Showing posts with label serial killer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label serial killer. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Draven's Crossing: Tempestuous Cravings by Selena Illyria
Selena Illyria
ISBN 978-1-936165-68-1
Word Count: 44,931
PDF Page Count: 114
Heat Index: Erotic
Does this book contain violence? Yes
Genre(s): Paranormal Erotic Romance/Vampire/ Interracial
Buy Link: http://purplesword.com/
Welcome to Draven's Crossing, where fantasies and nightmares walk among us…
Vampire Mayor Draven desires mortal Rose. Her rebuffs excite him. When she finally gives in to his advances, their coming together is explosive, and their passion is more than he could've anticipated.
But a serial killer divides his attention. Can he keep his town safe from this mysterious menace and convince Rose that they belong together despite her reservations?
As a new resident of Draven's Crossing, all Rose wants to do is her job. Draven could be a distraction she can't afford, but she can't ignore him or her arousal.
As a new resident of Draven's Crossing, all Rose wants to do is her job. Draven could be a distraction she can't afford, but she can't ignore him or her arousal.
His blood burned. Arousal slid up and down his spine, hardening his balls and causing his stomach to clench. Draven's cock pressed against the zipper of his slacks, making him uncomfortable. He wanted to adjust his position, but had no desire to draw attention to himself. Eyeing the woman doing the presentation, he remained with his ass pressed against the ledge of the desk and prayed for relief soon. Her nervousness tinged the air with wisps of a sour perfume.
“As you can see, this charity ball will not only be good for our image, but also allow you some leverage with the parties involved in the negotiation for equal rights.” She licked her lips, making her already glossy mouth shine. He nearly groaned aloud; slick, puffy, red lips. That mouth would look so fucking sweet around my cock.
Unable to resist, he shifted his position, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure he felt. Just as he thought, her gaze darted toward him and then back at the group sitting around his board table. In an act of nervousness, she smoothed down the plain tan jacket of her suit, which only drew attention to the outline of her breasts. Full, ripe mounds that he was sure would fit perfectly in his hands. He shifted again from one foot to the other. The pressure inside of him ratcheted up another notch.
Licking her lips again, she bent over, ducking her head as she rifled through some papers on the table. Corkscrew curls bounced and shook at the small movement. Draven wanted to thread his fingers through those silken strands, grab a handful, and pound into her from behind. His cock jumped. Desire sizzled along his nerve endings and created a wildfire through his veins.
“Miss Andrews, your idea is a good one, but charity balls don't exactly raise the revenue we're hoping for,” one of his advisors pointed out. “The fetes always seem more for the haves rather than the have-nots. How are we supposed to make this accessible to everyone?”
Switching to business mode, Draven nodded in agreement and watched her reaction through narrowed eyes. Her nervousness increased, drawing out the predator in him. He wanted that reaction; he wanted her to fear and want him. An image of chasing her down a long, dark corridor danced before him. Her fear mingled with desire as he chased her. He loved it.
The woman, whose name he hadn't caught when the meeting had started, smoothed her hands over a tight skirt that hugged her hips. A groan began in his chest. He squashed it, refusing to lose control, even though every cell in his body wanted to go to her, pull her out of the room and trace her figure with his hands before ripping off every stitch of clothing she wore. She licked her lips again. The groan returned, and he ignored it. Not yet, he admonished himself.
“That's why the ticket price will only be five dollars, affordable to everyone,” she answered.
“And the ad campaign?” another of his advisors asked.
“We'll have ads in every area of the city and on television,” she replied. She held her head high meeting his gaze. Confidence pushed away the earlier fear.
“As you can see, Rose has thought this plan through. If you read the information we passed out at the start of the meeting, you'll have all the ways we intend to reach our target audiences and what we hope to accomplish with the charity ball. We look forward to your call.” Rose's partner pushed back his chair and stood. It was clear that the meeting was over for him.
Rose, such a delicate name. I bet she has thorns to go with that beauty. Draven watched the scene play out. As usual, his advisors looked to him for guidance. He straightened, running his hands over his jacket, thankful that it was long enough to cover his erection. Focused on Rose, he stalked to the front of room.
“I'll say when this is over. After all, I'm the mayor of this town.” Allowing a bit of power to roll over the room, he watched her nostrils flare. The fear was back in the air, and he drank it in. Standing close to her, but not quite touching, he watched her body stiffen. Something sweet and musky joined in the sour aroma wafting off of her. He almost smiled. My little flower finds me attractive.
“It was a good presentation, and you certainly answered the questions. Rose was it?” He allowed her name to come out in a gruff purr. Pausing, he watched her reaction. Her pupils dilated. She moved nearer, but only a millimeter or so. Disappointment twined with satisfaction. He wanted her closer, but knew that wouldn't be possible. They were in a business setting, and there were people in the room with them. “Rose, you still haven't guaranteed me that any of the money put into this venture would be returned to us and then some. I need to show that I can make money for this town. Elections are coming up. I may be in the lead, but my opponent makes a good point: out-of-towners don't consider this a vacation spot. I need the hotels and motels booked up and the inns full. I need to cast a wider net with this, and all you've given me is local color.”
Draven invaded her personal space. If she allowed her fear to control her actions, she'd step back, and he would be disappointed. Rose didn't disappoint him. Tilting her head on a slim neck, she looked right into his eyes. No fear. Fuck, she's perfect. Very few people looked a vampire in the eyes. Especially not one as old as he was.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
New Release: Dark Diary by Dawne Dominique
Author: Dawné Dominique
Cover Artist: Dawné DominiqueGenre: Paranormal/ Erotic Romance/ Vampire Length: Novel, 70,912 Words, 167 PDF Pages
ISBN: 978-193165-53-7
Heat Level: Erotic Romance
Warning: Violence
Cover Artist: Dawné DominiqueGenre: Paranormal/ Erotic Romance/ Vampire Length: Novel, 70,912 Words, 167 PDF Pages
ISBN: 978-193165-53-7
Heat Level: Erotic Romance
Warning: Violence
http://purplesword.com/zencart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=2&products_id=57
Book II of Dawné Dominique’s The First series:
The lives of a deranged serial killer, a seven centuries old First vampire and a City of Winnipeg detective collide in this second novel of Dawné Dominique’s The First series.
Daniella Rolfe, a seven-century old First vampire is unwittingly drawn together with a City of Winnipeg detective, who happens to be investigating a string of some rather bizarre serial murders. It doesn’t take long for her to discover that this mere mortal man holds more power over her than any she's ever known.
And Aiden…he's only dreamed about women like Daniella.
Blood battles and broken vows are the just beginning of Daniella Rolfe’s woes.
EXCERPT:
Aiden forced himself to chill and reason this out, though it was as difficult as hell. He couldn’t forget the images of her gleaming teeth or the slithering veils of midnight-black floating about her skull like Medusa’s snakes.
As she explained, Daniella’s voice adopted a soft, melodic timbre, and coupled with her unique accent, it drifted in his ears like medieval Celtic music.
“I am the last of The First, a blood drinker from the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb. For centuries, I’ve lived alongside y—”
A half-hearted laugh snuck out before he could stop it. Strangling the rest of the chortle, he managed a hoarse, “You’ve got to be joking!”
“Please allow me the courtesy of finishing, Aiden. I’ll take your questions…” she paused, “and ridicule, after.”
He snapped his mouth shut so fast, his teeth chattered. The calm rebuke had felt like a spanking.
“I am a chameleon; I change my identity from century to century, so no one is the wiser. I continue to be the great granddaughter of a Rolfe, which is a family name I rather like, though it is fictitious. The Talbots aid me in ensuring proper documentation is changed and my continuous birth is legal and binding. Vampires, my kin, walk amongst you, though they know enough about me to leave any city I reside in alone.
He went to ask what cities, but she didn’t give him a chance.
“Your written myths are correct in that vampires are made by the transference of their blood with a human, but…” A dark shadow crossed over her face. “…vampires are not prone to sharing their blood, as it brings competition over fodder and territory. They are self-righteous loners by nature, preferring their own company for centuries on end until loneliness makes them destroy themselves or…” She fell silent.
“Or?”
“Or they find a companion deemed worthy in their eyes to spend eternity with.” She turned away. “Vampires have been around since before I was born. How and why they came into existence is unknown to me. I-I suspect that there must be parents of sorts, and there are rumors, but I’ve paid little attention to the veils of that world.”
“Veils?”
“When a vampire is turned, we call it the veiling.”
He had to ask. “Why?”
“There are veils of magic that separate our worlds. Think of the dark gifts as a commodity, but worth more than any amount of money in the world. Power is an ugly thing, Aiden. It breeds all sorts of fiends. Bloodsuckers exist, and good and evil are forever battling. In your race or in others, the concept is still the same. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Vamps are found any place where food is plentiful. It’s not uncommon to have two, maybe three residing in one city, depending on its population and size, but their hunting boundaries are strictly enforced. How they’re agreed upon, I don’t know. There are those who attempt to seek me out. I can sense them well before they have even caught a whiff of my nocturnal scent. Those who dare come here to usurp me, I destroy. And those that leave unexplained corpses, whether it is in my city or not, I find and kill them. We’re similar in that vampires are protective of their domiciles and food. When age becomes a concern—”
“Wait. Vampires don’t age… I mean…” Just what the hell did he mean?
“I’ll get to that later,” she said, her features softening. “Most vampires feed without the necessity of killing, taking only what’s needed before setting their victims free, unscathed. Well, perhaps a tad anemic, but they remember nothing of the experience,” she added with a strained smile. “Our gifts, in other words our magic, facilitates this.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” he scorned. “I can well imagine that remembering someone gnawing on your neck and sucking you dry would have some fucked up effects. Intensive therapy comes to mind.” The scathing scowl she gave snapped his mouth shut again.
“Like your rungs of society, Aiden, vampires have their share of what one would deem a criminal. These degenerates kill when they feed without taciturn methods of secrecy, thinking they are all powerful, beyond reproach. Thankfully there are some out there who think like I do.”
He couldn’t help but wonder what category she fit in.
Book II of Dawné Dominique’s The First series:
The lives of a deranged serial killer, a seven centuries old First vampire and a City of Winnipeg detective collide in this second novel of Dawné Dominique’s The First series.
Daniella Rolfe, a seven-century old First vampire is unwittingly drawn together with a City of Winnipeg detective, who happens to be investigating a string of some rather bizarre serial murders. It doesn’t take long for her to discover that this mere mortal man holds more power over her than any she's ever known.
And Aiden…he's only dreamed about women like Daniella.
Blood battles and broken vows are the just beginning of Daniella Rolfe’s woes.
EXCERPT:
Aiden forced himself to chill and reason this out, though it was as difficult as hell. He couldn’t forget the images of her gleaming teeth or the slithering veils of midnight-black floating about her skull like Medusa’s snakes.
As she explained, Daniella’s voice adopted a soft, melodic timbre, and coupled with her unique accent, it drifted in his ears like medieval Celtic music.
“I am the last of The First, a blood drinker from the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb. For centuries, I’ve lived alongside y—”
A half-hearted laugh snuck out before he could stop it. Strangling the rest of the chortle, he managed a hoarse, “You’ve got to be joking!”
“Please allow me the courtesy of finishing, Aiden. I’ll take your questions…” she paused, “and ridicule, after.”
He snapped his mouth shut so fast, his teeth chattered. The calm rebuke had felt like a spanking.
“I am a chameleon; I change my identity from century to century, so no one is the wiser. I continue to be the great granddaughter of a Rolfe, which is a family name I rather like, though it is fictitious. The Talbots aid me in ensuring proper documentation is changed and my continuous birth is legal and binding. Vampires, my kin, walk amongst you, though they know enough about me to leave any city I reside in alone.
He went to ask what cities, but she didn’t give him a chance.
“Your written myths are correct in that vampires are made by the transference of their blood with a human, but…” A dark shadow crossed over her face. “…vampires are not prone to sharing their blood, as it brings competition over fodder and territory. They are self-righteous loners by nature, preferring their own company for centuries on end until loneliness makes them destroy themselves or…” She fell silent.
“Or?”
“Or they find a companion deemed worthy in their eyes to spend eternity with.” She turned away. “Vampires have been around since before I was born. How and why they came into existence is unknown to me. I-I suspect that there must be parents of sorts, and there are rumors, but I’ve paid little attention to the veils of that world.”
“Veils?”
“When a vampire is turned, we call it the veiling.”
He had to ask. “Why?”
“There are veils of magic that separate our worlds. Think of the dark gifts as a commodity, but worth more than any amount of money in the world. Power is an ugly thing, Aiden. It breeds all sorts of fiends. Bloodsuckers exist, and good and evil are forever battling. In your race or in others, the concept is still the same. Now where was I? Oh, yes. Vamps are found any place where food is plentiful. It’s not uncommon to have two, maybe three residing in one city, depending on its population and size, but their hunting boundaries are strictly enforced. How they’re agreed upon, I don’t know. There are those who attempt to seek me out. I can sense them well before they have even caught a whiff of my nocturnal scent. Those who dare come here to usurp me, I destroy. And those that leave unexplained corpses, whether it is in my city or not, I find and kill them. We’re similar in that vampires are protective of their domiciles and food. When age becomes a concern—”
“Wait. Vampires don’t age… I mean…” Just what the hell did he mean?
“I’ll get to that later,” she said, her features softening. “Most vampires feed without the necessity of killing, taking only what’s needed before setting their victims free, unscathed. Well, perhaps a tad anemic, but they remember nothing of the experience,” she added with a strained smile. “Our gifts, in other words our magic, facilitates this.”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” he scorned. “I can well imagine that remembering someone gnawing on your neck and sucking you dry would have some fucked up effects. Intensive therapy comes to mind.” The scathing scowl she gave snapped his mouth shut again.
“Like your rungs of society, Aiden, vampires have their share of what one would deem a criminal. These degenerates kill when they feed without taciturn methods of secrecy, thinking they are all powerful, beyond reproach. Thankfully there are some out there who think like I do.”
He couldn’t help but wonder what category she fit in.
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