New Release: Brute

 

Bianca is flattered to have gained the attention of the alpha from a neighboring pack, until she finds out he expects her to fall in line with all his plans without question. She isn’t going to be his mate simply because he wants her, even if he is an alpha. She makes it clear that he’s going to have to do more than growl the word “mine” to convince her to give him a chance. When he proves he’s willing to jump through more than one hoop to get her attention, she has to decide how far she wants to go. Will she be satisfied with a few unforgettable nights, or will she agree to be his because she can’t imagine him not belonging completely to her?

 

 

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Reluctant Groom Anthology Coming This Summer!

 I'll have a story in Evernight Publishing's Reluctant Groom anthology, which should be released in June.

Tale As Old As Time: Given to the Beast by Adam Charles

Welcome to my blog! This month, I'm showcasing lots of retellings of Beauty and the Beast, one of my favorite fairy tales. Today we have a dark fantasy version, Given to the Beast by Adam Charles.

Michael has never been afraid of any challenge. When the tyrannical beast that rules his land demands a mate—a strong, virile man—Michael volunteers. He does so to save his village from the creature’s wrath and prevent the beast from following through with his threat and coming in the night to steal a mate. He goes to the castle certain he knows exactly what he’s in store for, but what he actually finds changes his life forever.

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Excerpt:

Michael stepped out of the tub and watched the rivulets of water flowing down his body and wetting the ground. He dried himself carefully. The strong sage soap he’d washed in smelled too strong for his own taste, but it was traditional. Beyond the high fence, he could hear people whispering. Small groups had been gathering near his home all day. What were they all thinking? He had volunteered, of course, but he imagined everyone had a different idea as to why.

Turning his gaze toward the castle, he sighed. He knew many probably thought he was heartbroken over his wife’s death, but they had never been in love. It had saddened him to lose the woman who had been his companion for two years, but Daria had only been a friend. She’d been in love with another man, one who had abandoned her. She and Michael had only lain together a dozen or so times. They had cared for each other, but never truly loved each other.

Michael began to dress in the leather breeches and tunic he’d been instructed to put on. He would go to the castle with nothing else. All would be provided there, he’d been told. It had only been a week since the last girl had come back. Two months ago, the tyrannical beast that ruled their land had demanded a mate. He’d sent every single girl away, but this time, the girl had come back to her people with a message.

The beast didn’t want another timid maiden. He wanted a strong, muscular male.

Everyone had been shocked and insisted the girl’s brain was addled. She’d produced a handwritten note, which had been put on display in the square. Michael had ruminated for two days before going to the village elders and volunteering. Then they’d all thought he was the one who was addled. But by the end of the night, they’d agreed, finally understanding that no one else would go willingly. The creature that dwelled in the shadows of the castle would come down at sunset and steal a mate for himself if one was not given to him today. The last time they’d defied the beast, there had been bloodshed. Michael had been too young to understand what had happened, and no one liked talking about it. The creature had also once used his sorcery to block out the sun for three days. Michael had always respected the beast’s power but never feared him.

Michael thought about the beast as he straightened his tunic, which had no laces in front and fit him snugly to show off his chest and abs. He ran his hand down his body and wondered how it would feel to be touched by a clawed hand. The mysterious beast that had ruled over them since before Michael’s birth was taller and more broad shouldered than Michael. He never wore anything more than boots and leather breeches. His body was covered in short black fur, yet he was muscular just like ordinary humans. The strength of those muscles could be seen any time he exerted himself. His face was like a lion’s, his yellow eyes piercing and his hair a dark, wild mane. His rounded, cat-like ears swiveled to take in sound, and people often stayed quiet when he was near, out of fear. He was like something out of a fairy story, as if a man had killed a beast and then clothed himself in the pelt. He had fangs and could roar when provoked. The sound was not as loud or bold as a true beast’s, but it scared everyone nonetheless. One-inch claws tipped his fingers. Some of the girls had come back with faint scratches on their bodies.

“Michael?”

Michael turned to see Joshua, one of the elders, looking at him. “It’s time?”

Joshua nodded. “Yes, the carriage is ready.”

Michael felt the people watching him, and even as they whispered their concerns, he knew they were all relieved.

They set off, and Joshua gazed out the window as they wound up the hill to the castle. “It’s a brave thing you’re doing.”

“We can’t fight the beast. It might kill again if we don’t do what it asks. It’s better that I go willingly than that some youth is dragged from his bed tonight. Or a father taken from his family.”

“Yes, it is better.” He sighed and then added, “It harmed none of the girls at least.”

“But it frightened them all half to death. I don’t frighten so easily.”

“You might when that thing tries to mount you.”

Michael took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly. “I’ve lain with men before. I won’t break.”

Joshua finally made eye contact. “If you say so.” He pointed to the castle. “There’ll be no escape. Those gates will close, and you won’t get out again unless the thing opens them for you.”

“I know that.”

Joshua shifted and lowered his voice. “Do you mean to kill it?”

Michael shook his head. “Do you go into the dark cave and lose yourself in its twists and turns to kill the bear?”

Joshua gave a shrug. “Perhaps while it sleeps.”

“And then our kingdom would be vulnerable. The conquering hordes only stay away for fear of the beast’s enchantments and strength.”

The carriage stopped, and Joshua stiffened a moment before getting out and holding the door open. The horses grew restless and tried to back up, and the driver had to jump down to hold them steady. Michael descended and looked at the castle gates.

“Go on, lad, and may the gods have mercy on you.”

“The gods allowed this creature to exist. I’m not sure I want their mercy.” He straightened his back. “I won’t be harmed, Joshua. Perhaps he’ll let me out on a leash when he comes to the village next time.”

“Don’t joke.”

Michael laughed without humor. “Who’s joking? I’ll not have my liberty if he likes me.” The gates opened as the driver got into position again.

Joshua scrambled back into the carriage, and the driver turned the horses around and took off. Michael gazed back at them a moment before entering the garden. A kind of orderly chaos greeted him. Flowers and bushes and vines of every kind wound together in great masses, multi-colored blossoms all around him. He followed the winding path to the castle door and waited. There was no knocker of any kind, only the blood-red wood before him. The beast had to know he was here, since the gates had opened and closed for him.

Michael heard footsteps on the stones behind him, and a large shadow fell over him as the door opened. Michael held his head up high and waited, staring into the castle instead of turning to look at the beast.

“Turn around so that I might have a look at you,” the beast said.

The deep voice boomed directly behind Michael, and he turned slowly. The beast was over a foot taller than him and a good bit wider as well, far more imposing than Michael had remembered. Heat poured off the creature, and Michael watched his muscular chest rise and fall.

A rumble came from the beast’s chest. “At least they listened this time. What is your name?”

“Michael.” He looked up into the beast’s eyes. “Am I permitted to know yours?”

Those yellow eyes looked amused, and the beast licked his lips, his fangs showing. “If I tell you my name, you can never leave.”

“Do you think to send me back? If I don’t please you?” Michael clasped his hands behind his back to keep his restless hands still.

The beast pressed closer. “You please me. And I will please you, if you let me.”

“I’m here to save my village and my people. I came here to stay, so you might as well tell me.”

“My name is Kyros.”

Michael shifted his stance as he turned the name over in his mind. “Is that what I’m allowed to call you?”

Kyros nodded. “How did they persuade you? Are you always so brave?”

“I volunteered.”

Kyros stood perfectly still, and then a smile curved his lips. “You came willingly to be my mate? To writhe beneath me as I sate my lust within your body?”

Michael lowered his eyes. “I didn’t think of it that way, but yes.” He lifted his gaze. “I know I’m here to be fucked.”

Kyros gestured to the door. “Then come in. You’ll need a bath.”

“I bathed before I came.”

“Yes, in that horrid sage concoction the villagers believe wards off evil.” The doors closed behind them, the candles in the hallway lighting as they walked. “I’ve had to wash every one of you. Do they not understand how keen my sense of smell is?”

“You could’ve told them not to.”

“No matter. It will give me a chance to touch you before dinner.”

Michael’s steps faltered a bit. “Touch me?”

A laugh rumbled from the beast. “Yes. I shall bathe you myself.” He leaned close. “You shall get to examine me as well. See what you’re in for.”

“You will only touch me?” Michael asked, very aware of how near Kyros was.

“Are you so eager?”

Michael flicked his glance up. “Merely curious.”

“You look at least thirty. You’re no virgin.”

“No. I’ve lain with four women and two men. One was my wife.”

“Your wife?”

“Daria. She passed away.”

“Did you leave a lover to come to me?” Kyros opened the door to a huge bathing chamber of blue and white marble. “I’m very jealous, you see. I must know.”

“No. Daria has not been dead a year yet. I have no lover.”

Kyros smiled again, his eyes raking up and down Michael. “From this night on you will.” He waved his hand, and steaming water poured from several mounted, silver lion’s heads. A sunken tub lined with blue marble took up half the room. It filled quickly, and Kyros fixed his gaze on Michael.

“Undress. Let me see you.”

Michael obeyed, feeling warm under the scrutiny. He made himself keep his hands at his sides when he was done. Kyros approached and walked around him, not touching yet.

“You look strong. You must work outside.”

“I was a woodcutter. I also worked the farms when I was needed.”

One clawed hand slid gently down his back and then cupped his ass. The claws weren’t sharp, but they were hard, and Michael knew they could cause pain if Kyros wanted to do so.

“Get in the water,” Kyros said, giving Michael a little pat on the ass.

Tale As Old As Time: Bargain with the Beast by April Andrews

Welcome to my blog! This month, I'm showcasing lots of retellings of Beauty and the Beast, one of my favorite fairy tales. Today we have a dark, contemporary retelling, Bargain with the Beast by April Andrews.

When Tobias Thorn sees a hooded figure abducting a young girl, he doesn’t think twice before racing to the girl’s rescue. Only he isn’t quite quick enough...because the next thing Tobias knows he’s waking up in a cavernous room, his hands and wrists bound to an equally cavernous bed, with his chances of escape looking pretty damn slim.

But Tobias is not a man to take things lying down. He’s going to find his way back home no matter what it takes! But then he meets his abductor and realizes things aren’t quite that simple. Tobias has entered a world unlike anything he has ever known before. If he wants his freedom, there is only one way he is going to get it, by making a bargain with the Beast...

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Excerpt:
“You’ve abducted me,” Tobias said, his tongue suddenly feeling too big for his mouth. “Chained me to the bed. You’re not letting me leave. Why on Earth would I be attracted to you?”

The Beast smiled, and as he did so Tobias couldn’t help but notice the way his yellow eyes seemed to glow. “Because you’re responding to my desires,” he said. “The fact that I want you? You feel it and you’re responding to it.”

His words were so close to what Tobias had thought as they walked the tunnels of this underground town that he shivered. If he didn’t know better, he’d start to think the Beast was a mind reader or something. From the beginning—and it was just a few hours ago—it was like this man knew exactly how Tobias was going to act, how he was going to respond, even what he was going to say. It was too much. Too intense on top of everything that had already happened. Tobias held up his hands. “Stop,” he said. “Just stop.”

The Beast sighed, and then to Tobias’ absolute horror, and intense, unwelcome delight, he took the edges of his tee-shirt…and in one smooth move he pulled it over his head.

Tobias could do nothing but gape at him. Shock fizzling through every cell of his being. The Beast was muscled in all the right places, worse, he was dusted in a light sprinkling of tawny hair, and Tobias had always been a sucker for hairy men. The urge to step forward, to run his hands over those muscles, made Tobias gasp again. He could imagine catching his fingers in the curls…tugging on them…

He swallowed hard. His hands itched, his heart raced, and his cock thickened in an instant. The reaction was so swift, so visceral, that Tobias didn’t know what to think of it. He could only take a deep shuddery breath.

“There is no stopping,” the Beast said, his eyes fixed hard on Tobias. “Not now. Not after you ran. Perhaps if you had done as I asked I would have been able to control myself for longer.” He shrugged. “But you’ve awoken it now, Tobias. I can’t stop it.”

“I—”

“Feel it, Tobias,” the Beast added. “It is pulsing between us. There is only one way to sate it.”

“It?” Tobias asked. “It?”

The Beast smiled. “Desire,” he said. “It’s been there from the very beginning. It has always been just a matter of time until I had you.”

He is not for you…

Those words spoken to Gregovitch, the words spoken now, they brought a million different images to Tobias’ mind, and it was ridiculous but he actually felt weak-kneed. He knew exactly what the Beast was talking about, and he shuddered at the thought of doing those things, not because he didn’t want to, but because he did, so badly…in that moment Tobias realized why he had taken so long to run, why he had let his curiosity override his fear.

He wanted to be fucked by the Beast.

But he didn’t want to want it.

“I just want to go home,” he whispered.

The Beast lowered his hands until they were on the top of his jeans. Tobias gulped at the intent of that movement. “Only I have the power to grant that,” he said.

“Because you rule here,” Tobias breathed.

“Precisely.”

“Then grant it,” Tobias said. “Please.”

The Beast shook his head, and then slowly, like he wanted Tobias to see every movement, he popped the button of his jeans. “That is not how it works,” he said. “Here if you want something you have to give something.”

And so Tobias asked, though he feared he already knew the answer to his question. “What do you want?”

“The same thing I have wanted since I set eyes on you.”

“I prefer to pick my lovers,” Tobias said. “Not have them forced on me.”

The Beast laughed and pulled on his zipper. “You would like nothing better than to have me in your bed, and, I suspect, some force will simply arouse you all the more.”

“No.”

“Yes, Tobias,” he said, almost chidingly. “I see the lust darken your eyes when you look at me. You want this. You want me to bend you over and sink my cock into your pucker.”

Tobias’ dick pulsed and he closed his eyes, as if to block out the images the Beast’s words had created. “No…”

“You want me to force inch after inch of my length into your luscious lips.”

And thickened ever further. “No…”

“And we’re going to do that, Tobias,” the Beast whispered. “There is no choice anymore. Not if you want what only I can give.”

Tobias snapped his eyes open. “To go home.”

“Precisely.”

“So if I do this…”

The Beast removed his hands from his zipper and crossed his arms. “Then I may grant your request.”

“May?”

“If you are as beautiful as I suspect,” the Beast said. “If it is as good as I have been imagining it will be.” He paused, and then he smiled, that same smile that had made Tobias shudder in the very beginning. “If you please me then yes, Tobias Thorn, I will allow you to go home.”

Tale As Old As Time: Under His Beast by Victoria Vallo

Welcome to my blog! This month, I'm showcasing lots of retellings of Beauty and the Beast, one of my favorite fairy tales. Today I'm featuring another fantasy version, Under His Beast by Victoria Vallo.

Matthew arrives in the land of the prosperous Faeles—a feline-like race—as an indentured servant, thinking he'll be doing nothing but working for the next two years. But the handsome males all react to him in a way no one ever did back home. He once thought he'd never have a chance to explore the desires he's always had, but it soon becomes clear that he's going to be more than spoiled for choice among the exotic Faeles...

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Excerpt:

Matthew helped Petyr load the bags of grain into his cart. A male Faeles with golden fur came up to Petyr, clapping him on the back.

“I see you finally got some help,” the male said.

“Yes.” Petyr beckoned Matthew over. “This is Matthew. Matthew, this is Garren.”

Matthew smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

Garren’s gaze raked over him. “A pleasure. How long will you be with us?”

“Two years.”

Garren smiled. “So I’ll be seeing you often. I live in the house across the pond behind Petyr’s. We share some fields, alternating crops each year.”

“I volunteered to send him to Geraint, so he’ll be there for a month or two.”

“Ah, you should find that exciting. Our sorcerer is … interesting.”

Petyr shook his head and laughed. “You’re trying to scare him because you think he’s cute and want to keep him around.”

Garren shrugged. “Can’t blame me for trying.” He smiled at Matthew. “If either of them work you too hard, I’ll give you sanctuary.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Matthew said, knowing his face was red.

Garren moved off when someone called his name, and he and Petyr went back to loading bags. Once they were headed back to Petyr’s, Matthew finally found the courage to ask, “Do you really think he found me attractive?”

“Garren?” Petyr glanced at him oddly and gave him a slow smile. “Your clerics weren’t very thorough, were they?”

“What do you mean?”

“Humans are as exotic to us as we are to you. But I’m sure you probably never gave that any thought. Faeles males tend to like that humans are smaller and more fragile. Brings out the machismo, you could say.”

“So, lots of males might find me appealing?”

“Yes, but you can turn them down despite your status here. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, come to me.” He looked at Matthew seriously. “Especially since it would be your first time, I take it?”

Matthew nodded. “Yeah. I’m just surprised. Girls back home were far more impressed by my brothers.”

“Because you’re short and not muscular?”

“Yes.”

“You’d be smaller than most of us even if you were a foot taller and solidly built. Don’t dwell on it.”

Matthew wondered how it would be if he did meet someone special. His family would be disappointed, but they just might understand, in time, if he wanted to stay here as a mate. He could find work and send money home if he did that. One of his brothers had already suggested he take work after the two years were over if the Faeles offered him anything.

“Ask me anything you like. Geraint is wiser than any of us, but he’s hard to pin down sometimes.”

Matthew wanted to ask if Petyr found him attractive, but he didn’t want to seem forward or appear to be fishing for a compliment. “I don’t mean to sound so down on myself. It’s just that you’re all so beautiful.”

Petyr smiled. “All of us?”

Matthew swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then you may have many options if you wish to gain more experience.”

Matthew blushed again. “I think the pheromones are starting to get to me.”

“Probably. I’m seeing my lover tonight, so I’m a bit … on edge. He’s been away for a month.”

“You have a lover but don’t live with him?”

Petyr shook his head. “We typically don’t live together until we select a true mate.” He parked the cart and jumped to the ground, coming around to help Matthew down. “Not to reinforce our reputation as wicked decadents, but if you wish, you could spend the evening with us. My lover’s name is Erik, and he’s a very gentle male. We could do anything you wished.”

Matthew thought he might faint, though he wasn’t sure if it was fright or excitement making his heart race. He swallowed. “I think that would be leaping without looking, as they say. I just got here, and I am a bit overwhelmed.”

“That’s fine,” Petyr said as he threw a bag of grain over his shoulder. “But I wished to make the offer. I think you were afraid to ask, but yes, I find you attractive as well.”

Matthew took up one of the bags as well and followed Petyr through a door that led to the pantry off the kitchen. “Everyone speaks of such things openly here. At home, it’s so different. So many topics are forbidden.”

They went back outside, and Matthew took up a crate of apples. “I make a pretty good apple pie, if you like them.”

Petyr smiled “I do. Thank you.” He grabbed another bag of grain and fell into step with Matthew. “We see no reason not to speak of such things. We try to be understanding of human ways.” He set the bag in the corner and straightened. “But to be honest, you seem curious. I saw you on the ship watching everyone.”

Matthew put the apples on the table where Petyr pointed. “I am. As you said, I’m certainly old enough to have lovers.”

“I was very curious when I was young. Wild, even. I look forward to having a mate one day, just not quite yet.”

“How do you know when you’ve found a good mate?”

They brought in the rest of the bags of grain as Petyr explained. “It’s part instinct and part physical chemistry. Sometimes, a lover’s scent strikes you differently. Or it could be something unconscious. My mother knew she wanted my father as her mate when another female’s scent made her jealous.”

Matthew followed him back outside. “So you can tell if someone you’re standing close to has been with another?”

“Yes. By the time I take you to Geraint, you’ll smell like me a bit. He’ll likely make you bathe first thing. As I said, he’s traditional. Old-fashioned. While you’re attending him, he won’t want to smell another, male or female.” He unhitched the horses while Matthew swept the cart out.

“So I’d need to bathe after coming for supplies and things? Or interacting with others?”

“Yes, but he’ll explain everything when you get there. He’s thorough. And efficient. That can make he seem kind of gruff and curt, but don’t let it get to you. He’s a softy deep down, just rough around the edges.”

“Sounds like you’re setting me up with your cousin or something.”

Petyr laughed. “You won’t have to worry about that much. Geraint is more interested in study than in sex. He gave up on romance after a relationship went bad years ago. It’ll give you some time to get used to things here.”

Matthew helped him lead the horses into the barn. “He’s not interested in finding a mate?”

“Doesn’t seem to be,” Petyr said. Then with a grin, he added, “So my offer still stands. Erik has his own home, but he’ll likely be staying here most nights.”

“I’ll think on it, though it may be best for me to take the time to get used to things here.” He took up a brush and stroked it over the horse, soothing her and picking leaves from her mane. “Do many humans take lovers right away?”

“Yes, though I hear they often deny it when they go back home.”

“They must. I’ve certainly never heard anyone talk about it openly. When I got here, I was intimidated.” He lowered his eyes, knowing he still was. “I was shocked to hear you say the males here would find me appealing.”

“The females will as well. They like the gentleness of humans. Get tired of the strutting and posturing.” He chuckled. “We’re a testosterone-ridden race.”

“You’re open and warm, too, though. I like it. Everyone in the market was friendly.”

“Yes, and many a male eyed you. I had to give them a glare that said you were with me.”

Matthew paused in his brushing. “Sounds like I’ll not be going home with my virtue intact.” He smiled to let Petyr know he wouldn’t mind.

“You won’t miss it,” Petyr said with another chuckle.

Tale As Old As Time: Brute by Georgia Fox

Welcome to my blog! This month, I'm showcasing lots of retellings of Beauty and the Beast, one of my favorite fairy tales. Today we have a historical retelling, Brute by Georgia Fox.

When Lady Isabella is granted a husband she knows there can be no refusing. This is the queen's will, and no one refuses the queen. But the husband she is given turns out to be not just any courtier handpicked by the cruel, tyrannical Queen Ingaret.

He is "Brutus", a wild man recently captured from his isolated tropical island. A naked, long-haired, enormous savage, who knows only a handful of words - all learned from a bunch of lusty sailors and none suitable for the ears of a lady. A brute with a manhood that has made him a prize exhibit in the queen's menagerie of rare animals.

Isabella must find some way to tame the beast who is now her husband, but she must also keep the perverted, spiteful queen entertained, for this is not just her future safety at stake. It is his life.

Can this mismatched couple find a way to bond in bed and out of it? Can they live happily forever - and ever after?

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Excerpt:

 He was ravenous. The taste of her pussy— not puzzy, she had taught him— was sweeter than wine and went to his head in just the same way. She liked it when he licked her there, so he discovered, and she encouraged him to keep doing it.

When she let her hands slide up and down his body, and across his shoulders, he found he liked that too. It was soothing, made him feel warm in a way he never had before. Warm on the inside. It was a gesture that seemed admiring, for when he was walked out in the yard and there was a bazaar taking place, he had witnessed other women touch cloth like this, running their hands over it and sighing.

And as she explored him with her small, light, gentle hands, he did the same to her body, wishing his hands were as smooth as hers. The dip in her waist was deep when she lay on her side, her hip a high slope that trembled when he licked the curve with his tongue. Her teats were almost too much for his hands to hold and he sucked on them with delight. When he pulled her close and felt her soft belly against the hard ridges of his muscle it brought him such intense pleasure that he let his head fall back and a low rumble came out of his throat— more of a purr than the howl he expected.

His bride caressed the groin-snake with her hands and then her mouth, tasting timidly at first and then growing bolder. Her little tongue tickled his balls and travelled all the way from sturdy root to the fleshy knob that ached and swelled.

Brutus had never had so much good attention focused upon him and he wanted it to go on forever, so he held back his urge to rut and let it build at a slower pace while she played with his body and petted him with tenderness.  * * * *

When he turned onto his back, Isabella slowly stretched her body over his and licked his eyebrows, then his eyelids. He made a questioning grunt and she laughed lightly. Suddenly she felt immensely powerful. The queen had, no doubt, expected her to feel helpless and dominated by the wild man in bed, but he was not an ogre, or any sort of monster. He was a man. And she would teach him, lead the way through her own deflowering.

From this position she would have more leverage, be able to make the pace suit her better than she would if he lay above.

He ran a hand down her spine, tracing the curve with his long fingers, making her shiver, and then he cupped her bottom in both hands and lifted her.

Poised straddling his cock, Isabella muttered a hasty prayer and then she pressed downward.

Brutus groaned, staring at the sight of his erect manhood slowly penetrating her body. Still gripping her buttocks, his fingers trembled and dug into her flesh.

Every so often she paused, readjusting her position. She leaned forward.

"Kiss me, Brutus."

"Kizz?"

Her heart quaked to think he had never known a kiss. So she tenderly laid her lips to his, tasting the wine and roast peacock from their wedding feast. Inside her pussy, his cock throbbed, causing an echoing flutter to rush through her, radiating from that one tightly filled place. She gasped, jolting, for it made her skin tingle as if lightning had struck.

He pressed his hand to the back of her head, holding her head still, keeping her lips against his. And then, as she was sinking into that kiss, he flipped her over onto her back.

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Theodore has already been disappointed in love twice, and he isn’t looking for any more heartache. So when the handsome Nicholas, who happens to be suffering under a curse placed by Theodore’s mischievous godmother, informs Theodore that his love is the only cure, Theodore refuses to believe it. But Nicholas knows from their very first kiss that Theodore is the man for him. He isn’t going to give up until he convinces Theodore their love is what they’ve both spent years longing for.

Braden and Ville met by chance, lust drawing them to each other. But when they discovered they were mates, Ville only laughed and fled. After completing his mission, Braden finds Ville and demands more than one night from the man who insists his demon blood is too strong for love to ever enter his heart...

Guest Author: Alexandra O'Hurley

Please welcome Alexandra to my blog today!

~~~

 

I’ll return for you. I vow it.

When Cami DuBois winds up on a Manassas battlefield, she stumbles across Confederate re-enactors too deep in character. One of the men looks at Cami and she feels an instant connection, a familiarity she can't ignore and a lust she doesn't want to. Until he vanishes before her.

Left in limbo, Christophe Sinclair is bound by his vow. Promising to return to his love after the end of the Civil War, he’s overjoyed to have his Camille back—and to truly have her in his arms again is his singular focus.

Christophe’s tie to Cami is strong, one that might defy the rules of space and time.

If the Voodoo Gods allow it.

 

 

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Author Links:

Webpage – www.alexandraohurley.com

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Excerpt:

 

“Is it polite to point a weapon at a lady?” Jasmine smiled widely as she spoke.

Slightly lowering his weapon, the man eyed her closely. “What’re you doing out here? There are a few thousand men converging for battle. You need to seek refuge.”

“Jasmine, they’re just re-enactors. Leave them be,” Cami said, feeling uneasy.

The leader’s eyes swung to Cami after the last syllables dropped from her lips. His dark stare roamed over her, and a look of utter shock took over as his jaw slackened and his eyes widened. His uniform made her nose wrinkle as she glanced over him once more. He was quite handsome, even with the silly goatee and handlebar moustache he wore, although his overgrown beard was filling in around that from lack of upkeep. Make that stunningly handsome, even with all that facial hair and the rebel costume. He was all male, and her body reacted to his steely glare, even with her misgivings. There was a light in his eyes that pierced through her very soul and made her crave to grow closer, touch him, and crawl into his embrace.

His eyes raked over her from head to toe and back again, and she felt heat flooding her in response. Her nipples pebbled against the thin cotton dress she wore. Her body swelled, even with the cool air around her, and she felt a throbbing in her pussy. Cami wanted to jump up and run into his arms.

Am I insane?

“Camille? What’re you doing here?”

A chill moved down her spine. No one had called her Camille in years, not even her own parents. It was usually reserved for when she was in serious trouble as a child. Hearing it now made her uncomfortable, especially considering her emotional reaction to him. “Do I know you?”

“Camille, it’s me, Christophe. Has the war changed me so much?” He stepped closer to her, the air getting colder as he approached.

The war? Was he so deep into character that he couldn’t get out of it? Or was he simply crazy? “Christophe, I’ve never met you before. I don’t know who you are.”

“Ma Belle, it’s me. Your love. How’d you get here?” Christophe moved another few steps closer, a smile stretching his handsome face. Her heart began to beat harder again as his gaze locked with her own and she felt drawn into his enchantment. “I don’t know how you got here, but I’ve missed you so.”

He walked to her and pulled her close with one arm, lowering his gun away with the other. His embrace was ice cold, yet it warmed her through and through. Cami sighed as she melted into him, her brain fuzzy. She tried to rationalize what was happening, but her thoughts were drowned out by the emotional response of being in his embrace again.

Again? She’d never met this man, let alone been in his arms.

His Dark Kiss

My latest release, and my first MF romance in over a year, is now here!

Victoria returns to England to bury her adoptive brother and take care of her now orphaned godson, Cyngen. She’d always been curious about the mysterious Darien, Cyngen’s other godparent, but her intense reaction to his presence complicates matters as the three of them begin a new life together. His behavior confuses her on a daily basis, but she has no desire to fight the pull she feels.

Darien can’t stop thinking about Victoria, not only because she’s grown into a fascinating woman but also because he has a duty to protect her and their godson. He cannot warn her of the danger she is in, as he’d have to reveal the secret of his true nature—and Cyngen’s. He’s content only to be near her every day, until his hand is forced and the truth comes out. Even if he can save her, he still might lose her forever if she cannot accept him for what he truly is…

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Excerpt:

Victoria Shelley sat beside her godson Cyngen as the men lowered his parents into the ground. She could feel everyone staring at them. The funeral of Jerome and Elizabeth Ravenwood was well attended because so many people wanted to get a look at Cyngen, the reclusive young heir to an impressive estate and a massive fortune.  The crowd was also curious about her, the seldom seen adopted sister of Jerome who had gone to America to work as a tutor for friends of the Ravenwood family in New York. She grew wearier with each passing day of the whispering and curious looks.

She felt herself on the verge of tears as Jerome’s coffin sank into the ground. She had loved him as a true brother because he had opened his heart to her as if blood actually bound them together. A hand settled on her skin where her shoulder and neck met. She felt the comforting warmth of Darien as he stood behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his hand resting in the same place on Cyngen’s neck. She reached over and grasped the ten-year-old boy’s hand. She watched him tilt his head so that his cheek touched Darien’s hand for a moment. The sad yet loving gesture momentarily made it harder for her to hold her tears back. Then Cyngen straightened, taking a deep breath as he placed his other hand over hers. Soon he drew both of his hands away to clench them tightly in his lap. She knew he wanted to go home. He didn’t like crowds, and he hated the way people stared at him.

Cyngen was tall for his age but slight of build, his skin pale and his hair jet-black. He kept his hair longer than was fashionable for a boy of his rank and age and always wore it loose so it fell down his back and over his forehead because of his eyes and his birthmark. Cyngen possessed very strange, mismatched eyes. One had a bright green iris, so bright it seemed to glow and often startled people, and the other was completely blood red, except for the pupil. His vision was perfect, and no doctor could offer an explanation for this oddity. When people stared at him, he stared right back with a quite menacing gaze until they stopped. He was a sweet boy, but he was so defensive around strangers no one but those closest to him knew how kind he in truth was. The birthmark on the back of his neck, at least, was easier to hide. Five lines, which resembled scratches, ran diagonally from his hairline down to the nape of his neck. The marks had been bright red when he was born and had faded to a deep crimson by the time he was one month old.

Darien’s thumb ran over her skin briefly before he drew his hand away. She glanced back at him, but he was looking straight ahead. He appeared calm and collected, as if he hadn’t just touched her very intimately. Darien fascinated her, but she did not want him or anyone else to know it. He was Cyngen’s godfather, a childhood friend of Elizabeth’s. He had arrived on the estate within an hour of Jerome’s and Elizabeth’s mangled bodies being found at the edge of the woods by the servants. Victoria had not seen him for more than a few passing moments since the day they had stood side by side in the church when Cyngen was christened. However, Cyngen had told her a great deal about him in his letters. Though his work—whatever it was, she did not know—kept him away for months on end and made his schedule so unpredictable he could almost never attend family functions, he’d visited Cyngen half a dozen times a year for the past decade, and the young boy adored him. Since her arrival, she had observed Darien and Cyngen with a great deal of curiosity. Darien behaved more like a manservant than a godfather, constantly shadowing the boy as though he were afraid something might happen to him or he might need something. He helped him dress and brought him his meals when he didn’t feel like coming down to eat in the dining room, and he behaved like a guard dog, if a polite one, toward almost everyone who tried to get near Cyngen.

When Darien turned his eyes to hers and leaned down, she realized she had been sitting there staring up at him. She wondered how many other people had noticed, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

“Do you require anything, Miss Shelley?” he asked with concern. His sensual voice sent a shiver all the way down her body, especially as his tone made her feel as if we would move heaven and earth to grant her request.

Her face flamed as she imagined what the crowd around them might be whispering. She and Cyngen were seated alone near the graves in full view of everyone, and she dared not turn her head to see how many people were looking at them.

She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I am fine, thank you, Darien.”

A moment later, the three of them were beckoned forward by one of the deacons to say a final farewell. Cyngen threw of mix of red, white, and pink roses from the estate’s hothouse onto his mother’s coffin. Victoria sprinkled a bit of dirt from the estate onto Jerome’s coffin, a family tradition he had insisted upon in his will. Darien held nothing in his hands. He stood silently contemplating the graves before bowing and then walking over to stand beside Cyngen. That action puzzled her, but somehow it comforted her. Just like everything else about him.

“We can leave now,” he said as he touched Cyngen’s shoulder, seemingly to stop him from taking his seat again. “Two weeks of condolences and idle chatter have been more than enough, and the police investigation has been taxing for everyone. The rector will offer final words and explain that we wish to be left alone for the next month.” He turned Cyngen toward the carriages and offered his arm to Victoria.

She did not speak until they were almost to the road. “Are you sure it’s acceptable, Darien?” The etiquette expected of members of the Ravenwood family had been the hardest thing to grow accustomed to when she went to live with them. Even after nearly twenty years, she still worried she would do something wrong. It had been one reason she had decided to go to America in the first place.

He turned his silver eyes toward her and nodded simply. The sun gleamed off his dark hair. “Yes. Cyngen wants to be left alone.”

That wasn’t really a proper answer to her question, but she turned to look ahead again. The footman opened the carriage door for Cyngen, who climbed inside quickly. Darien handed her in, then boarded and sat across from her beside Cyngen.

“Would you like to explore the attic with us, Victoria?” Cyngen asked when the carriage began to move.

“That sounds like a welcome distraction,” she said. “Are you going to do it this afternoon?”

“Yes. Darien said we could after lunch. I’ve heard noises, and we’re going to investigate.”

“Noises?” She had heard many odd noises at night, but she had convinced herself it was either the servants or the house settling.

Darien cleared his throat and pushed a strand of his dark hair off his forehead. “I suspect a few birds have gotten in and become trapped. We’re going to see what we can find. There are lots of old trunks and boxes of books and clothes. Even if we don’t find the source of the noises, it should be enjoyable.” He put his arm around Cyngen, who turned shimmering eyes to the window.

She’d willingly attempt to climb a mountain this afternoon if it would keep Cyngen from being sad and lonely. “I would love to. I haven’t been up there since I just a little older than you are.”

Cyngen blinked several times, the tears seeming to abate. “You were ten when you came to the estate, weren’t you?”

“Yes, I was. That’s when my parents died. Your grandfather was my father’s employer. Your father had just turned fifteen, and he was so upset when he found out I had no family that he begged his parents to let me live with them. It was very kind of them to take me in. I wish you could have known your grandparents.”

Cyngen took a deep breath and turned away from the window to look at her. “The will said only one of you is required to remain with me, but I want you to stay with us, Victoria. I’m sure America is exciting, but we can travel anywhere you like. You can have anything you want if you stay with us.” His voice cracked, his tone sounding desperate and pleading.

She scolded herself for not discussing her plans with him and Darien earlier. She’d written to the lawyer immediately, before even making her travel plans, and she’d assumed he would have made her plans known. She leaned forward and took both of Cyngen’s small hands in hers. “Oh, Cyngen, of course I will stay. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear. I thought you knew I planned to remain here.”

Cyngen looked ready to cry again, though perhaps this time from relief, and Darien stepped in.

“We didn’t want to presume, Miss Shelley,” he said. “You have a job and a life in New York.”

“I told everyone I would not be returning less than an hour after I received the telegram. The children were indifferent, and their parents just nodded and asked how soon I would be leaving. I was little more than a servant to them. They only paid me so well because your father insisted. The youngest is nine now, so I might have been returning here anyway. I missed everyone, even though my three years in America were a wonderful experience. It was interesting to teach in another country. I learned so much. But I am glad to be back here with you.”

“You can be my tutor now, can’t you? I often heard mother and father’s friends ask when you were coming back. Many of them wanted to engage you, but I want you to tutor me. And Darien can teach me to play the violin. I want to learn.”

She inclined her head to look at him. “I didn’t know that you played, Darien.”

He nodded once. “I do. Cyngen enjoys my playing, at least.”

“Yes, Cyngen, I can be your tutor for the next few years. I mostly teach girls and younger children though, so in a few years we’ll need to engage someone new to prepare you for university.” She turned to Darien. “Is there a tutor now? I haven’t met one at the house.”

“Jerome had been his tutor for the past year. The last tutor was … a very unsuitable example for Cyngen.”

“He was a thief,” Cyngen said, “and he upset Gwendolyn.”

Victoria’s eyes flicked to Darien’s briefly, and he nodded slightly. Gwendolyn was one of the kitchen maids, and Victoria had noticed that she had a child but no husband. “I see. Well, I’m not as clever as your father was, but very few people are.” She released his hands and sat back. “We shall have lots of fun together.”

Cyngen nodded, his mouth almost curling into a smile as he looked between the two of them. “We can still be a family.”

“Yes, Cyngen,” Darien said, looking into Victoria’s eyes. “A very loving family.”

She nodded her agreement toward Cyngen, unable to stop the blush Darien’s penetrating gaze had caused. She felt as if he could see right into her heart, and part of her wondered if, given the look in his eyes, perhaps he actually could.

New Release: With the Boys in the Band (MMF)

With the Boys in the Band, my MMF contemporary with a paranormal twist, is now available!

 

Working as an assistant for the metal band Serration is Alicia’s dream gig—a far cry from the cubicle she abandoned at her old job. She promised herself she wouldn’t become starstruck, but the band’s frontman, Vince, proves very hard to ignore. She manages to resist him on a daily basis, but soon she finds herself thinking about the keyboardist, Emerson, all the time.

The two men’s closeness confuses her a little, and Vince’s promiscuous reputation makes her wary, but when Emerson invites her to Vince’s summer house for a week-long getaway, she jumps at the chance. A single day in such close quarters convinces Alicia of one thing: these two men want each other as much as they want her. Will they only see each other as rivals, or will they give in and let her lure them both to her bed and her very willing arms?

Excerpt:

Vince made his way down the stairs quickly and flung the front door open. A smile came to his face as Emerson and Alicia stepped out of the car and turned toward him in unison, both of them pushing their hair out of their faces in an equally synchronized gesture. As he smiled and locked eyes with Alicia, a mixture of lust and jealousy swirled inside him. He would love to get her in his bed, but he was far more interested in getting Emerson there instead. Knowing the two people before him were likely to sleep together soon, and picturing what it would be like, made him ache in a way he didn’t fully understand, even as it turned him on a little. When he switched his gaze to Emerson, the other man’s guarded expression made Vince’s smile fade.

“How was the drive?” Vince asked.

“Good. No traffic.” He moved around to the back of the car to retrieve the bags.

Vince came forward to help. “I had a guest room made up. Across the hall from yours.”

“Put my stuff there. Give her my room,” he said, keeping his voice low.

Vince hesitated, but then he picked up two of Emerson’s bags. “Okay.” He glanced back to Alicia, who was admiring the house and walking away from them. “Will it even matter?” he added playfully, nudging Emerson’s leg with his knee.

Emerson’s frustration showed in the firm set of his mouth and the white-knuckled grip he had on the bags. “Her having the choice matters. My room is nicer, so put her there. I’ll tell her it’s mine if she asks, but I’d rather not make a big deal out of it.” He sighed and brushed past Vince. “I’m not like you, Vince.”

I wish you were. Vince didn’t even try to hide his emotions as he watched the retreating form of the man he loved. He took two deep breaths and reined it all in, however, before turning to Alicia.

“You like it?”

She nodded. “It looks familiar.”

He motioned for her to follow him inside. “It’s vaguely based on a famous house in Cologny in Switzerland.” When they reached the foyer, he pointed to a montage of pictures on the wall between two windows. “The Villa Diodati.”

“Ah. The Frankenstein house. Yeah, I saw it in a documentary on the novel. Who designed this one?”

“I did, a little. Someone who knew what he was doing did the actual designing, but the idea was mine. We went back and forth for weeks to get it exactly the way I wanted it. I plan to eventually sell my other place in the city and live here all the time.”

“It’s a lovely setting.” Her eyes took in everything as she turned slowly.

“I love being here. I hope you feel welcome. Let me know if you need anything.”

Emerson coughed, and Vince looked up at the landing. “Coming, darling.” Smiling broadly at Emerson’s scowl, he gestured for Alicia to go before him up the stairs.

She shook her head as she did so. “You guys are here to relax. Don’t get him all pissed off the first day.”

“You think it pisses him off?”

She looked very thoughtful as they slowly made their way up. Had they talked about him in the car? Or had she simply noticed how much Vince teased him? He hardly knew any other way of showing affection, and he wanted to show Emerson so much affection it drove him half mad some days.

“Maybe a little. He really cares about you.”

Vince’s heart sped for a moment. Had he said that or had she come to the conclusion herself? “I love him more than I love anyone else in the world.”

They both stopped after the words had tumbled out. He tried to say something else, but she beat him to it.

“Then listen to him. He’s worried about you. He loves you, too.”

What did that mean? Before he could ask, Emerson came down the hall and took his own bags from Vince. “Thank you,” he said curtly. Turning to Alicia, he said, “I’ll show you yours. Hope you like it.”

Alicia gave Vince a sweet smile before walking away. He leaned against a pillar, his stomach churning. Emerson was worried about him. His mind whirled with all the different ways he could interpret that. He glanced down the hall and their eyes locked, the other man giving him a questioning look. Vince smiled and nodded, and Emerson put his bags down in the hall and then followed Alicia into the room he usually occupied. Vince tore down the stairs, needing some fresh air and a good, long run.

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