Thanksgiving #SampleSunday with a Giveaway!

An Sample of my contemporary western erotic-romance for Thanksgiving, Charity.

Charity Miller has spent her whole life in an urban island surrounded by the wilds of Montana where she’s never ventured too far from her plans. But when she heads into the Big Snowy Mountains to square a land deal one chilly November, her normally-professional self fades away. Maybe it’s the mountain air or finally quitting her diet. Or maybe it’s “real-live-cowboy” Joshua Rollings and his many attractions that has her off balance. Whatever it is, this Thanksgiving could give her a reason to be thankful for the rest of her life.

Excerpt:

“Real estate, huh?”

The sour-faced manageress, who'd started out with something of a neutral scowl, was now pinning ‘Charity Miller, Commercial Realtor’, with a look of open distain since looking at the Billings real estate agency business card she demanded before she’d book Charity a room.

“That’s right,” Charity confirmed, wanting desperately to sign the register and be done. It had been a long drive up into the November chill of the Big Snowy Mountains to find her way to Limping Horse, Montana, a place she’d been forced to add to her state road map by hand. By the quick glimpse of the place, there wasn’t much aside from the motel/gift shop, the gas station and a diner/tavern. Everything else must've been swallowed up by the big box stores out by the highway.

“Here to see Joshua Rollings, I suppose?” the nosy woman, whose name tag identified her as Margie, pried further.

Charity bristled at the woman’s tone and her questions. She knew small towns were notorious for their lack of privacy, but this was really going overboard. It wasn’t like her business was hyper-secretive, but she wasn’t used to having her clients’ personal activities spread over the grapevines so overtly. She settled on a bland smile, deciding the woman likely already knew Mr. Rollings had contacted her about selling off a rich portion of his 12,000-acre property. According to the report, the lot in question, known as the Hobble Gulch Retreat, boasted access to a pristine lake and the adjacent mountain range, which would surely make it attractive to the company Charity had in mind, a firm known for its trendy resorts.

Clearly the rude woman assisting her realized its sparse business would become even spottier with such a place going up in its midst, which left Charity to feel it wise not to respond either way.

“Sorry,” Margie grunted, snapping the guestbook closed. “Full up.”

“What?”

“Plumbing problems,” Margie chirped with a sniff. It was clear she was lying, but equally clear she didn’t plan on recanting.

“I called in advance!” Charity insisted. “I was told you guys don’t even take official reservations, since there’s always room.”

“Who’d you talk to?”

“I don’t know,” Charity huffed in frustration. “My assistant called. Last week.”

“Must’ve been my brother, Owen,” Margie told her as if that meant something and shrugged. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, but the rooms I have are full and the others are out for plumbing troubles. Sorry, I can’t help you.” The woman pocketed the business card in her hideous mauve cardigan and turned away.

This time tomorrow, likely everyone in town would have seen that card, Charity thought with a frown. Women like the manager loved to collect gossip materials and Charity had a feeling she’d soon be on the nasty end of a small-but-mighty Limping Horse Chamber of Commerce informal boycott as soon as Margie had a chance to spew her venom. One thing was certain; this town didn’t seem to like realtors much.

“Thanks ever so much,” Charity grumbled, pulling out the handle of her wheeled overnight bag and grabbing up her laptop and briefcase. “For nothing,” she added under her breath as she faced the icy double doors again.

No room at the inn, she thought with a sigh. So, Mr. Joshua Rollings will just have to supply room and board for the night. There was no way on earth she was going to add extra days on this trip to the middle of Godforsaken-nowhere by staying in a nearby town. She’d see the property and the paperwork, arrange for the surveyor, assess a reasonable price with the owner, and draft the listing – and then she’d be gone, back to metropolitan Billings where she belonged.

She could only hope Joshua Rollings had better manners than the old biddy who’d just tossed her out on her metaphorical fanny.

*
All weekend long: In honour of Canada's Thanksgiving (celebrated on the second Monday of October), I'm giving away a PDF copy of Charity! Leave a comment on any or all of the posts this weekend (if you're over 18) for your chance to win.

 

Charity is available as a single short in ebook, and is one of the six stories found in my new anthology All I Want: The Anne Holly-Day Collection.

ETA: Congrats, Melissa, for winning a copy of Charity in PDF. Thanks for commenting!

Sneak Peek of Cormack's Luck for #SampleSunday

 A sneak peek at my newest story, Cormack's Luck, the exclusive St Patrick's Day addition to my Rebel Ink Press anthology All I Want: The Anne Holly-Day Collection, available in ebook and print on October 3, 2012!

American writer Katie Cormack inherited more than a cottage from her wild Irish father, but also his wit, his stories and his family’s secret burden. Hiding away in the Irish countryside she’d always dreamed of, she communes with the fairies and beasts of her fantasy and folklore. When a local doctor comes down on her for filling his young son’s head with “nonsense”, Katie must show them both that not even St Patrick himself could drive all the dragons out of their imaginations. In the process, she might be able to reverse a wrong that has been hanging over the Cormacks for five generations, one that has brought them all together for the season of renewal.

Excerpt:

I’ve as good as slept with him. Shit.

Well, not completely shit, she had to admit. She’d needed it, really. Even as her nerves hummed over how to proceed with this awkward situation, she could feel a languid relaxation seep through her limbs. Even before her marriage had gone south two years ago, her sex life hadn’t been Hollywood quality and her dry spell since had taken its toll. This afternoon had shown her the danger of letting certain appetites go unfulfilled for too long.

For instance, you could end up having near-sex with a man who seemingly loathed you. Or one whose ancestors had been mortal enemies with your own. Or, such as in her case, a man who fell into both categories.

She heard a flush, then the tap running, and a rattle from the bathroom. Then the harsh click of the old-fashioned light switch. He didn’t emerge immediately, even with the lights out, and she wondered if he was mentally girding his loins the same way she was.

Oddly enough, though they’d just ripped into each other like deprived animals, she felt the need to armor herself with multiple layers of wool and she fidgeted to make sure everything but her hands and face were fully, primly covered. And she might have even gone for a veil if she’d had one close by.

Shutting the gate after the horse fled, clearly.

When he finally stepped out of the bedroom, she spun back to the kitchen counter. She could feel the hot flare of her blush, which likely spread from her pale toes right up to her scalp, clashing with her red curls.

“Coffee?” she managed to croak.

“Er, no.” He, too, was moving in quick, jittery movements, gathering his jacket off the divan and already standing with his hand on the doorknob. Even with her back turned and her vision limited by what she could glimpse through her nervous side-eye, she knew he was eager to flee.

Despite being in his mid-thirties, he was inching towards the door like a naughty boy caught in theft.

Clearly, she wasn’t the only one to have instant regrets now that the hormone haze had dissipated. She should have been sympathetic, but dammit, he could have been a little less obvious about the fact he found her something akin to leprosy.

When he wasn’t sticking his tongue down her throat, that is.

She shuddered to think of what he’d done. What she’d let him do. Hell, what she’d begged him to do. And, oh my, what she’d done in response!

“I suspect you’ve got lots to do...”

“Yes,” he answered a bit too quickly and with a touch of frantic gratitude. “Lots to do. You know how it is.”

“Sure.”

“Alright, then. Ta!”

And with that he was gone.

Good riddance and may I never set eyes on him again, Katie thought to herself. She rested her forehead against the cool of the kitchen cabinet above the coffee maker and wondered how the hell it had all occurred.

“I’m a grown woman,” she declared aloud. “Thirty damned years old, and independent. If I screw anything up, it’s my own fault.”

It won’t happen again, she added.

Even if Dermot Barrigan was a beautiful feast before a starving woman.

~*~

All I Want: The Anne Holly-Day Collection

Coming October 3!

What happens when a band nerd sets his sights on the jock next door, a flighty witch thaws out a corporate stiff, or an uptown girl falls for a bartender? How about when a city slicker roughs it with a cowboy, a free spirited Spaniard seduces his calm and collected professor, or a fantasy writer teaches a no-nonsense doctor to see the magic around him?

Attraction, friction, and enough sparks to heat up the coldest winter!

Opposites attract under the spell of six different holidays in this collection of contemporary erotic romance stories from author Anne Holly, covering Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years Eve, Valentine’s Day and St Patrick’s Day.

Each story is unique, reflecting the glow and lore of the holiday that inspired it, but the collection is bound together by a single thread – the joy of taking the plunge into sizzling romance.

Extended Excerpt from Textbook Romance for #samplesunday

“I really don’t ever do this,” she slurred again as, two hours later, Seth opened the car door to retrieve a tipsy Libby from his beat up sedan. “I really don’t.”

“I know,” he repeated, smothering an urge to smile at her guilty face.

When Tom had asked him to take her home, Seth had jumped at the chance, aware that the older man wore a smug, scheming expression on his face, and the two men shared a moment of understanding. Tom was a keen study of human nature, and Seth had the odd feeling that the writer knew what was going through his mind regarding Libby.

Pressing a few respectable bills into Seth’s reluctant hand, Tom had said, “I doubt old Larry there will be too free with the gratuities this evening, but it’s been the most fun I’ve had in weeks.” With a chuckle, he slapped Seth on the back as he turned to usher the inebriated Libby out the door.

“I’ll be back once I drop her off,” Seth assured him.

“Don’t worry,” Tom said. “I’ll protect little Lord Larry from any would-be assassins who infiltrate my living room.”

The jovial man was still laughing at his witticism as he shut the door on the pair, and Seth had bundled Libby into his car and buckled her up.

Throughout the drive, Libby seemed close to dozing, and Seth had time to consider what he’d learned. So, Liberty Sullivan was also Andrea Harper, a name even he vaguely recognized from the bestsellers lists. It did make sense, in a weird way. There were perhaps only a handful of people who really got romance the way she did – both the good and bad versions. Perhaps she was using it as an outlet to keep her from real life, as she said she hoped other women would.

After their conversations tonight, Seth finally understood it. Libby Sullivan wasn’t just a brain, or just a beautiful woman; nor was she a spinster who just hadn’t been loved – she was a person that some bastard had hurt, badly. Now why did it occur to him that he was jealous of the man who would someday get the chance to heal her?

Was it perhaps because any woman who wrote sexy books couldn’t have given up on love as much as she pretended?

“I really don’t ever do this,” Libby said again. “Get drunk, I mean.”

“I know,” he said again, softly. He was sure she didn’t. Their moment of unexpected intimacy had rattled her so much she likely didn’t notice her host continually refilling her glass, and only an inexperienced drinker would seem so oblivious to the way wine tends to creep up on a person.

At least she wasn’t slobbering drunk – mostly tired, he thought. She was able to walk steadily enough, and she managed to dig out her own keys from the ridiculously small handbag she carried when they arrived at her home.

“Well, thanks for the lift,” she said, dismissing him.

Refusing to take the hint, Seth took her keys from her stunned hands and unlocked the front door of the comfortable two-story farmhouse, planting a firm hand on the small of her back.

“I’m okay,” she said, almost seeming panicked at the thought of him coming in with her.

He suddenly noticed how close they had gotten when he could feel the warmth of her lush breasts and belly against his front. Knowing it wasn’t gentlemanly to take advantage of drunken women, he reminded himself to back off. But her eyes, round and liquid brown in the porch light, felt like they were pulling him in.

Slowly, he lowered his head, almost against his will, until his forehead brushed against hers and he could feel the hot, nervous puff of her breath. Rubbing his nose slowly against hers for a moment, he recalled himself and pulled his head back, never breaking eye contact.

Her face was pale and startled, and, feeling guilty, he cleared his throat and turned to the door, leading her past the threshold.

“I’ll just walk you in and make sure everything is okay,” he said. “I see you left some lights on, which is really smart, but…”

Suddenly, a reedy, excited voice echoed through the front hall, as a small boy in blue pajamas bolted in from the living room. “Mom!” the child shouted as he launched himself at her.

Hoisting him up, somewhat unsteadily, Libby pasted a bright smile on her drowsy face and shot a warning glance at Seth as she passed by him into the house.

“He was an angel, as usual,” an older woman said as she gathered up a bright pile of children’s books on the sofa. “But, he did refuse to go to bed until you came home.”

“I wasn’t tired,” the boy explained as his mother lowered him to his feet, rubbing his eyes in contradiction to his words. “I want to hear more about Charlotte.”

“I’m reading him Charlotte’s Web,” Libby explained to Seth briefly. “As you can see, I’m fine…”

“Who’s he?” Charlie asked, with the equanimity only children can ever achieve, as if he were completely unfazed by meeting a strange man in his living room.

“Hi,” Seth said. “I’m Seth – I know your mom from school.”

“Hi, Seth,” Charlie nodded, hiding his sleepiness but not his interest. “I’m Charlie, and I’m going to be eight soon.”

“In about five months...” Libby added out of habit.

“That’s a great age!” Seth enthused.

“Well, I think it’s time for bed,” Libby hinted to both males.

Again failing to take the bait, Seth shrugged. “Why don’t I go in and start some coffee…”

“And I should be getting on,” the woman said, cheerfully. “If I’m not home by ten, Henry might get himself another girl.”

“Thanks so much, Margaret,” Libby said, discreetly handing the woman some money as she saw her to the door. Seth wandered into the kitchen, and Libby relented and followed an exhausted Charlie up to his room.

Only three pages later, her son was out like a light, and Libby was wishing Seth was gone so she could follow suit.

But, as she returned downstairs to the smell of coffee, she had to admit it sounded like a good idea. Never a heavy drinker, alcohol always had the effect of sleepiness on her. She never managed to achieve that sense of happy euphoria so many seemed to get off booze.

“Everything okay?” Seth asked, placing a tomato-cheese sandwich and a mug of coffee on the table for her.

“Oh, yes. He just doesn’t like to sleep until I’m home, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “Kelsey, my daughter, used to be like that, too. Of course, now she’s fifteen and couldn’t care less. It’s tough being a single parent; especially when they’re teens, because then they have no one else to consider the enemy but you.”

She sat at the table, smiling awkwardly, aware he’d just unsubtly announced his single status. Suddenly her stomach growled, and she realized the sandwich was just what she needed. Foolishly, she hadn’t had any food at the party, which likely explained the quick effects of the wine.

“Aren’t you going to have one…?” she offered.

“Ah, no,” he said. “I’d love to, but I have a stuffed shirt to shepherd back to his hotel. You know, in case Al Qaeda comes after him.” Smiling, he picked up his suit jacket from the back of her chair, brushing against her arm. “But I’m happy to take you up on it some other time…?”

Confused, she wondered what he was talking about.

“Coffee? Sometime soon… We can even wait until term is over, if you want, so people don’t think I’m sleeping my way to an A.”

“But you are getting an A…” she responded, bemusedly.

“Fine, then,” he shrugged with a grin. “Then maybe tomorrow, after class?”

“For what?”

“I want to take you out, Libby,” he said, bluntly. “So, I’m asking you to go out. With me. Soon. Starting with coffee.”

“Well…”

“And I should warn you, I might not easily take no for an answer on this one.”

“Why not?”

“Shall we call it Love at First Sight?” he said, without a hint of humor.

Libby could only cough in surprise.

Smiling at her, he said, “Eat your sandwich, and lock up after me.” And then he was gone, and Libby stared at her snack in bewilderment.

And realized she’d just made a date.

A date with someone she thought she found irresistible.

Some women might be thrilled at that moment. For Libby, it was a disaster waiting to happen.


~*~
Available now in Kindle, Nook, ebook, and paperback.

For more information, please see the book's website.

#samplesunday: A Scene from Like Magic

An excerpt from my paranormal/contemporary erotic-romance for Halloween, Like Magic.

Ian Hannigan was having the worst day of his life. A real estate prospect turned out to be a prank, his car has been stolen, and he’s stranded in the worst neighborhood he can imagine on Halloween night. If he believed in magic, he would swear he’d been cursed. Nothing could possibly make this day any worse or better… That is, nothing but Raven, a mysterious occult shop owner who not only claims to be a witch, but insists that she summoned him as the answer to her aching loneliness. Ian’s night just got a lot weirder. And his love life just got a lot more interesting.

~*~

“This ritual will make sure that, if we are meant to be together, we’ll return to each other if we’re parted,” she whispered, the look on her face telling him she recognized their parting was inevitable.

He wasn’t sure how to respond, as they’d promised each other only that one night. Instead of speaking, he took her hand again and pressed a kiss to the tender skin of her wrist and then pulled her into his lap. He was there now and that would have to be enough. He sent whatever had brought him to her a silent word of thanks though it was inarticulate in his mind.

As if sensing his speechlessness, Raven merely smiled and looked at their entwined fingers. She turned his hand over in her own, as if noting the relative size and roughness of his palm in comparison with her own.

“Will I meet a tall, dark stranger?” he joked, looking into the lines in his hand.

“You have a long life,” she said. “Longer than you know – longer than before your birth, and after your life. You have an old soul.”

“The matron at one of my group homes used to say that,” he smiled. “But just because I was always a little bit tight-assed and not very happy as a child.”

“Why was that?”

Ian tilted his head in an effort to dismiss the stories of his youth, which weren’t incredibly pleasant, but also not very interesting. Before adulthood, his life had mostly consisted of boredom and waiting.

“My mother died when I was young. I never knew my father.” He shrugged. “Wasn’t a great deal to be happy about, really.”

“Now, though?” she said, looking back at the lines. “I think you’re satisfied in some ways, but not in others. You’re ambitious and you do well, but you’re occasionally unlucky especially with your love life. You’ve done a lot for yourself, though.”

Ian was increasingly uncomfortable with her inspection, feeling bare to her eyes.

“Enough about me,” he said lightly to cover up the quick way he yanked his hand from hers. “How about you?”

Raven smiled as if she knew why he stopped her, but was unruffled by his reluctance to tell her more. She produced her palm to him with a good natured chuckle.

“My life is an open book. Be my guest.”

“Oh no,” he said. “I don’t read palms.” She squealed as he grabbed her and started to plaster her neck and shoulders with kisses. “Ear lobes, maybe,” he said in a muffled voice as he took possession of her ear with his lips. “Ahh! You will indeed meet a tall, dark stranger,” he confirmed. “And you two will fuck like bunnies all... night... long...”
*
Available Now!

This story will be included in the paperback/ebundle anthology All I Want: The Anne Holly-Day Collection, releasing October 3, 2012.

We're seeking reviews and promo opportunities for Like Magic this October. If you're interested in helping spread the word for Halloween, please email anneholly2010@gmail.com, and include a link to your site or blog. (18+, non-YA blogs/sites, only, please.)

#samplesunday: Textbook Romance

A romantic date moment from Textbook Romance...

“The only stupid question is the one gone unasked,” Seth read from his cookie.

“I hate that fortune cookies are more like advice now than actual fortunes,” she complained. “Where are the ‘you will meet a tall dark stranger’ ones?”

“What was yours?”

“Love is for the fortunate, but especially for the courageous,” she read.

“Sounds like a good prediction to me,” Seth said, popping some cookie shell into his mouth and looking at her meaningfully.

“Who, me?” she said, feeling a nervous flutter under her ribs.

“Look, Libby…” he paused, as if searching for the right words, “I know you’ve been hurt before…”

“You think I’m afraid?”

“Well, it makes sense to fear something that burned you once,” he said.

“Maybe I just came to a logical conclusion,” she suggested, smarting from his insight.

“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe you’re brighter than the rest of us, and love is for masochists. But I also know that it can sneak up on a person, and not give you the choice, sometimes.”

Libby stayed quiet for a moment, barely breathing with anticipation.

“You know what I want?” he mused.

“What?” she whispered, breathlessly, leaning towards him.

“Popcorn and ice cream,” he said with a wink, hopping up from the sofa. “You in?”

Seth laughed evilly as the throw pillow she flung at him hit him square in the back. He returned shortly, arms filled with junk food, and two spoons.

“Why dirty the bowls?” he shrugged, and opened the tub of ice cream.

“My thoughts exactly,” she said as she dug in, nearly moaning with the joy of cherry mixed with chocolaty, chewy richness.

“Oh, to be that spoon,” he whispered as her tongue cleaned off every last trace of ice cream.

The movie had ended, but neither of them had thought to put in another as they sat together companionably. Libby smiled at him, and said impulsively, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

“This is so much better than sitting here alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” he snorted.

“You know what I mean!” She landed a playful swat on his shoulder. “It’s fun to hang out with you.”

“More wine?” he offered, refilling his own glass.

“Does white wine go with cherry-chocolate?” she asked, and held her glass to him.

“At this point, I think it’ll go with anything.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” she asked accusingly.

“Nope,” he said. “I want you to remember what a great time we’re having. Maybe on a bad date I will, though, so you can forget it.”

“Do you suppose there will be one?”

“A bad date? Very likely,” he said and shrugged, unconcerned. “It happens.”

“So… We’ll do this again, then?” Libby chewed on her lip and watched her wine bubbles in the glass for a moment.

“Yes,” he answered with certainty. “I don’t want us to stop, if that’s what you mean. Now, eat your ice cream,” he said, moving them back to lighter conversation with a smile.

“You want some?” she asked, holding a spoonful out to him, looking innocent. But as he leaned in to take the rather large dollop into his mouth, she jerked the spoon, painting his nose with sweet pink goo.

“You brat!” he yelped, and took her wrist in his grip. “You want some of that, too? It’s pretty cold.” Twisting her arm towards her own laughing face, he smeared the frosty mess all along her chin.

“Seth!” she squealed, trying to defend herself from the onslaught while being paralyzed with giggles. “I’m sorry!”

“Sorry isn’t good enough,” he growled, taking aim at her cheek. “No mercy!”

He couldn’t contain his amusement, either, and they collapsed together, both covered in melted ice cream.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, and their laughter trailed off in deep breaths as he consumed her face with his intense gaze.

“Seth…” she whispered.

Chase after love? As a single mother, Professor Liberty Sullivan knows better. Between her flighty mother and a disastrous history with men, she's pretty much soured on the whole concept of romance. Personal freedom and self-reliance are her new guiding mantras. Raising her son and being a career star are the most important things now.

Then she meets Seth.

An ex-cop who’s making a new life for himself and his daughter, Seth Webster has every reason to play it safe. Then he meets Liberty. Prickly about love, following some crazy anti-romance curriculum, she still makes Seth's heart pound. And a lifetime of cop instinct tells him he's about to teach Liberty that this romance will be anything but by the book.

Available Now!

A bit of Like Magic for #samplesunday

A little of my contemporary/paranormal Halloween erotic-romance Like Magic. 

Ian Hannigan was having the worst day of his life. A real estate prospect turned out to be a prank, his car has been stolen, and he’s stranded in the worst neighborhood he can imagine on Halloween night. If he believed in magic, he would swear he’d been cursed. Nothing could possibly make this day any worse or better… That is, nothing but Raven, a mysterious occult shop owner who not only claims to be a witch, but insists that she summoned him as the answer to her aching loneliness. Ian’s night just got a lot weirder. And his love life just got a lot more interesting.

~*~

“Damn, damn, damn!” Ian muttered. He balled his hand and raised it to the door. Again, he let his arm fall to his side without knocking. He’d walked the streets for fifteen minutes, and found nothing but several groups of people who didn’t look very helpful and a broken payphone outside a rundown convenience store. The rain was coming down even harder, and the gutters ran with muddy streams. He could no longer feel his toes, and he knew he could kiss his expensive Italian shoes goodbye.

Logically, he acknowledged that there was nothing left to do but ask Raven for the use of her phone so he could get out of this godforsaken slum. He raised his knuckles again, but paused before he knocked. Before his hand made contact, the door swung open.

“The suspense was killing me,” a faintly mocking voice piped out. “As to whether you’d ever get around to knocking.”

Raven turned her back to him and walked into the shop, leaving the decision to follow or not up to him. He couldn’t help but smile wryly and wonder how long she’d watched him contemplate the shop’s glass door.

He trailed behind her into the damp, dim store, enjoying the lines of her lush hips and gently sloping shoulders. She had her glorious hair up in an untidy knot this time, and a riot of wispy curls hung teasingly down her long neck. If he hadn’t left earlier, he’d likely be tasting that neck right now. Thinking of her fine collarbone and the upward thrust of her breasts made Ian’s stomach flutter. His desire to explore the entire territory inch by inch was even stronger than his innate mistrust.

It hadn’t even been a full year since he last had a woman, but it was long enough that, in combination with the memories of Raven’s oral manipulation, he could feel the flames of hunger lick his skin at the sight of her.

Raven paused at the counter, but kept her back to him as she grasped a large, heavy goblet. She brought the glass to her lips and drank, and Ian watched the motions of her throat jealously. Oh, to be drunk from like that cup!

“Wine?” he asked, needlessly, appreciating the shine of the candles through the ruby liquid.

“At least you didn’t accuse me of drinking blood,” she murmured and took another swallow.

“That was going to be my second guess,” he said with a lame chuckle, which she didn’t return.

“Find a phone?” she asked innocently, turning to him for the first time. Her voice contained a lower, earthier tone to it now. Ian concluded she used the wispy light tone earlier to tease him and get him inside. Her fluctuation between angel and temptress was mercurial and confusing, but alluring.

“I think you know that I didn’t,” he admitted. “There’s not much left alive out here.”

Raven gave a sad sort of smile, the same kind she used at the mention of her mother, but she didn’t reply. Instead, she filled a second goblet with wine from a silver decanter and extended it to him.

“Two glasses, huh? Knew I’d be returning, did you?”

“As you say, there’s not much to be found around here. The few shopkeepers left close at dark and run home to the suburbs. I figured you’d be back,” she answered calmly.

“No second sight or something?” he asked, half teasing. “You already have me at a disadvantage, if I recall, since you said you were expecting me earlier.”

He took the wine, and sniffed it cautiously. There was heady incense in the air that was already messing with his usually quick wits, so dope in the wine would be the end of him.

Again, she didn’t reply. Instead, she drained her glass, sat it down carefully on the counter, and turned away.

“The phone hasn’t moved,” she said, and gestured for him to help himself as she retreated out of sight through a thick beaded curtain dividing the store room from the back.

AVAILABLE NOW!

I am currently seeking reviews for Like Magic in anticipation of Halloween (it's coming sooner than you might think!). If you are interested in reviewing Like Magic on your website, blog or at other venues, please contact me! 

(18+)

An Extra #samplesunday for Canada Day

Happy Canada Day to all my friends, family, readers and fellow writers! 

To celebrate, here's a sample of my contemporary romance novel bringing some sizzle to the Canadian North, Strings Attached.

"You want to heal me, like one of your stray dogs..."

When Canadian rancher Josie Sergeant gets a call from her brother announcing his impetuous decision to marry, she has her reservations. But, when her brother’s would-be brother-in-law swoops in from Australia to stop the wedding, Josie has no choice but to defend the family.

Theo Sabich is bull-headed and dangerously sexy, but also damaged beyond repair… or so he thinks. He enjoys getting on Josie’s nerves, but when he finds her getting under his skin he must decide - face his demons and grab this last chance for happiness or bury himself in his lonely Outback ranch once and for all.

Under the northern lights, their attraction ignites beyond their control, and Josie finds that a one-time “no strings attached” release of passion is easier said than done when love is hanging by a thread.

But how will they bridge the difference between two worlds, let alone conquer the wounds of the past and find the courage to live again?

~*~

Josie led him away from the house, allowing for his hobbled gait. Finally, she stopped and spread her arms out. “There!” She exclaimed it proudly, with small puffs of breath hanging white in the air. They were outside of the circle of light from the house, and Theo didn’t know what she meant for him to look at.

“What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“There,” she grabbed him, and pointed up, “look!

In the sky, a glowing milky-blue and green belt danced in the heavens. Clouds, shining in their reflected light, moved as if making way.

“What…?”

“Aurora borealis. The northern lights.”

Theo couldn’t imagine that there were places in the world where such things regularly appeared. The light seemed to flow like water, blue changed into white, and vivid green ribbons highlighted the ripples.

“Amazing,” he whispered several times.

Josie watched Theo’s face. She was glad that he liked this place. She knew it was impressive, astounding even her and she’d been born here. To a man from a dry and hot frontier, it must seem like magic.

And Theo saw it that way.

Suddenly, as if a Hollywood director had ordered it, a lone wolf howled in the distance. The effect was magnificent.

“True North, strong and free... ” Josie sighed, quoting the Canadian anthem in a breathless whisper.

Theo stood in awe of the wild beauty to which he bore witness. There were people who went their whole lives without witnessing something like this, and he was grateful to Josie for showing it to him.

“I can see why you love this place,” he looked down at her. “I could too, and I’m only just come.”

The air was thick with the words. Yes, Josie thought, I want you to love it, too. But she left the words unspoken. Mostly because she wasn’t sure why she meant them so strongly. Instead, she removed her glove, and reached up to put her fingertips to his jaw line. He hadn’t shaved, and bristly reddish stubble tantalized her hand. Green eyes captured golden ones, and both shone with the sky’s light. Josie raised herself up, laying herself vulnerable for his rejection, but he didn’t spurn her. He lowered his head to hers, and grasped her waist through her wool mack.

Her hands ran through that thick curly hair she’d longed to touch, and she pressed her lips to his. Slowly, hotly, their lips and breath mingled, and the tingle of it danced along their mouths as the light did in the sky. Josie worked a hand beneath his jacket and under his shirt where she found the warm skin of his strong back. She wanted this kiss as she wanted every next breath. She made a small, urging noise in her throat, primitive in its demand for more.

Theo’s big hand slid with surprising softness from her hip. It paused on her belly for a moment, then leaving it for the ridge of her rib cage. Up it traveled, until it grazed just beneath the softness of her breast.

Sighing, Theo deepened the kiss, demanding as much as she could give.

Josie responded in kind, opening her lips in bold invitation. This time he accepted.

The kiss invaded her senses and searched her mouth for its secrets, and she offered no resistance. Josie reveled in the masculine sound of his breath, as it came now in quiet, but excited huffs. The soft sounds of their lips on one another were like the finest music to her. It caused her heart to thump against her chest, as if it were calling to his.

It lasted seconds or minutes, she didn’t know, but it ended too quickly. He lifted his head and watched the deprivation slide across her features.

She opened dazzled eyes, lidded with not-yet-abandoned arousal.

“Christ,” he whispered.

Josie smiled up to him. She could tell by his face that he was far from unaffected by that kiss. But he sat her away from him and straightened to his full height, taking a staggering step back from her.

“I...” he started, but stopped. Finally he just limped away, back into the house.

Josie blinked after him. Untried feelings still coursed through her veins, and now he was gone. She felt bereft. He was running from her, again. Mentally, she rolled up her sleeves, and followed him in.

Happy Canada Day!

Read the First Chapter of Textbook Romance for #samplesunday

Chase after love? As a single mother, Professor Liberty Sullivan knows better. Between her flighty mother and a disastrous history with men, she's pretty much soured on the whole concept of romance. Personal freedom and self-reliance are her new guiding mantras. Raising her son and being a career star are the most important things now.

Then she meets Seth.

An ex-cop who’s making a new life for himself and his daughter, Seth Webster has every reason to play it safe. Then he meets Liberty. Prickly about love, following some crazy anti-romance curriculum, she still makes Seth's heart pound. And a lifetime of cop instinct tells him he's about to teach Liberty that this romance will be anything but by the book.

You can read the full first chapter of Textbook Romance on the book's site, HERE!

More Textbook Romance for #SampleSunday

A fresh excerpt from my newest novel, Textbook Romance:

Chase after love? As a single mother, Professor Liberty Sullivan knows better. Between her flighty mother and a disastrous history with men, she's pretty much soured on the whole concept of romance. Personal freedom and self-reliance are her new guiding mantras. Raising her son and being a career star are the most important things now.

Then she meets Seth.

An ex-cop who’s making a new life for himself and his daughter, Seth Webster has every reason to play it safe. Then he meets Liberty. Prickly about love, following some crazy anti-romance curriculum, she still makes Seth's heart pound. And a lifetime of cop instinct tells him he's about to teach Liberty that this romance will be anything but by the book.

Libby shut the heavy front door with a deep sigh. Seth was, by far, the most sweetly romantic and sensual man she’d ever met. She had once thought Carson was dangerous… She could now see that Seth was potentially ten times more addictive.

But, at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about it.

Entering her bathroom, she dropped her robe and flipped on the shower. Her muscles had a strange heavy ache to them this morning, one that seemed vaguely familiar but also felt totally unique. The signs of Seth’s lovemaking were written all over her and she gloried in the reflection looking back at her in the mirror. From the tangled head of curls to the faint blue thumbprint he’d accidentally left at some point on her right hip, she was marked as a well-loved woman, and it felt terrific.

He’d brought her to long-awaited climax no less than five times the night before, and once more early this morning, and she was amazed by the fact that her body still yearned for him. He’d turned her into a wanton, clearly, and she chuckled at the thought. Her! Of all people, he had revived the wanton in her. If she hadn’t experienced it herself, she’d never have believed it.

Stepping under the hot, hard spray of the water, she soaked in the warmth and felt her overworked muscles begin to soften. He’d been eager for her to take the initiative, and she’d made love to him just as often as he had to her, leaving her a bit sore from the exertion.

Though she’d risen early and they’d had a busy night, she wasn’t exhausted. She’d slept well and deeply, enjoying the cocoon of his body. She didn’t even need to blame her thick sleep on the wine this time. It’d been the pure bliss and security of sleeping in a devoted set of male arms.

But how long will those arms be here?

Libby angrily swept aside the treacherous voice of reason. She didn’t want to doubt anything right now. But nearly a decade of mistrust born from experience was a hard habit to break, and she felt the haze of happiness start to drift away from her against her will.

Don’t get too used to those arms, the voice warned her. When he’s gone, you’ll have to sleep without them.

Cruel rationality began to seep into the morning with the encroaching sunlight, and she had the immature impulse to call Seth’s cell in the hopes that his voice would help her shut out what her bitter instincts whispered to her. She wanted to call him, to beg him to say more sweet things to allay these fears. To tell her he wanted to see her again and again and again, and that he’d never tire of her – never find anyone else. But she knew enough to know that no one could promise that, and if she couldn’t triumph over these fears by herself, she’d be lost.

And she did want to triumph over them, didn’t she?

Pouring a puddle of conditioner into her palm, she massaged the floral mixture into her hair, and considered which Libby was the real Libby – the wanton lover or the disciplined isolationist? It wasn’t an answer that came easily, and she felt a small slide of fear that she’d gone too long this way to change now.

She paused from washing her hair and stood in shock for a moment. The realization that the reason her intelligence and her heart were both going crazy was one and the same – somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with Seth. In a way that not even Carson had inspired. And she was scared of losing him as much as she was of embracing him.

So, now she had to decide which possibility scared her more.

Now available!

Read the first chapter here.

Remember - Leave a comment on any of my Textbook Romance posts this weekend, and be entered to win a copy of the ebook, courtesy of Pink Petal Books.

More Textbook Romance for #samplesunday

My newest novel, Textbook Romance, debuted on Pink Petal Book's website on June 7th, where it happens to be 15% off in advance of wide release (coming soon)! 

Chase after love? As a single mother, Professor Liberty Sullivan knows better. Between her flighty mother and a disastrous history with men, she's pretty much soured on the whole concept of romance. Personal freedom and self-reliance are her new guiding mantras. Raising her son and being a career star are the most important things now.

Then she meets Seth.

An ex-cop who’s making a new life for himself and his daughter, Seth Webster has every reason to play it safe. Then he meets Liberty. Prickly about love, following some crazy anti-romance curriculum, she still makes Seth's heart pound. And a lifetime of cop instinct tells him he's about to teach Liberty that this romance will be anything but by the book. 

An excerpt...

Libby Sullivan hated The Scarlet Letter section of the “Ideology of Literature” course she taught.

Carefully keeping her intellectual mask in place, she used the last bit of class time for free discussion and reactions to the book. It was her job to push her students to consider the text in new ways, despite the twinge she felt in the vicinity of her heart. It’s just a book, she told herself, even though she didn’t really believe it.

“I thought it was really sad,” a junior in the back reflected. “No one really got a happy ending, though I guess the author tried a bit at the end, since the little girl grew up okay. The two main characters loved each other, but that still didn’t seem to count for them. They just ended up buried close to each other; that’s all.”

Libby heard the same complaint every year.

“In the end, Hester Prynne is redeemed not by love but by expressing her penance through a life of charity work, modesty and strong independence. Her estranged husband dies, twisted by his hate; her lover, Reverend Dimmesdale, dies of guilt after giving too little too late to his illegitimate daughter, Pearl, who is irrevocably alienated from the community where she was born due to her parents’ actions. But Hester finds some peace through reclaiming her quiet dignity despite her badge of shame.” The themes of sin and redemption, and propriety over personal freedom, were always things Libby noticed students tended to under-value in the book. Their belief that love is worth any price, no matter who got hurt, usually got in the way. “Hester believed that her demonstration of restraint, of having learned her lessons, would redeem her, and I believe that’s as happy as the ending could be, considering the attitudes on wives committing adultery of the time.”

“It’s not like her old husband even loved her,” another pretty student complained. “I don’t see why she had to live like a nun to show she was sorry for falling in love. I mean, like, it’s only natural, what she did.”

Only natural, but leading to so much pain, Libby added silently. They’re young, she reminded herself. Unfortunately, most of them will learn differently soon enough.

“But isn’t the point of the book that Hester, Pearl, and Dimmesdale would’ve all been better off without the puritanical dedication the town had to conventions?” A deep male voice from the front said. “I figure Hawthorne’s saying it’s not that she and Dimmesdale were wrong for being in love, but that the community was wrong for standing in their way. That love, that family bond, has a sanctity that shouldn’t be touched by rumors or prudes.”

The student, Seth, was a tall, lanky mature student she usually welcomed answers from. Today, however, she would have appreciated his silence more. He was a little too handsome and romantic notions from someone who looked like him, though they might have thrilled her when she was a junior herself, now sounded as appealing to her as a snake offering an apple.

“But isn’t it possible that they all would’ve been better off if Dimmesdale and Hester had never given into passion, since he wasn’t prepared to follow through on it? Reproduction is a natural result, yes, but the sex itself was a choice they made, right? Hester had no other option but to give birth after the deed was done, which left her rather compromised, so perhaps she and Dimmesdale should have controlled themselves,” she said, carefully keeping her voice bland. “It was Dimmesdale’s guilt and weakness involved in that choice, as much as the town’s shaming, that lead to their being apart.”

“True, I guess,” Seth conceded. “He was no hero, and a terrible father. But, if he had controlled his instincts better, Hester wouldn’t have had Pearl at all, so I suppose she’d think it was worth it in the long run.”

“But is that supported by the text?” Libby pressed. “For Hawthorne, Pearl is the embodiment of her parents’ sin, isn’t she? Eventually, the child can’t even recognize her mother without that badge of shame, showing how the so-called ‘love affair’ cast a pall over their lives. Should we necessarily assume that Hester considered it all worth it because she had a daughter to raise in such conditions?”

“But, for a parent, doesn’t a child make everything worth it, in the end?” Seth was pressing back, with a flame in his eyes that announced his own personal passion for what he was saying.

“That’s a rather modern way of viewing it,” Libby said weakly, but couldn’t deny the softening she felt at his reasoning. Wispy images passed, fleetingly, through her mind; a toddler smearing cake on his face, a little boy clinging to her during a scary part in a movie, a big smile with gaps left by lost teeth… “But, yes,” she said, “it’s a possible reading.”

Grateful to find the time had run out, she reminded the class they’d be moving on to Madame Bovary after the upcoming midterm exam and wrapped up the session. She pushed her hair back off her forehead, realizing that, despite her exhaustion, it would be hours still before she could sleep.

            But, at least they were finished with The Scarlet Letter unit.

Join us back here on June 22 for the official grand release celebration!

A Bit of Textbook Romance for #samplesunday!

My newest novel, Textbook Romance, debuted on Pink Petal Book's website on June 7th, where it happens to be 15% off in advance of wide release in a couple weeks! 

Chase after love? As a single mother, Professor Liberty Sullivan knows better. Between her flighty mother and a disastrous history with men, she's pretty much soured on the whole concept of romance. Personal freedom and self-reliance are her new guiding mantras. Raising her son and being a career star are the most important things now.

Then she meets Seth.

An ex-cop who’s making a new life for himself and his daughter, Seth Webster has every reason to play it safe. Then he meets Liberty. Prickly about love, following some crazy anti-romance curriculum, she still makes Seth's heart pound. And a lifetime of cop instinct tells him he's about to teach Liberty that this romance will be anything but by the book. 

A bit of a preview...

“I really don’t ever do this,” she slurred again as, two hours later, Seth opened the car door to retrieve a tipsy Libby from his beat up sedan. “I really don’t.”

“I know,” he repeated, smothering an urge to smile at her guilty face.

When Tom had asked him to take her home, Seth had jumped at the chance, aware that the older man wore a smug, scheming expression on his face, and the two men shared a moment of understanding. Tom was a keen study of human nature, and Seth had the odd feeling that the writer knew what was going through his mind regarding Libby.

Pressing a few respectable bills into Seth’s reluctant hand, Tom had said, “I doubt old Larry there will be too free with the gratuities this evening, but it’s been the most fun I’ve had in weeks.” With a chuckle, he slapped Seth on the back as he turned to usher the inebriated Libby out the door.

“I’ll be back once I drop her off,” Seth assured him.

“Don’t worry,” Tom said. “I’ll protect little Lord Larry from any would-be assassins who infiltrate my living room.”

The jovial man was still laughing at his witticism as he shut the door on the pair, and Seth had bundled Libby into his car and buckled her up.

Throughout the drive, Libby seemed close to dozing, and Seth had time to consider what he’d learned. So, Liberty Sullivan was also Andrea Harper, a name even he vaguely recognized from the bestsellers lists. It did make sense, in a weird way. There were perhaps only a handful of people who really got romance the way she did – both the good and bad versions. Perhaps she was using it as an outlet to keep her from real life, as she said she hoped other women would.

After their conversations tonight, Seth finally understood it. Libby Sullivan wasn’t just a brain, or just a beautiful woman; nor was she a spinster who just hadn’t been loved – she was a person that some bastard had hurt, badly. Now why did it occur to him that he was jealous of the man who would someday get the chance to heal her?

Was it perhaps because any woman who wrote sexy books couldn’t have given up on love as much as she pretended?

“I really don’t ever do this,” Libby said again. “Get drunk, I mean.”

“I know,” he said again, softly. He was sure she didn’t. Their moment of unexpected intimacy had rattled her so much she likely didn’t notice her host continually refilling her glass, and only an inexperienced drinker would seem so oblivious to the way wine tends to creep up on a person.

At least she wasn’t slobbering drunk – mostly tired, he thought. She was able to walk steadily enough, and she managed to dig out her own keys from the ridiculously small handbag she carried when they arrived at her home.

“Well, thanks for the lift,” she said, dismissing him.

Refusing to take the hint, Seth took her keys from her stunned hands and unlocked the front door of the comfortable two-story farmhouse, planting a firm hand on the small of her back.

“I’m okay,” she said, almost seeming panicked at the thought of him coming in with her.

He suddenly noticed how close they had gotten when he could feel the warmth of her lush breasts and belly against his front. Knowing it wasn’t gentlemanly to take advantage of drunken women, he reminded himself to back off. But her eyes, round and liquid brown in the porch light, felt like they were pulling him in.

Slowly, he lowered his head, almost against his will, until his forehead brushed against hers and he could feel the hot, nervous puff of her breath. Rubbing his nose slowly against hers for a moment, he recalled himself and pulled his head back, never breaking eye contact.

Her face was pale and startled, and, feeling guilty, he cleared his throat and turned to the door, leading her past the threshold.

“I’ll just walk you in and make sure everything is okay,” he said. “I see you left some lights on, which is really smart, but…”

Suddenly, a reedy, excited voice echoed through the front hall, as a small boy in blue pajamas bolted in from the living room. “Mom!” the child shouted as he launched himself at her.

Hoisting him up, somewhat unsteadily, Libby pasted a bright smile on her drowsy face and shot a warning glance at Seth as she passed by him into the house.

“He was an angel, as usual,” an older woman said as she gathered up a bright pile of children’s books on the sofa. “But, he did refuse to go to bed until you came home.”

“I wasn’t tired,” the boy explained as his mother lowered him to his feet, rubbing his eyes in contradiction to his words. “I want to hear more about Charlotte.”

“I’m reading him Charlotte’s Web,” Libby explained to Seth briefly. “As you can see, I’m fine…”

“Who’s he?” Charlie asked, with the equanimity only children can ever achieve, as if he were completely unfazed by meeting a strange man in his living room.

“Hi,” Seth said. “I’m Seth – I know your mom from school.”

“Hi, Seth,” Charlie nodded, hiding his sleepiness but not his interest. “I’m Charlie, and I’m going to be eight soon.”

“In about five months...” Libby added out of habit.

“That’s a great age!” Seth enthused.

“Well, I think it’s time for bed,” Libby hinted to both males.

Again failing to take the bait, Seth shrugged. “Why don’t I go in and start some coffee…”

“And I should be getting on,” the woman said, cheerfully. “If I’m not home by ten, Henry might get himself another girl.”

“Thanks so much, Margaret,” Libby said, discreetly handing the woman some money as she saw her to the door. Seth wandered into the kitchen, and Libby relented and followed an exhausted Charlie up to his room.

Only three pages later, her son was out like a light, and Libby was wishing Seth was gone so she could follow suit.

But, as she returned downstairs to the smell of coffee, she had to admit it sounded like a good idea. Never a heavy drinker, alcohol always had the effect of sleepiness on her. She never managed to achieve that sense of happy euphoria so many seemed to get off booze.

“Everything okay?” Seth asked, placing a tomato-cheese sandwich and a mug of coffee on the table for her.

“Oh, yes. He just doesn’t like to sleep until I’m home, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “Kelsey, my daughter, used to be like that, too. Of course, now she’s fifteen and couldn’t care less. It’s tough being a single parent; especially when they’re teens, because then they have no one else to consider the enemy but you.”

She sat at the table, smiling awkwardly, aware he’d just unsubtly announced his single status. Suddenly her stomach growled, and she realized the sandwich was just what she needed. Foolishly, she hadn’t had any food at the party, which likely explained the quick effects of the wine.

“Aren’t you going to have one…?” she offered.

“Ah, no,” he said. “I’d love to, but I have a stuffed shirt to shepherd back to his hotel. You know, in case Al Qaeda comes after him.” Smiling, he picked up his suit jacket from the back of her chair, brushing against her arm. “But I’m happy to take you up on it some other time…?”

Confused, she wondered what he was talking about.

“Coffee? Sometime soon… We can even wait until term is over, if you want, so people don’t think I’m sleeping my way to an A.”

“But you are getting an A…” she responded, bemusedly.

“Fine, then,” he shrugged with a grin. “Then maybe tomorrow, after class?”

“For what?”

“I want to take you out, Libby,” he said, bluntly. “So, I’m asking you to go out. With me. Soon. Starting with coffee.”

“Well…”

“And I should warn you, I might not easily take no for an answer on this one.”

“Why not?”

“Shall we call it Love at First Sight?” he said, without a hint of humor.

Libby could only cough in surprise. 

Smiling at her, he said, “Eat your sandwich, and lock up after me.” And then he was gone, and Libby stared at her snack in bewilderment.

And realized she’d just made a date.

A date with someone she thought she found irresistible.

            Some women might be thrilled at that moment. For Libby, it was a disaster waiting to happen.


Join us back here on June 22 for the official grand release celebration!