Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holiday. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
A Christmas Interlude by Sandra Sookoo
Cover Artist: Anastasia Rabiyah
Genre: Paranormal Erotica/Historical
Length: Novella, 22,967 words, 70 Pages PDF
ISBN: 978-1-936165-65-0
Release Date: 12-1-2010
Heat Level: Erotic
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:
The mystery surrounding the Luther she thought she’d known for three years grew and glimmered like sought after treasure. Could it be that she bored him in the bedroom? Was she the problem in their relationship in spite of her wishing for more, and because she’d said nothing about her needs until just recently, she was in danger of losing him?
Who was he really?
“Isn’t now the time when you move your business arrangement to more private quarters?” His whispered breath warmed her ear. An avalanche of shivery sensation erupted down her spine once more.
“How do you know that?” A burst of anger cut through the warm, sensuous cloud enveloping her. “Do you, uh, frequent these types of women regularly?”
“Not at all. You are the first to catch my eye, but I do see the transactions when I walk home sometimes.”
“Oh.” Relief flooded her system, washing out the anger. “That’s good since I…” Chelsea’s response died away when he rubbed the heel of one hand over her mound. Even though she wore too many layers for him to adequately tease her, an intense ache pin-wheeled through her core as she felt his fingers there. “Yes.” She pressed his hand more securely against her, but he yanked it away with an arrogant chuckle. She shook herself from the heavy stupor. Time to take matters into her own hands, as it were. If she wanted satisfaction from him, she needed to teach him how to please her. “I have a room in one of the hotels in town if you’d care to join me?"
He nodded and edged to the alley’s mouth. “That would be best, don’t you think? Taking you in the alley is not dignified, but I am prepared to do so if you would rather.” His eyes flashed golden in the dim light. “Or on one of the greenways, on a park bench, whatever will indulge your deepest fantasy. I reckon we could go to great lengths at melting some of this snow.”
Dear Lord! Who was this man? “Oh, no. The cabby is waiting.” She followed on shaky legs. When he stood aside so she could enter the carriage ahead of him, Chelsea did so, pausing on the step. She frowned as he conversed with the cabby. Their voices were too low for her to hear, but the driver did put up an argument.
“Yer lady hired me, sir, and I’ll be takin’ my orders from her.” Curiosity swirled in the driver’s voice, along with a bit of protectiveness.
Chelsea smiled, grateful that he, at least, thought to look after her in his own way. She opened her mouth to encourage him to do whatever Luther had proposed, but Luther pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and passed them to the cabby.
“I think this will more than make up for any trouble on your part or hers.”
“Yer right, sir, and then some.” He pocketed the cash and his dark eyes glittered. “I’ll follow those instructions to the letter, and here’s hoping you get right lucky this cold night.” He touched a finger to the brim of his hat and nodded. “As do I.” Luther gave her a gentle nudge.
When she recalled her situation and moved to enter the carriage, she gasped in surprise as Luther delivered a smart smack to her backside before settling himself on the seat next to her with an unconcerned air.
She faced the window, vowing to regain control of the seduction once they reached the privacy of the hotel. Luther Harrington would most likely revert to his usual boring self once confronted with the actual act of illicit fornication. He’d hem, haw, and offer a hundred excuses why he couldn’t be daring.
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.”
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