Sunday, September 24, 2017

Sunday Spotlight -- M.A. Church & Dragon's Hoard

Welcome M.A. Church back to Sunday Spotlight!  She's sharing a bit from her new release, Dragon’s Hoard


To be loved by a dragon is to be treasured.

A hundred years ago, werewolf Alpha Montgomery took a risk driven by desperation—he borrowed money from the ancient dragon Warwick Ehecatl, putting up the pack lands as collateral. Now the debt is due, and dragons don’t forget—or forgive. Warwick demands Montgomery’s son, Avery, and three businesses as compensation. As an Omega, Avery knows he is basically useless to his pack, so he might as well agree. He soon has second thoughts, though. Warwick is fearsome, and he’s free to do as he likes with Avery.

Warwick knows his race’s reputation, and he even admits some of it is deserved. But he’d rather cut off his tail than let his innocent mate’s light go out. It won’t be easy, but buried deep, there’s something between them worth safeguarding.

Cover Artist: Aaron Anderson
House Line Dreamspun Beyond | #5
Genres: Urban Fantasy / Werewolves/Shapeshifters

BUY LINKS

Excerpt:

THE SUBTLE lighting in the office in his house cast long shadows that danced across the room. Burning wood popped and hissed in the fireplace, the scent bringing back memories from yesteryear. Restless, Warwick shoved back from his monstrosity of a desk.
The warmth of the fire beckoned, and seeing no reason to deny himself, he strode across the floor. As he drew nearer, the heat wrapped around his body, and he sighed. Bending, he held his hands out toward the crackling fire. Once his fingers warmed, he straightened and turned.
With his back to the fire, he carelessly brushed a long strand of hair behind his ear. He’d opened the blinds when he’d entered his office in a hopeless bid for daylight, not that it did much good. Good thing his eyesight was better than a human’s.
The day was dreary, rainy, and overcast. He hated this time of the year. No matter how many layers of clothes he wore, the endless chill seeped in. He much preferred heat and humidity, sunny skies and warmth. His kind detested the cold.
Still staring out of the ground floor window, he took notice of the foot traffic on the street, darting here and there like worker bees. Paranormals mixed with humans—there was no hiding now. As with anything else, there were those who thought the species should be separated and those who didn’t. Werewolves had made their presence known sometime in the 1700s. Other paranormal beings had come out not long after.
Once the panic had died down, humans responded fairly well. For the most part, anyhow. There were still squabbles, of course. Humans didn’t seem to know how to do anything else. Fortunately they tended to leave paranormals alone. More often than not, they were too busy fighting among themselves.
What the humans were calling the Great War was in full swing. Warwick brushed a microscopic piece of fuzz from his shirt, shaking his head. Humans and their wars. Would they never learn? But there was no denying it afforded him the opportunity to invest in their conflicts, and dragons never passed up an opportunity to add to their hoard.
A soft knock at his office door drew his attention. He inhaled, and the scent of hair cream, freshly pressed clothes, and human teased his senses.
“Enter,” Warwick called.
Clarence Wiltshire, his clerk, opened the office door. He started toward the desk but paused when he saw no one sat behind it. Confident of where he would find his boss, he glanced at the fireplace. “Sir, there’s an Alpha Theodore Montgomery of the Sunset Creek Pack here to see you.”
Warwick pursed his lips. “Interesting.”
“I’ll say, sir.” Clarence bobbed his head. “It must be catastrophic to send an Alpha werewolf to your doorstep.”
“Only one way to find out.” As much as he hated leaving the roaring fire, Warwick crossed the floor, his footsteps muffled by the oriental rugs, and returned to his desk. “Give it twenty minutes, then escort him back. Also make sure to offer him a beverage while he waits.”
“He’s not going to like having to wait, sir.”
“I’m well aware.” Warwick picked up his absurdly expensive tailored suit coat and slipped it on. “That’s the point.”
“Yes, sir.” Clarence smirked, then wiped any emotions off his face, going back to the usual pleasant blankness he showed prospective clients. “Twenty minutes.”
“Thank you.” Warwick settled into his comfortable desk chair. This was no casual meeting. He intended to throw the Alpha off-balance by having him wait, but the ploy would also show exactly who held the power in the room.
Twenty minutes later to the second, his efficient assistant escorted Alpha Montgomery inside. Warwick stood and acknowledged the Alpha with a slight bob of his head. There was no need for him to bare his throat since he wasn’t another werewolf, not that he would anyhow. Dragons were at the top of the shifter food chain. Nor did he offer his hand. Werewolves tended to be snarly about who touched them without permission, the silly creatures.
Alpha Montgomery acknowledged the greeting and returned it, although his head bob was much more grandiose.
“Alpha Theodore Montgomery of the Sunset Creek Pack, I bid you welcome. Please, join me.”
“Thank you.” Alpha Montgomery crossed the room, his gait hurried. “I appreciate you seeing me without the courtesy of having an appointment.”
“Yes, well, circumstances are usually dire when people come to me, and often they don’t have time to make one. Have a seat.” Warwick gestured at the plush wine-colored leather chairs in front of his desk. He made a point of standing. Warwick would not sit first. Having another paranormal look up to him was another way to reinforce who was more commanding.
Alpha Montgomery gritted his teeth. Ah yes, there was nothing better than power games first thing in the morning.
As the struggle for control continued, Warwick took note of his visitor. Like most werewolves, the Alpha was a large male with muscles. Unless the wolf was an Omega, they were also hairy, above average in height, and had dark hair and eyes.
Warwick ensured his features remained blank, even as he smirked inside. Compared with a werewolf, he was not only shorter, but less muscled. While the werewolf was bulky, Warwick was lean and mean. The only thing he and the Alpha had in common was the dark hair Warwick also wore long.
“Thank you.” Alpha Montgomery lowered himself into one of the seats.
“Now, please, tell me how I may be of service.” Satisfied his point had been made, Warwick sat behind his desk. Just because the atmosphere was tense didn’t mean manners had to be left outside the door.
“I need a loan.”
“Most people do when they come to me.” Precise and to the point. He liked that. Warwick opened a desk drawer and withdrew several forms. “How much?”
Alpha Montgomery quoted a sum, and Warwick lifted a shapely eyebrow. Surprising a dragon wasn’t easy.
“I see.” He pushed the sheets of paper across the desk. “The forms are standard. Fill them out so I have an idea of what you plan to put up as collateral for such a massive loan.”
“Collateral.” Alpha Montgomery tugged at his collar in what Warwick assumed was an effort to loosen the suffocating restriction from his tie. “I, ah, was hoping not to put anything up.”
Warwick swallowed the laugh bubbling up. “And I was hoping to spend this winter on a warm, sunny beach—neither of which is going to happen, unfortunately. If you want the loan, you put up collateral. That’s the only way I do business.”
Alpha Montgomery scowled. “Do you know who I am? The connections I have? The fact that my pack is one of the largest around, that should be sufficient.”
“It isn’t.” Warwick coolly gazed across the desk. “Alpha, you need the money. I have it to give. Paranormals only come to me as a last resort, so I’m sure you’ve tried to obtain the currency elsewhere. Am I right?”
Alpha Montgomery didn’t speak, but his scowl said enough. So did the sudden spike in tension. The acidic scent of bone-deep worry filled Warwick’s nostrils. He struggled to suppress the sneeze that threatened.
“I thought so. If I loan you the money, you will put up collateral,” Warwick continued. Arrogant werewolf. Did the Alpha really think Warwick would loan him the sum he quoted with nothing more than his signature? “And from the amount you requested, I’m going to demand every property you own.”
“You can’t do that!” Alpha Montgomery’s claws peeked out as he gripped the chair arms. “If I default—”
“I’ll take everything you own, kick your pack off your land, and sell it to recoup my losses.” Warwick shrugged. “That’s the price of doing business, my dear Alpha. Take the money or not. It matters not to me.”
Alpha Montgomery growled softly. “You really are a cold-blooded bastard, aren’t you?”
Warwick faced the Alpha. His eyes shifted into a brilliant purple, the color of his dragon, with a slitted black pupil. Scrollwork, only slightly lighter than the purple of his eyes, appeared upon his eyelids and right below his eyes. His fangs, which appeared normal in human form, lengthened. His fingernails grew to deadly sharp claws as he partially shifted. “Indeed I am.” Menace, deep and thick, vibrated in his voice. “Something you may wish to keep in mind, considering I can snap your neck with little to no thought.” Warwick unleashed his power, which seeped through the room, blanketing everything. A smothered gasp came from the outer office where Clarence’s desk was located. It wasn’t the first time his assistant experienced such, and no doubt would not be the last.
Alpha Montgomery straightened in his chair and snarled as his own power rose to meet Warwick’s. Sweat beaded and rolled down the Alpha’s face. The flames in the lanterns flickered, and the air shimmered. But as quickly as Alpha Montgomery’s power rose, it dropped like a puppet with its strings cut. The Alpha collapsed back in the chair, pale and shivering.
“By all the wolf gods,” Alpha Montgomery whispered, horror finely etched upon his features.
Warwick, still composed as ever, finally allowed the smirk that had been lurking to cross his face. “That was unwise, Alpha. You may be powerful, but you’re nothing compared to me. I was centuries old before you were ever born. Test me again and the next time, you won’t walk out of here on your own two feet.”
Alpha Montgomery gulped.
“Now, are you filling out those papers or are you leaving my office empty-handed?”
“F-filling out the papers.” Fear rolled off the Alpha werewolf.
“Excellent.” Warwick leaned back in his chair and returned to his wholly human form, pleased he’d made his point. “Now, make sure to fill out the paperwork fully, please.”
Oh yes, today was going to be a good day.



Saturday, September 23, 2017

Vorbestellbar - Der letzte Schattenwolf von Kelex

Der letzte Schattenwolf Blutlinien Book 1

von Kelex


Ihre Liebe ist tabu. Die Kreuzung der wölfischen Blutlinien ist verboten. Und doch ist es Eirik, Alpha-Tier und König der Wölfe, leid, seine Liebe für Gunnar verstecken zu müssen. Als letzter seiner Art ist er dazu verdammt, ohne einen Partner durch sein langes Leben gehen zu müssen. Er verweigert sich jdeoch seinem Schicksal und sucht Trost bei einem von denjenigen, die ihm am nächsten stehen.


Gunnar, des Königs Leibwächter, weiß, dass er niemals an der Seite des Königs stehen kann, wenn er diesem erlauben würde, mit ihm ins Bett zu gehen – ganz egal, wie sehr er sich auch über die Jahrzehnte danach verzehrt hat. Er würde sein Leben dafür geben, ein Mitglied dieser Elite-Krieger zu sein, und nicht des Königs Liebhaber. Aber er kann einfach nicht damit aufhören, sich zu wünschen, dass der König ihm gehören könnte.

Nur Augenblicke bevor Eirik die Gesetze ändern kann, die ihre Welt beherrschen, taucht ein alter Feind mit einem einzigartigen Geschenk auf. Vielleicht ist Eirik doch nicht der letzte seine Art.



Amazon  *  iBooks 

Sunday, September 17, 2017

Sunday Spotlight -- April Andrews and Stepping Over the Edge

EXCERPT

The house was not at all what Jamie had expected it to be. When he’d spoken with the realtor, not once but several times, he’d been very clear that he wanted somewhere small, somewhere easy to maintain, and somewhere that was surrounded by other people. In his mind’s eye, he had imagined a compact townhouse, maybe with families living on either side, people that would be welcoming and approachable, people that he could become friends with.

It was clear now, that the realtor had ignored all his instructions and then some. The house that he stood in front of was not small, it was not easy to maintain, and there were no other houses even remotely close by.

Jamie pressed his lips into a tight line as he considered that. He looked down at the shadowed, winding road that his old truck had wheezed its way up. The road, flanked by tall trees on either side, even canopied in some places, went on for many miles. It led to the small town that was nestled in the valley below. Down there was where all the townhouses were, all the families, all the life.

But up here? Jamie shook his head as he turned to look back at the house. It stood, like some kind of sentry, alone on the hill, surrounded on three sides by more of the tall, thick trees. Huge, leafy bushes jostled for space with the trunks of those trees, covering the ground in patches of brown and green.

The house was three stories high, and even from this position, head on, Jamie counted seventeen windows. The windows were, in the main, ridiculously large, but were made up of hundreds of small panes surrounded by squares of wood that were peeling white paint. The front door, the only door that Jamie could see, was big enough to allow two or three people through at once. It had once been painted a deep, dark charcoal but that had peeled and faded now to something more like a muted gray. Only on the edges could Jamie see the color as it had once been. A huge, triangular overhang—a muted gray also—framed the weathered door, trying, Jamie thought, to welcome him in.

Jamie did not feel welcome.

If anything, Jamie felt vaguely uncomfortable.

He looked back at his truck. Stuffed inside of it, taking up all the space but that of the driver’s side, were Jamie’s possessions. They were held in large bags, backpacks, and even some in grocery sacks. There was no method to how Jamie had packed them. The moment he had decided to leave, that defining moment, he had simply stuffed everything that he thought he might need into any bag that was close by.

The rest of his things? They were still in his apartment back in the city. An apartment that Jamie had lived in for almost a decade. An apartment that, he knew, without a doubt, he could never live in again.

But could he live here?

Jamie let out a long exhale at that thought. He eyed the truck again before turning back to the house. As he did so, he wondered where the realtor was. It was past midday and she, Elizabeth, had promised to meet him at twelve sharp. She would give him the tour, she had said, show him where everything was. Jamie frowned as he recalled her jaunty voice, her gurgling laugh, and her lack of any offer to send through photographs of the new home she had found him.

In fairness, she had offered once before, many weeks ago, but Jamie had refused. He didn’t want pictures of his new home, he didn’t even want the address. She was to find him somewhere, take care of all the paperwork, and let him know when it was done. Only then would she give him the address, only then would Jamie make a decision on whether to set out or not.

Why?

Jamie’s frown deepened.

Because he was a fool, that was why.

Because he was following a stupid fantasy that had been dead for many years.

Because he should know better.

He closed his eyes. The breeze, stronger up here than it had been in the valley below, feathered over the skin of his face and his bare arms. The sun was weak this time of the year, but it still warmed him ever so slightly. A bird called out in the distance. The branches of the tall trees moved languidly in the breeze. One of them creaked against something. One of the many windows perhaps. He would have to cut that branch down if he was to stay here. It would keep him awake otherwise.

Jamie snapped his eyes open.

Was he really considering staying in this…horror house?

Was there any other word for it? Jamie had watched enough slasher movies over the years to know that they always started in places that looked like this. Old houses, houses on hills, houses surrounded by trees, houses miles away from civilization.

And yet, Jamie wasn’t frightened by that possibility. He wasn’t frightened of anything that might physically happen to him. But mentally? Emotionally? Jamie shivered. The whole point of coming here, to this town, to this new life, was to fix that part of him. He had imagined a community, people, friends, something that he hadn’t had for more years than he cared to count.

There was no community up here.

No friends.

No people.

Just him.

Just as there had been for so very long.




Also available on Amazon

Monday, September 11, 2017

We Will Never Forget


I know what you came looking for, because it's Monday... wait until tomorrow.  
Today is for remembrance.

Sunday, September 10, 2017

Sunday Spotlight - Hayden West and His Mate's Conversion

Welcome Hayden West back to Sunday Spotlight with His Mate's Conversion -- the second part of The Prince's Mate story.


* * * *


Chase’s only way to save Zach was to force a painful conversion. It hadn’t been done in years and the last time, the creature that had emerged had to be put down.

This was different. This was Chase’s mate.

After the change is over, Zach doesn’t recognize Chase on anything but a molecular level. Could he rein in his mate’s anger and help Zach past this…

Or would he have to fight the man who was his savior?





Chapter One

Chase wiped off the remaining water that sluiced down his body as he stepped closer to the mirror. With a free hand, he smeared away the steam from the glass and stared at his reflection. His injuries had faded as he knew they would.

Beads of water gathered on his skin before rolling over his muscles. He turned his back to the mirror and reached for his pants. Once he’d tugged them on, he padded silently from the bathroom to the main part of the suite.

Zach continued to sleep on the massive bed. His body still needed to heal. Chase scratched at his chest and struggled with the urge to go over to his mate and wake him slowly with drugging kisses and touches.

Instead, he reached for a clean Henley and tugged it on over his head. After he finished dressing, he opened the door to his room. Treymont was by the door.

“You know you don’t have to stand guard while we’re here, right?”

“I know I will always protect you.”

“Have you eaten?”

“No, Victor went to grab a bite. Harry is healed and in our room, sleeping.”

“Want me to bring you something?”

“I’ll get something after you come back to your mate.”

“Keep an eye out although I’m inclined to believe we’re safe here for the time being.”

“I hope so. But there have been times that we weren’t safe with the Krylo Lynxes, you know this. I believe with Leni we are safe now. She’s not of the old school like our parents.”

Treymont shrugged and crossed his arms. Chase let it go, aware his right-hand man wouldn’t be going anywhere for the time being. He continued down the hall, making his way through the palace to the formal dining room. Pushing open the door, he spied a large spread on the tables but only the queen was there.

Yurilenska “Leni” Torov lifted her head when he stepped in but didn’t speak. Beyond her, he spied her guards.

She had feline features which helped her beauty increase. Her long sable hair had streaks of gray and silver in it, all colors which she portrayed when she shifted.

He’d only seen it once. Back when he was a pup there had been a dispute and she’d not yet been queen. However, when she shifted and beat the shit out of the insolent wolf cub, he’d garnered a healthy respect for her and the rest of the lynxes. They weren’t to be trifled with just because they were smaller cats.

“How are you feeling, Prince?”

“Fine, Your Majesty. Thank you for allowing us sanctuary.”

She waved a hand and the sentries vanished without a sound. Only once they were truly alone did she approach him.

He watched her, cautiously but with respect. They’d been friends, but he wasn’t sure where he stood now that she was the ruling force of this clan.

“No need for the formality.” She paused about five feet away.

Chase stared at the golden flakes in her eyes. She was a shrewd ruler and while he had an instinctive need to distrust those of the feline kind, he harnessed it.

“Very well, Leni.” He reverted to the name he’d heard her called during childhood. “How are you?”

“Fine. Got rid of the old useless male king so this is now my kingdom.” She raked her gaze up and down his form. “We women should rule anyway. We’re better at it than anyone with a swinging dick could be.”

He smiled. “I’m not getting into a pissing match with you on which sex is better. I, for one, happen to think we would do wonderfully as a ruling couple.”

She returned his grin. “If only I liked men and you preferred women. But you’re right, we are the most levelheaded of our kind. Your father is psychotic.”

She dragged her finger down between full breasts, for anyone else it would be an invitation. For him it wasn’t anything other than a movement on her end. She could strip naked and he wouldn’t give a damn one way or the other.

He blinked at her, not deigning that comment with a response. She laughed.

“Ever the good son, even when he wants you dead.”

That comment grabbed his attention. “Who wants me dead? I already know the one who attacked was Larkin who is working with Gooddard.”

She strolled to her throne and spread out in the deep seat, not at all sitting like a princess or a queen, but like the feline she truly was. Loose-limbed and sprawled over the arms, her long hair trailed on the floor.

Krylo tradition was to have the throne in the dining room as much of what they did revolved around eating and socializing. This way the ruler could be part of it all.

“Sweetie, you’re so naïve it’s almost cute.” She swung one leg back and forth, her heeled shoe falling to the marble floor with a thump. “Your father put them onto you. He doesn’t want you to take the throne. And if you’re so busy running and fighting for your life and that of your mate, you won’t be home for the ceremony to take over the rule.”

“It’s not like he dies when I take over. He was the one who pushed me to go.”

“And he isn’t ready to give up all his power. Your father, that fucking asshole of a king, is enjoying terrorizing his subjects. And more than that, he’s alienating your kind from the humans, allowing the wolves to take what they will without any consequences.”

Had he truly been away so long that his father was a man he wouldn’t recognize anymore? Sourness piled in his gut.

“How do you know this?”

“We all have our spies.” She rolled her body back to her feet in a lithe, sensual move. “Mine are just better than others.”

“How did he know where I was?”

Another laugh as she bent forward to fasten her shoe back on her foot. He watched her, the purple dress cupping her full breasts yet barely keeping them from popping free.

She tossed her hair and headed for the door. “Follow.”

He listened, ignoring that his stomach rumbled at the large spread of food he walked away from. Food wasn’t at the top of his list, not when he had the chance to find out what his father had planned for him. Or how he was managing to get this done.




Thursday, September 7, 2017

Midnight Muse

I spent many hours preparing to write Bearly Midnight -- the first book in the Midnight, Mississippi series.  

Midnight became a thing in my mind sometime around book 16 of the Bear Mountain series.  While I wasn't sure whose story it would be, I saw the scene at the train station from the very first moment the spinoff came to mind.  

I didn't know anything else, but I knew there would be a train to Midnight.

And then I heard the song Midnight by Lianne La Havas... and I fell in love with it. My kidult had downloaded it to our shared iTunes account, so I was able to listen over and over and over again. It just felt like the song fit the story... I consider it my unofficial theme song. 

If there's ever a movie (Ha!) I'd have to have this song...




So come now, hurry hurry, don't miss this train!




Wednesday, September 6, 2017

New Release - Diamond: The Men of Rock Candy

Diamond: The Men of Rock Candy was originally released five years ago in the Lover Unleashed anthology.  Since getting my rights back, I've DEEPLY edited the story and added an additional 5,000 words to it.  It has a whole new ending, extending the story.

Damon and Cass have been friends since their early years of college. Cass has had a thing for Damon almost as long. Now graduated, Cass pushes pencils during the day, but by night—he’s head bouncer for the Men of Rock Candy, a touring all male revue.
Where Damon’s one of the stars.
Still in grad school, Damon’s not far from that final walk to the podium—and he’ll walk away debt-free thanks to the generous tips he gets from the many eager women who love his dance persona, “Diamond.” Young and old, he shakes his ass on stage for every one of them, all while Cass watches from the shadows, longing for what he’s scared to reach for.
When the owner of the troupe convinces the group to give a gay club a chance, they finally relent. The potential for tips sways their heads… but can Cass contain his need for Damon after seeing his friend dancing for a room full of lusty men?
Cass is one lap dance away from breaking.

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...