Showing posts with label diana dericci. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diana dericci. Show all posts
Friday, March 18, 2011
New Release: The Charlie Factor
 | The Charlie FactorBy: Diana DeRicci | Other books by Diana DeRicciPublished By: Purple Sword Publications, LLC ISBN # 9781936165841 Word Count: 64752 Heat Index  Available in: Adobe Acrobat, Palm DOC/iSolo, Microsoft Reader, HTML, Mobipocket (.prc), Rocket, Epub Available at Purple Sword Publications and other retailers, soon on Kindle. |
About the book
One, recovering from near deadly injuries; the other, unaware of what he’s been missing in his life. What one man can do, may heal them both.Charlie Baker is recovering, slowly. Nearly dying tends to make a man reflect on each day. Take into account that his injuries were caused by a premeditated murder attempt, and he certainly isn’t looking for a lover. He is barely welcoming to a friend unable to trust anyone, preferring to hide from the world hours and miles away from the memories.
Gregory Anders hadn’t intended to disturb the man in silent contemplation on the beach, but when his pup, Samson, takes matters out of his hands, he’s forced to at least apologize for his pet’s behavior. There’s no doubt for Gregory that Charlie could use a friend. Clearing the air up front that he isn’t gay helps Charlie to relax, allowing for the cautious beginning of a friendship.
Two men, both alone, for different reasons. What happens when friendship bears more? When support and affection turns into attraction?
Do you take the chance of a lifetime, for the love a lifetime?
An excerpt from the book
Gregory had the oddest urge to soothe him, to hold Charlie, ease the torment he suffered. He got the door unlocked to push it in. “Come on. Let’s get inside.” Once in, he found a light switch. He held Charlie close, his head on Gregory’s shoulder. The scent of warm skin and clean male engulfed Gregory’s senses. There was no doubt his heart was reacting to it, because his heart wasn’t alone. His skin felt flushed everywhere Charlie touched, even the harsh pants of his breathing through his shirt. Gregory pushed it away. He couldn’t think about it now. Not when Charlie was barely standing, and gritting his teeth in frustration and pain. “How are you feeling now?”“Like I want to shoot myself,” came the flat snarl.
“Shut up.” Gregory wasn’t sure there wasn’t a level of truth to that statement, as despondent as he sounded. “You don’t have a gun, do you?”
Charlie barked a sour laugh. “No. I’m pissed, not suicidal.”
His groused reply calmed the rising fear in Gregory. “Okay. Can you stand yet?” Gregory had been embracing Charlie for a few minutes, one of Charlie’s arms clutched around Gregory’s waist for support with his own arms around Charlie’s frame. Gradually, the tremors and heaves that had rocked his body ceased.
Whether it was accidental or not, a shift of weight brought their bodies closer. Gregory froze as their lengths came together.
Charlie was sporting a hell of a boner behind his jeans. It stole Gregory’s breath away.
Charlie cleared his throat. “Yeah, I think I can now.” The raw depth of those words shook him.
They straightened, but when they should have let their arms release each other, neither did. Gregory stared into his smoldering green eyes. Daring green eyes that whispered promises and hungry desires. Things that Gregory didn’t understand and couldn’t imagine, but felt safe with Charlie. A current that kept him frozen as surges of desire swept over him.
Charlie leaned forward, just a fraction, and Gregory felt panting breath on his lips. His heart pounded. Blood raced. Skin burned. There was no doubt his cock was paying attention, because it was growing painfully hard inside his jeans.
The epiphany was startling, shocking, and confusing as hell.
He was attracted to Charlie.
But he couldn’t be. Gregory wasn’t gay.
Gregory blinked and unwound his hold. The urge to flee screamed at him. “You okay?”
Charlie’s gaze sank, gold lashes hiding him. “Yes. Thank you.” With a purposeful effort, Charlie steadied his weight on his cane, releasing Gregory’s waist completely. “Seems you’re always picking me up off the ground.”
“That’s what friends do,” he managed, trying for flippant and coming out way too tender. He sent the order to his brain to make his legs take a step away. They finally obeyed. “I better get home. Samson probably has to pee a river.”
Charlie chuckled, though it sounded forced. Slipping out the door, Gregory escaped to his still-running Jeep with long, ground-eating strides. He slammed the door closed and released a shuddering breath. The man had been turned on, and unless he needed to take Chemistry 101 again, Charlie had almost kissed him, came damned close to kissing him.
What shook Gregory’s world was that Charlie wasn’t the only one who had been feeling the attraction. The sheer want had been electric. Gregory couldn’t recall feeling the need to close the gap between his lips and Charlie’s like he had just now. Not between himself and a woman, and never with another man. A shudder rocked him as he maneuvered the Jeep onto the road.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
First Christmas by Diana DeRicci
Author: Diana DeRicci
Cover Artist: Anastasia Rabiyah
Genre: Paranormal Gay Erotic Romance/Shapeshifter/Werewolf/
Length: Novella, 18,696 words, 54 pages PDF
ISBN: 978-1-936165-64-3
Release Date: November 17, 2010
Heat Level: Erotic
Warnings: Gay Male/Male
Purple Sword Publications
All Romance Ebooks
Cover Artist: Anastasia Rabiyah
Genre: Paranormal Gay Erotic Romance/Shapeshifter/Werewolf/
Length: Novella, 18,696 words, 54 pages PDF
ISBN: 978-1-936165-64-3
Release Date: November 17, 2010
Heat Level: Erotic
Warnings: Gay Male/Male
Purple Sword Publications
All Romance Ebooks
A stranded wolf. A cougar shifter to the rescue. Can the magic of one Christmas cure both their pain and loneliness?
Exhausted and injured, Jason is driven as a rogue wolf right into the arms of Lyndon, a man that by all he knows, he should never reveal his heart to. Yet when patience and compassion prove size can hide the heart of a gentle giant, a wounded Jason begins to heal. And to love again.
EXCERPT:
Snow fell in thick-flaked flurries, the windows iced in the corners in splintered patterns. Christmas carols played in random order from the CD disks Lyndon had inserted in the stereo. He loved the traditional carols, Bing Crosby being among his all time favorites.
No one could croon like Bing, Lyndon thought.
The evening grew dark with early night, and he sat in his favorite rocker reading in front of the fireplace. He’d learned to dismiss the derision at appearing like an old man because of his holiday habit. No one else had to know, and honestly, no one else did. Since his father died, he had no family to see, and doing more for Christmas than the small tree in the corner and enjoying the calm quiet when he was snowed in, just didn’t appeal to him.
But then again, most cougar shifters were solitary people to begin with. They didn’t congregate at huge family reunions. They were family oriented, but more of a nucleus family, not the in-laws’ cousins’ fourth removed and the subsequent divided tree limbs of family.
Tilting his head, he closed his eyes, catching the woeful howl of the wolf pack. Their songs bounced over the snow, keen and clear. He listened until it faded, then like a loop, started again. Except, their howls had changed, became hard, aggressive growls.
He sat up. That wasn’t like them, and they sounded very close.
Standing, he set the book in his hand on the mantle and walked to peer out his window. Limping out of the trees, he saw the blurred form of a wolf, hobbling.
The howls started again, and this time it was a hunting cry.
He knew the poor creature on the snow was the harried game. Grabbing his heavy jacket by the fire, he leaped into his snow boots, strapping them down, listening to the wolves’ cry.
He darted through the house, leaving by the side door of the mudroom, circling back around, searching the tree line where he’d seen it. Gray dusk made the snow seem even thicker as it fell, but he could just make out movement yards ahead of him.
The animal had stopped, though streams of steam proved it still lived. He didn’t recognize this one from his studies, and he’d catalogued over forty-five different wolves in the local packs. His home, an old look-out cabin, sat nearly on the border of their two territories, so every now and then, he actually could watch both, but for the most part, they avoided each other’s land.
Cutting through the snow, he listened, the howls coming closer. His hands were beginning to chill, and he stuffed them in his pockets, his fingers digging, but coming up empty. No gloves. He remembered. They were on the shelf drying out from his last foray outdoors. Couldn’t be helped, he was halfway to the panting animal.
Gray eyes focused on him as he neared. It didn’t attempt to escape, it didn’t snarl, and it didn’t become defensive. It laid there. Studying it as he drew closer, he knew this one wasn’t one of the wolves from either pack. He could also see what the problem was. A bloody paw was packed with snow and debris.
“Poor baby,” he murmured. “Found an old trap, didn’t you?” Cautiously, he eased his way forward, its gray eyes staying focused, yet its demeanor never changed. His brow furrowed. “You can’t be a wild wolf. You’d have tried to take my head off by now. I hope you’re not a release wolf that hasn’t found his footing.” He’d have to radio the conservation center when the storm blew over to see if this one resembled one of their release wolves.
A snarl whipped his attention over his shoulder. Three sets of eyes. Pissed off eyes glared at him. He growled low in his chest, hissing. The wolves were completely confused, tails in the air, full battle gear locked and loaded.
Not turning his back on the three, he crouched and gently lifted the animal from the cold snow. It hung limp as a rag in his arms. “Definitely not wild,” he breathed, the words forming as clouds in the bitter cold. “All right, let’s see what we can do about your foot.”
He had to take the chance to turn away from the watching trio to get back to the cabin. Golden lights soothingly glowed through the frosted glass window in the front. The wolves that had been chasing his cargo stayed behind in the trees, sharp snaps and punctuated growls voicing their displeasure as he took away their game.
“Too bad.”
But they didn’t follow him. The wolf’s forefoot was a mess. With a glance, he hoped it was really only packed and not badly injured. It would be a shame that a release wolf would have to be reclaimed because of an injury like this. Nudging his way into the mudroom, he used a shoulder to secure the door then laid the wolf on a pile of summer rugs.
It whimpered once as its body settled. Gray eyes closed. Taking a quick inventory, he realized there wasn’t a tag on this wolf anywhere. Hm. Not a release wolf? He stood slowly, still being cautious with the animal, but it seemed absolutely unconcerned with its eyes closed, resting, to anything Lyndon might do.
He slipped from his jacket and hung it on the peg near the door, doing the same with his boots, ready for him on the floor.
Now, he was definitely curious and concerned about the wolf before him. Not a release wolf, but way too docile to be a wild pack wolf. Lyndon couldn’t remember any like this one, ever.
Kneeling, he lightly touched it, waiting for a reaction, but all it did was open its eyes. “You aren’t wild, are you?” he asked quietly. “Is that why they were chasing you? Because you’re not wolf?”
It raised its head with a jerk, startled eyes sharpening and focusing on him.
“Thought so. You don’t have to shift if you don’t want to. I know it’s uncomfortable when you don’t know where you are, and the injury won’t shift well with you. If it helps, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a researcher. A cougar shifter with an affinity and divine love of wolves.” He smiled warmly. “Okay, before I talk you to tears—casualty of living alone during the winter—let me see if we can get your paw cleaned up.”
Exhausted and injured, Jason is driven as a rogue wolf right into the arms of Lyndon, a man that by all he knows, he should never reveal his heart to. Yet when patience and compassion prove size can hide the heart of a gentle giant, a wounded Jason begins to heal. And to love again.
EXCERPT:
Snow fell in thick-flaked flurries, the windows iced in the corners in splintered patterns. Christmas carols played in random order from the CD disks Lyndon had inserted in the stereo. He loved the traditional carols, Bing Crosby being among his all time favorites.
No one could croon like Bing, Lyndon thought.
The evening grew dark with early night, and he sat in his favorite rocker reading in front of the fireplace. He’d learned to dismiss the derision at appearing like an old man because of his holiday habit. No one else had to know, and honestly, no one else did. Since his father died, he had no family to see, and doing more for Christmas than the small tree in the corner and enjoying the calm quiet when he was snowed in, just didn’t appeal to him.
But then again, most cougar shifters were solitary people to begin with. They didn’t congregate at huge family reunions. They were family oriented, but more of a nucleus family, not the in-laws’ cousins’ fourth removed and the subsequent divided tree limbs of family.
Tilting his head, he closed his eyes, catching the woeful howl of the wolf pack. Their songs bounced over the snow, keen and clear. He listened until it faded, then like a loop, started again. Except, their howls had changed, became hard, aggressive growls.
He sat up. That wasn’t like them, and they sounded very close.
Standing, he set the book in his hand on the mantle and walked to peer out his window. Limping out of the trees, he saw the blurred form of a wolf, hobbling.
The howls started again, and this time it was a hunting cry.
He knew the poor creature on the snow was the harried game. Grabbing his heavy jacket by the fire, he leaped into his snow boots, strapping them down, listening to the wolves’ cry.
He darted through the house, leaving by the side door of the mudroom, circling back around, searching the tree line where he’d seen it. Gray dusk made the snow seem even thicker as it fell, but he could just make out movement yards ahead of him.
The animal had stopped, though streams of steam proved it still lived. He didn’t recognize this one from his studies, and he’d catalogued over forty-five different wolves in the local packs. His home, an old look-out cabin, sat nearly on the border of their two territories, so every now and then, he actually could watch both, but for the most part, they avoided each other’s land.
Cutting through the snow, he listened, the howls coming closer. His hands were beginning to chill, and he stuffed them in his pockets, his fingers digging, but coming up empty. No gloves. He remembered. They were on the shelf drying out from his last foray outdoors. Couldn’t be helped, he was halfway to the panting animal.
Gray eyes focused on him as he neared. It didn’t attempt to escape, it didn’t snarl, and it didn’t become defensive. It laid there. Studying it as he drew closer, he knew this one wasn’t one of the wolves from either pack. He could also see what the problem was. A bloody paw was packed with snow and debris.
“Poor baby,” he murmured. “Found an old trap, didn’t you?” Cautiously, he eased his way forward, its gray eyes staying focused, yet its demeanor never changed. His brow furrowed. “You can’t be a wild wolf. You’d have tried to take my head off by now. I hope you’re not a release wolf that hasn’t found his footing.” He’d have to radio the conservation center when the storm blew over to see if this one resembled one of their release wolves.
A snarl whipped his attention over his shoulder. Three sets of eyes. Pissed off eyes glared at him. He growled low in his chest, hissing. The wolves were completely confused, tails in the air, full battle gear locked and loaded.
Not turning his back on the three, he crouched and gently lifted the animal from the cold snow. It hung limp as a rag in his arms. “Definitely not wild,” he breathed, the words forming as clouds in the bitter cold. “All right, let’s see what we can do about your foot.”
He had to take the chance to turn away from the watching trio to get back to the cabin. Golden lights soothingly glowed through the frosted glass window in the front. The wolves that had been chasing his cargo stayed behind in the trees, sharp snaps and punctuated growls voicing their displeasure as he took away their game.
“Too bad.”
But they didn’t follow him. The wolf’s forefoot was a mess. With a glance, he hoped it was really only packed and not badly injured. It would be a shame that a release wolf would have to be reclaimed because of an injury like this. Nudging his way into the mudroom, he used a shoulder to secure the door then laid the wolf on a pile of summer rugs.
It whimpered once as its body settled. Gray eyes closed. Taking a quick inventory, he realized there wasn’t a tag on this wolf anywhere. Hm. Not a release wolf? He stood slowly, still being cautious with the animal, but it seemed absolutely unconcerned with its eyes closed, resting, to anything Lyndon might do.
He slipped from his jacket and hung it on the peg near the door, doing the same with his boots, ready for him on the floor.
Now, he was definitely curious and concerned about the wolf before him. Not a release wolf, but way too docile to be a wild pack wolf. Lyndon couldn’t remember any like this one, ever.
Kneeling, he lightly touched it, waiting for a reaction, but all it did was open its eyes. “You aren’t wild, are you?” he asked quietly. “Is that why they were chasing you? Because you’re not wolf?”
It raised its head with a jerk, startled eyes sharpening and focusing on him.
“Thought so. You don’t have to shift if you don’t want to. I know it’s uncomfortable when you don’t know where you are, and the injury won’t shift well with you. If it helps, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a researcher. A cougar shifter with an affinity and divine love of wolves.” He smiled warmly. “Okay, before I talk you to tears—casualty of living alone during the winter—let me see if we can get your paw cleaned up.”
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Shifted Perceptions by Diana DeRicci
Shifted Perceptions
Diana DeRicci
ISBN 978-1-936165-66-7
Word Count: 28,734
PDF Page Count: 79
Heat Index: Erotic
Does this book contain violence? No
Genre(s): Paranormal Erotic Romance/ Werewolf Shapeshifter / Ménage
Buy Link:
http://purplesword.com/
Dali Bowman has a secret desire, one that she’s already witnessed her closest friends discover for themselves. When Rex Adkins and Gage Hall come into her life, she likes what she sees, and is willing to take the chance. On her terms.
Rex and Gage have been friends since high school, as close as brothers in almost all aspects of their lives, from the secret they both share to the craving they have to find a woman that will complete them as a family. When Rex and Gage meet Dali, the attraction is instant. The confusion is their wolves’ muted interest. Are they wrong? Is Dali the one woman for them?
When they take away Dali’s freedom of choice, she runs, slamming the door on them and their advances. Can they salvage their chance or has their impetuous behavior cost them more than either could imagine?
Blurb:
“Is that a good bet?” Rex asked her. Music played in the background as the bar had filled with Thursday night customers and couples, the insides getting decidedly noisier. The other two tables were being played now too, so she had to stay kind of close to Gage and Rex. Not that she minded. And now, he'd made a bet.
Dali's heart raced. Two kisses. Or two men running their hands all over her. She tried to find moisture in her mouth. She'd gone bone dry. Her stomach fluttered, heat oozing to settle between her legs.
“I'll take it.” It was a win-win for her. Rex flashed a smile that could only be deemed as predatory. “One condition,” she cautioned. He stopped circling the table, waiting. She walked up to him and Gage followed her.
“No matter the winner, later or outside, but just not here. I'm not an exhibitionist.”
Rex actually sighed his way through a tender laugh. “Dali, we're not animals.” He cupped her cheek and held her for a moment, his thumb stroking her. It was just as well that he'd made the bet. It was getting late enough that she needed to get home. The last dose she'd taken to stop her sneezing wouldn't last for much longer, and she still had an antibiotic to take. She'd been proactive and made sure there was something she could take with the meds if she'd needed, glad now that she had. She wasn't about to sniffle and sneeze the whole evening. She couldn't wait until the antibiotics did their thing, and she could feel normal again.
Dali went to return to her spot when Rex let her go, and she flattened right into Gage's chest, unaware he'd been right behind her. His arm swept around her naturally. “Easy, darlin',” he said gently at her ear. His breath was warm, smelling faintly of the beer they'd been drinking. “There's something you should know.”
She tried to swallow, but it was a wasted effort. “What?” she managed. Her lungs had ceased to work. His arm was strong and gentle at the same time, holding her upright, which was good. She was too close to melting to the floor again.
“Rex and me, we take good care of our woman.” His thumb lifted, stroking right beneath her breast, his nail dragging seductively across the bottom of her bra. Her body tightened and her pussy ached, throbbing for more, for touch.
Woman. One. She knew she hadn't misheard him. Liquid heat spread, reaching to between her legs. She spasmed, aching.
Rex stood, frozen, watching them, his eyes glittering like blue flames in the bar lights. The world around them vanished with that spark of desire burning in his blue eyes and Gage's hard body enveloping hers.
Dali's heart thrummed, the entire process taking no more than a second to dissect. She hadn't been misreading them! Both of these men wanted her. It sent her heart careening into her ribs for several seconds as lust and desire washed through her.
She knew Jason, her boss and the owner of the health club where she worked, and Victor, his oldest friend, shared the woman they both loved, Leesa. Those closest to them knew their idiosyncrasies, and Dali had been friends with Jason and Victor for a long time and had more than one opportunity to hear about Leesa's happiness while at work. Dali also knew she'd never be more than friends with either Jason or Victor, but they'd opened her eyes to something. She wasn't what most would call normal. She didn't crave the same things most women did.
Well, maybe she did. She wanted a man to look at her like he couldn't live without her. She wanted a man to respect her, protect her, cherish her. But what she wanted physically, couldn't be done with just one man. She needed, desired, and hungered for two. Two men to love her body, to please her as she could pleasure them. What Jason and Victor had proven could be done, she wanted. And it looked like she wasn't alone in the wanting.
Leaning relaxed into Gage's chest, she dared, “Make your shot, Rex.”
His jaw twitched and he laughed. “Minx.”
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
New Release : Embraced by Passion
Embraced By Passion
Diana DeRicci
ISBN 978-1-936165-48-3
Word Count: 36,003
PDF Page Count: 109
Heat Index: Erotic Romance
Does this book contain violence? Yes
Genre(s): Erotic Romance, MMF, Ménage, paranormal, BBW
http://purplesword.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=2&products_id=51
Search Words (at least 20): wyvern, telepathy, ménage, BBW, M/M, M/F/M, M/M/F, anal play, anal intercourse, paranormal romance, erotic romance, shapeshifter,
Blurb:
Ja'Rol and Slone have been together for years, but lately a desire they can't help has been creeping up on them. An emptiness neither wanted to admit to fearing the other's reaction and hurt. A faceless need, a woman they know they will encounter. A woman who will bond with them and make them complete in ways neither has ever known or anticipated.
Brigit can't explain the attraction she feels when she meets not one, but both of her mother's ex-bosses. When she learns her mother is about to wed, Slone and Ja'Rol offer to fly her to the ceremony. Their wedding gift--to have Brigit with her mother for the special day.
The trip to Las Vegas guarantees at least the opportunity to win her, to convince Brigit they want her. Embracing their relationship will be the easy part. The telepathy... That's a little harder to explain.
Excerpt:
“Vegas, huh?” Ja’Rol asked.
“Two days.” Brigit ran her fingers through her hair. How was she going to pull that off? She didn’t have tons of cash and a flight forty-eight hours ahead was going to cost a fortune. A bus would be cheaper, but could she do it in two days?
“Let’s surprise your mother,” Ja’Rol offered. “We do miss her. She’d been with us for a long time.”
“How?” she asked, questioning them both.
“Tell us where you’re staying, and your number. We’ll arrange for you to be picked up. We’ll fly. A final gift to say goodbye for her.” Slone sat, looking at her, hardly blinking.
“Won’t that interrupt your week?”
Ja’Rol smiled. “It’ll be worth it.”
After giving them her information, she took a couple numbers with her in case something changed. She promised to be packed and ready by seven the next night to catch the flight with them.
Standing, she noticed again how they stood over her, tall and broad. Both watched her with a protective gleam, and with Ja’Rol, more than a hint of desire. She couldn’t argue with what she saw in him. She felt it too, but being attracted to them both confused her. Just thinking about it made her nipples tighten more.
Feeling off kilter, she shook their hands, fighting to hide the tremble as heat flared up her arm to land in her stomach. It oozed like a hot lava flow to settle between her legs, making her damp with want the longer she stood with them.
“Until tomorrow,” Slone said. His voice had dropped to a low timbre. The kind of voice that made women swoon off their feet. Because she almost did.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said, trying to keep herself grounded. He smelled as good as Ja’Rol. Damn. What did they wear? She was so buying it.
“We’re happy to. You should be with your mother when she shares vows with her soon to be husband.”
Decadent. She was staring at the personification.
She licked her lips. “Tomorrow night?”
“Seven sharp,” he replied. Still holding her hand, he lifted it and brushed the back of her knuckles with his lips, just the softest tease of heat to skin. Her body pulsed as liquid slicked her pussy. Shit. I have got to get out of here before I combust.
“Let me walk you to the way out,” Ja’Rol offered.
Almost numb with need, she followed. Slone opened the door and with a hand to her back, she let Ja’Rol guide her to the elevator. “All the way to one,” he told her.
She nodded. “I can get a cab.”
“A cab?” He glanced at her, his eyes wider. “Not for Traci’s daughter. I’ll go down and call for the car. Are you already settled at your hotel?”
“Yes,” she answered, feeling breathless.
“Good.”
“It’s not an imposition? Doesn’t it take money to just drive me to my hotel?”
“You are now our guest, as we will be your guests to your mother’s wedding. We take care of our guests.”
She felt it was a losing battle, so she didn’t push. Riding in the elevator was a torture. Not as rugged as Slone, dark brown hair, honey gold eyes, he was perfection.
Decadence and perfection. And she was about to be ensconced in an airplane for hours with the two of them.
Brigit swallowed the groan, crossing her arms to conceal her arousal.
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