Aphrodisia Authors :: Blog

So, I’ve got a new series coming out. Actually, the first in the series is coming out. The second releases next spring. EMBRACE THE NIGHT, which comes out officially tomorrow, though I’m pretty sure you can already get your hands on a copy, is my first full-length novel. Mostly, I’ve written two or three shorter stories in one book, but this one? Is all one story. It’s an action adventure with witches and warlocks and werewolf terrorists. And naughty sex. Quite a lot of it, in fact. I’m sure you’re shocked.

I just finished up the sequel, which my editor tells me is called NIGHT GAMES, and it’s not only a full-length novel, but also my very first mystery. There are clues and false leads and all that good stuff. Since plotting isn’t my strong suit, I’m immensely proud of that book. Both books, actually. This series has been a challenge, a huge growing experience for me as a writer, so I’m very excited to see it all moving out into the world. I hope readers enjoy it!

Here are the dirty details for the one you can actually buy now…

EMBRACE THE NIGHT by Crystal Jordan

Places to get it: Kensington Books | Amazon | Amazon Canada | Barnes & Noble | B-A-M | Borders | Chapters | IndieBound | Powell’s

They’re the Magickal ones…vampires, werewolves, witches, and fae who dwell among humans, united by extraordinary talents and unbridled sexual powers…

Chloe Standish went looking for a one-night stand to erase the memories of her cheating ex–and found the hottest sex of her life. A witch and biochemist working on a cure for werewolves, Chloe knows all about magic, yet Merek Kingston evoked a spellbinding lust beyond anything she’d ever felt. But now her ex-boyfriend and research partner is dead, his part of the formula in terrorists’ hands…and the detective in charge is Merek, the same man who’s haunted her dreams ever since the frenzied night together.

Chloe is the one person whose future Merek can’t predict…the only woman who could make him break every rule just to posses her again. Nothing will stop him from protecting her, and an explosive passion too primal, too perfect to forget…

EXCERPT

“Mmmph.” Something heavy landed on Chloe’s stomach, jerking her out of the erotic dream, the erotic memory. Her heart thundered, sweat slid down her face, and her lungs heaved in a desperate bid for air. Icy fear and hot lust warred for dominance inside her as the fantasy gave way to reality. She shuddered, her fingers balling in soft cotton sheets. Her familiar’s eyes glowed in the low lighting of the lamp she’d left on, a freakish little alien head peering down at her. Ophelia blinked, her whiskers twitching. Chloe groaned, shoved the Siamese cat off her belly, and flopped over to bury her face in the pillow. “Gods.”

How many times was she going to have that dream? How often did she have to relive that wild night? It had happened two months ago, and hardly a night had passed that she hadn’t had the dream.

Maybe she just needed to get laid. Get that night out of her system. She moaned into her pillow, squeezing her thighs together as a lingering throb of desire went through her. That was how she’d ended up having that night in the first place, by telling herself she needed to get laid, to get her cheating ex out of her system.

That had gone so well for her.

She’d gone out to Sanguine, her favorite Magickals-only private club, scoped out every species of hotty the Magickal community had to offer–elves, Fae, vampires, werewolves, warlocks–mentally debated the sexual gifts each species could bring to the table–bedroom, whatever–and then she’d seen him. After that, there’d been no contest. Chemistry was a bitch like that. She would know–she was a biochemist.

Sighing, she rolled over, kicked the sheet off of her, and forked her hands through her sweaty hair. Her body still burned, her sex aching with a need to be filled with more than just her vibrator. “Damn it.”

Dwelling on her lack of a love life since her one-night stand wouldn’t help her. And thinking about Damien-Raines-the scum-sucking-vampire who’d left her for a she-vamp he’d knocked up, which was where her shame spiral had started, wouldn’t help her disposition at all. However, the fact that his ferret familiar was probably still hexed into an ugly lampshade made her lips quirk. Vampires sucked at casting spells. Damien had just sucked, period. Too bad it had taken her so long to figure that out.

She heaved herself out of bed and played soccer with Ophelia’s sinuous body as she tried to twine herself around Chloe’s legs while she walked. Tripping, she hit the swinging door to the kitchen and almost face-planted into the floor. “Damn it, Ophelia.”

The cat sniffed, leaped up onto the counter, and flicked a delicate paw at her food bowl in an unmistakable feline demand. Chloe rolled her eyes and grumbled all the way to the cabinet that contained the outrageously expensive cat cuisine her familiar liked. Dumping the contents into the food dish, Chloe went about retrieving her own sustenance while the cat dug in.

Thirty seconds later, she had a steaming mug of coffee cradled between her palms. The first sip made her moan. “Ahhh.”

Bless the Normal human who’d invented the automatic coffeemaker. Magic did some awesome things, but sometimes Normal technology trumped all. She leaned against her counter and gazed out her kitchen window at the morning mist shrouding her Queen Anne Hill neighborhood, drifting out into downtown Seattle. The city lights were a pretty haze that streaked the skyline. Sunbeams began to pierce the fog, so she knew it would be a rare sunny day in the Emerald City. Yesterday had been wicked hot, too, but Chloe loved the brightness. She’d have to remember to go for a walk during lunch today.

Bon Jovi’s “Bad Medicine” blared from her cell phone, jolting her from her reverie, and she jogged into her living room to grab it from the charger. Her best friend, Tess’s, name popped up on the caller ID. Grinning, Chloe punched the button to answer. “Dr. Jones, I presume. What are you doing up at the ass crack of dawn this morning?”

“Still haven’t slept from last night.” A huge yawn fuzzed the phone line. “We’re short-staffed so I pulled a double. Budget cuts.”

“Ouch.”

“Tell me about it.” Tess worked as a pathologist for the FBI. The Normal side of the FBI. She was one of the most Normal humans Chloe had ever met. “I haven’t put in hours this awful since my residency.”

Along with werewolf Jaya Nemov, they’d become friends in med school, which was the only reason Chloe and Jaya had gotten close to anyone outside the Magickal community. Most Magickals didn’t bother because it was just too hard to keep people in their lives they had to constantly lie to about who and what they were.

Chloe knew she should probably ease out of her relationship with Tess, but when Jaya died during a full moon Change, it emphasized to Chloe that a good friend was hard to come by, magic or no magic. Tess might never know the truth behind Jaya’s death, but she’d still shared the loss of someone they all loved. So, Chloe kept her friend and did what she had to do to keep her secrets.

Then again, a part of her had always wondered if the reason she held on to Tess was because her long-dead mother had been a Normal. She grinned, and it wasn’t nice. Her family was almost as horrified that she had befriended a Normal as they had been when her father had married one and bred a halfling.

Another yawn sounded through the phone, recapturing Chloe’s attention. Her grin softened and she cradled the phone closer to her ear. “So, you’re calling because . . . you want to get together for dinner tonight and tell me more about the suckfest of budget cuts?”

Tess chuckled. “You’re a mind reader.”

“Sure. That’s totally a plausible explanation, Doctor.” Chloe inserted as much drawling derision into her voice as possible, and Tess laughed. Telepathy wasn’t one of Chloe’s magical skills, so it wasn’t an outright lie, it just wasn’t the whole truth. This time. A familiar twist of guilt knotted her insides, but she pushed it aside. Tess was Normal, Chloe was Magickal; there was nothing she could do about the need to prevaricate. “How about you meet me here around seven?”

“Perfect. See ya. I’m hitting the hay now.” The call was punctuated with one final yawn from Tess before both women disconnected.

Chloe went to drop the phone in her purse and saw she’d missed a call about an hour before. There was a voicemail message waiting for her. She hadn’t heard the phone ring, but then, why would her subconscious want her to wake up from a steamy episode of her regularly scheduled Merek-dream?

She shoved a hand through her disheveled hair and pushed the reminder of her one-night warlock out of her mind. Flipping her cell over to speakerphone, she accessed her voicemail while she wandered into her bedroom to dress for work.

A deep, silken male voice emerged from her phone. “Chloe, it’s Damien.”

Chills crept down Chloe’s spine and a hollow feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. The last person she expected to get a call from was Damien. Hell, the last person she wanted a phone call from was Damien. Shaking off that inane thought, Chloe zipped up her skirt and shoved her feet into a pair of ballet flats. While she walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair, she hit the buttons to replay the message she hadn’t really listened to.

“Chloe, it’s Damien.” A muffled thump sounded in the background of the call, but Damien hurried on. “I’m sorry to bother you at home. Don’t erase this . . . I need to talk to you about work. It’s . . . It’s important to the project. Call me back. Please.” The call ended abruptly, as if someone had stabbed the End button with more force than necessary.

The please gave her pause. Damien never said please. Then again, he also never said I’m sorry. He was a vampire. They were, by definition, coldblooded. They also tended to have superiority complexes and thought everyone, from other Magickal species to Normals, were so far beneath them they didn’t even register on their radar. Sure, most of them would stoop to having a fling with a non-vampire, maybe one or two non-vampire friends, just for variety, but anything else was out of the question. They didn’t mix.

Luckily, Chloe hadn’t wanted more than that from Damien, but she had expected fidelity while they were together. Apparently, that had been beneath him, too. She sighed, disconnected the call, and slid her cell into her pocket.

The worst part about dating someone you worked with was when it ended badly. She’d learned that lesson the hard way. They were both team leads in pharmaceutical R&D for Desmodus Industries, but since those teams were working on the same project, they did see each other, but not that often. Thank the Gods.

Shoving her arms into a jacket, she picked up her handbag and headed for the side door that lead to her detached garage. If the bloodsucker wanted to talk to her about work, he could do it when she got there.

She wasn’t calling him back.

As someone who writes not only romance, but also HOT, erotic romance, I’ve had my fair share of self righteous people trying to tell me I’m immoral, bad, a bad mother, or going to go to hell for what I do. I’ve always written those people off as not realizing what huge hypocrites they are, since I’m sure they are entirely blameless in their own lives (yeah – right…) I’ve never been ashamed of what I write and what I do. If people don’t like it – they don’t have to read it, unlike those people who try to brow beat me with their warped version of morality, I don’t shove my books down people’s throats. I have quite a fan following without doing that, and for those who try to shame me into their idea of morality – just so you know – Jesus has quite a fan following without your help also…lol! As does God.

I recently had two people very close to me come out as gay, and I’ve gotten to see first hand another cross sections of this hate and intolerance. Now, let me say that most people in our lives have accepted it quite readily and still love and support them both, which we all appreciate! However, they’ve been offered numbers for counseling so they can get “fixed”, and some other insensitive things. Let me say for the record, neither of them are BROKEN in any way! So Therefore they don’t need to be fixed. They are purely being brave enough to acknowledge their own feelings, who they are, and what they want out of life, not to mention what makes them happy. I’m extremely proud of both of them, and want them to be happy, no matter what form that takes. And as close to the situation as I am – if I don’t have an issue with it, I don’t see what right anyone else has to have one!

There have also been a very few people who have offered their condolences to me or to them. And while I understand it’s a complicated situation in some respects. I mean what I’ve said since this entire thing came to light – I love them both and want them to be happy. I’m just happy they’ve both been brave enough to be honest with themselves and the world at large. They are both amazing people, and if the outer world doesn’t see that – then it’s the world’s loss. When people start accepting other people for who they truly are and not who they want or expect them to be, the world will be a much better place.

This is not a political statement or anything like that – this is purely an opinion that love and acceptance, not intolerance and hate are better for everyone – individually, and as a larger consciousness. If anyone truly tries to argue against that, I think they’ve lost their argument from the outset – at least with me.

I know my posts aren’t usually controversial – well, maybe sometimes just because I tend to be outspoken, but I think since I’ve seen both sides of this issue first hand – especially more recently, it has become something of a hot button with me.

Also, I know not everyone lives locally and has gotten the full scoop – I’ve received several emails, tweets and texts from people wanting to make sure I’m okay and they are okay. So for those – yes, all three of us are happy, healthy and enjoying life. Thank you!!

May all of you experience love, happiness, acceptance and inclusion in your lives, and may you be brave enough to share those same things with others!

Cassie Ryan
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Sexy, Supernatural, Sensuous
www.cassieryan.com
www.butterscotchmartinigirls.com
Seducing the Succubus – Available Now
The Demon & The Succubus – Available Now

Where to start…well, probably at the beginning! This past weekend, my husband and I loaded up the motor home and, in spite of a weather forecast predicting snow, headed up to Kennedy Meadows Pack Station at Sonora Pass in the Sierra Nevada mountains for a “Packer’s Reunion.” A long time ago, before my spouse and I were married, he worked as a packer at Kennedy, hauling hunters and campers and fisherpersons into the back country on horseback with a string of mules or pack horses carrying all their gear.

This is the cowboy then– …and yes, it’s been about forty years since this was taken, but some of the old cowboys who showed up had worked at the station clear back in the fifties. The weather was a bit iffy, but there was plenty of food and the bar was open, and the stories flew fast and furious. There’s nothing quite like getting a bunch of old cowboys together to hear some amazing lies…uh, tales.

One of the best, of course, belonged to my husband, his brother and his brother’s wife. They were in the back country along with their parents and some other friends in August of 1971 when they were caught in a lightning storm–three horses were killed, two of them out from under their riders. I can’t imagine how terrifying that must have been, to be on horseback above the tree line on a steep mountain trail with lightning flashing all around. Luckily none of the humans were injured, though my husband said he felt the shock and his horse didn’t care for it one bit!

By the way…this is the cowboy now. And me. That’s the pack station behind us.

We had a great time at the reunion. The sun came out and we ate the most fantastic barbecue, and then partied way too late into the night. We woke up the next morning to about a foot of snow on the ground, and more falling, but cowboys are a tough lot. A few of them had to get back to the valley, so they headed out with their 4wd trucks, some with chains, some without, and around ten we heard that the snow plow was due in around eleven. We don’t have chains for the motorhome, but we packed up and drove out to the main road behind my brother-in-law’s rig, one he’s driven to Alaska, so we knew he could go just about anywhere. It was an unbelievably beautiful drive, and we passed the snow plow coming up as we were heading down. We covered about forty miles before we were out of snow, and saw some of the most gorgeous sights ever. This is a shot I took as we headed out of Kennedy: and it’s only one of many. Pictures are up on my author page at Facebook

And why, you ask, am I writing about cowboys? Well, it’s because I’ve got a very special story releasing in a couple of weeks that’s part of a truly special project–Lori Foster does an anthology every year, with the proceeds going to charity. This year all money earned from the sale of THE PROMISE OF LOVE goes to One Way Farm, a home for abused and homeless children–and my story in the collection is a cowboy romance called DIME STORE COWBOY. If you’ve read my old, OLD romance, COWBOY IN MY POCKET, you’ll remember Mark Connor the NY editor, and Betsy Mae Twigg, the rodeo queen. They never met in that book, so I gave them a chance in this new story. It’s a fun read with a message, and though the story is short, it’s really entertaining–and proof that I can write something that’s NOT paranormal!

Here’s a taste, just to give you an idea of what it’s like:

Betsy Mae stomped through the front door, planted herself behind the desk and grabbed the registration book before that damned drop-dead gorgeous dime store cowboy started asking questions. He had to be wondering what happened to her face.

Well hell, so was she. When her ex had called and apologized and asked if she’d be willing to give it another try, Betsy Mae’d honestly thought he’d turned over a new leaf.

Big mistake. And she’d almost rather eat dirt than have to come crawling back to her brother and best friend now sister-in-law, especially after they’d warned her this was going to happen, but damn it all, she’d had nowhere else to go.

No one else to care. And no matter how pissed Will might be with her for going back to Frank in the first place, her brother had still welcomed her back. Sort of.

A big shadow blocked the light from the front window. She looked up, blinking, and wondered how long tall, blond and gorgeous had been standing there staring at her. Embarrassed to be caught woolgathering, Betsy shoved the registration book across the counter. “Here. Sign in.”

His eyes flashed and she felt just the slightest bit guilty over the attitude she was giving him. It wasn’t his fault her life was a train wreck, but he took the pen in one large yet elegant hand and, without a word, scrawled his name across the register. Mark Connor. Tag’s new wife’s fancy-pants editor.

“What cabin am I in?”

She shook her head. “You’re in the main house. All the cabins are reserved through the next two weeks.”

His perfect lips turned down in a brief moue of displeasure, but he kept his mouth shut, nodded and reached for his wallet.

She shook her head. “No charge.”

Raising his head, he quirked one surprisingly dark eyebrow over blue eyes so pale they looked silver. “I don’t understand.”

She shrugged, taking fiendish glee in setting him straight. “We’re full up, Will’s gone and I need help. You’re not here for vacation, Mr. Connor. You’re here to work. Maria will have dinner ready at six every night and I’ll expect you in the barn at six-thirty tomorrow morning.”

She flashed him a big grin, waiting for the fireworks to start. Instead, he raised his head with a smile that turned that already handsome face into drop-dead, wet-panty gorgeous. “Wonderful,” he said, like he actually meant it. “If you’ll show me to my room, I’ll get settled.”

~*~

I’m going to do something special for a prize this time–I’ve got a print copy of Cowboy In My Pocket left. The book is out of print and will be coming out as an ebook in a couple of months, but if you just leave a comment, you’re in the running for a copy of the original story. What I want to know is how you feel about reunions–family, school, neighborhood, whatever. Are they ever as great as you hope? Has something really funny happened at one that you’d like to share? I’d love to hear your stories!

Ok, you may ask what’s up with the photo of Steve McQueen. Well, it is Mother’s Day, and on this special occasion my thoughts, of course, turn to my Mother. Not the one who gave birth to me so much (although I loved her very much) as the one who raised me (who I love even more). She took me in, loved me and gave me all the things my birth mother wished she could but simply didn’t have the means to give.

Now as fortunate as I feel to have been adopted, it always felt like Mama and I are totally different in about every conceivable way two women can be. Or at least we were. But with the passing of time and with the raising of my own kids, and now blessed, too, with grandbabies, I can’t help but ponder on that age-old burning question:  Have I turned into my mother yet?

While contemplating this I thought one good way of determining the answer is to evaluate and compare our individual habits, likes and values as grown women.  The results were sobering and yes, perhaps, surprising.

Comparison analysis

My Mama is the cleanest woman I’ve ever met. Back in my teens this is what our sofa looked like:

My kids are teens now. And unlike my Mama’s pristine sofa that made my every boyfriend wince to sit on, the sofa in my house is used to the hilt of practical application. Besides being a nifty place to sit, sleep and bounce to the heart’s content, the underside of our sofa’s cushions make great storage compartments for items such as socks, homework, keychains, toys, pizza crust, candy -especially the UNwrapped kind- and of course, Dad’s remote control.

Mama was never big on wearing make-up and she never wore fragrances. Lipstick was the only cosmetic I ever remember her wearing.

I don’t actually like putting on make-up, but I do wear foundation and mascara. And I LOVE perfumes and body sprays.

When it comes to art my Mama has staid, classic tastes. When I was a kid she had several of those famous Fox Hunt prints hanging on the walls

As an adult I’ve developed an appreciation for the art of the hunt, too, although its hunting of another variety

I have, ever since childhood, a painfully acute phobia of spiders. Throughout my life Mama has made it well known, to any and everyone, how very embarrassingly silly she thinks this phobia is.

On the other hand, Mama has a painfully acute phobia of running out of toilet paper. No one in the family dares utter a complaint about her extraordinarily large treasure trove of Angel Soft; not because we find it embarrassing, but if the planet does happen to suffer a sudden toilet paper shortage we know who to go to!

Mama is a teetotaler, but the lady does like her chocolate. Especially chocolate stars. As a kid I could give her a bag of chocolate stars and you’d have thought she was in heaven. And I still can’t look at a chocolate star today and not smile over that

I like my Godiva Chocolate, but especially the liqueur variety.

Crying..my Mama always said crying is for sissies. She also has a hard time laughing at things a lot of other folks take as granted for humor. I remember her walking out during the farting scene in Blazing Saddles.

I cry easily, really easily. But I love to laugh, too, and apologies to my Mama, but I still crack up watching that farting scene.

Books..Mama loved Reader’s Digest and had a big collection of the RD Condensed Books.

I love the Reader’s Digest Mysteries of the Explained. As for the condensed books, I have found that stacked, they make great table leg balancers.

My Mama could be really cool. When I was a teen she helped me shop for KISS posters, much to my Dad’s annoyance.

Today I’ve passed my KISS memorabilia to my youngest son, much to his Dad’s annoyance.

Mama liked a good meal on Mother’s Day, preferably cooked by her own talented hands.

I like a good meal on Mother’s Day. But exposing my family to my cooking on Mother’s Day might mean a trip to the E.R. and that would kind of put a damper on the occasion.

Mama’s views on marriage were practical, if not traditionally romantic. This plaque could have found a place on her kitchen wall:

This other plaque would find welcome at my house:

After all is compared and tallied up, I suppose the fact is Mama and I remain to very, very dissimilar people. But we do have two things in common: Firstly, she once confided that she thought  Steve McQueen was a NICE looking man, and hey I happen to think the same thing (-in fact my own daughter does, too!) Secondly, Mama loves me and I love her. And two hits out of everything else really isn’t bad in a world where it often seems there just isn’t enough love to go around. I’m lucky to have my Mama and grateful she’s still here to say Happy Mother’s Day to.. no matter how much I might cry like a “sissy” just thinking about it

To end this post I’d like to add that I have some books for those who are interested in obtaining autographed copies. I can only send these to persons living in the Continental USA, but if you are a resident and would like to receive a copy I ask only for $5.00 to cover Shipping and Handling fees, payable via Paypal. If you are one of the interested, please contact me via email for full Paypal contact info at an_howard@charter(DOT)net  Copies are limited, and first come, first get.

~Anya

I’m sort of laughing at myself after complaining for weeks about the crappy weather. I didn’t realize how good I had it! It was wet and miserable outside, which made it SO easy to stay inside and write. But now, just in the past few days, the sun has come out, the flowers are blooming, birds are building their nests and I am finding it harder than I imagined to stay inside my office!

Today my husband had to make a trip into Lakeport, which is a town about fifteen miles from us. I really didn’t have to go, but I jumped at the chance to go for a drive through the mountains. Wildflowers are magnificent after a very cold winter and wet spring. The hills are nothing but masses of color and the sky is so blue it doesn’t look real. Stay inside and write? Are you nuckin’ futs?

Okay, so I played today and yesterday…and…uh…the day before, but damn it felt good! I planted petunias and raked leaves and brushed Rufus outside and sort of frittered away the beginning of the week. I actually want to write tomorrow–had originally been scheduled for jury duty, but checked in tonight and they don’t need me. I’m one of those odd ducks who actually likes jury duty–it’s a chance to see an element of society I don’t usually spend time with–you know, the ones who do stupid things and think they can get away with it? Amazing, some of the stuff that comes to trial, but I digress…

In honor of gorgeous weather, I’m going to post an excerpt of StarFire, the latest book in my DemonSlayers series, and if you leave a comment about the weather where YOU live (and I know it’s been awful in a lot of places) you’ll have a chance to win a book.

~~*~~
Selyn is one of the Forgotten Ones, a woman held as a slave in the crystal mines of Lemuria. The only men she has ever known are the brutal guards who watch over the women. Dawson is a nerdy veterinarian who has cared for her after she was badly beaten–he has no finesse with women, and Selyn has never known a kind man. Until Dawson.
—–

Selyn turned and looked at him through eyes filled with tears. Frustration and anger seemed almost a part of her, but there was more he sensed. Sadness. Soul-deep and heartfelt sadness. Despair and a terrible sense of grief, of loss.

Dawson wasn’t sure how it happened, what gave him the courage to act. Empathy, a desire to take away her pain? For whatever reason, before he had time to think this through he had his arms around her and she was close, so damned close he breathed in her scent and felt the warmth of sunlight on her long, black hair.

Her arms wrapped tightly around his back and she leaned into his embrace. It seemed perfectly natural to lift her chin with his fingertips and kiss her. The floppy straw hat tilted away and dropped to the sand at her heels, but Dawson didn’t care. Not when he was doing something he’d barely dreamed of.

And, surprise of surprises, it wasn’t nearly as frightening as it should have been for a man who felt woefully inept around women. Dogs and cats were so much easier to figure out, but Selyn didn’t seem to mind that he lacked the finesse of most men when he tasted the full curve of her lips, when his tongue traced the seam between them and gently begged entrance.

She parted for him, tilting her head just right in order to make their mouths fit even more perfectly. Dawson fought the powerful urge to press his body closer, to kiss harder, to slip his hands beneath her loose shirt and explore the woman beneath the soft, cotton scrubs.

Her breasts were soft against his chest, her fingers digging into his back as she clung to him, holding on as if he were somehow anchoring her, holding her in safety.

She had no idea what his body was driving him to do. No idea how difficult it was to fight his baser instincts. He didn’t want to frighten her, and he forced himself to move slowly, to proceed carefully, but the thought of never taking this beyond a kiss terrified him. Somehow, before too long, he needed to know what her body felt like, how well it would align to his. How perfectly he could fill her, make love to her, make her his own.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth in a timid exploration that sent Dawson’s heart stuttering in his chest. Her taste was unique, the soft pressure of her lips against his—of her tongue exploring the edges of his teeth and the sensitive curve of his mouth—an almost uncontrollable aphrodisiac.

He clasped her head in his palms, holding her so that he could taste and nibble and make love to her mouth. He wanted more, so damned much more, but this was neither the time nor the place, and it was all much too soon.

I do hope you enjoy the book. And let me know how your weather’s been if you want a chance at winning a book. Thanks so much for coming by!