Saturday, October 25, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents Sci/fi Fantasy Saturday: Storm Clouds by Tamsin Baker



Title: Storm Clouds
Author: Tamsin Baker
ISBN: 978-1-62420-107-3
Email: erotictamsinbaker@gmail.com
Genre: Fantasy Erotic Romance
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 5

Buy at: Rogue Phoenix Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble

Naylaa is United to her beautiful unicorn Bronte. She knows the legends and is waiting for the United pair that will complete their life.  When Gorvan arrives with Seinna, his United, Naylaa knows instantly Gorvan is her soul mate. But Gorvan is stubborn and scared. He wants to keep moving from town to town and doesn’t believe Naylaa about their need for one another. Naylaa must make him see it...before greed and stubbornness tears them and their beloved unicorns apart forever.

EXCERPT

A laugh bubbled out of her as Bronte galloped through the forest. Naylaa loved the feeling of his powerful body between her legs. The power, the speed and pure exhilaration that came with riding an animal such as Bronte.
“You are incredible my friend. It has been too long since we have run like this.”
I know Naylaa.
Bronte’s home was just ahead of them, hidden amongst the rocks and trees. Beneath her hands, Naylaa felt Bronte’s skin prickle.
“What is it Bronte?”
I can smell something, foreign and delicious.
The tingle of excitement and arousal that ran through him made Naylaa shudder. She had never felt that particular current within Bronte before and in turn felt her own body soften.
I need to go.
He turned without her direction and began to run. She let Bronte have his head.
“I trust you, Bronte. Take me to it.”
She knew they both must find what he had sensed and she trusted his instincts much better than her own.
Almost there.
Bronte slowed just before they reached the edge of a waterfall pool.
Naylaa jumped off his back and crouched down in the brush, just out of sight.
The black stallion didn’t stop when she did. He walked straight through the greenery and into the water.
I found her.
Naylaa heard the declaration and gasped. No it wasn’t possible.
She stood up to see if what she thought she sensed was true. If what had dragged Bronte all this way, truly was their United halves.
Gasping in shock, she saw a white female unicorn standing beneath the waterfall.
“Oh, Bronte. She’s beautiful.” She was a breathtaking sight.
The white unicorns were almost extinct and most people assumed they were gone completely, but she’d never believed that. Naylaa had always wondered who hid the last of the beautiful and rare creatures. It seemed they had found one.
“Where is your United, beautiful creature?” Naylaa couldn’t stop herself from asking. If this was Bronte’s mate, then the unicorn’s United was Naylaa’s.
Her heart began to thump harder in her chest.
“Is it really possible?”
Bronte reared up and pranced like a dancing horse in front of the white female. She was small and very beautiful when she turned to him, extending her horn. Bronte walked forward and rubbed his horn against the female unicorns in a heart breaking show of affection.
“Oh, Bronte…”
Pleasure ran through Naylaa, from her heart down to the place between her legs. She had always known she was connected to Bronte, but these sensations were new and rather strange. Her body was heating, wetness pooling between her thighs, without any stimulation.
“You’ve found us.” A man’s voice startled her and she jumped around to confront him.
The man who had calmed Bronte in the town square stood in front of her with a look of surprise and desire on his handsome face.



Friday, October 24, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents Friday's Featured Title: Change of Heart by Lilliana Rose



Title: Change of Heart
Author: Lilliana Rose
ISBN: 978-1-62420-087-8

Genre: Steampunk
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at: Rogue Phoenix Press, Amazon, Barnes and Noble

Vickie wants spice in her life, but her husband George is more interested in his work as a doctor. As a Victorian lady she is struggling to find her place in the world. An outbreak of a mysterious illness threatens the ordered world of Vickie and George. George becomes ill, and Vickie is left to care for him, keep him safe, as well as trying to work out the cause of the mysterious illness. Vickie must take charge in her world in order to survive.

EXCERPT

The ex-war time airship hung in the afternoon sun, tethered to the top of the four-story building. A survivor from the First World War. Floating with the warm air, the leather balloon looked out of place, like a bird that had come to nest on a leafless tree. It wasn't alone. Other airships, brand new, trimmed with polished brass reflected the glamor of the new era; the future was in the sky and people rushed to join the developing fashion.
An unusual Christmas present for his wife, Vickie, this particular airship cost Dr. George Wenderlen much more than a brand new model. The sentiment had been too hard to resist when he'd first seen the beauty in the yard at the wreckers. Deflated leather, punctured from bullets, a tangle of ropes and pulleys, wood decaying with the help of white ants, sparked the romantic in him. He saw the queen she had been and wanted to restore her to the sky, where she could be crowned by sun once more, buffered by thin white clouds, flying over land, free and majestic.
To restore the airship, George employed a man, Matt Moore, a genius inventor who'd fallen on hard times, to repair the ship. Now she was ready.
His gift to Vickie. A peace offering because he worked long hours at the hospital, and he didn't have time for holidays. He knew he was losing her. Five years of marriage, no children and now they hardly knew each other. He couldn't remember when they last sat down together to eat or even talk. He wanted a private get-away. A special place for them, somewhere they could escape, the two of them, so they could rediscover each other and maybe finally begin a family. This gift was his chance to change things around.
George stood with pride, watching the airship blossom in the morning sun.
"She's a beauty," George wiped the corner of his eye.
"A queen of the sky." Matt watched her, entranced by the marvel of the technology he'd used to bring her back to life. Both men had eyes for her and she was large enough to accommodate them and many more, just by hanging in the blueness. She ruled them, their hearts and mind.
"Queen." George stared at the ship, soaking in her beauty.
"Sir?"
"Queen. Her name."
"Now she's completed."
"Shall I paint her name on the bow?"
"Yes." He turned to Matt and thumped him on the back. "Good job, mate."
"Pleasure." Matt tipped his hand to his head as if wearing a hat. He'd enjoyed restoring the ship and finding purpose for his life again. The airship pin reflected in the light just under his collar showed he once had a profession, and maybe he would again soon.
George gave Matt a final pat on the shoulder, turned away and went back inside.
The Queen hung in the lazy sky, filled to almost bursting with a man's expectations of rekindling lost love.

~ * ~

"George, this had better be worth the climb to the roof with all the smog outside." Vickie closed her eyes shut as he tied the blindfold.
"Have I ever not made it worthwhile?"
She blushed. Newly married, they'd treated the rooftop as a bedroom. Back then, five years ago, before he became addicted to practicing medicine and experimenting making up his own medicine.
"And what happened to the rat infestation you told me about?" She stood and held out her hand.
"Fixed." He guided her out of the front room, near the kitchen to the hidden door leading to the roof. The servants didn't bother to go up this spiral staircase after he started the rumor of the oversized rats.
He opened the door, camouflaged in the embossed floral pattern wallpaper. Stale air greeted them, sucking fresh air from their lungs. His father rebuilt this house in the style of the Victorian era, before giving the house to him as a wedding gift. The roof had been modified, square topped with strong iron railings for the purpose of tethering airships.
"Just follow me." He began walking up the stairs slowly, the gaslights failed this morning and he cursed to himself for forgetting to ask Matt to fix them.
"Don't let me fall." She followed confidently for someone who couldn't see.
He guided her up the dusty staircase to the roof. She wore a long brown walking dress, practical attire for the viewing, simple and smart, emphasizing her bust and waist.
They climbed, George behind trying to guide Vickie up each step. The tight spiral staircase held them close together in the dim light. Halfway up the staircase, Vickie stumbled. George grabbed her waist as she fell forward. He misjudged and fell onto the stairs, just missing her.
"You okay?" He gasped trying to ignore the pain in his ribs.
"Yes." She began to pull off the blindfold.
"No, not yet." He stopped her.
"George, I want to remain unhurt, able to walk, and alive." Her cheeks reddened and her shoulders tensed.

"Trust me." The words punctured her anger and she ripped off the material covering her eyes.

Thursday, October 23, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents: My Angel by Christine Young


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My Angel by Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level:



BLURB:

A BEAUTY IN BUCKSKINS
When her father decided to send her to a finishing school back East, Angela Chamberlain refused to be confined to stuffy drawing rooms. Instead, the daring spitfire who could shoot like a man and ride like the wind longed for a life of adventure and romance—and she knew exactly who could give it to her. Devil Blackmoor was a hired gun with a dangerous reputation. But Angela was willing to go to the ends of the earth to capture the handsome devil's heart.

A DEVIL IN DISGUISE
He'd come to America looking for excitement, but Devil Blackmoor got more than he bargained for when he encountered a beautiful rebel who answered his kisses with a wild innocence that touched his very soul. Yet standing between them were more obstacles than either ever dreamed. For Devil had strapped on a gun for the wrong man. And that made Angela his enemy. Now he'll have to choose between his duty and the woman he loves more than life.

EXCERPT:

Denver, 1893

A polished azure sky looked down on a day that vacillated between winter and spring--a day unable to make up its mind. Cool breezes lifted Angela Chamberlain's brand-new canary yellow skirt off the moisture-laden sidewalk. A blazing hot sun dried the puddles in the street left over from last night's deluge.

Unlike the day, Angela had no trouble making up her mind. Angela knew what she wanted out of life. She touched one finger to the sapphire earrings adorning her newly pierced ears.

She wanted adventure.

She had a terrible craving to see the world--to climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower, to walk the Great Wall of China. She yearned to fly in a hot-air balloon high above the earth, or ride in a gondola in Venice. She wanted to fall in love with a man who was as brave and smart as her father and as dangerous as Devil Blackmoor.

Angela's wish list had no end.

Instead of adventure and romance, in three short weeks she'd be enrolled in Miss Somebody's finishing school for young ladies, where knowing which fork to use was more important than riding with the wind on her favorite horse, Kangee. A place where changing one's clothes three times or more each day was common practice.

Two days ago she'd told her father she didn't want to go.

And two days ago her father had told her she would learn to appreciate the schooling and that she was a very lucky young woman. He'd also promised her a trip to the continent for a graduation present.

A graduation present! She wanted to yell at him, but wisely kept her mouth shut. She wanted to travel now. Today. But more than anything, she didn't want to be confined to the stuffy drawing rooms in the East. Just like her father, she needed freedom. But her father meant to take the choice from her.

To gossip and chatter with rich society women was not her destiny. To know which wine was served with fish would not make her happy. This was his dream for her. Sam Chamberlain needed to look to his own heart and remember the choices he had made twenty-five years ago.

Her destiny was out there somewhere, waiting for her to snap it up and hold the moment close to her heart. She knew what she wanted, and to prove her point, she'd bought a camera and had the machine sent over to the hotel. She meant to photograph all her adventures, every nook and cranny, every monument, every intriguing person.

Across the street and down two blocks, Devil Blackmoor had just taken the saddle off his horse. He brushed the stallion's back, all the while petting the animal's sleek coat and crooning into the horse's ear. Mesmerized, she watched his hands and the gentle way he stroked the horse.

She wished she had her camera.

Devil Blackmoor commanded her attention. He symbolized everything a father cautioned his daughter to be wary of. Despite the warning, Devil's strong jaw, his powerful shoulders and the confident way he held himself beckoned to every feminine nerve in Angela's body.

Angela clutched her hands to her chest, willing her gaze to shift to something or someone who wouldn't shatter her senses and set her blood boiling. Helpless to control her wayward heart, she kept looking back at Devil. She noticed everything about him, the way he moved, the way his denim jeans clung to his legs and the way they molded to his backside. Devil laughed at something the bouncer from the saloon said, and when he smiled, one edge of his mouth tilted crookedly. Ange­la's heart swooned and fluttered, and she thought she might never breathe again.


Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Addicted to Writing Presents: Highland Song by Christine Young



Highland Song
Christine Young
Excerpt Heat Level: 1
Book Heat Level: 4

Buy at Amazon

BLURB:

With her white-gold hair and azure eyes, Lainie MacPherson is as wild and untamed as the rugged Scottish Highlands where she was raised. Lainie vowed to avenge her rape. Recklessly, she defies English laws and the man who raped her puts a bounty on her head. The man who is sent to bring her to Edinburgh sets a dangerous trap. With nothing left to live for the beautiful Scottish spy steals the sealed documents the English soldier has tempted her with.

When the exquisite temptress takes the bait and runs off with not only the forged documents but the purses of the men in the tavern, Aaron Slade vows to hunt her down and bring her to justice, never dreaming she will tame his jaded soul. When Aaron discovers the truth about the tempestuous woman who stirs his passion to the point of madness, he dares not love her, but desires her with all his soul.


Ayr, Scotland
1514

Lainie MacPherson let the crumpled wanted poster drop to the ground. Her stomach knotted and fear snaked down her spine. Beneath the shadows of the hooded cape she wore, Lainie searched the room for her enemies.

Every man here fit that description.

Forced into a trap of her own making, out of courage, friendless, and terrified Lainie did the only thing she could think of to bring the pig Bertram to his knees.

She would steal the temptingly displayed secret papers that were on the table in front of her. Papers she hoped showed troop movements--papers stamped with the King's seal--papers she could hand over to her brother, Hawke.

First Lainie made sure the shadows in the tavern hid her from view, shrinking into the dark interior, hiding her face with the hood of her cape. She tried not to stare at the dark-haired stranger who had absent-mindedly set his jacket and satchel on a table with the documents she sought poking out almost as if they challenged her with a secret invitation. The man’s dangerous, dark looks sent a strange sensation of heat coursing down her spine.

English soldiers like Jericho Manning and Rory Slater were more dangerous and more terrifying than any highland lass should have to deal with. To make the situation worse, she didn’t need a dark-haired stranger to make her fingers shake and her insides quake.

Lainie inhaled a deep steadying breath. Easy, she told herself. Go nice and slow. The stranger looks half-drunk and the tavern maid sitting on his lap has all his attention.

"What’s in it for me?" Rory asked Jericho, his haggard features lighting up with anticipation and snagging Lainie’s attention.

"Only what Bertram wants to give you himself." The dark stranger looked at the
English officer. The fingers on one hand tapping the oaken table top impatiently.

Rory’s toothless grin sent a shiver of fear down Lainie’s spine.

"Jericho always gives me his left-overs," Rory said. “You going to give me this one?”

Rory’s diabolical laughter sealed the darkness in her heart.

Jericho nodded then leaned forward. "I want the lass. And I’ll have her before I give her over to Bertram. She’s only a whore."

Lainie nearly gasped but stopped herself. Courage, Lainie, you’ve been in tighter spots than this. It was not her plan to give herself away to these men.

She inhaled a long, deep breath once more and reached for the satchel beneath the soldier's jacket. A few more seconds and all would be hers. A few more seconds and she would hand the papers over to a friend. Someone who would carry them to the Scottish King.

She committed no treason here.

She was Scottish to the core.

This was for the good of her country--not England. Besides she’d already been labeled a traitor by the crown of England. She had nothing to lose.

If Bertram suffered a set back, his lack of attention caused the problem.

Aaron Slade let his hands slide up and down the arms of the lass sitting on his lap while his steely gaze seemed to be riveted on Lainie MacPherson.

He knew what the young woman was up to before she’d committed herself to stealing. He had read the determination in the girl's posture when she backed into the shadow-filled corner of the tavern, pulling her dark cloak around her slender frame and letting her hood shadow her face. The combination of steady eyes and slightly trembling fingers had given her away.

He would make sure neither Jericho nor Bertram could get their sweaty hands on the girl. He’d heard stories. He believed them--every word.

Jericho didn’t even realize the girl he sought stood in the corner. Moreover, Slade didn't mean to tell Jericho. Slade had his orders. He was to find her and bring her to Edinburgh where she would be tried for high treason. The charges were lame. Now that he watched her stealing the phony papers he’d planted in the pocket of his jacket, he wasn’t quite so sure.
  
The rumors had it that a lot of men had wanted the lass, but none had gotten her. He’d thought all along Bertram had been one of those men. A cynical smile shifted the line of Aaron’s black mustache. There was nothing new in that particular game. Teasing and promising men something they wouldn’t give was a primal game played by every woman ever born.

But there was something very different about this woman.

An air of sadness and vulnerability emanated from her. Aaron methodically lowered his lids when he glanced from the girl who sat in his lap to the woman whose fingers were closing over the sealed documents. He couldn't help but stare at her. The woman's eyes were a clear, uncanny blue that matched the color of the sky on a bright summer day. The few strands of hair escaping her hood were so blond they were nearly white. The cloak she wore was plain, but did nothing to hide the lush fullness of her figure beneath the cloth. The vision he imagined set him to thinking about what it would be like to unfasten the cloak, strip away all the other fabric covering her and touch the luminous skin that lay beneath the tattered cloak.

Aaron was irritated at the direction his thoughts went. He was certainly experienced and old enough to keep sexual need away from his mission. He had been taught and teased by the most expert females on this earth. He’d learned more than one lesson at their hands.

Looking at Aaron, Jericho swirled the contents of his tankard.

"I don’t figure I can trust any man. Who’s to say that if you find the girl, you won’t want to keep her for yourself," he said to Aaron. "She might be worth a damn sight more than what old Bertie is paying you to bring her to him."

The devil you say," Rory retorted with a smug grin. "I have it on good authority and knowing old Bertie for years, he likes nothing better than to share soiled goods. We both know he’s the only one who can save the girl from a conviction of treason."

Jericho looked coldly at Aaron but didn’t refute Rory’s statement.

Aaron urged the tavern wench from his lap and kept his eye lids lowered slightly. He watched the girl, and if he was right, she was about to dip her hand into the pocket of another man. She had moved from her spot near his table, using the shadows in the tavern to hide herself. She brought up a fat purse and slipped it inside a different sack than the one she’d put the papers she’d stolen from his satchel.

The stories about her were intriguing enough, but it was the rumors of Lainie MacPherson’s spying that held his interest. To him any one who could spy on his country was a traitor. But Lainie MacPherson, if she was anything like her brothers, was Scottish bone deep. To Lainie, what she did here would not be treasonous because she would be loyal only to the Scottish King James. In addition, the rumor--the ones of Lainie prostituting herself for information--didn’t bother him. Women did what they had to do to survive. And if the rumors were true, he would find a way to enjoy her charms while he took her to Edinburgh for trial. To him women’s flesh was sweet and soft, but women were as fickle as newborn kittens. They were far too easily corrupted, and so many times they turned out to be less than they seemed. He never let any woman touch his heart.

Silently, Aaron measured the distance between the door and the MacPherson wench and wondered at the innocence, or was it guilt, he saw flash in her eyes for one brief moment when she met his glance. From what he’d heard, the Scottish cause was everything to the MacPhersons. This would not be the first time they pitted their clan against the English crown.

But this time it was the most foolhardy.

The smile he gave Lainie made her look away. He watched as her shoulders quivered, and she shrank back into the shadows. He felt a wave of nausea sweep through him when he thought of Lainie being at the mercy of a man like Bertie for even a single night, much less until Bertie grew bored with her and gave her to Jericho and Rory.

Silently, he told himself he would never let her fall into Bertie’s hands, because he meant to bring her straight to the authorities in charge. If she were guilty of treason, she would be prosecuted. If she were not guilty, he would see she was set free and he would personally escort her home.

For the first time, he felt justified in his mission and the exorbitant pay he would receive for handing the girl over. If anything, there was a certain justice in cheating Bertie out of his spoils. He acknowledged that once he caught Lainie, he would have not only Rory and Jericho after him, most likely the MacPherson brothers would be on his tail as well.

A man bumped into Lainie near the door. Aaron thought he would see her pick this man’s pocket too. The movement was quick. Except for the slight of hand and Aaron’s vigilance, he would have never seen the exchange of the satchel from Lainie’s hand to the man's. The document Lainie just handed over was worthless, but the stolen goods were not. They would find out soon enough he had baited her, set the trap, and she’d fallen for it. Would he have Lainie in his possession when that was accomplished? Or would Jericho?

Aaron shifted slightly, not wanting to give Jericho and Rory any indication that he meant to leave. His hand was on the hilt of his sword. Silently, he measured the catlike elegance of the girl with the determined posture and long back. It would not be much longer when Jericho and Rory discovered their own missing goods.

He rose and walked toward the door, barring her way if she meant to flee yet he was not sure he would stop her. "You sure you wouldn’t want to stay a while and keep me company, Miss…what was the name again?" Aaron asked, though he knew very well.

"’Tis naught your business," she said softly, lowering her dark sooty lashes as if she meant to flirt. "A gentleman would not ask a lady he didn’t know."

Lainie MacPherson’s voice sounded calm and controlled. Nevertheless, he knew she’d been in this position often enough, that she knew how to handle herself and no longer hesitated, knowing full well the consequences if she did. In any case, her compliance was not a part of his plan for her abduction.

Aaron’s instincts kept whispering that this woman was somehow different from women like Sarah and Anna, unfeeling women who cared nothing about anyone save themselves and the fortune and titles that could be gained from marrying into the right families. At the same time, he had no doubt Lainie MacPherson could kill a man.

"You should take heed," Aaron said softly, ignoring the other man who had now slipped quietly out the door.

"Remove your hand. sir," she told him indignantly.

Aaron shrugged, outwardly indifferent, his fingers settling once more on the hilt of his sword, ever wary of the girl and her next move.

The tavern’s hush changed into a humming of male voices as people left their drinks and focused on the pair standing so close to the door where unbeknownst to them an unspoken challenge had just been issued by both parties.

The stakes revolved around a woman named Lainie MacPherson and release from the commission he’d bought so many years ago he couldn’t remember. As for the bounty, Aaron Slade didn’t care a damn about it.

Aaron was certain he would end up the winner in this cat-and-mouse game. Besides the obvious, he wondered how the woman with trembling mouth and steady blue eyes had ended up on a wanted list issued by King Henry himself and standing in one of Scotland’s most infamous taverns. So intrigued by her he would move heaven and earth to learn her story.

"I know what you handed over to your companion," Aaron said with a bit of impatience, trying not to give away his purpose before it was necessary.

"I don’t know what you mean," she said softly with a sardonic smile gracing her intriguing mouth.

"You stole something that was mine. I mean to get it back. You need to remember that England rules this land--all of it." He inhaled deeply the soft scent of her that seemed to be hers alone. It seemed to possess all his senses.

Her shoulders stiffened as her gaze raked over him. "I’m Scottish, and loyal to James," she said, her voice wavering. "Henry doesn’t rule me or my kin."

"Slade," Jericho said, stepping forward, "what’s--"

The wolfish smile Aaron gave Jericho stopped him cold in his tracks.

"Who’s the girl?" Jericho asked pointedly. "You the sharin’ kind, Slade?"

"No one of interest," Aaron said smoothly lying to Jericho.

Aaron moved in front of Lainie, blocking the men from seeing her face and her hair. He didn’t know if they’d recognize her but something Rory had said earlier made him think Rory at least had met her. Given a choice, he would have taken her by the arm and escorted her away from these two cutthroats. Now he didn’t have a choice. He would have to let her go and hope he could catch up to her.

Lainie could melt into the forest if given a chance. She knew these lands better than most. And her companions were sure to be waiting for her a safe distance from the tavern. If her friend wasn’t waiting for her, where would she go? A sudden and unmistakable sickening feeling swept through him. Fear for this slip of a woman clouded his judgment.