Cray discovers a way to defeat Mother Nature, but it may already be too late.
Friday, December 10, 2010
It's Friday...
Cray discovers a way to defeat Mother Nature, but it may already be too late.
I'm a mother, author, and a few things unmentionable in polite company. I love reading and traveling when I can. Contrary to popular belief - I'm not always a bitch - okay, so I am!
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Is That a Bah-Humbug I Hear?
What about you? Have you decorated for the holidays yet?
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
The Eighth Night is now released!
Blurb: Who says Christmas is the only holiday in town?
After removing himself from family gatherings and his mother’s domineering influence for years, Eli Goodman finds himself once again drawn into the chaos that is his home life. One afternoon, on a spur of the moment decision, he decides to bring the pretty cashier from the local MegaMart to his mother’s house for their annual eight day Hanukkah celebration. At the very least, it will shock and temporarily quiet his mother's pestering. But Brooke is more than she seems and he will soon find himself thinking of the hard-working orphan in ways he never imagined.
Brooke has recently decided she’d like to shove Christmas and its materialism into her cash drawer. Yearning for something more from life, she takes a chance and accepts an invitation to dinner from a customer in her register line. What she finds with his interfering and warm family could very well be the missing element she’s searched for, not to mention Eli is the sexiest guy she’s seen in a long time. If the light of the Hanukkah candles bring them together, she could be the first person in modern history to see what Judah Macabee wears under his tunic.
Excerpt of Chapter One
And So It Begins
The insistent ringing of his cellphone shattered the peaceful stillness of the pre-dawn hour. With a groan, Eli Goodman rolled over, ignoring the noise.
The cacophony continued, possibly with more vigor, which could only mean one thing.
His mother was on the other end of the line and if he didn't answer, the whole of the Indianapolis area would hear her scream of frustration.
Damn. "Ugh!"
Scrabbling for the phone, he moved his hand over the bedside table until his fingers closed over the device then he pressed the green button. "Ma? What's wrong?"
Diane Goodman clicked her tongue and the sound went straight through him, just as it had during his formative years. "Why do you always assume catastrophe is imminent when I call?"
"Because it's five AM on Saturday and I have blessed little to do, so why else would you call?" He sank into the warm nest of his pillows and blankets, keeping his eyes closed in case the call would be short and he could regain sleep.
"Ah, my life is now complete. My only son has decided to mock me at the start of the Festival of Lights. What have I done to deserve this? My only goal on this Earth was to make my children happy, and this is how you repay me."Oy. My mother the martyr. Being the youngest of five, and the only male to boot, it came as no surprise to listen to the speech his parent had undoubtedly trademarked with the government or at the very least, every synagogue in the tri-state area.
"Sorry, Ma. What do you need that will make your life the pinnacle of success?"
"You, at the community center this morning at nine for rehearsal. I know you've forgotten."
"What?" His eyes flew open as cold dread shot down his spine. He sat, rubbing a hand through his thick curls, one of the many attributes his female relatives said made him worthy of a Hollywood movie. "What are you talking about?"
She blew a breath and he could well imagine the eye roll that probably accompanied it. "I volunteered you to stand in as the Maccabee in the play, of course. I thought it would be a good way for you to reconnect with the family and your community. You don't come to temple anymore." Guilt was heavy in her voice. "You rarely come home for a meal either. If I didn't give birth to you myself, I would swear you weren't my son."
Pregnant silence followed, most likely in the hopes that he would think about what he was inflicting on his poor, harried mother.
Eli switched on the lamp and blinked at the sudden brightness. "Ma, I'm not doing the play. I'm not a ten year old you can push around anymore. Besides, your friends ogle me when I wear that outfit." He shuddered to think of the short tunic that bared his legs and sandals that did nothing to cover the skin.
"So, now you're ashamed of your body or is it my friends?" More tongue clicking. "I labored for twenty-two hours with you, young man. Doesn't that deserve respect?"
As if he were suddenly transported back to pre-puberty days, his stomach hurt from his mother's words. She could guilt a cat into opening its own can of food.
"No, Ma. It's just I'm not sure how I feel about our faith. The whole thing is so ... overbearing." Thinking about the intensive family gathering gave him cold chills and sweats, much like the flu. And the endless questions from countless aunts regarding his single status.
Oh, the humanity.
"You listen to me, Elijah Goodman. I refuse to be embarrassed by not having you, my only son, at the celebration this year. You'll do this and you'll like it. I am telling the family you'll be in the play on the Sixth Night. Do not disappoint me."
He stared sullenly at his bureau, knowing that no matter what he did, he would always disappoint her. "But--"
"But nothing. Stop by the house tonight and you can tell me how everything went. Bring ice and potatoes. Dinner's at six sharp. Don't be late."
The dead air on the other end of the line brooked no arguments and felt as cold as Diane's unblinking stare.
Eli threw the phone down and slumped against the pillows as a headache loomed.
His mother, the bully, pushed every member of the family around until they did what she wanted out of sheer exhaustion. His life was no exception. Heaven only knew how many women he'd gone out with during recent years thanks to her meddling and constant haranguing about his lack of marital success.
And now this. The annual re-telling of the Maccabee story with its prerequisite fight scene. Usually, one of his uncles filled the role, but this year his mother had most likely finagled and reordered the cast so that he, Eli, got the supposed honor of the lead. How long had it been since he'd stepped foot into the community center let alone the synagogue? Too long to own up to. Probably since this time last year.
The family legacy and attachments turned him from the religion as much as the stuffiness and saga of it all, but in the Goodman family, personal preferences didn't matter when Hanukkah came around. You either put up or shut up and listened to countless versions of the same stories the family had told since he was a little boy--only now the participants in the tales were braver, larger and more dangerous.
Eli rubbed a hand along his jaw. The next eight days would last an eternity.
Available from Liquid Silver Books (http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com)
To see the rest of my holiday releases this year as well as everything else, go to my website (http://www.sandrasookoo.com)
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
New Release--Light Me Up

For some reason, I thought I had done this earlier. I apologize for today’s delay. Today, I am going to tell you about Light Me Up, my new story from Silver Publishing. It is a Vampire/Hanukah story.
Here is a blurb:
Ruth has been a vampire for sixty-five years after being assaulted by a vampire during World War II while her family hid from the Nazis. One night, she is drawn to a house where they are celebrating Hanukkah and the candles are burning in the window. There, she meets a man, Benjamin Fox, who is immune to her vampire charms. Ben is thirty-five years old and dying of a heart problem he's had since he was a child.
Together, they will form a friendship that could be so much more if either could allow it. But when Ben is about to succumb to his illness, Ruth must decide whether to give in to his wishes and make him a vampire too. She is, he's decided, his ultimate Hanukkah gift.
I am 33 years old and the mom of 3 little boys. I am published with Liquid Silver Books, Noble Romance, Silver Publishing, Decadent Publishing, and Ellora's Cave. Please contact me at rebecca@rebeccaroyce.com
Monday, December 6, 2010
Christmas Spirit
Paranormal and
Sci-fi Romance Writer
Annie Nicholas writes paranormal with a twist. Her stories are off the beaten path as she creates romantic, suspenseful, attention grabbing fiction.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Eaten up by grief and guilt, it’s an effort just to get through the day. Now, after a year in mourning, his animal instincts have reawakened. As Sean struggles to control the need clawing at him, along comes Chandra and she wants more than just passion.
But if she refuses, she might blow her once chance to convince him that she can rock his world and fill the empty space in his heart. Will Sean let love in, only to risk having it taken away again?
The journey as a writer all began when I was a teen and wrote poetry, which still to this day I pull out to have a good laugh. Later on, I tried a couple of times to put a book together with no such luck. Couldn’t ever get past the first few chapters. But once I was exposed to the paranormal world, ideas came quickly.
At first, it was a way to keep my brain alive since being a stay at home mom can be a little let’s say―numbing. It was an escape from screaming kids, dirty diapers and plain old mom duty. It started as a hobby, but as the stories progressed it became a passion. Now, I indulge at nap time, especially the juicy bits! Every mom needs a good thrill!
So here in Kitchener, Ontario, I am a thirty one year old wife, mom, house cleaner, cook, teacher, play-doh extraordinaire, swing pusher, toddler chaser after – who loves the outdoors, curling up with the latest flick, and if I’m not plugging away at a new novel, I’ve got my nose buried deep in a good book. So there it is―my life!
Saturday, December 4, 2010
When Souls Collide, Chapter 15, part 2
http://www.amazon.com/Blown-Away-D-L-Jackson/dp/1608202100/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1291468057&sr=1-1
On to the story. Have a great Saturday.
All rights are the intellectual property of the author. No part may be copied or reproduced without the permission of the author.
***Warning. The following story contains erotic elements, explicit language and violence. Read at your own risk.***
The bastard had knocked him out and left him on the slope, taking his wife. Did he really think he wouldn’t come after her? He could have killed him, but didn’t. He should have, when he had the chance.
But he couldn’t bury Tesza with him.
The streets were empty, void of life when the army of fury strolled in. At the front, a tall man with ice hair and hard eyes. Energy rolled off him in angry waves. In his hand he clutched a spear, crusted with dried blood.
“Tesza!”
Nobody came out of the houses, everywhere the city whispered with the voices of ghosts. The horde rounded a corner. A fountain bubbled before them. Sitting with her hand dipped in the water crying, was a child.
Jarod froze. Her dark hair was pulled back with colorful ribbons, her bright pink dress stained, torn and dirty. She glanced up with eyes full of red tears.
The horde came to a stop. Not a warrior drew a breath. The tiny child of perhaps three raised her hand to her mouth and coughed, spraying blood across the front of her once beautiful dress. She began to cry again, wailing for her mother. Jarod waited, but nobody came to collect her.
She turned her brown eyes to his violet and reached out to him with both arms, blood rolling down her cheeks. “I can’t find mommy.”
Jarod hesitated, unsure. She was a child, not the enemy, not the face he’d pictured dying from his disease. With a growl he strode forward, scooped her into his arms and made for the High City’s infirmary. “We’ll find your mommy.” He brushed her hair from her eyes and kissed her forehead. So hot for one so little.
Tesza had been right. There were more than soldiers affected by his plague. He refused to listen, to look. He was as heartless as those who killed his people. She’d tried to tell him she didn’t want to be responsible for killing all the Kori, that there were children and women who’d suffer. He never imagined what it would look like.
He’d had blood lust, wanted to crush his enemy under his boot and hadn’t cared who or what got in the way.
Now he did.
One small child opened Jarod’s eyes, and what he saw, made him sick. Gods, he’d been a fool. No wonder she jumped and left him behind. He was a heartless bastard. He’d find her, make amends if he could. Hopefully the Kori hadn’t already killed her.
#####
They stopped and stared, mouths open. The sounds of footsteps and spiked boots echoed down the corridor. Jarod handed the child off to a nurse. “Where is the Kalos woman?”
The nurse shook her head and backed up.
“I won’t suck your soul, woman. Where did they take my wife?”
She spun on her heel and took flight, running as fast as she could with the child in her arms. Jarod growled and kicked a cart, sending it crashing into a wall. “I want my wife!” Was it so hard to understand? They had what they needed by now. They had no reason to keep her. “Search every room. Find Tesza.”
Warriors scattered in all directions, Kori hospital staff fled before them. He strode down the hall, glancing in every room he passed until he came to one on the end. Two guards rose to their feet and pointed lazr’s at him.
Jarod jumped at them, growling and they dropped their weapons, running for their lives from the soul-sucking demon. Stepping through the door, he came to an abrupt stop. Inside Ursus stood next to the bed, holding her hand, his forehead pressed against Tesza’s. Tubes and monitors covered every inch of her body.
Jarod ground down on his teeth. The bastard touched her. He should be holding her, caring for her.
Not him.
Jarod stormed in. He grabbed the back of Ursus’s shirt and catapulted him across the room, into a wall. “Get off my wife.”
Ursus rolled as Jarod lunged with his spear; he grabbed a wheeled cart and sent it careening at Jarod. It caught him across the thighs, sending him over it and onto the floor.
Jarod leapt on him the second he hit, one hand wrapped on his throat the other cocked to punch. Ursus bucked and rolled, throwing him over his head, toppling more medical equipment. Monitors started screeching, lights flashing.
“I’m going to kill you,” Jarod snarled and yanked his knees to his chest, snapping to his feet. In a low crouch he retrieved his spear while Ursus regained his feet and faced him.
Ursus grabbed a metal tray, holding it in front like a shield. Jarod smiled, shook his head and launched forward, punching a hole through the center of the tray with the tip of his spear. “Par steel.”
“How’d you heathens get Par steel?” Ursus stepped to the side and yanked, sending the spear and the tray through the doorway.
“Does it matter?” Jarod dived for the spear. Ursus tackled him sliding him out of arm’s reach of the weapon.
“Don’t need that to kill you.” Jarod punched. The uppercut caught Ursus under the jaw. He wobbled, fell back and Jarod straddled him. One fist back, the other hand at his throat again.
The high-pitched whine of a lazr’ fired up behind them.
Not again. Jarod growled and lowered his fist, furious with the interruption. He’d been about to plant his fist through the front of bastard’s skull.
“Step out into the hall.”
Jarod turned and faced Colonel Pilot Callas. He’d no intention of leaving his wife in the arms of that man or in his commander’s custody. Death threat or no. He may have been wrong about the innocents, but he wasn’t wrong about Tesza. She belonged to him.
“Don’t make me shoot you in front of Tesza. The last thing she needs is more excitement.”
Jarod’s gaze traveled to the bed. Tesza’s eyes were open and she stared at the scene in horror.
Alive. She’s still alive. They hadn’t murdered her.
Her eyes plead for him to listen. Lips moved, but only a silent please made it past them.
Jarod raised his hands and rose to his feet, stepping out into the hall.
“We finally meet,” Pilot said.
“I only want my wife. You have the antivirus.”
“Ursus claims she’s his wife.” Colonel Pilot adjusted the weapon and coughed, doing his best to hold it on Jarod. “Under normal circumstances, I’d shoot you, but this isn’t normal. I’m glad you’re here.”
Jarod blinked. They were glad he was here?
“Tesza needs blood, Kalos blood.”
Jarod turned and glanced at the bed. “How much did you take from her?”
“No more than you did.” Jarod flinched. It was true. The only reason she was in that bed was because of him.
“Why didn’t you let her die? You have what you need?”
“She’s a Kori citizen.”
“She’s Kalos and my wife.” Jarod balled his hands to fists at his sides. She was all he’d left. He’d failed his people, failed his family and he’d failed Tesza. Ursus couldn’t have her, wouldn’t have her. Jarod glanced through the door to see Ursus at her side again, pressing his damned forehead to Tesza’s. He ground down on his teeth. “You’re mistaken.”
“She was a virgin when Ursus claimed her. By our laws, that makes her his wife.” Pilot fixed him with a stern stare. “We marry once. There’s no divorce.”
“She was bonded to me as an infant, by Kalos law she’s my wife until death. We have sealed our marriage. She’s accepted me.”
“Then we have a problem.” Pilot lowered his weapon. “Which we’ll worry about after you give her blood.”
Jarod eyed Tesza and the bastard again. He resisted the urge to rush in and rip him from his wife. “I’m not saving her for you, or him, I’m saving her because I love her. Understand that I’m not leaving without her. Your troops are too sick to retaliate. Don’t get between me and what’s mine, or I’ll destroy this city while you lay in your sick beds recovering.”
“Your blood first. Then we’ll talk. We’ve much to discuss, much to settle.”
“There’s nothing to settle.” Jarod turned and followed a nurse that motioned to him. “You’re running out of time. Give me my wife. I’m the only one who can save you.”
“We have the anti-virus,” Pilot called out behind him.
“The plague is the least of your worries. Rain’s coming, Pilot.” He glanced out a window as he passed. The rains had picked up, outside the wind howled. They’d need to leave soon. The city was about to be under water and they’d all die. He’d seen the children, the sick in their beds, not all were killers. Tesza had been right, he had to save them, he wasn’t heartless. His conscious wouldn’t let him do anything else. Silently he hoped Pilot couldn’t see through his bluff.
#####
“How can we evacuate when half the city is too sick to get out of bed,” Ursus said. He turned his head toward where Jarod reclined, recovering from the transfusion.
“We might be able to stop the flooding.”
Ursus nodded. “I’m listening.”
“There are channels that run under this city, each has a relief valve that can redirect the flow out to sea.”
“I’m aware of the channels, but I’ve never seen relief valves.”
A moment of brief shock crossed Jarod’s face. “That’s because they’re hidden.”
“Why are you helping us?” What motivated him now? He’d the Kori at his mercy. They’d killed his people for eons, chased them from world to world, slaughtered them here for seventy years and could and would continue to do so.
“I’m sick of killing. Do I need any other reason?”
“Don’t hold this against me, but I have a hard time trusting you and anything you have to do with the water.”
Jarod nodded. “I’ve already helped you more than I ever thought I would. You either trust me, or all your people in this city will die. I hold all the codes to open the valves.”
“Where are the valves?”
“I’ll take you to them, but we have to hurry. We’re running out of time, soon the channels will be too full to enter.”
Ursus nodded and sat up, putting his hand to his forehead. The dizziness was still there, but the bleeding had slowed and the fever had eased. Tesza had saved them just in time. Another day and surely he’d been at the point of no return, fodder for the worms.
Jarod sat up and stared directly across the space between them. “Does she love you?”
“I believe she does.”
“But do you know it?”
“Why are you asking this question?”
Jarod rose to his feet and reached out a hand to Ursus. “Because I need to know more about the competition. Killing you will only make her hate me. That’s not my intent. I love her. I’ve loved her from childhood and I’m not going to let you take her.”
“I’ve waited my life for her, and you can’t keep me from holding what fate and the gods have declared is mine.”
“Then you and I will have a talk after this is over.” Jarod’s face remained cool. “Yes?”
From the look in his eyes, Jarod wanted to do anything but talk. “Yes.” They’d have their talk alright. Somebody had a good ass-kicking coming to them, courtesy of Ursus’s boot.
“Could you both stop with all the posturing and release the valves before we all die,” a small hoarse voice came from behind them. Ursus and Jarod’s heads snapped around to see Tesza with her eyes open, watching them. “Both of you come back. And we’ll all talk. If only one of you comes back, I’m done.”
#####
Ursus shifted on the balls of his feet, rubbing his arms, trying to kill the ache. This was the last thing he’d ever imagined himself doing. He glanced down at Jarod, who was on his hands and knees, his ass sticking out of a storm drain.
He huffed and moved his attention to an overhead light. The last thing he wanted was to get caught with his eyes on the royal ass of the King of the Kalos. He refrained from planting his boot in Jared’s backside and giving him a shove.
Jarod’s hand snaked out of the drain reaching towards him. “Give it to me?”
Ursus shifted on his feet, not wanting to look down again. Several of his soldiers coughed into their fists, one snickered. Ursus glared at them. All went silent. News traveled fast. Not only did the Butcher have a wife, he had a husband.
“What’s taking so long? Give me the damned tool!”
Ursus stooped down and slapped the tool into Jarod’s hand. He wobbled, still a bit dizzy from the virus and grabbed the back of Jarod’s pants to steady himself. He jumped and whacked his head on the pipe. There was a loud ringing followed by what Ursus could only assume were some really foul words. The tool was flung from the pipe and nailed Ursus in the shin, who proceeded to cuss as fluently as Jarod.
“Stay off my ass.”
“I wasn’t trying…,”
“Don’t touch me again. I’ll kill you.”
Ursus snorted and threw the tool back at Jarod.
Laughter exploded around him. Ursus swung his gaze around the squad, silencing it. “You see how he’s adjusting the valves. Don’t stand there. Find a drain and adjust the valves.”
More laughter. More cussing from inside the pipe. Why did his life have to go like this? Ursus ground his teeth, trying to think of anything other than the asshole he found himself, in a round-a-bout way, married to. Apparently, now that the men were feeling better, they took a great deal amusement from the situation.
Gods. He wanted to shove him down the pipe. Tesza would hate him for it. So Ursus moved away, doing his best to fight the urge. One kick, one push and he’d send him into the underground channels and out of his life. If there ever was a temptation, this was it.
Jarod backed out of the pipe and glared at Ursus. “What are you looking at?”
“Trust me, nothing I’m interested in.”
Jarod growled and rose to his feet, smacking his head on the top of the channel. He rubbed his head and glanced around. Several of the squad members suddenly became occupied. “What’s going on here?”
Ursus shook his head. “Nothing. We done here? Is the city safe? I thought it was something complicated.”
“We have to go deeper, into the channels. I have to unlock the system. There’s a set of dials with specific codes. It’s all hands on. We’re going to need cables or ropes.”
“We’re?” Ursus narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”
“You’re going down there with me. Do you think I’m going to chance that you’ll cut the cable and take Tesza all to yourself?”
“Great.”
“What?”
Ursus snarled and dropped the equipment belt he was wearing, and then yanked his shirt over his head. “I can’t swim.”
“Do I need to get you some floaties?” The corner of Jarod’s mouth curled.
“No, I think I’ll manage.” Gods he wanted to punch the bastard. What did Tesza see in him? She’d warned them. Come back together, or don’t come back at all.
“Consider this your first lesson. But it’s not the water you should be afraid of. It’s what’s in it.”
Ursus scowled. He’d remembered the returning unit, minus three-quarters of the men. Who knew what swam down there now that it was flooded. Knee deep, he could handle, chin deep another matter altogether.
Jarod pulled a shirt over his head and grabbed his spear. “They make good eating if they don’t eat you first.”
Friday, December 3, 2010
It's Friday...
December 31st will see the release of Protected, the 3rd book in the Shepherd's Watch series, at Changeling Press. There are a couple new dogs in town!
This month, I am also the featured author at Selena Illyria's site, where she did an awesome interview. Gosh! The woman had me talking about everything, even personal stuff...Well, you'll have to run over there and see at http://selenaillyria.com/about/interview-archive/interviews/.
Be sure to leave contact information in the comments at A Sovereign Spot.
Growl and roar-it's okay to let the beast out.-© J. Hali Steele
I'm a mother, author, and a few things unmentionable in polite company. I love reading and traveling when I can. Contrary to popular belief - I'm not always a bitch - okay, so I am!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
You Are What You Read
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Need a little Christmas Interlude?
Blurb: Dangerous secrets can melt a cold winter’s night but are they hot enough to forge common ground?
In 1899 Indianapolis, adventurous sex isn’t exactly appropriate conversation for afternoon tea.
Yet, an exciting sex life is exactly what Chelsea wants desperately from her beau Luther. Tired of society’s strict conventions and his less than inspired fumblings in the bedroom, she devises a plan that is sure to bring Luther’s passions to the forefront.
Luther harbors a dark secret of his own. A werewolf by birth, he’s compelled to shift at each full moon but fears if he shares the knowledge with Chelsea, she’ll run in fear. What he doesn’t count on is her matching his appetites in the bedroom.
One long night of sexual play at a hotel during the Christmas season is all it takes to meet their needs yet will the confidences they keep unravel their love or will it strengthen the relationship as fast as a little light bondage?
Excerpt: As the carriage passed a row of homes, the faint, golden glow of the streetlights illuminated Chelsea’s face. Two spots of rosy color gave life to her rounded cheeks, and her vivid green eyes sparkled with what seemed like contentment, or perhaps happiness.
He wondered what she thought about. It seemed as if she were a million miles away. Not even their favorite dining spot could elicit any animation or conversation from her tonight.
“Did you enjoy the meal?” He repositioned himself until he could openly admire her form. An ivory-colored shawl had slipped from her shoulders, revealing the tops of her full, creamy breasts as they strained against the rich, brown silk of her dinner gown. Heat spiked through his body to lodge in his groin. His cock hardened as he thought about what they would do when they finally arrived at his townhouse, about how the lush curve of her hips would feel, naked, beneath his hands—the perfect Christmas sweet.
At the last second, he remembered to maintain tight control over his baser instincts. Now was not the time to tell her of his furry heritage.
Chelsea turned to face him. A strained smile barely curved her kissable lips, slightly glossy as the tip of her tongue swept briefly along the bottom one. “Dinner was, as always, excellent. I trust your roast beef was rare enough?”
“Actually, the Carlisle has presented the dish better on previous occasions.” His mouth watered at the remembrance of those other meals where the juices ran red with every cut of his knife. Each Saturday, he took Chelsea to dinner at the Carlisle, a hotel in the business district, and he ordered his meat as rare as it could possibly be outside of slaughtering it himself. There was something so primal about digging into a slab of beef that hadn’t been manipulated much by human hands…
This brought his thoughts back to the carnal pleasures he and Chelsea would indulge in mere moments from now, the perfect foil to wrench his mind from his other passion. If he wasn’t fettered by polite manners and stifling rules, he would instruct the driver to continue on a tour of the city until the horse was too tired to walk another step. The extra time he’d use to ravish his woman in the cab, hopefully making certain she was well and truly satisfied.
Yet, he held back. Three years with Chelsea had given his life meaning, enriched it to the point that he yearned to spend the remainder of his time on the earth with her, but the simple fact he was born to be a werewolf whenever the moon grew full hampered any hope of a normal, happy existence. At the first glimpse of fur and fang, she would demand the local authorities come and take him away to the nearest mental facility.
Hell, she might swat at him with a broom. Chelsea, in the height of annoyance, was capable of doing nearly anything. Still, deep in his soul, he knew she was the one woman meant for him, so why couldn’t he lower his pride and reveal all? He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek. Her skin, petal soft against his fingers, stoked the flames already ignited within and created an inferno of need.
He held back out of fear, out of rejection. He would die if he lost Chelsea—not because she held the key to his very existence, but simply because he loved her too much to make her afraid of him.
He was a shape shifter and had been since birth, but also, his sexual needs and appetite far surpassed that of a normal human man. His deepest desires would frighten her. She’d accuse him of depravity of the darkest criminal, yet that knowledge didn’t lessen the constant ache for her companionship and her as a sexual partner. She was too good, too wholesome for anything more risqué in the bedroom than gentle lovemaking.
Luther swallowed down the build-up of hot saliva in his mouth. Oh God, what he wouldn’t do to feel her lips wrapped around his cock as he thrust into her mouth.
This time, he couldn’t control the groan that escaped his throat. In order to keep Chelsea, he would need to content himself with mild sexual encounters, keep the mild-mannered persona for the rest of his life. And what was more, he would need to pretend he was satisfied with that lot.
She could never know his true nature. Above all else, he wanted to keep her.
The carriage lurched sharply to the right as the driver turned a corner. The abrupt motion threw Chelsea into his lap. Unable to help himself, he lifted her and repositioned her legs until she awkwardly straddled him with her skirts bunched between them. “That color of gown suits you, Chelsea. You should wear it more often.” He cupped her cheek, sliding his hand down, and brushed he pad of his thumb over her collarbone. When he felt a host of tremors course through her body, he decided to find out how far she’d let him take her.
He pressed his lips to the bare skin of her décolletage. “You taste like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.” Pausing for a mere second, he licked the swell of first one breast then the other. He slid his hands to her waist and moved them slowly up until he cupped her breasts. Her nipples pebbled into tight buds beneath her gown, hard and ready for him. Lowering his mouth to one of the ripe offerings, he closed his lips around the fabric-covered tip, teasing slightly with his teeth. A low moan eased between her lips and a shudder shook her shoulders. She stiffened on his lap.
Immediately, Luther released her. “I apologize, Chelsea.” He dumped her onto the bench beside him, his chest heaving as he struggled with his instincts. “I cannot explain what came over me.”
“That was…different, Luther. Um, did you, uh, mean to do that?” Unknown emotion wobbled her voice, but she did not glance his way. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the opposite window.
Oh God, she hates me. “I must be mad.” He pressed himself as close to the side of the carriage as he could get, anywhere in order not to touch her. She tempted him like no other woman. He’d make the sacrifice, bury his animal side beneath lies to keep her.
Yet… Inhaling deeply, the sweet, distinctive scent of her obvious arousal gave him hope. Maybe in time…
Publisher’s website: http://www.purplesword.com
The book is also available on Amazon and All Romance e-books.
Sandra’s website: http://www.sandrasookoo.com
Wanna read another excerpt? Hop on over to my Believing is Seeing blog then go buy the book. Treat yourself this Christmas! http://sandrasookoo.wordpress.com/




