Giveaway! "Boston Strong"...and New Kids on the Block!

 

Throughout my lifetime—which has been admittedly short because I’m only, like, 25-ish—I’ve had obsessions. Some have waned over the years, but others have persevered. Twinkies. Michael Jackson. Corey Feldman. Coffee. Ireland. Vin Diesel.

While Twinkies, Mike and Corey have all fallen by the proverbial wayside—like in a deep, dark ditch never to be resurrected again!—my love affairs with coffee, Ireland and Vin (sigh) have survived the tests of time. Let’s face it. Coffee is God’s way of saying, “I love you!” every morning…and afternoon…and evening. Ireland is “God’s Country”, and Vin…Well, Vin is God’s Gift to womankind. Voice, muscles, bald head. *Squiggy knuckle bite*

But there’s been another obsession that started waaay back in the day. Hold up. Wait. How old am I again? Oh that’s right 24. So, y’know, it started a few years ago.

My love for the city of Boston.

Are you from Boston, you ask. Have you ever lived there, you wonder. Do you have family there, you inquire. No, unh-unh, and not even a play cousin. So how did my passion for this great city begin? Umm...cue hemming and hawing...

 

New Kids on the Block.

 

Fine! New Kids on the Block! There! I said it! I'll Be Loving You Forever. Please Don't Go Girl. Donnie Wahlburg--whom I still love, and if he showed up on my doorstep today, I'd tie him to my bed and show him I have The Right Stuff! Get it? Get it? The song The Right Stuff? *roll eyes* Yeah, you don't want to admit you get it, but you do! Anyhoo, I was a total NKOTB fanatic! I had the big buttons, t-shirts, bought the Teen Beat and Big Bop magazines to collect their pictures, dolls... Ayiight! Yes! I had a doll! Sheesh. I thank you not to judge.

 

But as I was saying, since I was in lu-uv with Donnie, I also fell in complete adulation with his hometown. I mean, it was where we'd move when we married. I'd spend hours writing love stories about us meeting (he was him and I was the lead guitarist in a rock band) and how he took one looong, hooded, sensual (yes, even at 12 I knew how a man in lust gazed at a woman!) look at me and couldn't do without me in his life. And of course my mad guitar skills just wowed the hell outta him! We'd date, fight, make-up, marry and move to Boston. So along with doctoring phoney birth certificates for our three children, I also researched the city of Boston, it's diverse neighborhoods and proud people. And though my obsession with the New Kids waned--a little--my love for Boston grew and lasted through the years.

 

Many of us first learned about Boston in grade school with the Boston Tea Party and the Battle of Bunker Hill during the Revolutionary War. It's one of the oldest cities in the United States, and is so rich with history. From Beacon Hill to South End, to Dorchester to Jamaica Plain, the people are as diverse as the neighborhoods. I can imagine travelling from one end of the massive city to the other would be like sampling a smorgasbord of cultures. Italy, Ireland, Vietnam, Asia, India, South America... The city is saturated with colleges and universities, theatres, museums, and let's not forget sports. Although I would like to forget. I mean Troy Polamalu doesn't play for any of their sports teams... But as someone who is unwillingly entangled in the Auburn-Alabama feud just because of geography, I can appreciate the fierce pride Bostonians have in their sports teams. Don't understand it, but appreciate it... But like I said, Troy doesn't play, sooo.... 

 

 

When the bombing at the Boston Marathon occurred on April 15, 2013, I was home, watching television and caught the first of the news footage only two hours after it happened. I was shocked and so saddened. First, because of the evil and complete disregard for human life that would allow someone to commit such a heinous act of terrorism. Second, because of the devastation, grief and loss that so many families would face in the aftermath. But as we all saw in the hours and days afterward, the people of this city rallied and demonstrated why they are "Boston Strong". The courage, tirelessness and strength displayed by Boston's people from law enforcement to every day citizens was not just phenomenal, but inspiring. My new release, Secrets and Sins: Gabriel, from Entangled Publishing's Entangled Suspense line is set in Boston. And while I love the city, after this horrifying event followed up by the power of the human spirit, I'm so proud of the setting for Gabriel, as well as the three other books in the series. There isn't a better, more beautiful, stronger city for a story of good triumphing over evil, hope, healing and love.  

Next week, I hope you join me on my blog tour for the release of Secrets and Sins: Gabriel where you can win Gabriel's Boston Strong Swag Pack and an Amazon Gift Card!

 

For this week--June 17th through the 21st--I'm offering a $15 Amazon Gift Card and an ARC of Gabriel! Join me here through the week as I add the places I would love to visit in Boston! I think you might be surprised! Think history, gypsies, wedding gowns and shopping!

 

 

Twenty years ago, Leah Bannon’s beloved Uncle Richard vanished without a trace. Leah, now a private investigator, begins to suspect it was murder. When she reopens the cold case, Gabriel Devlin—-the man she loves but can never have—-inexplicably stands in her way.

Only four people know the truth about Richard’s mysterious disappearance—-Gabriel and three childhood friends...who have all sworn to take that secret to the grave. But a hidden enemy wants those shocking secrets brought to light...even if he has to kill to make it happen.

After experiencing an unimaginable loss two years ago, Gabriel refuses to put himself through the pain of loving someone who could be gone in an instant. But as he thwarts Leah’s investigation at every turn—-both to keep his friends’ pact, and to keep her safe from danger—-the sexy PI makes it impossible for him to protect his secrets. Or his heart...

 

There are several ways to enter my Goodreads contest through the Rafflecopter below..but don't cheat yourself, my publicist is gaw-geous, has a whip and isn't afraid to use it! LOL! She's a stickler for the rules and won't even let me peek until the contest is over! :D I'd love to hear your comments on Boston, New Kids on the Block, or how much you are soooo looking forward to Gabriel!

Don't forget! It would be a sin not to join me for the offical Gabriel Blog Tour starting June 24th! Mah birthday! Yaay me! *Jazz hands and kick* I'll be giving away a Boston Strong T-shirt, Secets and Sins: Gabriel swag pack and an Amazon gift card!
 

 

 

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Under His Wings Available on January 23rd!

Yes! *fist pump* Under His Wings, Book One of the Dark Judgment Series has a release date! January 23, 2013! I'm so excited and can't wait to share Nicolai and Tamar's story with you. Here's a sneak peak!

Blurb:

Warrior, lover…savior. A winged avenger with chocolate feathers and lavender eyes haunts Tamar Ridgeway’s dreams—her erotic escape after surviving a horrible plane crash and enduring years of painful physical therapy. But fantasy becomes terrifying reality when she’s attacked by a mythical creature from her darkest nightmares. Now her sexy warrior is vowing to save her, whether she wants his protection or not.

Nicolai Abioud, judge and executioner of the hippogryph, is stunned when the woman he rescues is the same who submits to him nightly in his dreams…and a replica of his dead wife. He’s fascinated by her beauty and spirit, consumed by the craving to touch…to take. Yet he lost his one true bondmate five-hundred years ago. And falling for a human—no matter how beautiful—is a foolish risk. But the choice to love may be snatched away. Danger is closing in. They must conquer their enemy and fears. Or be doomed to 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 of the dark stirred and crept out of their hiding places, ready to go about their 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 Nico, her concern would’ve been misplaced. Her wariness was better reserved for the other 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. 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, 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, returning his gaze 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, they had 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 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 his black talons had stabbed 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 the demented bastard and take him out.”

The cold, grim words echoed in the night air as Nicolai leaped onto the high narrow ledge, landing in a crouch. He splayed his fingers on the rough concrete, maintaining his balance as he reexamined 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 sailing 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. His head rounded and formed a large, high-arched beak and shaggy crest as 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, the magical net rendering 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 arctic blue eyes glittering with shock and growing anger. Before the other hippogryph could voice an objection, Nicolai growled, “Don’t interfere. That’s an order.”

Buy link

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!!

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.

'Tis the Season with "Claiming Christmas"!

Christmas has come early!! I've been a very nice girl this year--totally depends on your definition of "nice"--because I have a new release coming out December 10th with Breathless Press! Claiming Christmas is a short little stocking stuffer that celebrates love and the holiday season...all that and some steamy, sex under the tree! Your welcome! LOL!

Enjoy the blurb and excerpt from "Claiming Christmas" coming December 10th from Breathless Press!

Blurb:

Sabotaged Christmas pageant. Check. Number one on the hit list of cheating ex-fiancé’s mother. Check. Imminent firing from principal, who happens to be the cheating ex-fiancé’s mother. Double Check.

For elementary school teacher Regan Price, Christmas is a big bah humbug. Alone, all she has to look forward to this holiday is a drink and an empty apartment. Then Cian St. John comes home. The hot-sex-walking brother of her best friend has returned to Boston with a tantalizing proposition that awakens her every fantasy. Now it appears Regan may have more than a pink slip in her Christmas stocking. All she has to do is reach out and claim it…

Excerpt (unedited):

I'm burning up. I'm burning up. The three words seemed to resonate and grow louder, as if the bar had suddenly transformed into the Grand Canyon. She closed her eyes and wished for the earth to crack open and suck her into its depths. Maintaining her senses in front of this man was proving to be as impossible as ever. Even more so since she'd discovered how he looked when he came. How his face tightened. How the dark fan of lashes lowered over his bright gaze and his full lips firmed into a taut line.

A tremulous breath passed her parted lips as she lifted her lashes and met his penetrating stare. Again she averted her eyes. No doubt her thoughts were reflected in her gaze. Along with the desire curling through her veins like a sprawling vine. For ten years she’d watched and wanted her best friend’s brother… and that’s all she’d done. Cian St. John had been like the rock star on the poster tacked to her bedroom wall—sexy and unattainable. As much as she desired it, Regan acknowledged that having sex with Cian was as likely as Flavor-Flav being voted number one in People's "50 Most Beautiful" issue.

"Carrie didn't mention you were home," she stated. "I thought you were in Milan or Paris or some other exotic city." As a financial consultant for companies in fiscal trouble, demand for Cian's expertise and services carried him all over the world for months at a time.

"Why, Rae. I didn't know you cared." He raised the dark brown beer bottle to his lips and took a long sip, his contemplation of her never wavering. He lowered the bottle, and it dangled between his strong, elegant fingers. "You never call. You never write."

And say what? Hallmark made cards for every occasion, but even they would've been stumped creating a sentimental message for interrupting fellatio.

"Well, this year has been a little busy." She hunched a shoulder, reaching for nonchalance. "You know, becoming engaged, breaking off said engagement, and then dealing with Principal Dearest at work."

Cian arched an eyebrow. "I knew about the engagement, and Carrie filled me in on the breakup, but what's this about your job?"

Rae sighed. "Long story short, my principal is the ex's mother, and she's personally offended that I don't want to marry her rat-bastard son anymore. So for the past six months, she's been making my life hell at school, with one imagined infraction or another. But after tonight, instead of being on the top ten of her 'Shit List,' I just zoomed to number one…thanks to the fourth grade."

"Oh yeah," he agreed with a nod seconds before he let out a bark of laughter. "The remix of 'Jingle Bells.'"

"You were there?"

He nodded. "I met Carrie at the school. My favorite part was when that kid mimed the Batmobile losing its wheel."

Regan slapped her hands to her face and peered at him through spread fingers.

Oh shit."

They stared at each other. She wasn't sure who snickered first, but it was like jerking the plug from the dam. Great guffaws of laughter between them. By the time their hilarity died down, Regan clutched her aching stomach, and Cian swiped at his eyes. Damn, it felt good, like an albatross had been hefted from her neck. It had been months since she'd laughed that hard, and it felt…cleansing.

"Thank you." She wheezed. "I needed that."

"You're welcome." His grin softened to a smile. He tilted his head to the side and reached out to cup her nape. She shivered. From the hardening of his jaw and the flare of heat in his eyes, Regan realized he hadn't missed the telltale shudder. "Tell me something, Regan."

"What?" she whispered.

Cian leaned forward until the barest of space separated them. The scent of the beer he'd drunk and that flavor belonging to him alone bathed her lips, and Regan wanted to swipe her tongue across them to taste him. She drew back, alarmed by the power of her hunger. But his hold tightened and refused to allow her the distance.

"Why did you get engaged to Charles when you wanted me?"

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.