Excerpts

Julie and Damon don’t know what hit them. She’s a CPA looking to cut loose and he’s a shock jock looking to reform. Neither of them is happy with their life at the moment. But when Julie begins looking into the suicide of her friend from high school that begins to look like murder, she worries that Damon is somehow involved.

Here’s an excerpt from the first book in the “Tilling Passions” series …

Damon walked behind Julie. He should be focused on her friend’s connection to Elvis, but the intoxicating sway of her hips hugged with leather made his cock throb and spiraled his thoughts in another direction. Watching the couples in the basement had been the initial impetus for his blood-pounding erection, but Julie’s luscious curves beckoned, and now his dick pressed uncomfortably against his jeans. All he could think about at the moment was burying himself in her silken heat.

Unlike Julie, this evening’s tour hadn’t taken him by surprise. Elvis had been the one to coax Damon to Maine and get him the DJ spot at the radio station. When funds had become tight two months ago, and Damon couldn’t make rent, it had been Elvis who offered to hook him up with an acting gig. Damon might have prostituted himself with the shock jock performances, but there was no way in hell he’d get his rocks off while others watched on the Internet. He’d go without food before he’d stoop that low. And that’s what it had come to. Now the radio show was paying him bonuses, and the extra appearances it brought netted him a nice living. It just wasn’t what he wanted to do. Damon had had other plans when he’d arrived in Maine.

Despite what she’d just witnessed, he knew the woman bouncing up the stairs in front of him wasn’t thinking about her sex life. He needed to get his head out of Julie’s pants and wrapped around the conundrum of Jason’s death. Damon was beginning to think Julie’s worries about her friend’s death weren’t as unfounded as they’d first appeared. It seemed Jason had tangled himself in an interesting spider’s web of deceit.

“I’m not sure it’ll help seeing one of the rooms we rent to our more passionate patrons, but knowing all of this business can’t hurt.” Elvis stopped halfway down the hotel-like hall and slid the card key into the door lock.

The room they entered looked like something out of a honeymoon brochure. The heart-shaped bed, covered in plush black velvet, dominated the space. Mirrors on the walls and ceiling reflected the red lights, settling on them like a sultry summer night. Sheer fabrics in rainbow shades looped from the ceiling and down the walls, adding to the fantasy.

“We even have cable for erotic channels and video cameras available.” Elvis pointed to the flat screen TV mounted on the near wall. “Of course, our patrons have no idea the feed for the pornography comes from one floor down.” He turned abruptly and stared down at Julie. “And before you even ask, Miss Tilling, the only taping that goes on these rooms are the movies the patrons make themselves.”

Tension eased out of Julie’s shoulders, and a smile flitted across her lips.

Elvis walked over to the wall and opened a door that revealed an opulent bathroom. “Every room comes with a Jacuzzi bathtub. Optional amenities are available for an additional fee.”

Damon didn’t even want to speculate on what other services Elvis provided.

A cell phone chimed. Julie’s autopilot sent her searching, only to come up empty. He forced himself not to dodge the daggers flying from her eyes when they locked on his. It had been selfish when he insisted she leave the phone. But no man would blame him for wanting this sexy woman all to himself.

Elvis answered the device and spoke briefly before snapping his phone shut. “Sorry, I’m needed upstairs. Seems some patrons are asking to speak with the owner.” Elvis pressed his cheek next to Julie’s and kissed the air. “I miss Jase terribly. But maybe we’re both looking for something that isn’t there.” He shook hands with Damon. “Forgive me, friend. I should never have doubted your intentions. Sometimes love and sadness warp the images right in front of us. I should have known you’d never betray me. Not with Jase or anyone.”

Damon pulled Elvis into a fierce hug before the man left them alone. Sometimes kinship had nothing to do with blood relations.

“Well, we should be going.” Julie wiped her palms down the leather molding her thighs.

“I think Elvis intended for us to enjoy the privacy.” Damon held up the keycard Elvis had slipped into his hand.

“Damon, really, it’s late and…”

Damon stood over her, the heat of his lips branding hers. “And you’re going to turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight?” He pressed his body into the supple curves of her. “That happened over an hour ago, Julie. What I see in front of me is no garden flower.” He dipped his fingers into the silken strands of the wig she’d slipped on before leaving the house and grazed her parted lips with his thumb. “I see a beautiful woman who invaded my body and thoughts less than twenty-four hours ago, and now every breath I take is filled with her scent.”

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The Healer’s Garden was my debut novel. First contract. First book cover. First release. First time I fell in love with a hero I created. Brenimyn makes me sigh. He was the subject of my fantasies years before I decided to write. That’s why he’s so special… just don’t tell my other heroes! ūüėȬ† Here’s an excerpt from one of the first times he meets our very confuse heroine, Jahara …

EXCERPT:
She slammed into the bathroom behind him. He hadn’t seen this much fight in a woman in a long time. He tried to rein in the hope blossoming in his chest. Calmly he shut the door and turned the faucets on at the sink and tub.

“Now, there may not be cameras in here, but the audio amplifiers in the other room are very sensitive,” he said. “The water will help drown out our voices, but I suggest you keep that raging storm of yours to a dull rumble.” He settled himself on the edge of the tub, crossing his arms and feet.

She wrung her hands and sputtered under her breath. The picture she created made him laugh. The rolling sound echoed off the tiles.

She stopped moving and stared at him. “What on earth could be so funny? I don’t think any of this is humorous.”

“You, Jahara. Just you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re fluttering around as if you’ve got bugs crawling on your skin and I find your nervousness over your first mating … cute.” Concern softened his voice even as his eyes searched and penetrated. “You’ve never been with a man have you?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“Oh, but it is my business.” He dropped his hands to the edge of the tub, hoping the relaxed posture would ease the tension sluicing off her in waves. “I’m the primary breeder responsible for training, and leader of the male breeding stock. When one of the partners for the first mating isn’t available, I take their place. It’s part of my responsibilities.” Of course Ishawny’s partner wouldn’t be home puking his guts out if Brenimyn hadn’t laced the man’s food with the vile medicine he’d stolen from his friend’s bag of herbs.

But Brenimyn had needed to meet this woman. He needed to know if the connection he’d felt arc between them yesterday had been real or a figment of his overzealous imagination. He’d put his plan in action the moment he’d found out she’d requested a breeding guide.

“But you’re Kylie’s mate. Even I know I can’t usurp another woman’s claim on a breeder,” she said, her doe eyes full of confusion and fear. “Why have you come to me?”

Now that was a loaded question. One he couldn’t answer without scaring her. She wasn’t ready for complete honesty. “I’m responsible for making sure the first copulation is pleasant.”

She turned from him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps we don’t need to do this tonight? You see, I’m already committed to another.” Jahara waved her ring finger in the air. “I didn’t choose to come here.”

“Jahara, few choose the Garden.” Least of all the breeders forced into slavery, he wanted to add, but knew it wasn’t prudent. “You realize you can’t put off the inevitable. Tonight, tomorrow, next week, eventually you will be expected to mate in front of the cameras.” Brenimyn wanted nothing more than to take this frightened woman into his arms and show her the strength of a man. But she wasn’t ready for what he wanted to give her.

He couldn’t resist reaching out to her with his thoughts.

Her hand fluttered to her cheek. “I…” She turned and fear flashed across her brow.

“Jahara, being with a man isn’t so horrible.” He rose and walked to her, his hand stroking the spot his mind had touched. “Don’t you feel the chemistry between us?” A frisson of awareness sparked from her cheek up his arm. His suspicions were confirmed. Jahara was the one who’d been sent to fulfill his destiny.

This excerpt is from Arranging Love, the third book in the Tilling Passions series. Meghan and Peter are engaged, but looking for something just a little hotter …

Meghan held Peter’s gift in her lap, sipping at the wine, which was going down faster than she’d anticipated. Now that she’d been staring at it for several hours, she had to admit it was a beautiful book.

Artistic nudes of women, bound in different positions and photographed in a myriad of locations, filled the pages. Every one of them was a tribute to the power and joy of human sexuality. There was nothing sordid or deviant about the images. They were beautiful–and sensuous.

Meghan sat on the couch in the office at home, the feeble glow of the lamp wrapping her in a soft cocoon of light. She flipped through the images until she found the picture that continued to draw her attention.

A young woman lay prone on her back in a wine cellar. Candles flickered in the crevices of the cement room. Sunlight sifted through a small window, shafting light on her body curved gracefully over two wine casks. Her arms were bound to a post behind her head while ropes secured her ankles. Her legs were pulled wide, exposing labia that were swollen and glistening with moisture. Her bottom lip was clenched tightly between very white teeth as if holding back a moan of pleasure.

A deeply tanned man stood beside her, the muscles of his chest lean and well-defined. A partial leather mask shielded his identity. The lower half of his body was hidden by the barrels, leaving the observer to speculate on his nudity and level of arousal. But if the steepled points of their nipples were any indication, both partners were sexually charged. In his left hand he held a whip-like instrument made of many tails of leather.

The woman’s heavy-lidded eyes stared up at him, anticipating the next move of his right hand currently splayed on her inner thigh. The soft smile on the man’s face spoke of love and tender lust. This was not a couple intent on pain and amoral behavior. This was a woman surrendering herself to her lover and allowing him to bring her to that sacred place of euphoria.

Her fingers grazed over the picture as if touching the couple would reveal their innermost desires. Peter chose that moment to come slamming through the front door, the chill of the evening swirling around him as he stamped his feet on the Aubusson rug.

“Damn that friggin’ garage door opener.”

Setting down the wine glass, she padded into the foyer. “I couldn’t get it to work, either.” Her voice was soft in the darkness. “No snow’s coming tonight. The cars’ll be fine in the drive. We can mess with it tomorrow.” She hugged the book to her chest, wondering how they would break through the wall of tension that had been erected that morning.

Peter focused on hanging his coat in the closet. “I pressed the button, but the stupid thing doesn’t move.” He shut the door and stepped toward her. “I just need to check and see if it needs batteries, rewiring, or replacing.” Resting his hands on her shoulders, he bent and brushed his lips across hers. There was no heat, just routine. “A mechanical engineer should be able to figure out his own garage door, for chrissake.”

She had to agree. It had been working sporadically for at least two weeks, but Peter hadn’t been home long enough to know that and pointing it out at this moment didn’t seem like it would help span a chasm of disagreement.

Peter looked over her shoulder at the half bottle of wine and the empty wine glass. “You started without me?”

She pointed behind her at the second glass. “Actually, I was waiting for you.”

“Meghan, I…” Peter pulled the book from her hand. “You’ve been looking at it?” His gaze roamed from the book to her eyes.

Her fingers moved on their own volition, reaching up to caress the firm muscles of his chest. “Peter, I’m sorry. It was very shortsighted of me not to listen to you this morning.”

“No, Meggie. I shouldn’t have jumped you like that.” He held the book up. “This isn’t something couples just plunge into. It should be discussed and negotiated and discussed some more.”

“Well, then, I’d like to discuss page seventy-eight.” Meghan stretched up on her toes and pulled his bottom lip into her mouth, grazing it with her teeth.

“You don’t have to…”

“No, I don’t have to do anything, but after I calmed down and thought about it, I realized there are probably a lot of couples who find this very satisfying.” She kissed his goofy grin. “And Jules said she and Damon…”

“You talked to your sister about it?” He laughed even as he pulled her to him. “How we men face each other, knowing nothing is sacred among the Tilling sisters, is beyond me.”

Meghan ground her pubic bone against his growing erection. “As I was saying, Jules said it can be fun and add a little spice to things.”

The room spun pleasantly as Peter scooped her into his arms. “Well, if your older sister gave her blessing, who am I to deny my fianc√©e the thrill of domination?”

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From my novella Blue Moon Rising in the Furry, Fluffy & Wild anthology. Since I recently signed a new contract for a new shifter menage novel I thought I’d give you a taste of my first shifter story.

“You all right?” Cole bent to scratch behind the dog’s ears before untying his hiking boots and toeing out of them.

Jayda lifted a shoulder and fought to control the tears burning to be set free. “I’ve never seen a dead person, let alone one…” She didn’t want to remember how the man had died so violently.

“I hate to have you go through it all, but I need you to tell me everything that happened from the time you left the tavern last night…” He sat in the chair next to the couch. Too far to be of any comfort. “Until you found the body this morning.”

She wanted to have Cole hold her and tell her it would be all right, but the kind face that had made her swoon last night had become a hard mask of professionalism. Jayda sank onto the couch and told him everything.

“That’s it?” Cole asked.

Jayda looked at him. “What else would there be?”

“You don’t remember seeing the kid at the Bull?”

“I already told you I didn’t.” After thirty minutes of repeating her story, Jayda watched Cole tuck away his notepad. When he turned back to her, his features softened.

“I believe you, Jayda.” He reached for her hand, still gripping the coffee mug like a life preserver. “You got more of that?”

“In the kitchen.” On autopilot, Jayda stepped around the couch and through the dining area to the kitchen nook. Only the ticking of Lady’s nails on the wood floor followed her. She hoped Cole was also there.

The smell of burned coffee assaulted her nose. “It’s old. Let me make some more.” With shaky hands, she reached for the pot, the decanter bumping several times against the machine.

“Don’t.” Cole came up behind Jayda, his hand covering hers, and he guided the coffeepot back into place and snapped it off. The solid planes of his body were warm against her back. Jayda leaned against him, wanting nothing more than to fall under his spell again.

He turned her to face him, and she looked up into the compassion filling his eyes.

She touched the bruise on his cheek.

“Gift from the kids’ brawling last night. I forgot to duck.” Cole took her hand and kissed her fingertips. “It’s going to be all right,” he said.

“Is it? Is a person ever the same after finding a human being slaughtered?” The tears she’d held at bay trailed rivulets down her cheeks.

Cole sandwiched her face in his hands and wiped the tears with his thumbs. When he bent close, she closed her eyes, anticipating the softness of his lips on hers. He didn’t disappoint. The heat of his mouth seared through her, and she opened to him, inviting his tongue to delve in to taste and explore. He tasted of fresh mountain air and something uniquely his. And it was there again–flowing over her with the power of a tidal wave–the feeling of being swaddled by the quintessence of Cole. It wasn’t just the heat of his arms around her, or the solid wall of him pressing against her from breastbone to knee, but the complete meshing of her life force with his. The thought was insane. Lust did not bond you to another.

She wanted him only because he was there and familiar and obviously willing to partake in another interlude if that’s what she wanted. Whatever Cole felt for her didn’t matter. All she wanted at the moment was to feel alive, and since men just didn’t turn down sex, she’d enjoy whatever Cole offered.

“This is wrong, to want you so badly, but I can’t help myself. Tell me to stop now, and I will.” His teeth nipped at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “I’ll die a slow, agonizing death, but I’ll stop,” Cole whispered.

So, I’m going to start a new weekend blog post. Saturday selections. I rarely post excerpts from my books. So for the next few months I’ll offer snippets¬†from my various books. This week’s selection is from my futuristic erotic suspense, The Healer’s Garden. Please enjoy …

She slammed into the bathroom behind him. He hadn’t seen this much fight in a woman in a long time. He tried to rein in the hope blossoming in his chest. Calmly he shut the door and turned the faucets on at the sink and tub.

“Now, there may not be cameras in here, but the audio amplifiers in the other room are very sensitive,” he said. “The water will help drown out our voices, but I suggest you keep that raging storm of yours to a dull rumble.” He settled himself on the edge of the tub, crossing his arms and feet.

She wrung her hands and sputtered under her breath. The picture she created made him laugh. The rolling sound echoed off the tiles.

She stopped moving and stared at him. “What on earth could be so funny? I don’t think any of this is humorous.”

“You, Jahara. Just you.”

“What about me?”

“You’re fluttering around as if you’ve got bugs crawling on your skin and I find your nervousness over your first mating … cute.” Concern softened his voice even as his eyes searched and penetrated. “You’ve never been with a man have you?”

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.”

“Oh, but it is my business.” He dropped his hands to the edge of the tub, hoping the relaxed posture would ease the tension sluicing off her in waves. “I’m the primary breeder responsible for training, and leader of the male breeding stock. When one of the partners for the first mating isn’t available, I take their place. It’s part of my responsibilities.” Of course Ishawny’s partner wouldn’t be home puking his guts out if Brenimyn hadn’t laced the man’s food with the vile medicine he’d stolen from his friend’s bag of herbs.

But Brenimyn had needed to meet this woman. He needed to know if the connection he’d felt arc between them yesterday had been real or a figment of his overzealous imagination. He’d put his plan in action the moment he’d found out she’d requested a breeding guide.

“But you’re Kylie’s mate. Even I know I can’t usurp another woman’s claim on a breeder,” she said, her doe eyes full of confusion and fear. “Why have you come to me?”

Now that was a loaded question. One he couldn’t answer without scaring her. She wasn’t ready for complete honesty. “I’m responsible for making sure the first copulation is pleasant.”

She turned from him, her voice barely above a whisper. “Perhaps we don’t need to do this tonight? You see, I’m already committed to another.” Jahara waved her ring finger in the air. “I didn’t choose to come here.”

“Jahara, few choose the Garden.” Least of all the breeders forced into slavery, he wanted to add, but knew it wasn’t prudent. “You realize you can’t put off the inevitable. Tonight, tomorrow, next week, eventually you will be expected to mate in front of the cameras.” Brenimyn wanted nothing more than to take this frightened woman into his arms and show her the strength of a man. But she wasn’t ready for what he wanted to give her.

He couldn’t resist reaching out to her with his thoughts.

Her hand fluttered to her cheek. “I…” She turned and fear flashed across her brow.

“Jahara, being with a man isn’t so horrible.” He rose and walked to her, his hand stroking the spot his mind had touched. “Don’t you feel the chemistry between us?” A frisson of awareness sparked from her cheek up his arm. His suspicions were confirmed. Jahara was the one who’d been sent to fulfill his destiny.

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It’s been a fairly productive week. I’ve been having a lot of difficulties with my current story. It keeps holding me up. I know I should probably set it aside and work on something else, but it’s about 3/4 finished and I’d just like to get through it and be done.

One of the things for me about this first draft is that I often don’t know exactly how the crime happened, I mean, I have an inkling of who did it¬†and why, but the exact details elude me. In two of my books, I thought a particular person was the murderer, but near the end of my first draft someone else stepped forward and confessed. Wow! It was a shocker! My conscious mind hadn’t known, but because my stories¬†flow organically, I¬†let the characters lead me where they may and someone else emerged as the bad guy. Of course in both instances I had to go back and rewrite portions of the story to keep the villain’s identities a secret and yet make sure were¬†hints for the reader.¬†No one likes to get to the end of a suspense story and be blind sided. Misled, yes … but tricked … not so much!

I do love that part though. If I didn’t see it coming then how could my readers? Since I just got the goooorgeous cover for Heart’s Afire, the firefighter anthology which includes my vampire suspense novella, Shadows of Fire, I thought I’d leave you today with a little excerpt from chapter one. Enjoy! I’m off to see what trouble my wolfies are getting into and make myself finish that sucker!

EXCERPT from Shadows of Fire:

It wasn’t much of a noise, just a dull thud in the night. But it was enough to pull Professor Paul Morgan from his slumber. Heavy with the arms of Morpheus still around him, his blood thick with sleeping medication, Paul wasn’t sure what had roused him. But when it came again, a muffled bang from downstairs, followed oddly enough by the sound of rushing wind, he knew he needed to investigate.

Swiping at his eyes, Paul tried unsuccessfully to push away the last strands of drowsiness still clinging to his mind. Something deep in the pit of his stomach told him what had woken him had nothing to do with Zeus, his mischievous tabby and only companion since his wife had died nearly thirty years ago. Swinging his feet to the floor, Paul stepped into his leather slippers and grabbed his robe from the hope chest at the foot of his bed. Scurrying from the bedroom, fear and urgency pushed him forward.

The eerie orange glow emanating from his den at the foot of the stairs brought bile to his throat. Everything near and dear to him was in that room; his wife’s portrait, the marble Sphinx from their trip to Egypt, the antique bookcase she’d given him when he’d gotten the position at the university-the bronzed baby shoes. His feet barely touched the treads as he rushed down the stairs, caution and prudence gone with the desperate need to salvage his memories.

He came up short at the threshold. Swallowing hard, he tried to dislodge the heart stuck in his throat. A fire crackled safely in the fireplace across the room, the dancing flames sending a ballet of mesmerizing shadows along the paneled walls and casting the room in an otherworldly radiance. Fingers of fear lifted the hairs on the back of his neck. 

A quick glance at his desk in the corner reassured him his research was also safe, but did nothing to assuage his fears. The papers he’d left stacked neatly for the magistrate’s office lay strewn about. The monitor of his computer silhouetted the head of a person sitting at his desk.

“Who are you? Wha … wha … what are doing?”

There was no response save for the clicking of computer keys.

“I’ll call the police.” Paul said.¬†

A maniacal laugh rent the stillness, sending a chill of terror down his spine.

“No, Professor Morgan. We both know you can not do that.” With a flourish, a hand came down hard on the keyboard. The monitor flicked rapidly through several screens before going black.

“What have you done?” Paul rushed to the desk, a wave of nausea rolling hotly in his chest and bringing water to his eyes. Everything. Everything was on that computer.

I didn’t want it to happen this way.” The words carried sadness, but the face that turned to stare at him was pure evil. A face he barely recognized. “You really shouldn’t have been quite so diligent in your research you know. I’ve sent obvious warnings, hoping to push you from this foolhardy course for months. But you wouldn’t heed the signs.” The clicking tongue scolded him as if he were an obstinate child. Fingers steepled in front of lips thin with hatred. “A shame really. I will miss your friendly manner. But you have become too much of a liability for me to allow you to live.”

“You can’t get away with this.”

“Oh, I think we both know … I have … and I will again.” The monster slowly standing before him wasn’t the amicable person he’d known for decades. This person had morphed into a heinous murderer-a murderer with no conscience and a moral compass that pointed straight to hell.¬†

Paul threw back his shoulders. Though he understood he would not survive this night, he would accept his fate with dignity. “I’ve already sent a copy of all of that to my lawyer.” His hand waved at the papers on the desk. “He knows. He knows and understands everything. He is painfully aware of our strained relationship. None of this will stop with my death.” Paul was pleased he could push the lie steadily through the panic clogging his throat.

“Please, don’t insult my intelligence.” The murderer gathered the papers on the desk and tapped them on its polished cherry surface, elegant fingers aligning the edges before setting them neatly in a pile. “We both know these are the only copies. And we both understand what is to come is inevitable. Preordained if you will¬† …” The smile was reptilian as if Satan himself had taken possession of this wayward soul.

“You won’t get away with this.” Paul was repeating himself, but terror had stripped him of coherent thought.

“But I already have.” Something small flew from the long fingers. Blue flames erupted in the fireplace. A ball of fire jumped to the leather chair next to the hearth. Another flew to the Aubusson rug he and his wife had gotten on their honeymoon fifty years ago.

“Stop!”

“What you began … I will finish tonight.”

Paul lunged for the decorative throw on back of the couch, intent on pounding the growing flames into submission.

Another burst of evil laughter split the air as the glass vase on the hearth exploded in the growing heat. “That’s right old man. Try to stop it.”

Paul brought the blanket down hard on the fire spreading like a sickness across the rug. The thick smoke choking the air filled his nose and burned his lungs. It was no use. The flames were spreading faster than he could control them. He needed to get out. Abandoning the blanket, he turned to run.

He saw the small ottoman only seconds before it crashed down on his world.

*copyright Nina Pierce 2009*

It’s finally here! I didn’t think we’d ever get to today! But Monday, September 15 at 7:00 pm EDT, Furry, Fluffy, and Wild will finally be available from Liquid Silver Books! Yaaay! I’m so excited.

Back in February or so, Celia Kyle put out a call to other authors interested in participating in a shifter anthology. I jumped through the crowd of authors with my hand waving madly in the air and shouted “Me, me … pick me!” When I fell at her feet grovelling and make a fool of myself, how could she say no?

Celia and Tina are amazing writers with a ton of work under their belts and I feel very proud to be included in an anthology with them. All of our stories involve wolf shifters …

and plus size women. (I know, the cover doesn’t actually reflect that … but you’re going to have to trust me on this one.)

My novella, Blue Moon Rising, is an erotic suspense story.

Could a woman’s past decide a man’s future?

Tension between the cougar and wolf shifters in Lonesome Fork, Montana is spiraling out of control. With the full moon only days away and fear and the body count rising, Chief of Police, and head of the wolf shifter council, Cole Takoda is trying to bring peace to both humans and shifters alike. But with the head of the cougar council, Kurt Hansley, thwarting his attempts, it appears nothing will heal the growing rift. When orphan Jayda Kynslan strolls into town, rumors of polymorphic shifters come to life begin to circulate.

Two men want to claim Jayda as mate: one will stand with her and unite the shifter clans; the other will possess her and reign supreme over the human population. With the Blue Moon Rising Jayda’s decision will determine the future for all of them.

Here’s a brief excerpt:
Cole stared at Jayda’s ass as she sashayed her way to the door. Damn, she had him hot under the collar. He’d wanted to follow her immediately, but the tented fly of his Levi’s would make their intention a little obvious. It wouldn’t do for the Chief of Police to be caught in a compromising situation. When she’d bent in close, the scent and heat of her overwhelming his senses, his body had jumped to attention. Decorum and judicious prudence aside, he needed to be with her. Had she known she’d have that effect? Was this some kind of setup?

He finished his beer in one great swallow and banged it down on the bar just as the door closed behind Jayda. She hadn’t even turned around to see if he was following. Maybe she hadn’t meant what she’d said. Part of him hoped that was the case. Then he’d only have to see her safely to her car, and this whole thing would be over. There was only one way to find out what she intended. His cock led the way.

“Hey, champ, it’s cold outside. You’ll need this.” Aaron stood at the entry between the two rooms holding Cole’s leather jacket. The smile on his face was nonjudgmental.

“Shit,” Cole said as he snatched the jacket and shrugged into it. They’d been friends since their days on the reservation. Aaron would be the only one who’d know it was lust as much as fear contorting his face.

Aaron smiled. “Shit is right. Be careful, man.”

Now that he’d made the decision, Cole headed for the door. He wondered if he’d waited too long, and she’d left. That thought moved him more quickly. He’d have no way of finding Jayda if she walked out his life tonight. He had no intention of letting that happen until he knew exactly what had brought her to Lonesome Fork.

The night air slapped him in the face the moment he walked out the door. He scanned the lot, panic sweeping through him with each pass.

“Over here.” Jayda’s quiet voice called from around a truck parked in front of the tavern and off to his right. He smiled at her from the other side of the hood.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

The brassy woman who’d propositioned him in the bar had once again morphed into a timid debutante. If not for her voice and the breathtaking smile she flashed, he wouldn’t have known the bashful person holding keys in her hands was capable of offering an uninhibited sexual escapade in her car.

“Jayda, why don’t we go sit in my car?” Reason found its way back to his consciousness. “It’s in the back corner away from the lights.” Police Chiefs didn’t boff strangers in the parking lot of the local tavern. But no one could fault him for finding a place for a quiet chat with a suspicious stranger, and at this moment, conversation was all he intended.

“Sure.” She lifted a shoulder with the lilt in her voice.

She came around the back of the truck, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. Jayda laid her head in the crook of his shoulder. She molded against him like her body had been made for his.

Cole’s body reacted again to her proximity; the blood rushing to his dick made it hard to think like a gentleman. “We don’t have to do this. I’d understand if you want to back out.”

Stopping, she looked up at him. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I … I mean, yes.” Damn, this woman tied his tongue in knots. “What I mean is … if you’re having second thoughts about being alone with me…”

Her hand snaked into the front of his jacket and pinched his nipple. “Not even sort of. Now, which car is yours?”

Cole hit the button on the remote starter, and the lights flashed.

Jayda clapped her hands and ran into the shadows. “Oh, such a shame, you have bucket seats, I guess we’ll have to snuggle in the back.” She didn’t even turn around before climbing in, her curvaceous ass disappearing a moment before he reached the Saab.

And of course what would one of books be without a book trailer:

The last novella in the Tilling Passions series, ARRANGING LOVE, is out today! June 30th. Yippee!

And don’t be jealous, but the first copy, hot off the press goes to Mima Dixon who has a part (or two) in this story!

Here’s the back cover blurb:

He never believed love was unconditional. She never expected the ties that bind would be found at the end of a flogger …

ARRANGING LOVE, the final novella in the Tilling Passions series, finds florist, MEGHAN TILLING, questioning the true impetus for her fianc√©’s frequent business seminars and sudden interest in bondage. Could her sisters be right in claiming Peter’s out-of-town trips have more to do with clandestine meetings rather than work commitments? Should Meghan let go of decorum and allow herself the pleasures of deviant sex?

PETER MADDOCK loves his fianc√©e, but when an online Dominatrix awakens the darker side of his sexual fantasies, he can’t help but seek her out at a private BDSM party. When several accidents threaten Meghan’s life, Peter fears he’s opened their lives to a stalker. Will he be able to protect his fianc√©e without revealing secrets that may threaten everything and everyone he’s come to love?

Can Peter and Meghan explore their innermost desires and discover the answers to her father’s illness ¬†… all without losing their lives? ¬†

~*~*~  And an EXCERPT from Chapter One:~*~*~

Meghan Tilling blew out a puff of frustration, sending wisps of chestnut curls out of her face. Straightening, she pressed fists into her lower back, working out the tension hours of floral arranging had knit into her muscles.

Usually, she loved the holiday season: long hours filling orders and delivering flower arrangements to smiling customers, the bustle of shoppers in the stores, the smell of balsam and cinnamon wafting about the floral shop of Tilling Gardens and Plants that she co-owned with her sisters, and the joy of being with her family. Normally all of the busy-ness combined to make her warm with nostalgia and giddy with anticipation, but not this year.

She couldn’t enjoy any of it. Not with her father so sick and Peter’s promotion. It all just sucked.

Her misery had worked itself into a throb that pounded in her temples with the rhythm of the hard-rock music blaring from the radio at the end of the workbench. And though it sent spasms of dull pain shooting behind her eyes, Meghan couldn’t bring herself to shut it off. Without it, silence would surround her like an unwelcome chill, opening her heart to the loneliness, and she’d find it impossible to go home to an empty house–again.

She stared at her reflection in the dark window over the bench. Despair stared back at her.

Even though she couldn’t see outside, Meghan knew the snow still fell. The Thanksgiving blizzard that began last week heralded the beginning of a very long winter. Well, officially November still counted as fall, but not here in Maine. In her hometown of Delmont, winter began with the first gentle snow flakes and ended when the last snow bank finally turned to mud–usually around Easter.

This year, winter had arrived with a vengeance, pummeling New England with back-to-back storms that had knocked out power and clogged all public transportation, including the plane carrying Peter Maddock, her fiancé, home from the engineering conference in Philadelphia.

Meghan chided herself for not closing the shop early and heading home to the warmth of a fire. The floral arrangements for the Anderton wedding could wait. There would be plenty of time to finish them tomorrow for delivery on Saturday morning. But the thought of a white-knuckled drive and an empty bed just depressed her more, and she decided to stay and finish the rest; twenty centerpieces for the reception, eighteen pew markers, seven wrist corsages and fourteen boutonnières for the family. The bouquets were already complete.

BUY YOUR COPY. 

Yay! I’m so excited! The second book in¬†the Tilling Passions series is coming TODAY!

BLURB:

DEA agent, AYDEN SCOTT, is determined to bring down the drug cartel smuggling heroin into central Maine. Undercover as Austin Shaeffer, Ayden is working as lead investigator for the first time since the debacle in Miami that killed his younger brother. He will use any means necessary to extract information, including seducing the feisty red head, DEIRDRE TILLING, who is employed by the suspected drug baron. But can he become embroiled in a sexual liaison while keeping his men safe and his identity secret?

Landscaping in the rural Maine town of Delmont hasn’t always been DEIRDRE TILLING’S only passion. Up until two months ago, it included her lover, Brianna. A bisexual, Deirdre has cultivated romances with both sexes, only to find hurt and disappointment her only bounty. Now, she’d like to give up on love. But with everyone in her family in a committed relationship, will Deirdre be able to find satisfaction in the sexual release offered in one-night stands or will she continue to seek out the emotional stability only a monogamous relationship can offer?

Love’s Bounty unravels the mystery of the torrid relationship between a cop bent on proving himself and a woman struggling with her sexuality and the subsequent discovery of drug running up the Maine coast.

Please enjoy this EXCERPT:

Cautious, and working to keep his jangled nerves from pumping his legs in a dead run, Ayden strolled to the shelter of the dinghy. The noise grew louder. Ayden realized he wasn’t moving away from the sound; he was aimed toward it. What a fool. It was a beautiful fall night. Lovers were using the upended craft for a little sex party of their own.

Turning on his heel, he started to walk away, and the noise came again. It wasn’t the moan of sexual pleasure. It was the keening sound of sadness. Someone was crying. And from the quiet hiccuping, it was female. Christ, he didn’t need this right now.

He pushed at the hair blowing in his eyes. Swiveling his head, he debated between the refuge of the path and the complications in the boat. Chivalry won out. He stepped warily around the bow.

The redhead sat on the wooden slats, her bare feet digging restlessly in the sand, her face cupped in her hands. Between shuddering breaths, she sputtered angrily into her bent knees, but her tears and her fingers kept the words from him.

“Uh-hmm.” He cleared his throat, not knowing how else to get her attention.

“Holy shit–” She tried to jump to her feet, but banged her head on the iron rigging attached to the upside of the boat. She fell down hard. “Crap.” Her hand flew to her head.

“I’m sorry, you okay?” Ayden reached for her, but she shook him off.

“I’m fine.”

She looked up at him. Even in the pale light, he could see the anguish in her eyes.

“Actually, I’m not all right.” She pushed herself up, ducking her head away from the oarlock. She wiped at the sand on her bottom. “You scared the living shit right out of me.”

Biting back a smile, Ayden watched her glistening tears turn into fury. That he could handle. An angry woman was one hundred times easier to placate than a despondent one.

“Again, I apologize.” He held out his hand to her. “Austin Shaeffer.” How easily that name slipped off his tongue.

“Deirdre Tilling,” she said as she slipped her hand into his.

Her grip was surprisingly firm. Ayden liked the touch of her palm against his skin. Not all soft and pliant, but callused and rough. He wondered how it would feel running up his back. His body came to full attention with those thoughts.

She was a beautiful woman. Her breasts swelled enticingly just above the bodice of her dress. Her long, muscular legs that he’d admired in the great room, started somewhere around her neck. No wonder Jameson had been seducing this lovely creature.

Jameson. Right. He mentally shook his head. Focus, Ayden. Tonight was about gathering information, not sexual conquests. But then again, there was that two birds and one stone thing.

“You come to Jameson’s parties often?” His voice sounded more at ease than he felt.

She pulled her hand from his and rubbed at the spot on her head. “What? Jameson? Oh, Shawn. No, never been to one of his parties. I’m one of his employees. Damn, this hurts. It’s already forming an egg.”

Ayden ignored the fact she’d called him Shawn. He urged his cock to relax. Obviously, he wasn’t getting any action from an employee who referred to her boss by his first name.

“Here, let me take a look at it.” He ran his fingers through her hair. It was soft as silk sliding over his hand. How good would that feel on his belly and thighs? His balls pulled up tight to his body. “Oh, yeah. You did a nice job. Probably could use a little ice.” At this rate, so could he, but not on the head on his shoulders.

I did a nice job? Me? You were the one sneaking up like some pirate looking for a lost treasure.”
She had no idea how close to the truth she was.

**

I luurrv this couple. They are so broken …¬†each in their own way. But in their brokenness they find one another. But it’s those same flaws that nearly tear them apart.

In a romance, I enjoy reading about strong men with vulnerabilities, especially when the heroine is the one to expose them. I just sigh and fall in love with them even as they fall in love with each other.

What kind of relationships do you like reading about?

Anyone who comments here on my blog between now and 8 pm EDT on Tuesday, May 20 will be thrown into a hat. I will draw a random name and they will receive a free download of the first book in the Tilling Passions series, Blind Love.

So I’m snoopy dancing all over the house, waiting for 7 pm¬†EDT tonight, when Love’s Bounty will be available.

Click HERE to buy your copy!

Mark you calendar for MONDAY, APRIL 21!

Blind Love will be released from Liquid Silver Books!

This is the first book in the Tilling Passions Series. I love this series. It was a labor of love to discover the stories these three sisters had to tell.

Blind Love is the story of two people working to break free of the molds they’ve been forced into. In the process of finding their way, they find each other.

Back Cover Copy:
In BLIND LOVE, book one of the Tilling Passions series, uptight CPA and oldest sister, JULIE TILLING, is the glue that binds her family. When her friend from high school dies, Julie is the only one who believes he didn’t commit suicide and takes it upon herself to investigate his death. Her search for answers finds her flirting on the fringes of internet pornography. But will Julie’s desire to find a killer and experience a sexual awakening push her moral boundaries to the breaking point?

DAMON COREY didn’t come to Maine to become shock jock, Demon Jones. When his dream career of becoming a concert pianist seems unobtainable, the radio station’s offer is too good to pass up. After mysterious brunette, Jewel, hooks up with him at the night club run by a college frat brother their one night fling wraps around his heart and won’t loosen its talons.

Will Julie and Damon’s secrets unravel the tenuous threads of their relationship? Can Damon expose his inner soul without pushing Julie away or will his enigmatic Demon Jones persona become Julie’s sexual undoing and reveal him as the missing piece that solves the puzzling questions surrounding her friend’s death?

Excerpt:
Julie stopped contemplating her toes and stared straight at him. Emotions fluttered over her face and clouded her eyes, but he didn’t know her well enough to read between the lines. He’d just met this wonderful woman. He hadn’t intended to scare her off.

“Julie, I…”

“No, Damon. You don’t have to apologize. I get it.”

Okay, this emotion he understood. The lady was pissed. But a crude remark shouldn’t elicit this response.

“You have a lot of women available to you, I’m sure they’re much more experienced than me. There’s no reason to make fun.” The anger flashed in her eyes. “You weren’t really expecting the person you found at the family homestead?” She emphasized the last two words as if they were obscenities. “The Jewel of last night was more your speed. I get that.”

“No, Julie, I…”

Her hand flew up between them. “No, Damon, you don’t owe me anything. Obviously my father dragged you into an uncomfortable situation. Well, you’ve done your social obligation. I’m home safe and sound. I didn’t mean to disappoint, but I have a hard time living up to everyone’s expectations of who I should be. So, thanks. I get it. Good night.” The helmet landed in his lap.

“No, Julie, really, you don’t understand.” He yelled at her retreating back. “Julie, wait.” Damon attempted to jump from the bike, but the stand wasn’t down, and his lap held the extra helmet. “Damn it all to hell. Julie…” He finally managed to extricate himself from the bike and the helmets and caught her just as she pushed open the front door. “Please. I think you’ve misunderstood. Just give me a minute to explain. Then I’ll leave.”

Her arms knotted across her chest for protection. A wounded heart? He’d have to tread carefully. The emerald eyes shimmering in the waning light telegraphed her pain, but her lips were pursed thin with determination. The woman was a walking enigma. Damon suspected she had no idea how damn sexy she looked standing there, inviting him to explain himself–daring him to breach her defenses.

“Look, Julie. I’m not going to lie to you. Demon Jones is very popular with the ladies. Damon Corey … not so much. If you’re looking for the person I was last night, well, you’re in for a big surprise. He’s as fake as Santa Claus.”

“I still believe in Santa Claus.”

She would. “The Easter bunny, then.”

“But he doesn’t try to pass himself off as anything but the chocolate peddler that he is. I don’t think any hearts have ever been broken by the Easter bunny.”

“Julie…” Damon’s hand found its way to her cheek, his fingers tangling in her hair. She smelled earthy and fresh, and he gulped in great breaths of heaven, not sure he could ever completely fill his lungs. When he pressed his lips to hers, she didn’t resist. Julie opened to him, and their tongues meshed and explored, and he walked her backward into the living room and shut out the neighbor’s prying eyes.

“Damon.” The husky way she spoke sent blood rushing from his head straight to his throbbing dick. He wanted her like no woman he’d known.

“Julie, I haven’t stopped thinking about you all day. You crawled into my head last night, and all I’ve thought about is how to get a repeat performance.”

She pulled from him, her lips swollen from his assault. “I don’t do this…” Her hand stirred the heated air between them. “…very well. I’ve been told I’m not good at it. I think you lucked out last night.”

He scooped her into his arms. “Oh, you let me be the judge of that. And your bedroom would be where?” He was already heading down the hall.

*sigh*

I hope you enjoy reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing¬†it. And here’s the book trailer for the series on the off chance you’ve haven’t seen it the other two times I posted it! LOL!

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