mirror on the vanity table where I studied the clean dressing that clung to my washed-out skin.
Brow furrowed, I stared at the white patch. “Okay. I really don’t remember hurting myself, let alone bandaging myself up.” My focus snapped to a smaller bandage, taped on the left side of my forehead. I studied my half-naked reflection with confusion. My already pale, peach skin looked pasty white, my golden curls nothing more than flat frizz. The throb in my temples increased as I forced my mind to conjure some memory of what had happened last night.
Blurred snippets of my most recent trip to London skipped through my brain. Standing on the roof across the way from some club . . . . Then nothing but blank.
I grabbed my comb and sat down on the edge of the bed, a hiss escaping my lips as pain shot up my left side. I took a deep breath and began to pull the comb through my matted hair, clenching my teeth as agony bit at my skull with each sharp tug. My mind continued to sift through snips of the night: going out to look for Carlson, finding him with Antonio. They had followed three drunken women from a club and dragged them into a loading bay behind one of the larger shops. Me following them and helping the three women get away . . . . At least, I think I did.
But what happened after that? More blankness. Damn.
Hair pulled over one shoulder; I plaited the limp mass and then placed the comb on the vanity table. My forehead began to tighten, and the painful awareness of the familiar thirst that started to crawl up my dry throat assailed my system. My stomach gurgled.
God, I feel rough. I needed food and my mixture, followed by a long, hot shower.
Rolling my head in a circle, I listened to the small pops of tense muscles as I walked to the head of the bed and reached behind the pillows for my sword. My hand met the mattress. My heart stopped. I threw the pillow aside.
Where the hell is my sword?
A strange reckoning tickled below the surface of my skin as my gaze tripped over the room. Something isn’t right.
I walked around my bed to my wardrobe and pulled out a pair of black jogging pants. My focus landed on my sheathed sword, which leant against the white wall behind the bedside table. I slipped into the garment and grabbed my sword, unsheathing the blade as I tiptoed to my bedroom door.
The leather sheath got tossed on my messy bed and the door eased open. Daylight flooded through the slim stairwell window, lighting up the narrow, cream-coloured hallway.
I walked over to the next door and opened it gently; the familiar smell of my Grandmother’s musky perfume hit me as I stepped into the room. I lowered my sword since no one stood there, but my feet refused to move. Her furniture sat where the pieces always had been. The purple bedding laid neatly, not a crease in sight. A layer of dust covered her bedside table. The faintest trace of her scent still lingered. A ball of grief swelled in my chest, lodging tightly between my throat and heart.
I hadn’t taken a single step in here for over a month. She would have wanted me to clean, to open the window and air out the room, but I honestly couldn’t bear the thought of dusting her away just yet.
I backed out of the room and shut the door, letting out a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding.
I’m finally going crazy. Somehow, I got myself home; it doesn’t really matter how. Maybe I came in, sorted myself out, and then passed out in bed? I must have. What other explanation could there be?
With a sigh, I walked across the landing to the bathroom door. The throb in my temples increased. My muscles felt tighter than a bowstring. A shower and something to eat and drink; these should do the trick. Then maybe my brain would decide to start working, and I could fill in the blanks.
The scent of wet dog flew into my face once across the bathroom threshold. My clothes from last night sat in a shredded pile on the black marble floor, along with my set of daggers. The first aid kit lay open in the sink.
A deep inhale revealed more; combined with the smell of dog, the bathroom held traces of blood. My blood.
I stepped into the room and peered into the waste-bin to see a large amount of dried, red cotton wool.
“I don’t remember doing this.” My eyes bugged at the mess.
Surely, I would remember doing this? Why the hell do I smell dog? Another inhale. And pine?
Something really didn’t feel right. I had never been so bad that I couldn’t remember what had happened on a hunt, and by the looks of things, I’d been in real bad shape.
Back into the hall and to creep quietly down the stairs. The odour of dog grew with each step, the smell of coffee and bacon gradually joining in. My stomach clenched at the familiarity of walking down these stairs every morning to find my grandmother happily cooking breakfast in our kitchen. Minus the smell of animal, though.
I couldn’t believe she’d died almost six weeks ago. God, I miss her.
As I stepped into the lower hall, a glance out of the side window showed my black Range Rover sitting in front of the house, between the front door/porch and the closed, wrought iron security gate. A long, silver scratch marred the paintwork on the bonnet. Antonio’s face flashed through my mind.
I remembered stumbling back to the car to find him there, waiting for me. The bastard had dragged his filthy claw along my Rover. That son-of-a-bitch!
I killed him, though. I think. He lunged and . . . . I looked down at my left arm. Two pale lines slashed across my skin. He’d stumbled and caught me on the arm, but I got him in the neck . . . .
The sudden sound of rustling paper snapped me from my thoughts. Tension grabbed me, the awareness crackling beneath the surface of my skin.
Someone is in my house.
Stepping through the open living room door, a new scent invaded my nostrils. Tangy, manufactured, like expensive cologne. An unfamiliar, black travel bag sat tucked away between the red leather sofa and the TV stand. The papers rustled again. I moved lightly toward the archway that lead into the dining room, my sword still gripped comfortably in my right hand.
“Your breakfast is getting cold, Heather. I suggest you stop trying to sneak in here and just come in so that we can get this over and done with,” said the deep male voice of whoever was in my kitchen.
What the hell is going on? Who is he? Why is he in my house? How does he know my name? And why the hell has he cooked me breakfast?
I took a deep breath, and then exhaled before slowly walking through the archway into the empty dining room. When I turned my head to the left, I saw a strange man seated at my kitchen breakfast bar. He sat casually, in jeans and a forest green T-shirt that clung to his broad, sculpted back and defined biceps. The sun flooded into the kitchen through the side window and glinted off his copper-blond hair, which brushed his shoulders.
“Are you going to come into the room or stand there drooling all day?” He turned a page of his newspaper. I couldn't place his accent, nor the sleepy twang that couldn't quite form at the edge of his words.
I inhaled again; nothing new amongst the scent of dog, pine, bacon, and coffee, which meant he wasn’t a Vampire. Leeches smelled like mouldy, wet earth; not an overpowering smell, but hidden underneath the products they wore. Not that a Vampire could get in here, anyway. They could only come in with a personal invite, and since they all wanted me dead . . . . No matter what state I’d been in last night, I wouldn’t have invited one in. So, who the hell is this guy?
I walked toward him, my sword glinting in the sunlight, the hilt gripped firmly in both hands. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in my house?” I stopped three feet behind him.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Wrong answer.” The tip of my sword found the firm space between his shoulder blades. “I said, who the hell are you and what—”
“Killing me isn’t going to help.” He turned another page of his paper.
“I disagree. I think killing the stranger who broke into my house is a very good idea.”
“I did not break in,” he replied calmly. “My name is Brendan Daniels and I’m actually here to help you.”
I snorted. “Like I believe that.”
“It’s the truth. Besides, if I really wanted to hurt you, I would have. I also wouldn’t have left your weapons with you.”
“Well, you’re obviously an eejit.”
He laughed. “You have serious trust issues.”
“Trust issues? Says the complete stranger who broke into my house and—”
“I used your house keys. They were in your jacket pocket,” he said. “And yes, trust issues, says the stranger. The stranger who promises he isn’t here to hurt you.”
“Just because you say you’re not here to hurt me doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”
“True. But why go to the trouble of killing you when I could have left you lying in the car park the other night and let the seven greedy Leeches looking for you find you and bleed you dry?”
My stomach turned as memories of my outing slammed clearly into my brain. I had walked into a trap, so set on finding Carlson that the need to kill the bastard once and for all had blocked all sense and reason. Twelve lower generation Vampires had been waiting on the rooftops surrounding the loading bay. Carlson and Antonio wouldn’t stop talking, so I backed out of the area, and that’s when I saw them all. Their blood-red eyes watched my every move as their mouths hung wide, displaying their fangs.
“I have waited so long for this moment,” Carlson had said.
So had I.
My grandmother never told me where to find him. She wouldn’t let me kill him even though he deserved my sword through his neck more than any other Vampire.
They obviously found out Gran had died and simply waited for me to come out and play. I went, and they had been waiting for me, and like some amateur, I walked right into their trap. I killed two Vampires in order to get out of the loading bay, and then I had the other ten, along with Carlson and Antonio, chasing me through the dark and empty back streets of London. I tried to lead them somewhere humans wouldn’t find us; much good it did me.
But none of that explained who this guy was or why the hell he’d made himself at home in my kitchen.
“So you were there?”
“That much is obvious. Who do you think brought you home?”
“How did you even know where I live?”
“You have sat-nav in your Rover. And, like I said, I’m here to help.” He slid off the stool; the tip of my sword grazed his green T-shirt.
I clenched my teeth. “Why help me? You don’t even know me.”
He finally turned to face me. He’d pulled back his copper-blond hair, allowing me to see his face fully. A broad nose accompanied by high cheekbones and a tall forehead set off the deepest green eyes I’d ever seen. A fine layer of copper stubble outlined his square jaw and surrounded thick, peach lips.
His emerald eyes sparkled as I met his gaze.
“True, but I helped you because I thought it would be in your best interest to get you back to the safety of your own house.”
He thought it would be in my best interest? Who the hell does this guy think he is, a knight in shining armour? He looks like a friggin’ Ken doll, for Christ’s sake, and . . . . Wait a damn minute. “Seven Vampires?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“Before, you said seven Vampires? There were twelve left.”
“Well, you eventually killed the Italian one before collapsing in front of your car, leaving eleven. The blond one who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to eat you or screw you—”
“Carlson.” I shuddered at the memory of him pinning my body to the rough concrete road. His thighs clamped my legs shut as he lapped at the blood trickling down my forehead . . . .
“Well, turns out he, as well as three of the others, actually needed their heads to fight back, but the rest of them ran off, and since my priority is you—”
“You’re the one who knocked Carlson off me?”
Memories exploded and rolled around my mind like storm clouds. Carlson had slid his talons into my waist, knocking me to the pavement and causing me to cut my forehead. He had pinned me between the ground and his growing erection while he demanded I beg him to change me. A few cheap insults and shoving some silver in his ribcage was enough to piss him off—as if I would want to be blood-bonded to the bastard who’d helped destroy my mother and father. On my refusal, he’d bared his fangs; about to feed from me...then the next thing I knew, he was gone. Once I got to my feet, I saw four decomposing bodies on the ground, only yards away from where I, myself, had almost bled to death.
“Yes.” He picked up a glass of orange juice and took a mouthful.
“Carlson is dead?”
He gulped. “Well, last time I checked, decapitation usually does the trick. So, yeah.”
A strange relief flooded me. My hands began to tremble. I tightened my grip, trying to keep a firm hold on my sword. “Are you a hundred and ten percent sure he’s dead?”
“A hundred and forty-six percent sure.”
I couldn’t believe it. Carlson, dead. Well, in the sense that he wouldn’t be prowling the streets or feeding ever again. He was actually gone. I suddenly didn’t know whether to hug this strange man, or kill him for taking away my opportunity to kill the monster that’d infected my mother. “Why did you kill him?”
He laughed. “Well, I was considering letting him and the rest of his friends eat you, but then that wouldn’t have made me a very good guardian, now, would it?”
~ * ~
Author Bio:
Elizabeth Morgan is a multi-published author of urban fantasy, paranormal, erotic horror, f/f, and contemporary; all with a degree of romance, a dose of action and a hit of sarcasm, sizzle or blood, but you can be sure that no matter what the genre, Elizabeth always manages to give a unique and often humorous spin to her stories.
Like her tagline says; A pick ‘n’ mix genre author. “I’m not greedy. I just like variety.”
And that she does, author of erotic ménage horror, Creak, paranormal erotic horror and UK, US & Australian Amazon best seller (Gay/Lesbian, Fiction, Lesbian), On the Rocks, erotic romance, US, UK & Spanish Amazon bestseller (Erotica Short Story) Truth or Dare? And sweet contemporary romance, UK & US Amazon bestseller (British/Drama & Plays) Stepping Stones.
She also has her hand in self-publishing. Look out for more information on her upcoming releases at her website: www.e-morgan.com
Away from the computer, Elizabeth can be found in the garden trying hard not to kill her plants, dancing around her little cottage with the radio on while she cleans, watching movies or good television programmes – Dr Who? Atlantis? The Musketeers? Heck, yes! – Or curled up with her two cats reading a book.
For more information on Elizabeth's work, published and upcoming, head on over to her site:
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International Tour wide Giveaway!

Elizabeth is giving away 2x ebook sets - 1 ecopy of She-Wolf & 1 ecopy of Cranberry Blood - and 1 lucky winner will win themselves 2 signed cover flats and an exclusive Blood Series themed red, glitter glass and wine charm.



a Rafflecopter giveaway


Rafflecopter link:
http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/share-code/NzY3ZjQwMjUzMWIyNmE1MzlkZWNlNGY2Nzc1Mzg4Ojc=/

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Blood Series Blog Tour
August
18th - Bex 'n' Books:-
http://bexnbooks.blogspot.com
19th - All Things Romance:
http://lynnareynolds.wordpress.com
20th - Dianna Hardy: http://www.diannahardy.com
21st - Mina Carter: http://mina-carter.com/blog/
22nd - Jens Reading Obsession:
http://jensreadingobsession.wordpress.com/
23rd - Kiru Taye: http://kirutayewrites.blogspot.co.uk/
24th - Book Reviews by Lynn:
http://bookreviewsbylynn.blogspot.co.uk/
25th - Release Day:
My World: http://www.xxxxmyworldxxxx.blogspot.co.uk/
 NJASUL: http://www.notjustastiffupperlip.blogspot.co.uk/
Love Bites & Silk: http://www.lovebitesandsilk.co.uk/
26th - Krista Ames: http://www.apassionforromance.blogspot.co.uk/
27th - Zee Monodee: http://zeemonodee.blogspot.co.uk/p/welcome.html
28th - Doris O'Connor: http://thetardisscribbles.blogspot.co.uk/
29th - Evocative Book Reviews:
http://evocativebookreviews.com
30th - Lucy Felthouse: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/
31st - Ms. ME28 Reviews:
http://msme28reviews.blogspot.com