Oh Jesus.

If I had the sense God gave a gnat, I wouldn’t be approaching this dark house in an isolated section of Dublin, Ireland by myself…at night…armed with nothing but an Ipad and a recorder. Not that a gun or sword—or hell, a freakin’ nuclear bomb—could protect me from what waits on the other side of this door. Let’s face it. If the creature I’m here to see is in a bad mood, I’m screwed.

And soooo not in a good way.

One more knock on the door. Just one more, than story or no story, I’m outta here…

Day-aamn.

A petite, slim female with long, dark hair stands motionless inside her open doorway. Eyes the color of brilliant lightning stare at me, unblinking. Measuring. As if determining which of my body parts she should cleave off first.

Sinéad, the cruxim—the Black Angel—who hunts  in the territory of Dublin for vampires, the cruxim’s mortal, or rather immortal, enemies.

And the person—using that term veeery loosely—I’m here to interview.

Sinéad: (crossing her arms) Well aren’t you brave?

Me: Umm…excuse me?

Sinéad: Just showing up here… And assuming I won’t kill you on sight.

Me: Er, uh…wow. I think that’s against the rules…isn’t it? I’m human. You protect me, not slice ‘n dice me.

Sinéad: (shakes her head) You chroniclers. You totally miss the meaning behind “secret race”. And for the record, I don’t protect you. I hunt and execute vampires who just happen to find you a tasty snack. Let’s face it, if they decided to become vegetarians tomorrow, there would be a surplus in crops and you’d be on your own.

Niiiiice. I would respond, but as she shuts the door and turns around, the sight of the scabbard strapped across her back with the hilt of a silver gladius jutting out steals my voice. Nervously, I circle my throat with my hand and heave a silent sigh of relief. Whew. Still intact.

Me: (clearing my throat) Duncan MacLeod has a watcher, you have me.

Sinéad: (snorts) Turn off your fear, chronicler. The stink of it is offensive. I haven’t killed you…

“Yet” hangs in the room like a string of gaudy Christmas lights in mid-February. I swallow—hard—and try to summon a smile and hide my fear. Snicker. Riiiight. I’d forgotten the female is an empath as well as a fierce warr—

Me: (gasp) What the hell?

Sinéad: (whirling around in a crouch, her hand reaching behind her head) What? What?

Me: (horrified, pointing to the table in the living room) Potato chips. Cereal? What the hell? You drink vampire blood not, not…snacks! And what’s that on television? Television? Since when did you start watching—what is that? Twilight?

Sinéad: (slowly straightening and grumbling something totally unintelligible) Mimeumingow.

Me: What did you just say?

Sinéad: (whirling around with a snarl) I said, I’m human now. All I do is sit on the couch, eat and watch television. And cry at those damn Hallmark commercials.

Maybe my face says all the WTF racing through my head because she huffs out a breath and shoves a hand over her head. Another shock. On any other woman the gesture would be frustration, but cruxim don’t do frustration. They’re emotionless. They don’t do…anything.

Sinéad: Stop moving your mouth up and down like a fecking fish. Shite.

Fecking? Shite? Fu—Ohhh. The Irish accent through me off for a bit… Then the import of all she’s confessed rolls over me like that first wave of 4 am Black Friday shoppers at Walmart.

Me: Good. God. You’re, uh…I mean, what happened?

Sinéad: (sigh) A wounded hippogryph male. Blood. The only kind act I’ve ever done in my life and now I’m…this. Humans are right. No good deed goes unpunished. Now I’m a damn walking meat suit.

God. I feel so sorry for her. So sorry I don’t even take offense at being called a “walking meat suit”. I probably will be later, but not now.

Me: You should be out hunting. But obviously…

Sinéad: (viciously rubs the heels of her palms over her eyes. I can’t help but wince) All I’ve known for three hundred years is fighting, killing…blood. Now I’m in an unfamiliar body, with out-of-control emotions and an appetite for flat, deep fried potatoes. I’m so. Damn. Lost.

Me: (whispering) Are you scared?

Sinéad: (drops her arms and stares at me) I’ve never been afraid. Never feared dying. I still don’t. But I am terrified of every morning when the sun rises and it’s another day in this skin. Another day when I can feel my soul screaming…

As she trails off an uncomfortable silence fills the room. She’s probably horrified at the display of emotion, and I… Well I just don’t know what to say. Hallmark doesn’t have a card for “I’m sorry your life just went to hell in gasoline drawers. Thinking of you!” Yeah. Words are pretty much inadequate. Really there’s only one thing I can give her...

Me: Your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anyone.

Sinéad: (her eyes narrowing) A chronicler? Not telling a story?

Me: (shaking my head) Not this one. It’s yours to tell.

There’s a slight softening on her face that I would have never thought I’d see on one of these Black Angels.

Sinéad: (bows her head) Thank you then.

Me: No problem. I’m going to, uh, y’know, go. Leave you to your (I do a finger crinkle at her snack buffet and television marathon) whatever.

I turn around to leave, but damn… I just have to ask. I have to!

Me: One thing. (she arches an eyebrow) Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob? (My eyes widen as she slowly reaches for the sword behind her back) Gotcha. Nunya, right? Nunya bizness. Okay. See you, um, well. Yeah. See you.

I rush out of the room and the house as quick as my boots can slap the floor. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I need a drink.

Buy Bitten by Ecstasy here!

Dark Judgment, Book Two

A brutal attack left Bastien Sarris for dead. But a chance encounter with a mysterious female drags him back from the brink of death—and transforms the hippogryph healer into a monster he doesn’t recognize. Now a terrible hunger consumes him—one that is becoming impossible to satisfy. Desperate for a cure, he hunts the cruxim who cursed him to a hellish existence. But the petite warrior ignites a fierce desire for her body that overwhelms the sweet call of blood.

For three hundred years Sinéad lived and hunted as a cruxim—a winged vampire hunter. But one sacrificial act stripped her immortality, leaving her human, vulnerable and unprepared for the reappearance of Bastien in her life. The hippogryph is harder and colder than she remembers…and he triggers an onslaught of need within her that is as powerful as it is unfamiliar. She craves his kiss, his touch. Yet even as she surrenders to this newfound passion, she faces a crucial decision—betray the man she’s come to love and regain her immortality or save Bastien and condemn herself to a human life and death.

Headed to God's Country! Ooh! And My New Cover!

Ireland, here I come!

Yes! I'm going back to Ireland! God's Country! Eire!

Sigh.

I love Ireland. The history. The beauty of the land. The people. I first travelled there in 2007, and have been so eager to return ever since.



St. Patrick's Bridge

Why Ireland? I've had a grand passion for this country for years, and the blame can be placed squarely on Nora Roberts' shoulders. I fell in love with God's Country from her Born In series. How she described the beautiful land and people, the myths and history... She made me believe I could find my own Rogan or Murphy in this land of tragic lyrics, haunting music and never-say-die warriors. Well, I ended up finding my hero in Alabama, but still...



St. Finbarre's Cathedral

I leave for Cork City this July, and one of the things I'm looking forward to is carrying my notebook around and jotting down notes about pubs, landmarks, people and stories. I want to capture my impressions of the historical structures to the sounds and accents on Winthrop Street. Because when I return home, all of it will be applied to a new book set in my favorite country! A brooding Irishman with dark hair and blue eyes. A sexy brogue. Green, patchwork fields and rolling hills. A large bed and roaring fire as rain falls and mists outside. Yeah... I have no idea what the plot or character arc will be but it will have my sexy hero with an accent and a big bed!

But before I bow out to go dream about my trip and new hero, guess who has a new cover and release? ME! That's right! The second book in the Dark Judgment series, Bitten by Ecstasy, is coming out on June 21 2013!

Blurb:
A brutal attack left Bastien Sarris for dead. But a chance encounter with a mysterious female drags him back from the brink of death—and transforms the hippogryph healer into a monster he doesn’t recognize. Now a terrible hunger consumes him—one that is becoming impossible to satisfy. Desperate for a cure, he hunts the cruxim who cursed him to a hellish existence. But the petite warrior ignites a fierce desire that overwhelms the sweet call of blood.

For three hundred years, Sinéad lived and hunted as a cruxim—a winged vampire hunter. But one sacrificial act stripped her of immortality, leaving her human, vulnerable and unprepared for the reappearance of Bastien in her life. The hippogryph shifter is harder and colder than she remembers…and he triggers an onslaught of need that’s as powerful as it is unfamiliar. She craves his kiss, his touch. Yet even as she surrenders to this newfound passion, she faces a crucial decision—betray the man she’s come to love and regain her immortality—or save Bastien and condemn herself to a human life and death.

Once Upon a Time there was a New Release!

Yes! Friday, November 30th, Ellora’s Cave Publishing is releasing Stroke of Midnight, the first book in my Breathlessly Ever After series! It is a re-release and I’m so excited about the new cover, the publisher and the story! Check out the blurb, excerpt and trailer!

No-nonsense, less-than-warm Rowyn Jeong cannot compare to her bubbly stepsister Cindy. But hey, everyone has their niche, right? And hers is a keen eye for business and the bottom line. Being labeled the plainer, wicked stepsister never bothered her…until Darius Fiore reappeared. Six months ago, they indulged in a hot one-night stand and the sexy business tycoon did more than just get under her skin. He branded her body like no man before. But his return jeopardizes her position at her stepfather’s company, and he’s the man Cindy has within her sights—and hands.

Behind closed doors, Darius discovered more lay beneath Rowyn’s hard exterior than the ice queen persona she presents to her family. The sultry vixen left him in a tight spot—literally. Now he’s back and understands—her family’s disregard has her hungry for love and acceptance. But breaking down her defenses won’t be easy. Especially since his presence risks everything she’s worked so hard to achieve.

 

 Excerpt

8:15 p.m.

Shit. She was late.  

The Harrisons’ long-time housekeeper Margaret opened the front door at Rowyn’s knock. When the older woman smiled and stepped back for her to pass, it occurred to Rowyn the housekeeper might be the only person pleased to see her tonight. Her mother Pamela Wright Harrison would be pissed because she’d arrived late. Daniel Harrison, her mother’s second husband and Rowyn’s stepfather, would be irritated because of the interruption her arrival would cause. And her stepsister Cynthia—or Cindy as they all called her—would wear her usual pretty smile and add a vapid comment or two.

Fun, fun, fun.

Yeah. Like a stake in the eye.

“They are in the small living room,” Margaret said, taking Rowyn’s purse.

“Thanks, Maggie.” Rowyn inhaled and released the breath in a low gust of air. She stretched her lips into the brightest, phoniest smile she could manage. “Here’s my social smile,” she murmured through clenched teeth and a stiff mouth. “How does it look?”

Margaret chuckled and shook her head. “Lovely, Ms. Rowyn.”

The older woman turned and headed toward the hall closet, still laughing softly. Rowyn stared after her. The hair contained more gray strands now than black. The drill sergeant stride that had struck awe and fear in Rowyn’s heart as a child had slowed a bit. It dawned on her like the coming of a new day that if this proud woman were gone, Rowyn would lose the only person who had loved her unconditionally.

She’d entered this home at her mother’s side a scared and nervous eleven-year-old, trying so hard to mimic Pamela’s aloof expression. But Maggie had taken one look at her and detected the fear lurking beneath the adult mask. And through the years the housekeeper had loved Rowyn—even when she’d been unlovable.

Amusement mingled with the pang of sadness. And there were certainly times when she’d been damn unlovable.

As she turned toward the living room entrance, her humor drained away like the alcohol which doubtless flowed too easily down her mother’s throat. With her hand on the knob, Rowyn slabbed layer after layer of mental cement around her emotions and heart. A quick scan ensured no cracks existed and she twisted the knob, pushed open the door and entered.

And walked into Charlotte Bronte’s version of hell.

Daniel faced the entrance, speaking animatedly to the tall man across from him. Her mother—surprise, surprise, with a highball raised to her lips—and stepsister filled in the small circle. At the snick of the door closing behind Rowyn, all four turned to stare in her direction.

Oh. Damn.

The gasp remained trapped in her throat and the world screeched to a halt as if God had slammed his foot on the brakes of time. She sucked in a breath—a difficult task since all the air seemed to have been vacuumed out of the room. Perspiration prickled her palms and if she could have moved, she would have rubbed them against her skirt.

It can’t be. She stared, her heart performing a dizzying tap dance against her rib cage. It’s not possible.

Yet meeting the bright blue eyes that had haunted her dreams for the past six months, Rowyn couldn’t deny what her gaze refused to accept.

Him.

She’d convinced herself he couldn’t possibly have been as beautiful in reality as he’d appeared in her dreams. After all, when a man gave a woman the most intense, just-this-side-of-death orgasms she’d ever experienced, she could be forgiven for imagining him larger than life. But no, as he stood mere feet away, staring at her with his impenetrable gaze, Rowyn realized her dreams hadn’t been exaggerations.

The same deep cobalt eyes that reminded her of the heart of the ocean. The same olive-tinted skin that reminded her of Italian villas perched on craggy cliffs and romantic beaches. The same beauty that, if he’d been born centuries earlier, would have had Michelangelo drooling to sculpt him for his “David.” His dark-brown, closely-cropped curls enhanced the image of a Greco-Roman work of art. And Jesus, the body…She shivered. Tall, elegant and hinting at the almost-primitive power that existed under the civilized black jacket, slacks and maroon shirt.

She’d been on the receiving end of that power, unleashed and wild.

The intense stare held her immobile and might as well have been a length of steel chains wrapped around her body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t avoid the hard questions in his penetrating gaze.

Happy Release Day!!

My Editor Has Corrupted Me!

I LOVE my editor at Ellora’s Cave! Love, love, love! She is like the Conan-Do-You-Want-to-Live-Forever-Valkyrie editor, I swear. She goes all bad-ass over my books, that’s for sure. Not only is she hilarious, sarcastic, efficient and willing to tell me that yes, I am a brilliant ar-teest who happens to have exquisite taste in shoes, but she is damn good at her job! So far I’ve learned I have a love affair with “that”, am an overstater of the obvious and can’t seem to filter out those doggone pesky filters…did I mention she has the patience of a saint?? Did I also mention the last manuscript I got back from her looked like a holy stigmata?? She is so thorough and so knowledgeable I felt like apologizing for being such a non-specific, filtering, pronoun-abusing schmuck! In a nutshell? She’s awesome!!

One of the cool things about having an editor who knows her stuff is learning from her/him with each book and round. Suddenly I’m aware of certain word choices that may take a reader out of my character’s head. Or I’m able to pinpoint superfluous words or phrases that just muddy up a sentence. I’m learning to write cleaner thanks to her… Yet there is a downside to her brilliant attention to detail. Once the awareness has kicked in, it is impossible to shut off. Self-editing is wonderful—especially when it enables you to turn in a tighter manuscript. But there are certain uh, things, one just should not edit…

* The bible. Do you know how blasphemous it feels to sit during service or bible study and critique scripture? Seriously though has anyone besides me noticed there are a ton of unnecessary “that”s, ambiguous “you”s, “thou”s and “him"s? While I should be concentrating on the patriarchs of faith, I’m restructuring the sentence so the correct nouns are modified and entering proper names instead of pronouns…am I going to hell? ‘Cause I kinda feel nitpicking God is like 10a. of the Ten Commandments…

* School newsletters and memos. A veritable smorgasbord of dangling modifiers, preposition-ending sentences and not enough commas! Okay, the last one is just my personal preference…

* Text messages. As one who is a hater of auto-fill, text messages send my inner editor into a tail spin! I know it is way more expedient to type “ure” and “u” and “btr” and “ty”…but I…can’t…do…it. And when I get a text with those—and a plethora of other abbreviations—in them, I need to type them out. Which makes my return message the size of 3 texts long. And if I notice I made a mistake after I hit send, it’s a compulsion to send a follow-up email apologizing, saying “I meant…” Yes. Really. I am this anal…

I sooo blame this on your beautiful mind, Violet!!

An Unveiling!

So I’ve been super, super busy with edits and revisions. Very excited! As this is my day to post, I’m going to be the promo-slut of the week and post an excerpt from Under His Wings, my upcoming paranormal release with Ellora’s Cave Publishing! Hope you enjoy!

Blurb:


Mundane and boring are seriously underrated, so sixth grade social studies teacher Tamar Ridgeway believes. After surviving a horrible plane crash and enduring years of painful therapy, she’s entitled to a couple of phobias and a normal, humdrum life. So what, she’s afraid of the dark and refuses to ever step foot into anything that flies… At long last, she’s happy—until the night she and a friend are attacked by a mythical creature out of her worst nightmares. Suddenly she’s on the hit list of a homicidal half eagle-half horse monster, and the sexy warrior with chocolate and gold wings who steps out of her dreams—literally—is vowing to save her, whether she wants his protection or not.


Nicolai Abioud, Dimios of the hippogryph, is stunned to realize that the human he saves from a vicious attack is the woman he has shared dreams with for the past six months—very erotic, hot dreams. Five hundred years ago, he failed to protect his wife and swears not to allow the same fate befall Tamar. He’s fascinated by her beauty, and mesmerized by the warrior spirit that burns bright inside her eyes. Yet he refuses to submit to the stirring in his body and heart. He’s had his one, true mate and lost her, and falling for a human—no matter how hot and demanding the desire—is foolish and doomed. Yet the choice to accept this unexpected love may be snatched out of their hands. Danger is closing in, and somehow they must find a way to conquer their fears or lose the love of a millennium.

Excerpt:

Dusk bullied its way across the skyline, the rolling bank of gray and black clouds forcing daylight to pick up its ball and go home.

Nicolai Abioud studied the fast-moving mass as several stories beneath him the denizens that awakened with the dark stirred and crept out of their hiding places, ready to go about the business of the encroaching night. The rundown five-story building he crouched on top of probably hosted all manner of illicit activities. Drug addicts and prostitutes peered out of windows as jagged as their souls, scouting the dirty, garbage-littered streets for patrolling cops or predators more vicious then they.

He was such a predator.

Only he had bigger prey to bag.

He scanned the obsidian alleys, his raptor’s eyes sighting even the smallest scurry. Below, a scantily clad woman led an old man down the passageway. As she maneuvered him behind the large dumpster, she glanced toward the sky as if sensing the hunter who perched above her. Even if she could spot Nicolai, he wouldn’t be her concern. Her wariness was better reserved for the other one who stalked these streets.

"Nico.”

He didn’t glance over his shoulder as the low, sandpaper-over-gravel voice echoed inside his head. The heavy strokes of wings against air had reached his ears several moments ago.

“Yes?” he asked aloud, noting that the prostitute had finished her transaction and was headed toward the mouth of the alley. Either she had a blue ribbon talented mouth or the man had a two second fuse. Nicolai was betting on the latter.

“There’s no sign of him,” Lukas Gallo reported along the telepathic link they shared. “Maybe he’s moved on.”

“No.” Nicolai met the steady, ice-blue gaze of his second-in-command and one of the three males he led. Tonight Lukas hunted with him. The other two warriors—Adon Laskaris and Dorian Zarides—searched for traces of their prey on the east side of the city. Together the three males formed the krinos, the select, highly trained fighting unit that served under the Dimios, their people’s executioner. Or Nicolai. On the rooftop, Lukas’ obsidian plumage, wings and body seemed to swallow the shades around him, a worm hole sucking the shadows into his huge bulk. Only his arctic gaze and the distinctive three white stripes across his back relieved the midnight feathers, equestrian hindquarters and tail. “This is prime hunting ground for him. He’s not finished.” Nicolai murmured.

A sigh whispered down their connection. “We were almost too late to cover up his last kill. Even Evander wouldn’t risk the exposure another would bring.”

“No?” Nicolai arched his eyebrow. “He’s a rogue, Lukas. By the very definition of the word he doesn’t give a fuck about rules. And he damn sure doesn’t care if he reveals us to the human world. It’s a game to him,” he rasped, his gaze returning to the streets that grew more active, teemed with more people…more quarry for the kill. “Us. Them. We’re all pawns in this screwed up version of Clue to which only he knows the rules.”

Lukas remained silent at the words that sounded bitter to Nicolai’s own ears. Evander Agnew, the latest of his people to go rogue. Over the last four months, he’d cut a bloody trail through Europe and now here to North America. The kills had been spread out and Nicolai, Lukas, Adon and Dorian had worked swiftly to cover them up. But Evander didn’t show any signs of stopping. The humans had no idea a monster out of their mythical lore—and their worst nightmares—had been unleashed on them.

And Nicolai had trained the sadistic bastard.

As the Dimios, the race’s judge, jury and executioner, it fell to Nicolai to hunt Evander and bring him down just as Nicolai had done all other rogues who’d gone off the proverbial reservation. Hunting his brethren, executing them and preserving the secrecy of his people’s existence were Nicolai’s responsibilities—had been for eight hundred years. As long as the hippogryph had been in existence, there had been those who’d gone rogue for one reason or another—resentment over the restrictions governing their exposure to the world, exile or bloodlust. Whether they were angry, power hungry or deranged, he’d pursued them all. Yes, he experienced regret over some of the punishments, but it had never been personal.

Until now.

Until Evander—an elite warrior Nicolai had trained and a trusted soldier he’d commanded—betrayed him by preying on the weak and defenseless.

Until four months ago when Evander had started his rampage with the murder of Nicolai’s best friend.

Grief writhed in his gut like snakes on a Gorgon’s head. Nicolai, Lukas, Adon, Dorian—they accepted that their deaths were possible every time they pursued a rogue and engaged in battle. But Bastien hadn’t signed up for that. He’d been a healer, not a warrior. Yet Evander had targeted Bastien because he’d been Nicolai’s friend. Just to hurt Nicolai, Evander had stolen the life of a good man. For that the betrayer would die. If Nicolai had to track him for the rest of his existence, he would destroy this rogue.

“Nico, let me take this one,” Lukas urged. “You’re too personally involved—”

“Forget it,” Nicolai snapped.

A loud crack rent the air and he glanced down, startled to see his black talons stabbing into the edge of the roof. Fine fissures zigzagged over the railing and chunks of cement littered the ground. Lifting his head, he met Lukas’ censorious gaze. Juveniles half-shifted as they learned to dominate their beast. For an adult—especially a nine-hundred-year-old warrior—to do so meant a loss of control. Dangerous for one whose duty required he discipline not just himself but an entire race of people.

“Forget it,” he repeated, voice grim. He eyed his second-in-command until Lukas lowered his sleek, black head, a sign of the male’s submission. “We hunt here tonight. And we’ll keep on until we find this demented bastard and take him out.”

The cold, grim words echoed in the night air as Nicolai leaped onto the narrow railing, landing in a crouch. He splayed his fingers on the rough ledge, maintaining his balance as he again examined the murky expanse of sky. The dense blanket of pollution hid the twinkle of stars and obscured the moon’s pearlescent glow. A shaft of longing for the clean, fresh air of his home pierced him. If he breathed deep he could almost taste the rain-scented breeze that blew over the private peninsula off the Washington state coast. There the stars glittered like bright diamonds scattered across a velvet cloth by a celestial hand.

As different from this place as shit from shine.

“Lukas.” Nicolai squinted at a sizeable, dingy cloud that sailed at a slightly faster clip than the others. Something about the odd shape…and when the moon’s beam struck it…

“That’s him,” he growled.

Not waiting for Lukas’ reply he dove off the ledge, arms outstretched, head thrown back. Magic sizzled from the soles of his feet, blazed a path up his legs, thighs to his gut and chest, and shot to his shoulder blades and legs. It consumed him. Bone snapped and popped, muscle and tendon contorted as his head rounded and formed a large, high-arched beak and shaggy crest at the same time feathers sprouted along his arms and back. Two pairs of legs—the front pair talon-tipped and the back hoofed—stretched and kicked as his wings beat hard one, twice, and the hippogryph’s powerful, magnificent body climbed high into air. At the same time he cast a gyges, a magical net that rendered him invisible to the human eye.

Beside him, Lukas’ black half-eagle-half-stallion beast appeared, and together they streaked through the sky after their prey.

“Stay back,” Nicolai ordered through the telepathic link. Lukas’ head snapped to the side, his onyx eyes glittering with shock and growing anger. Before the other hippogryph could voice his objection, Nicolai cut him off. “Don’t interfere. That’s an order.”

Lukas’ rage crackled down their link but he spread his wings wide and reared back on his hind legs, talons clawing the air. Nicolai launched forward, all his attention focused on the smoky billow several feet beneath him. The mist—too thick to be natural—didn’t hinder his search. Tonight he would end this, damn it. He would end Evander.

A warning whispered through his head. The same warning he gave those who trained under him.

Never let emotion enter the hunt. If you do, you’re dead as fuck.

Well he was as dead as a damn doornail because there was no way he could separate the hatred, the overwhelming grief and thirst for revenge….for blood.

Got My Battle Face On

LOOK AT MY TRAILER AT THE END OF THIS!!
Okay, that was my bow to my promo-whorish ways. Now back to my post…

Friday I finished the book I have been working on forever!!

Sooo maybe it’s not forever…but it seemed like it! LOL! Yes, I’m whining, and I know there’s someone somewhere reading this going, shut up, bitch! You finished it, what’s your problem?? Snicker.

Well, there is a huge, epic battle scene that takes place at the end of the book—think Lord of the Rings epic—and it took me three days to write! Correct that. Three daaaaaaays to write. This was my first time writing a scene of this size with a bunch of people and, for the life of me, I could not find my Muse. That wench was playing loosey-goosey with my inspiration and I was stuck!

My solution? I started YouTube-ing every battle scene I could think of. 300. Highlander. Return of the King. The Two Towers. I did a search for every fight clip I could find, and you know what? It worked! Oh wow, did it work! I nailed it! I’m sure once my critique partners have a go at it, the chapter will look like it’s bathed in blood but…I finished it!

So I’m sharing my inspiration with you. And I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

And please, check out the trailer for my upcoming release with Ellora’s Cave, Under His Wings!

300 battle scene that kicks butt!! Oh and did you see Leonidas’ thighs???
 

This made me want to charge down that hill myself, asthma and all! Of course I would’ve had to stop about halfway, but…
 

Movie—or two hour long music video—umm, sucked but loved the fight scenes…up until everyone started dying…Oops! Spoiler! My bad!
 

Aaaaannndd… Book Trailer for Under His Wings!!

Cover Reveal!

I just got back from the Authors After Dark conference in New Orleans. Can you say, pooped?? But pleasantly so. I had a wonderful time—which I will regale you with more details and pictures in my next post. Nice little tease, ain’t I? Hee-hee! Since I’m still recovering, I thought I’d reveal the covers for my two upcoming books from Ellora’s Cave Publishing! I just received them last week and I’m so excited! One is for my first paranormal ever, Under His Wings. And the second is for the first book in the Breathlessly Ever After series, Stroke of Midnight, based on the Cinderella fairy tale. I’ve included the blurbs below because…well, because I’m shamelessly pimping these two books!

Mundane and boring are seriously underrated, so sixth grade social studies teacher Tamar Ridgeway believes. After surviving a horrible plane crash and enduring years of painful therapy, she’s entitled to a couple of phobias and a normal, humdrum life. So what, she’s afraid of the dark and refuses to ever step foot into anything that flies… At long last, she’s happy—until the night she and a friend are attacked by a mythical creature out of her worst nightmares. Suddenly she’s on the hit list of a homicidal half eagle-half horse monster, and the sexy warrior with chocolate and gold wings who steps out of her dreams—literally—is vowing to save her, whether she wants his protection or not.

Nicolai Abioud, Dimios of the hippogryph, is stunned to realize that the human he saves from a vicious attack is the woman he has shared dreams with for the past six months—very erotic, hot dreams. Five hundred years ago, he failed to protect his wife and swears not to allow the same fate befall Tamar. He’s fascinated by her beauty, and mesmerized by the warrior spirit that burns bright inside her eyes. Yet he refuses to submit to the stirring in his body and heart. He’s had his one, true mate and lost her, and falling for a human—no matter how hot and demanding the desire—is foolish and doomed. Yet the choice to accept this unexpected love may be snatched out of their hands. Danger is closing in, and somehow they must find a way to conquer their fears or lose the love of a millennium.

Once upon a time, there was a young woman of beauty, grace, and good nature…

Blah. Blah. Blah.

Rowyn Jeong knows her no-nonsense, less-than-warm personality cannot compare to her stepsister Cindy's bubbly charm and beauty. Hey, everyone has their niche, right? But being the plainer, wicked stepsister has never bothered her more than when Darius Fiore reappears in her life. Darius Fiore, the man she indulged in a one-night stand with six months ago, the businessman threatening her position within her stepfather's company, and the man her sister has her eyes—and hands—on.

Rowyn has never forgotten the man who allowed her to be someone else for a few sex-filled hours. Now that Darius has turned up in her territory, will he see past the hard exterior to the woman beneath, the one hungry for love and acceptance?

So, ta-da!! Hooked up by Ellora’s Cave again!!

On this T-double E-double R-double I-double F-double I-double C-C-C Tuesday (for those of you who don't love Charlotte's Web...don't worry about it!), I'm going to do some shameless pimping! I don't indulge often but I've received back-to-back T-double-E...well, you get it...news!!

I sold my first paranormal novel to Ellora's Cave!! Yes, I hiked up my big girl panties and took the plunge into a genre I love but was soooo intimidated to write a book in! After much belly-aching, crying and episodes of dismal, masochistic self-doubt AKA whining, I wrote it, submitted and SOLD!! Okay, okay. Tucking errant strands of weave back into place... So anyway, the title is Under His Wings, and the unedited blurb is below:

Mundane and boring are seriously underrated, so sixth grade social studies teacher Tamar Ridgeway believes. After surviving a horrible plane crash and enduring years of painful therapy, she’s entitled to a couple of phobias and a normal, humdrum life.  So what, she’s afraid of the dark and refuses to ever step foot into anything that flies… At long last, she’s happy—until the night she and a friend are attacked by a mythical creature out of her worst nightmares. Suddenly she’s on the hit list of a homicidal half eagle-half horse monster, and the sexy warrior with chocolate and gold wings who steps out of her dreams—literally—is vowing to save her, whether she wants his protection or not.

 Nicolai Abioud, Dimios of the hippogryph, is stunned to realize that the human he saves from a vicious attack is the woman he has shared dreams with for the past six months—very erotic, hot dreams. Five hundred years ago, he failed to protect his wife and swears not to allow the same fate befall Tamar. He’s fascinated by her beauty, and mesmerized by the warrior spirit that burns bright inside her eyes. Yet he refuses to submit to the stirring in his body and heart. He’s had his one, true mate and lost her, and falling for a human—no matter how hot and demanding the desire—is foolish and doomed. Yet the choice to accept this unexpected love may be snatched out of their hands. Danger is closing in, and somehow they must find a way to conquer their fears or lose the love of a millennium.

Onto the second huge news! My first book, Sweet Ultimatum, is available in print!! Receiving that notification was a dream come true! I'm not going to lie...when I opened up that box and pulled out that copy, I smelled the pages! Honest to God! LOL! So, in case you forgot, the blurb for Sweet Ultimatum is below:

Caitlin has returned home after a self-imposed exile. Haunted by the erotic memories of the man she once loved and abandoned, Caitlin is unprepared to come face-to-face with Selig and the hunger resurrected under his golden gaze. Even as her body craves his touch, she denies him, realizing her reasons for terminating their relationship so long ago are as valid now as they were then.

Six years have passed since Selig left New Eden, Washington, disillusioned and bitter after Caitlin’s cold denial of him and his love. Now he’s returned, demanding retribution for her cruel rejection. The payment—her body.

And just in case you're feeling a little tingle called Impulse Buy Syndrome, here are the links for you!

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-7700-sweet-ultimatum.aspx

and...

http://www.amazon.com/Sweet-Ultimatum-Elloras-Naima-Simone/dp/1419963465/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1341327841&sr=1-1&keywords=sweet+ultimatum

It's been an awesome month!!

Love and Protect Cover!

I screamed like a girl, I sure did!

You know, I can't ever imagine the feeling of receiving the cover art for a new book could become old. Just like receiving The Call--or in my case, The Email, could ever be old hat. It's just so exciting to see if the image that will grace the cover of your book--or digital file, in my case--matches up with the picture in your head. For my second release, Love and Protect...home run. Touch down. Right on the nose. Heck yeah!! LOL!

I'm so excited! I opened that file and was instantly blown away by how the cover artist captured Sean and Erin! And it's a scene taken directly from the book! You can't get much better than that! *sigh* I'm happy...*loopy smile*

Check out the book trailer, blurb and excerpt for Love and Protect! Enjoy!

Blurb:
Tormented by nightmares of her last failed assignment, ex-undercover agent, Erin Montgomery, has spent a year off grid--until a late night phone call from her ex-partner draws her back into the world she vowed never to return to. Within a week she's restored to active duty posing as the sex-kitten lover to Sean Ledger, lead guitarist of rock band, Odyssey, to track a stalker.

When an obsessed fan's behavior careens into terrifying, Sean Ledger agrees to allow Erin to join him on tour and investigate possible suspects on his crew. As a man who prizes control, having this woman of strength and restraint willingly submit her pleasure to him is a lure he cannot—will not—fight. Unaware of the history he shares with the agent, Sean is pulled to Erin, and hungers to unlock the heat that simmers beneath cold discipline. Yet as their battle of desire and wills wages, neither can forget the fanatical love of Sean’s stalker who is coming to claim what's hers...

Excerpt (unedited):
The music drew her into the room like a helpless child following the pied piper. The pure melody of the guitar was at once aggressive and sensual. And so beautiful. Simply…beautiful.

Erin took in a deep breath, her eyes closing. Not until several moments after she’d released it did she identify the elusive feeling that had settled over her. Peace. That ever present beast that possessed a tenacious grip on her psyche retracted its claws, leaving heavenly quiet in its wake. Only her music—the soothing, pure sounds of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven—had ever calmed her savage beast. Never something like U2’s With or Without You. Musical snob, yes, but even she knew the classic rock song. Her lashes lifted, fluttering open. She skimmed up the black sleeved arm to the shoulder hunched over the body of the instrument. The column of a lightly tanned throat and strong, shadowed jaw followed. Dark strands of hair swayed against a lean cheek as the guitarist nodded in time to the music.

Sean Ledger.

Her hands curled into tight fists at her thigh. Even though she’d seen images of him over the years, her mind persisted in picturing him as she’d last seen him. An angry, handcuffed seventeen-year-old youth being hauled out the front door of their foster home. Now the man who the media branded the “brooding, sexy member” of Odyssey warred with that fifteen year image. She hadn’t been prepared to see him again. Hadn’t been prepared for the impact of the man…

The pictures hadn’t done justice to the sexy mouth with its full bottom lip or the high cheekbones hinting at an exotic Asian ancestor. They hadn’t captured the rich thickness of the dark hair drawn away from his face by a black rubber band or the thick, black fan of lashes resting on those sharp warrior bones.

Erin couldn’t control the shiver that shuddered down her spine. As a child he had been her protector—and she’d loved him as a big brother, the only security and safety in a world thrown into chaos. But now, staring at the long, slim fingers strumming the guitar strings, coaxing the lovely sound from the instrument, it wasn’t affection that hummed through her veins or vibrated over her skin. Lust. Want. She swallowed. Would those long fingers play across skin as they did the strings of the guitar, eliciting devastating pleasure? Would they be as clever…as knowing?

Whoa.

His head lifted, drawing her attention. Black, ridiculously long lashes parted, revealing a storm gray gaze, blurred and unfocused. As she stared, the haze dissipated and his eyes sharpened on her face. The melody never changed, his skilled fingers never faltered. Neither did his intense scrutiny. She imagined she could feel the bold touch of his eyes across her brow, down the slope of her nose, over her mouth. Before she could stop herself, Erin moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and watched his eyes narrow on the nervous gesture. His gaze flicked back to her eyes and he watched her with narrow-eyed speculation. For a panicked moment she feared he recognized her. The urge to finger her cheek almost overpowered her. Gritting her teeth, she fisted that same hand to keep it down to her side. The scar is gone, she reminded herself, so calm down.

She shoved the flash of anxiety down. Besides, why would he recognize her? Sean was familiar with Elise Grayson, a disfigured, weak, vulnerable child. Before him stood Erin Montgomery, a smooth-cheeked ex-DEA agent.

She wanted to look away. Her mind screamed, evade! Evade, dammit! But her body refused to obey. For the first time she experienced being the hunted instead of the hunter. Something dark and sexual entered his stare. A primal part of her she hadn’t known existed responded with a sudden pulsing between her thighs. Blood rushed to the folds of her sex and she fought the urge to squeeze her thighs together to alleviate the ache. Her nipples tightened against the lace of her bra. She willed her hands to remain at her side. Sent a mental order not to palm the sensitive mounds and won the battle…barely.

Erin inhaled a deep breath, the exhalation slow and deliberate. Though it cost her, she schooled her features into maintaining a mask of indifference.

Control.

If anybody understood how important domination was Sean Ledger would. She’d researched the guitarist past the magazines and fan sites. She’d read the blogs that revealed what the polite celebrity rags didn’t. Sean had a reputation.

Rumors abounded of a hedonist who knew a woman’s desires better than the woman herself did. Women gossiped about an intense sexuality that pushed his partners to explore and press beyond their boundaries. Erin suppressed a flinch. The thought of someone possessing such complete power over her body horrified her.

As if able to peer into her mind and read her thoughts, Sean’s gaze darkened, the promises—or threats—of just how he could make her lose absolute control shadowing his eyes.

A heartbeat of silence passed between them.

“Hello.”

The chocolate timbre of his voice glided over her skin and transported her to shadowed rooms, candles and writhing bodies. Oh. Shit. And she was in waist deep.