Category Archives: Excerpts

Sometimes a wolf’s greatest challenge is finding their way home…


Amazon | Barnes & Noble | All Romance  

Five brand new, hot paranormal romance stories from bestselling authors. Alpha heroes and heroines with dark pasts and the need to discover their own happy ever after will draw you in and make you turn to the next page.

Each novella offers a look into a different series and world, but each features the power of the wolf. Whether you like your wolves from small town, as billionaires, fighting wars they have to win or wrestling with ancient powers, Under a Wolf Moon has something for you.

Discover never seen before stories!

Meet tempestuous wolves!

Survive fiery battles!

Mark the date to meet their mates!

The wolf moon fills the sky and it’s time to howl!

Warning: Contains alpha heroes and heroines, scorching passion, tough love, family ties, and pack dynamics which bind them together. Sometimes a wolf’s greatest challenge is finding their way home…

Wolf Next Door by Heather Long 

When Claire Webster was five years old Tyler Buckley, the wolf next door, told her he was her mate and then ordered her not to play with one of her friends. Butting heads throughout their childhood, her choice to leave Willow Bend tore them apart. Eight years later, she sends a request to the new Alpha—she wants to come home, and when he grants it, she’s both relieved and terrified. The first person she runs into is the last one who ever wants to see her again.

Princess of the Pack by Saranna DeWylde 

Marchessa de la Luna’s duty is to the marriage arranged to the enigmatic and powerful, but aging Alpha Antony Rommulus. Her passion is for the rogue Cassius who can give her nothing except pleasure. Marchessa must choose if it will be duty or desire that will decide her fate and that of her pack.

Eternal by Rebecca Royce 

Dougal Owens has served on the front line of The Dragon Wars for sixteen years. The last thing this Alpha werewolf expects is his mate to drop in with a plan to end the war. Together, they will battle to save the Wolves or die trying.

Hell’s Playground by Cara Carnes 

The Quadrant Alpha once thought Mira’s death was the worst thing that could have happened. Learning she lives, and worse, survived torture and purgatory gives Adrik a chance to save Redemption and his mate.

Odd Wolf by Virginia Nelson 

Dara is Alpha and used to taking control of the situation when it goes swirly. A rogue on her turf means a fight, and she’s ready to take him on. A woman with no plans to be tamed and a rogue wolf with no plans to stick around shouldn’t have more than a brief meeting to establish boundaries and be done. However, when Dara meets Lynwood, the call to mate might drown out logic altogether.

Read the first chapter of Wolf Next Door!

Continue reading Sometimes a wolf’s greatest challenge is finding their way home…

Meet Sergei Gun…

I have a book coming out September 2d. If you haven’t read the first book, you might want to do so now—both books in this series are great fun. Mystery, suspense, murky bayous, hot sunny Mexican getaways, ex-SEAL operatives, and women in need of their brand of care and protection….

Her Only Desire

HerOnlyDesire_600

Sultry Summer Nights, Book 1

The moment Tilly Floret sees the sleek Bentley driving down Main Street, she knows trouble has arrived in her sleepy little town. A mysterious job posting keeps appearing at the diner where she works, and she can’t resist applying. No matter that the entire town of Bayou Vert is whispering about the wealthy, powerful man behind it all and his scandalous return home. The moment his ice-blue eyes meet hers, he ignites an all-consuming desire she never imagined possible, one she can’t deny.

Ex-navy SEAL Boone Benoit never thought he’d set foot in Louisiana again. As soon as Tilly starts her new job in his pleasure club, he senses a kindred soul. One who has carefully guarded secrets of her own-and a simmering hunger for the taboo rites of mastery and submission. The only difference is she doesn’t yet know it. Now as Boone tutors Tilly in the tantalizing world of leather and lace, she will shed her every inhibition and surrender to him, body and soul.

Buy at:  Amazon | Barnes & NobleBooks-A-Million

His Every Fantasy

His Every Fantasy_600

Sultry Summer Nights, Book 2

The last thing ex-SEAL Sergei Gun needs is a complication. As part of a powerful black-ops company, he’s led an extraction team into the Mexican jungle to rescue two men who have been kidnapped. Everything has gone according to plan until Serge discovers a third hostage-an exquisitely beautiful woman with a secret haunting her stormy gray eyes…a woman who refuses to make this rescue easy. With no choice but to bring her back to the compound deep in the sultry, steamy Louisiana bayou, Serge vows to protect her, body and soul…

Kara Nichols never imagined that she’d capture the interest of a powerful man like Serge. Yet from the moment they met, she’s fantasized about his strong hands caressing her naked skin, his musky scent lingering on her sheets. What began as a simple rescue mission ignites into a passionate affair. As Serge teaches her the tantalizing art of surrender, Kara finds herself more than willing to shed every last one of her inhibitions and submit to him fully. But the dark, dangerous forces that captured Kara aren’t ready to let her go so easily…

Buy at: Barnes & Noble | Books-A-Million

Meet Sergei Gun…

He’d been here before.

A makeshift tent city on a lonely stretch of Iraqi desert with a shamal wind kicking up fine, wheat-flour sand into a blinding storm.

Tar-paper shacks nestled in a rock-strewn valley in the Hindu Kush mountains under fat snowflakes whipping into a blizzard.

And just like those times, this ramshackle camp hidden in the middle of a Yucatán jungle was surrounded. About to be destroyed. The men guarding the perimeter, smoking cigarettes and bragging about their latest sexual conquests, were already dead. They just didn’t know it. Continue reading Meet Sergei Gun…

Good Things in Small Packages…

I published a short story on Amazon the other day. If you like science fiction/futuristic stories set on Mars, check it out. And if you like the story a lot and want to see more in a possible series of Martian tales, let me know…

RedDawn_600

Here’s an excerpt…

The transport arrived amid a whirl of dust kicked up from the barren yard beside the house. The gritty air nearly obscured the moon, Phobos, as it made the first of several orbits for the day. The aircraft hovered, framed by the uneven curves of the asteroid, then set down with a thud that shuddered the fiber-board planks of her front porch, vertical engines stalling then shutting off altogether. Slowly, the dust settled.

She’d been sweeping, preparing the cabin for the transport’s arrival. As with every element of the company’s schedule, the ship arrived precisely on time. Although she was prepared, a flutter of anticipation tickled her belly. She set aside the broom, wiped her palms against the sides of her sturdy blue work pants, and descended the stairs, eager to meet the shipment.

A man dressed in a gray company coverall climbed out of the cockpit and strode toward her.

Mary’s heart skipped a beat when she realized she hadn’t had a face-to-face conversation with another human being in a very long time. She pasted on a smile. “Welcome.”

His sharp gaze swept her little cabin, the golden fields beyond it, then finally rested on her. “You Mary Bledsoe?”

He likely wondered how someone of her stature had managed to pass the physical tests to qualify for farming. She stiffened her spine to add a few centimeters to her small, wiry frame and met his gaze with her usual calm, chilly stare. “I am.” She bit back a sarcastic, Who else do you think I could be? Every one of the thousand colonists had been handpicked and transported by the company—they had a monopoly on Martian transportation and industry.

His mouth twitched, but he kept his gaze steady. “I have your shipment, and I’ll need your signature on the bill of lading.”

She nodded. “I’ll need to inspect.” She’d received notice of the contents of the shipment via the comm-console situated in the cabin’s main room shortly after claiming her homestead.

Although the fields had been pre-planted and her new home fully furnished, there were still some items, especially the perishables, that needed stocking: replacement blades for the combine sheltered in the barn, pallets of foodstuffs, clothing, and fuel packs…and her mate.

Trying not to appear overeager to see him, she waited as the transport commander’s crew scurried to let down the rear ramp and roll out the pallets. With well-trained efficiency, they stacked them beside the porch. She counted the pallets with their quick-wrapped goods, scanned her gaze over the identifying labels, signed for delivery, then shoved her hands into her pockets to hide the fact they were beginning to shake.

The commander’s mouth firmed into a straight line. “Did you receive training in the use of the B-Mod collar?”

He knew she had. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be here, already in possession of a land grant. She gave a curt nod. “Yes. I also signed saying I knew there were no guarantees for my safety or his willingness to work. If we don’t suit, if he proves stubborn, then I’ll return him.”

“Just don’t get too attached, ma’am. You have enough on your hands without coddling one of these rejects.”

The brusque quality of his voice surprised her. Was he truly worried? Should she be more concerned? Her hands drew into fists inside her pants pockets.

But then he extended the chain with the controller for the prisoner’s behavior modification collar, a thin ID tag with a recessed button on one side. She slipped it over her head and followed him to the side of the transport. The guard inside the vehicle opened the door. The prisoner scooted on the seat toward the edge, hands still in manacles, then slid to the ground beside her.

Heart rate rising, she gazed up into a face set in grim lines. Blue eyes, cold as ice, sparked with some deep emotion as he stared back.

He was larger than she had expected. Surprisingly so. Prisoners built like this one were generally shipped to company loading docks or to the dome’s arena. He was dressed as she was in sturdy denim pants and long-sleeved shirt. She studied his broad chest and wide shoulders. He was built like a gladiator; his arms and thighs were deeply muscled. “You’re sure he’s mine?” she asked, turning toward the commander who’d fished a key from his pocket to unlock the prisoner’s handcuffs.

The pilot’s grunt and the flinty glare he gave the prisoner said he too had some reservations. “His collar matches the invoice. Guess they thought you might need the extra muscle.”

Anger flashed at his comment. She’d had enough of men thinking she wasn’t up to the rigors of Martian prairie life. Her hand still gripped the B-Mod chip. She slipped it slowly away, remembering her training. Show no fear. As long as she had the chip, she had control.

Without glancing at the metal torque hugging the base of his neck, because she didn’t want to betray her sudden case of nerves, she lifted her chin and cleared her expression.

“Do you have a name?” An inane question. She winced inwardly.

One side of his mouth quirked. That flash of movement might have been her imagination because he gave her a stony stare.

“Colm O’Riordan.”

The commander cleared his throat.

“Ma’am,” the prisoner amended with a drawl.

Heat crept up her neck, but she ignored the blush threatening to suffuse her face. Turning back to the commander, she offered her hand.

His grip was strong, the look he gave her doubtful. “Good luck to you, Mary.”

Not a professional form of address, but no one had called her by her first name, alone, for a very long time. For that small gift, she gave him a warm smile. “Thanks for everything. We’ll be fine here.”

A duffel was tossed from the transport by one of the guards. The bag was small. Likely only a couple changes of clothing for the prisoner. She jerked her chin toward it, knowing she was still being observed by the crew. “Bring it,” she said, making her tone curt. She turned, walking toward the cabin, wondering if the lock on her new mate’s door would actually hold the man.

Once is Never Enough

OnceIsNeverEnough72webEver have a character in a book who was larger than life, who you knew would scare the crap out of you if you met him in the real world?

Meet Mondo Acevedo. Not a cowboy. But he is another brand of iconic hero—a cop!

And he’s a Dom. The last man standing in his very close-knit, kinky band of brothers in blue. Readers have been asking for his story since the first of my Delta Heat books came out. It’s been a long wait. There were five other stories leading up to this one. I know you won’t mind the wait. Not once you reach THE END.

The novella drops into online bookstores tomorrow. I can’t wait to hear what you think. 🙂 For now, you can pre-order you copy here: Samhain Publishing

Here’s what the story is all about…

It’s time for this Dom to learn he may not always know what’s best.

When his four Memphis PD friends needed to let off steam, Mondo helped them all navigate the BDSM world—his world—and find the women of their dreams. Now the vice cop and La Forge Master/Dom is the last single man standing. And he’s feeling a little like the odd man out.

He’s been waiting a long time for the right woman, one strong enough to match his dark passions. A timid grade school teacher definitely doesn’t make the short list.

Sunny Boudreau was content with her rather prosaic life until a trio of lovers moves in next door. But as she gets to know them and all their friends, she’s drawn to the edge of their ménage/BDSM play. She’s tempted to take the plunge—except Mondo warns her off.

Her first taste of the club only whets her appetite and ignites her desire to prove she’s exactly the woman Mondo’s been hungering for.

Warning: BDSM play at your favorite kinky club, group play at home, some fun BDSM, girl-on-girl kissing, an orgy…the usual for our boys in blue.

Excerpt:

Sunny refused to think about what she was doing, concentrating instead on moving one foot in front of the other, despite her trepidation and embarrassment. Part of her couldn’t believe she was doing this, walking nude into a roomful of strangers. The other part clung to the sight of the man walking in front of her. Anger at how quickly he’d dismissed her commitment to this path without really knowing her fueled her forward movement.

He didn’t know how lonely she was, how out of step she was with her acquaintances at work. They had their boyfriends, had their plain vanilla sex, their ordinary lives, when she dreamed of something more. Something rare and exciting. Not until she’d met Pansy had she understood her need to explore her true nature.

Since the night she’d masturbated, knowing full well Mondo watched, she’d devoured every book she could find on BDSM and fetishes, and much of what she’d read left her feeling as though she’d only been half alive before. And now she stood on a precipice, ready to take the dive into deeper, dark waters.

And Mondo was the key. The teacher she needed. Already he was more attractive, more mysterious and dangerous than anyone she’d ever met. As a vice cop, he faced dangers at work she could only imagine. A far cry from her own job, which she loved, but which didn’t fill her need for adventure.

Her first sight of him, standing on her doorstep, had taken her breath.

Even now, wearing his collar, her breaths were so shallow she had to consciously force them to deepen or risked fainting. And wouldn’t Mondo love it if she did, proving he’d been right all along? Following Mondo out of his playroom and into the noisy, boisterous salon took an act of courage—courage she hadn’t known she possessed. Just summoning up the nerve to step inside La Forge fully dressed had taken nearly everything she had.

She didn’t like crowds, had hated lining up with the others who hoped they’d be chosen for play and instruction, on display for an entire room of barely dressed people to be eyed like they were trussed-up chickens in a meat market.

Pansy had wanted to take her shopping, to buy something sexy and appropriately subbie, but Sunny had hesitated. Sure, she’d read a lot about the lifestyle, but she wasn’t prepared to act as though she knew more than she did.

Everything she’d read had excited her, but she knew herself well enough to know she had to enter this adventure on her own terms, be completely herself, or she’d balk at the last minute from fear and embarrassment.

The fact that Mondo had managed to get her out of her clothes so quickly and striding toward the noisy room was a testament to how much she wanted him as a teacher. Or perhaps how much she wanted to prove him wrong. Anger continued to fuel her bravado.

Pansy had extolled his skills, his sensitivity, his strength. She’d told Sunny that he could push a sub farther than her pre-conceived limits—and it had to be true, because already she was naked and aroused—something any of the dozens of players turning their way to note their passage would see. Her nipples were tightly beaded, her areolas dimpled. Moisture was pooling between her legs. She hoped the dim lighting would hide the gleam between her thighs.

Shutting the others out before she lost her nerve, she kept her gaze on Mondo’s broad shoulders as he moved with purpose through the center of the room, past chairs and sofas where a dizzying array of sexual acts were occurring.

Her mouth dropped as she spotted Pansy, bent forward with Billy holding her hands to provide her balance, her pregnant belly bared, while Beau clapped his hand on her naked bottom—not harshly enough to rock her body, but her cheeks were pink, her pussy flushed and engorged—for anyone to see.

Sunny’s cheeks burned for her new friend. Taking another step, she bumped into Mondo, who turned his head and gave her a searing glance. “Sorry, Sir,” she mumbled, not able to meet his knowing gaze, because she’d been caught staring at another woman’s pussy.

“That interested you?” he asked, pointing his chin toward Pansy, whose desperate gaze met Sunny’s.

Pansy gasped at the next thudding clap and then winked.

Sunny swallowed hard, surprised at how much she envied Pansy’s predicament. Meeting Mondo’s hard gaze, she quivered inside. Sensing he’d know if she tried to give him anything less than the truth, she admitted her interest with a whispered, “Yes, Sir.”

Mondo stepped closer, forcing her head up to maintain their locked gazes. A hand slipped between her thighs, fingers gliding in the moisture coating her smooth outer labia. Shock sent a shiver straight up her spine at the intimate touch, and she nearly reached out to push his hand away.

Without any emotion in his eyes, Mondo smiled. “I’ll touch you however I want. No matter who watches.”

She nodded, but gasped a quick, “Yes, Sir,” when he pinched her swollen clit.

The urge to widen her stance, to invite further caresses warred with the chilling awareness that others watched.

Mondo gave her a long look. Everything inside her made her want to lower her gaze, to hide the longing surging up inside her. For him. For what this place offered. How much of that longing was for him specifically or for what he might be able to teach her, she wasn’t sure. But she held his gaze, braving out the tense moment.

Mondo gave a soft grunt and then glanced around them. Heads turned swiftly away at his glare.

She ducked her head, averting her gaze as she’d been instructed. She almost smiled at his irritation but firmed her lips to hide her amusement. The fact she wanted to smile when she was nude and vulnerable surprised her. She’d never done this before. Even with the few lovers she’d had, she was quick to find a robe rather than parade naked.

“I want you to watch with me tonight,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Be my shadow. When I pause, you kneel. When I move, you follow.” He trailed a finger down the side of her face. “If I caress you, you will let me see whether you feel pleasure or discomfort. Hide nothing.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered and then wet her lips, wishing he’d kiss her again.

His sensuous, firm mouth quirked up at one side. “You are a surprise.”

Her mouth twitched. “Sir?”

“Yes, Sunny?”

“Will you make love to me tonight?”

He pulled his head back and looked down at her, his eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “I shouldn’t. You’re bold and shouldn’t be rewarded. You have a lot to learn.”

“You didn’t say you won’t.” The further narrowing of his eyes told her she’d displeased him. Quickly, before he could respond, she slowly knelt in front of him. “You paused, Sir.”

Mondo’s teeth flashed. He shook his head. “Dios, the things I want to do with you.”

A Cornucopia of Naughty

I like titles.

Sometimes, I’m lucky enough to hit upon a title that spins the whole story. Five Ways ‘Til Sunday and its sequel, Fournicopia, are two prime examples.

Not that I didn’t know before I started that the stories would revolve around a group of guys, best friends, who happened to Memphis cops. But really, that’s all I had when I started. That, and an idea of a countdown, a smorgasbord of wicked delights, where each man met his match, plucked by love one at a time.

In Five Ways, I had the title, then happened to glance at my personal “vision board” where my bucket list is pinned. Mine includes all the places I want to see, the family experiences I want to share before I die. But what about sexual experiences? Could my heroine have her own naughty little bucket list? From there, the story wrote itself.

Fournicopia came from me doodling titles on a piece of paper. What could I use that had  the word “four” in it. Well, none that satisfied me. Then a slip of the tongue as I was playing with words, gave me the idea. Fournicopia—a morphing of “cornucopia” (a horn of plenty—now there’s a visual!) and “fornication”…

I never said I was into subtle.

Forget the sugar. Send her the spice.

Delta Heat, Book 2

Gus Taggert knows a setup when he sees one. The doughnut shop his police officer buddies have sent him to, Cornucopia, is too frilly. Too pink. Then the woman behind the counter serves up a mini-lesson in submission that leaves him ready and willing to obey her order to see her tonight at La Forge BDSM club.

The large, burly cop is exactly the kind of alpha guy that newly minted Domme Aislinn Darby has been dying to tie up and spank. Yet after she puts him through his paces, she finds herself eager to let him take control—something she’s never before enjoyed with a man.

Determined to find out once and for all if she has what it takes to control a scene, she orders him up for one more go. Only this time, she intends to ensure he remembers who’s in charge. She’s even willing to offer a little bribe: accept her dictates, and his reward is her—any way he wants her.

Except when it’s time for payback, it comes with several twists she never saw coming.

Warning: When a male sub decides to turn the tables on his pretty Domme, he calls for backup from his best friends. Contains scenes with m/m/f, m/f/m, f/f, spanking, restraints, and an orgy of pleasure no woman can resist. 

 

Gus Taggert knew it was a cliché. A cop in a doughnut shop. The officers waiting for him to arrive for the sergeant’s morning meeting didn’t like making the run because of the inevitable roll of the eyes or smartass grin they’d get standing in line.

However, he didn’t mind being the “doughnut guy”. The plus for being the brunt of any jokes was that he ate for free. That was okay with him. He took any pointed looks or lame jokes in stride. He was an affable guy. Hard to rile.

He’d learned long ago to stifle his anger and look for the good in people, even when they messed up. Being oversized and strong, he’d always had to be more careful throwing his weight around. People could get hurt, and that wasn’t why he’d been drawn to law enforcement. He wasn’t a bully in a uniform.

Gus liked being a cop. Liked what it stood for. Loved the dark navy uniform and the camaraderie of his brother cops. He didn’t mind that his closest buds were all moving on to bigger and better things. He liked being a beat cop. Liked patrolling the neighborhood he lived in and getting to know the people he protected.

His father had been a small-town cop, and his father before him had been the sheriff of their little Arkansas berg. But then his mom had moved to Memphis—not because she’d wanted to, but because when his mom and dad divorced, she’d wanted to start fresh where everyone didn’t know her business and didn’t whisper to her ex about who she was seeing next.

Gus had missed his old school and friends, but had a natural gift for making new ones. That he was big and brawny, quick on his feet despite his size, had made him a natural for the football team.

And that’s where he’d met Jackson Teague and Craig Eason, who surprisingly enough wanted to be cops, too, when they graduated.

They’d all gone to college together, applied for the police academy and been accepted. That’s where they’d met the remaining members of their current posse, Beau McIntyre and Mondo Acevedo.

So, Gus was never lonely. He had his peeps, a job he loved, a city that kept him on his toes. And today, he was on his way to explore a new doughnut shop.

Mondo, although now in vice and no longer attending the station-house morning meetings, had given him a roll of bills the night before. “Treat the guys to doughnuts. On me.”

Gus had glanced at the roll. “This is too much.”

“Not for the place I want you to go.”

He should have known from the gleam in Mondo’s dark brown eyes that something was up, but Gus liked to think the best of people. Maybe Mondo really did just want to treat the guys to something special.

Well, it was special all right. Not like any doughnut shop Gus had ever seen before. He stood on the street in front of the small store front, eyeing the painted glass window with its pink awning, and felt the first rumbles of misgiving.

Cornucopia. He’d had to Google it the night before to get the address and see what the name meant. A horn of plenty. A familiar Thanksgiving ornament. But there weren’t ears of corn or squashes spilling from the dark pink horn painted on the glass. Doughnuts looking like Christmas presents, painted with ribbons and sparkling with stars, spilled from the mouth of the horn.

All the pink and frothy cuteness made him itch. However, he’d been given a wad of cash and a mission to buy a couple dozen doughnuts from this specific shop. For once, his face burned at the idea.

Hitching up his utility belt, he blew out a deep breath that billowed his cheeks, and pushed the glass door. A bell at the top tinkled.

Inside, the shop was pretty much what he’d expected—pale purple tiled flooring, white-painted iron bistro tables, boxes decorated in frou-frou paper and ribbons stacked at one end of the sparkling clean glass-front counter.

Thankfully, the shop was empty. Maybe he could back out, say it’d been closed when he came by, and he could hit a Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to the station house.

As soon as he’d made up his mind to leave, he heard a stirring from the back, and rather than be caught with one foot still on the sidewalk outside like he was scared to come in, he stepped through the door and held the bell so it didn’t chime again.

“Have a thing for bells?” came a husky feminine voice.

His gaze darted back to the counter, his cheeks filling with heat. A woman stood there, every bit as pretty and dainty as her little shop, with dark red hair, pale-as-dinner-china white cheeks and large brown eyes. The kind of woman he avoided like the plague because he always felt like a lumbering bear beside them.

What had she asked? Oh, yeah, the bells. He didn’t have a thing for them, he’d only wanted to be quiet and not charge into the place like a bull in a china shop. “No, ma’am.”

“That’s a nice start,” she said, her voice dropping again into a sexy, shivering whisper.

Gus’s cheeks burned hotter, because he knew she’d just made a joke and he didn’t understand it. Further, meeting her amused gaze proved surprisingly difficult. He had the urge to duck his head. To wait for permission to come closer.

Her amusement faded. “Come in, officer,” she said with brisk efficiency. “Can I help you with something?”

He cleared his throat, scuffed his boots on the doormat, like that was why he’d paused coming in, and stepped deeper inside the shop. “I’m just here to buy some doughnuts.”

“I don’t sell just doughnuts.” Her voice sharpened.

Had he insulted her somehow? He came closer to the counter. “They’re pretty doughnuts.”

“I’m a trained pastry chef. These are gourmet doughnuts.”

Like he’d said, they were pretty, but he didn’t get what it was she expected him to say. He thrust his hand into his pocket and took out the roll of bills Mondo had given him. “Mondo said you’d fix me up.”

“Mondo…” Her eyes sparkled for a moment, then narrowed. “Show me which you’re interested in.”

He reached out to point at one confection sitting on a tray atop the glass counter. The doughnut looked more like a pretty cupcake and was covered in glaze with star-shaped silver beads glinting on the top. “Some of these?”

Her hand shot out and slapped the top of his. Not hard, but the loud crack it made startled him. “Ma’am?” he asked, startled she’d dared smack an officer of the law.

Undeniably Sexy!

For my latest release, I couldn’t decide whether to write a cowboy or a vampire story—so I made it both! ~DD

The best defense is no match for desire this hot…

Kate McKinnon’s Sanctuary is an island of refuge in a western frontier shrouded in post-apocalyptic chaos. Her only escape from her crushing responsibilities is occasional radio contact with other pockets of survivors. Especially one man whose deep, raspy voice cuts through her exhaustion, straight to her heart. A man whose face she has only imagined.

When she and her ranch hands are surrounded by renegades, she doesn’t recognize the leader of the militaristic band that rescues them, but knows that voice.

Ty Bennett is already half in love with the human woman whose voice haunts his dreams. His impulsive offer to add muscle to the Sanctuary’s defenses is dangerous to them both. Helping her may redeem some of his sins, but proximity only increases his hunger to possess her—body, soul…and blood.

Without hesitation, she welcomes Ty and his men into the Sanctuary…only to discover the reason why they only ride at night. Yet the survival instinct that screams at her to drive them off is no match for Ty’s seductive powers. Or the need for protection from the threat that howls at Sanctuary’s gates.

Kate pushed back the edge of her duster and tucked it behind the holster hanging from Sam’s gun belt. She walked into the store and straight up to the cashier’s desk, doing her best to ignore the overpowering stench of rotting food coming from the produce section. She reached into the shelf above the station, rooting for a pack of cigarettes, but found none and cursed.

So she returned her attention to the front doors and kept track of the men’s progress which she could judge because Shep stood at the end of each row as Danny ran down the aisles to fill one squeaking cart after another according to Shep’s shouted instructions.

She glanced at her watch—fifteen minutes. Too long. “Time to wrap it up. We have to go, guys,” she shouted. It really shouldn’t take this long. There wasn’t much left on the shelves. She glanced down, kicked a cockroach off her boot and squashed it with her heel.

When the men moved into the storage area at the back of the building, she tensed, listening for any signs of trouble in the back, any signs of ambush. Not until she heard the whirring of the cart wheels coming down the aisle again did she let out a relieved breath.

She ran through the entrance to stand guard over the truck while Shep and Danny emptied the contents of the carts into the truck bed—mostly canned goods and paper products. Everything else had been eaten by bugs and mice or was too rotten for human consumption.

“Any place else we need to stop?” Shep asked.

“Just need to get the gas.”

The stacked five-gallon cans in the truck bed represented their hope they’d find enough fuel to run the generator and give them precious light for a few more weeks.

“We’ll head to the Exxon station,” she said. “It’s more open.”

At the gas station, she pulled out the key to the underground storage tank Mr. Jeffers had left her when he migrated east, and while Shep lowered a garden hose into the well to siphon gas into the canisters, she again kept watch.

When he was filling the last of the cans, she heard the sounds she’d dreaded—vehicles coming down the road at a fast clip. “Load up, guys. We’re done.”

Shep pulled up the hose and quickly locked the cap to the well, then bounded into the cab of the truck with the energy of a man much younger than his sixty years. Adrenaline could do that to a man.

Kate peeled out of the parking lot, heading back the way to Sanctuary, but as she’d feared, vehicles turned sideways in the road blocked their exit. She spun the steering wheel, running up over the curb to double back the way they’d come. “Don’t you dare fire on them,” she shouted to Danny. “If they shoot back they could hit that gas. Let’s find us a place where we can stand off.”

The First Baptist Church was just around the corner and not a likely place for monsters to hide.

She ran up over the curb, all the way up to the front steps of the church, and everyone piled out of the truck and dove for the front doors as vehicles careened into the parking lot behind them.

“Shep, you check the back entrance,” she shouted as she broke out a stained-glass window with her pistol grip. “Danny, you get up into the choir loft and keep watch from the upstairs windows.”

They waited while vehicles circled the parking lot, effectively encircling the building. Whooping shouts rang in the air.

“How much ammo you got on you, girl?” Shep shouted from the opposite end of the church.

She patted her duster pockets. “Enough. I don’t miss much.”

“Don’t look like we need silver load.”

He was right. What surrounded them weren’t werebeasts—it was the lowest form of human life—those who preyed on the survivors.

“Well, this will be easy pickin’s,” she murmured, and steeled herself for the coming confrontation.

Kate didn’t wait to hear what they might say. The only thing they wanted was her—women were a scarce commodity on the frontier. She took a bead down the barrel of her pistol and squeezed off a shot through the windshield of a pickup, pleased at the splash of red that exploded against the glass. She spared a thought for the fact she felt less remorse murdering this scum than she did vicious werebeasts. But the renegades had chosen their course. The wolves were victims acting on instinct. One of the women she sheltered had fallen into their clutches for a short time before she’d managed an escape. Kate could only guess at what she’d suffered because to this day she barely spoke and couldn’t look a man in the eyes.

Cool as ice, she chose another target, unwilling to let even a tremor of fear or regret ruin her shot—doing like her daddy taught her, pretending the men ducking behind their vehicles were just the paper targets she’d practiced on.

One. Two. Three down. Then Shep’s shotgun exploded with a roar, catching a cry closer than she’d expected. Were they sneaking up on them?

“What do you see, Danny?” she shouted as she flattened her back against the wall next to the window.

“We’ve got maybe twenty of the bastards out there,” Danny’s excited voice echoed from above. “But they seem to be holding back now.”

“Hello in there,” a tinny voice said over a loudspeaker. “We don’t mean you any harm. You had no call to fire on us. We were just…seeing if you needed help.”

Kate gave Shep a skeptical glance. She edged closer to the window to shout outside. “Well, we don’t. Why don’t you move along?”

“Thought I saw a woman in there,” the man said, the tone of his voice sly. “Honey, we can offer you better protection than an old man and a boy.”

Kate curled her upper lip in a snarl. “Thanks for the offer, but we won’t be stayin’ in town long.”

Laughter sounded outside, low and not especially amused. It had a dirty edge to it and made her skin crawl.
With the lull, she ejected her magazine and inserted a full clip into her pistol.

“It’s gonna be nighttime soon,” the voice outside said. “You really should find shelter. We have a nice place. Plenty to eat.”

A sick knot formed in the pit of her stomach knowing what the trade would be. However, she’d run up against their sort before and prevailed. The trick was to keep her wits about her.

If she could just get a shot at the guy behind the mike…

A long silence followed. She darted a glance around the window sill and realized the attention of the men around surrounding the building was on something in the distance. Then she heard it—engines, big ones, roaring their way.

Being the cowards they were, the gang bolted into their vehicles as quickly as they could and departed. Right behind them appeared a convoy of green camouflaged military vehicles. Hummers and large, canvas-topped transport vehicles with machine–gun turrets mounted on top.

Kate kept to the shadows while watching the long column of trucks come into view. “Shep, you see that?”

“Didn’t know they were operating this far into the frontier,” he said, coming up behind her to peek out the window. “Better stay inside ’til we know whose side they’re on.”

She expected the convoy to continue on past, but one by one they pulled into the church parking lot.
Kate held her breath, her heartbeat racing—the first suffocating wash of true fear pouring down her spine in an icy fall.

From the lead vehicle, a door opened and a man dressed in blue jeans and a black leather jacket jumped from the cab to the hard pavement below.

Her first sight of him told her instinctively here was bigger trouble than she’d already faced. This wasn’t the stupid scum she’d squared off with. He was a hundred times more intimidating.

For one, he was a big man. Taller even then Sam, his wide shoulders and muscled thighs bespoke of years of physical training. In close quarters, he’d be impossible to beat. She squeezed the grip of her weapon harder, already thinking about where she’d have to place the first shot to bring him down quick.

The closer he strode, the greater her unease. Not only did he have the size to make her heart leap to the back of her throat, he moved with a rangy grace that said he’d be fast on his feet. His face with its square jaw and sharp cheekbones completed the portrait of an unstoppable man once he’d set his eyes on a target.
Now she just hoped that dark, hard gaze never rested on her.

While she drew deep breaths to calm her racing heart and the tremor of her hands, an uninvited thought crossed her mind. If she weren’t battling for her life in the middle of an Apocalypse, this would be the sort of man she’d want. Dangerous, brutal—sexy as hell.

But he was dressed in civilian clothes and riding in a military vehicle. Was he just the leader of a smarter band of criminals?

He stopped about twenty paces from the church doors and put his hands on his hips. “Kate McKinnon, are you in there?”

She jerked at the familiar deep tones of his voice. Her startled glance found Shep’s.

His eyes were narrowed in his lined face, and he shook his head. “You know him?” he hissed. “Might be some kind a trick.”

“This is Ty Bennett.”

Kate closed her eyes and sank against the wall, feeling like her whole world was spinning out of control. How could this be?

“Kate, the cavalry’s here, sweetheart.”

Order eBook:
Samhain Publishing
Amazon Kindle
Barnes & Noble Nook
All Romance eBooks

Try a little True!

Thanks to everyone who’s read Ravished and let me know what you think. I’m keeping notes for the characters’ whose lives you’d like to peek inside in the next installments. Those of you who have read the first book know exactly where we’ll begin the next adventure! If you’re new to the Ravished, be sure to check out my blog for plenty of steamy excerpts. I promise you’ll be intrigued!

In the meantime, I do have another ebook release to tell you about…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two men plus one woman equals three bodies on fire…

True Wyatt’s hands are going to be full enough keeping the herd alive through the dead of winter. The last thing he needs to hear is that his brother Lonny has rented out their isolated hunting cabin to a reclusive writer—especially a sassy, disaster-prone brunette. Who has the time to babysit a city girl until Spring?

With a deadline looming, erotica writer Honey Cahill is looking forward to six distraction-free weeks to finish her next book. However, between Lonny’s flirty sensuality and True’s hard-edged intensity, the Wyatt brothers set the stage of her imagination for a winter of wicked delights.

The fire that destroys the cabin, though, is as real as it gets. Forced to seek a bed under True and Lonny’s roof, the temptation to experiment—all in the name of research, of course—is overpowering. One night in their arms doesn’t feel like enough; it feels like more. Particularly with one cowboy who fires all her cylinders…

Warning: It’s a Devlin ménage—expect men with stamina and not an ounce of mercy to behave like sex gods, and the lucky woman to love every minute of it. A little domination goes a long, long way…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

True Wyatt prided himself on control—control over the multitude of responsibilities that came with riding herd over a successful ranch; control over his brother, who thought life should be enjoyed rather than conquered; and control over the desires he’d kept in rein since the demise of his marriage. And yet, the sight that greeted him this cold winter day told him he’d only been fooling himself.

From his perch high atop the ridge overlooking the lonely cabin, True Wyatt watched the shapely brunette as she made another trip to her car to pull boxes and suitcases from her backseat, one after the other. Grumpily, he wondered how she’d managed to stuff so much inside a Corolla. The trunk had held a similar assortment of printer-paper-sized boxes, which she’d manhandled into the house, her face growing rosy with exertion.

Despite the biting wind, she’d dispensed with her down coat and wore only a sweater with a crew neck, the sleeves pushed off her wrists. The dark blue knit hugged her upper torso, defining a lovely bosom and narrow waist. Every time she bent to pull out another box her designer jeans hugged her small rounded bottom, and his loins tightened.

Which annoyed the hell out of him. Fact was, he wished he could turn his horse away and pretend he hadn’t noticed trouble had arrived on his mountain. He knew exactly who to blame. His anger smoldered like hot coals ready to erupt into a full blaze. The clop of hooves approaching behind him carried just the fuel to add to the fire.

“Did you know?” True barked without glancing back.

“Know what?” his brother asked, humor underlying his slow drawl as he pulled up alongside him.

“That our tenant is a woman.”

“Sure did. I’m surprised that you’re surprised since I gave you a copy of her book. Picture’s right there on the back cover.”

The book in question sat on the credenza in True’s office. Exactly where his brother had left it two days ago. The fact he hadn’t bothered turning it over made True’s cheeks heat. Dammit.

Lonny had asked him just last night if he’d read the story. The wicked gleam in his eyes when he’d said it should have clued True in that his little brother was enjoying a joke at his expense.

“You do know this is gonna complicate things. If we weren’t busy enough after letting go of the seasonal hands, now we have to babysit—”

“She’s not looking for anyone to babysit her, True. Said she wants the privacy to finish up a book.”

True speared him with a glare. “We can’t leave her alone. What the hell does she know about surviving a winter in high country?”

“Probably not any more than the male author you thought you were gettin’.”

True gritted his teeth as Lonny’s mouth stretched into a gleeful smile.

“Tell the truth. You planned on having to check up on Mr. H.A. Cahill. You don’t trust tenderfoots.”

“But I wouldn’t be as worried. If a man’s stupid enough to get himself into trouble out here, it’s a damn shame, but not something I’d lose sleep over. But she’s…” He waved his hand toward the woman hopping down the steps for another load.

Her breasts bounced enticingly, distracting him from what had to be said.

At Lonny’s chuckle, he swung back with a narrowed gaze. “It’s not safe. Does she know she could be shut in for a month? That bears and wolves pretty much think a cabin is a drive-through?”

“The bears are hibernating. She’ll be gone before they stir. And you know wolves are shy of humans.”

“Does she know how to shoot a gun? Dammit, does she even own one?”

Lonny shrugged. “I asked if she needed me to leave one. She gave me a funny look.”

True cursed. “You show her how to light that cantankerous stove?”

“Showed her twice.”

The woman bent, reaching deep to the back floorboard of her car. Her sweater rode up, exposing a set of deep dimples right above her sweetly curved ass.

“Electricity’s bound to go out,” True muttered.

“There’s plenty of gas in the shed for the generator. ’Sides, she said candlelight gets her in the mood.”

True’s gaze swiveled back.

Lonny raised the hand not holding his reins. “For writing her stories. Although gotta wonder myself if she wasn’t talking about more. Her book was damn hot.”

“You thinking to give her inspiration?” True growled, his voice rising.

“Well, she did invite me down for a meal…” At True’s deepening scowl, he flashed a grin. “Out of gratitude. Said when Leroy’s hunting cabin went up in that brushfire her plans for a retreat were all shot to hell. She’s forever in my debt.” He waggled his eyebrows at the last statement.

True looked away, hoping to keep from saying something really nasty, because for whatever reason, the thought of his brother with the curvy woman below made him feel even meaner.

When he glanced back down the hill, his gut clenched. H.A. Cahill had stacked two boxes and was walking slowly toward the porch. The height of her burden was taller than the top of her head.

“Dammit,” he cussed and nudged his horse forward. She was gonna break her neck—and on his property. Sooner he helped her get inside, the sooner he could move on to more important things, like moving the last of the cattle to the box canyon where they’d stay to weather the worst of the winter.

As his horse picked its way down the slope, he kept sending darting glares her way, willing her silently to stay put. The brief thaw they’d experienced the past week had ended. Snow clung to patches of shaded earth, but had melted away everywhere else, leaving mud and slicks of slush. However, today’s cold snap was re-freezing the ground, the roads—the damn steps.

She slowed as she approached the steps, kicking out one booted toe to find them. Then tentatively, she stepped up. His worst fear was realized when she took another step and her foot slid out from under her. She toppled backward to the ground, giving a startled yelp as her boxes opened and the wind carried away pages of paper.

He kicked his horse’s sides, hurrying him down, ignoring the pounding of his brother’s horse behind him.

Before his own palomino came to a full halt beside the woman struggling to sit, he was out of his saddle and glaring down.

Ready to tear into her for her carelessness, he opened his mouth—but a strange thing happened. One look into her cornflower blue eyes, and his breath hitched. The caustic complaint he was about to voice stuck in his throat.

“You must be the brother,” she said breathlessly, her voice impossibly chipper for a woman who looked as though she’d gotten the wind knocked right out of her. “True, right? Your parents…got really creative with…your names,” she gasped. “I like that. Don’t be surprised…if they turn up in a book somewhere.” And then she grinned.

True’s dick hardened in a one blazing instant, and he knew with a fatalistic certainty just what kind books she wrote.

Doomsday Brethren about to strike again!

October 26. That’s the day I’ll be releasing not one but two new Doomsday Brethren stories. Today, I’m posting some of the very first excerpt from both of these stories ever. I hope you enjoy!

ENTICE ME AT TWILIGHT
Publisher: Pocket Books
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance
ISBN: 978-1439166772
Release Date: October 26, 2010
Pre-Order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Borders | Books-A-Million
Simon & Schuster | Indie Bound | Overstock

In national bestselling author Shayla Black’s electrifying new novel, the Doomsday Brethren fight their mortal enemy for the newest weapon in a bloody magical war: the only woman a magical warrior shouldn’t claim…and the one he can’t resist.

Dangerously handsome Simon Northam, Duke of Hurstgrove, and his uptight barrister brother hardly get along, but crashing Mason’s wedding and stealing his fiancée take sibling rivalry to a new level. Duke’s family knows nothing of his magical prowess or the Doomsday Brethren, so how can he explain that mankind’s fate lies with the beautiful, tenacious bride he longs to seduce for himself?

Felicia is an Untouchable, a rare human whose presence disables magic—even the impenetrable forces surrounding Morganna le Fay’s tomb. The evil witch’s malicious powers could propel nefarious wizard Mathias to ultimate world domination . . . if he can resurrect her. To conceal herself, Felicia must heed her simmering desires to mate with Duke, but he risks binding his life—and sanity—to a lover whose loyalty may be forever torn. He faces a terrible choice: betray his brother for ultimate survival . . . or lose the woman who tempts him beyond control.

Excerpt

The next few minutes passed in tense silence until, finally, Duke pulled off the motorway at the only bit of civilization visible. A few scattered cottages, looking as old as the tiny village itself, squatted on a dark, narrow road. At the end, nestled in trees, a plain mid-century house appeared, only visible because his headlights reflected off the front windows.

As he steered the convertible closer, he noted a faint air of lonesomeness. He pulled up in the drive and turned to Felicia. “Wait here.”

He hopped out of the car and sprinted to the little cottage door. A few envelopes bulged out of the mail slot. A peek through the window revealed newspapers littering the floor. No one had been home for days.

Praying the inhabitants were away for the holiday, Duke returned to the car, then followed the drive around the back of the house. He cut the lights and the engine.

“Who lives here?” she asked, frowning.

No idea. “A friend. Let’s go.”

Felicia grabbed his arm as he began to climb out of the car. “You’re lying.”

How could she know that? “We’ll only be here a few hours. Come on.”

“We can’t just barge into someone’s home!”

“This is life or death. We haven’t time to be polite.”

She dug in her heels. “We’re staying in separate rooms, yes?”

It would be wiser for his self-control, but… Duke shook his head. “I’ll do my utmost to respect your privacy. But I can’t let this…man get his hands on you, Felicia. I won’t risk you. ‘Depraved’ is too kind a word to describe him.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “All right.”

Her acceptance of the situation relieved him and made him a bit proud. She was smart and practical…and driving him mad with lust.

At he walked around to help her out of the car, he murmured, “Stay close to me.”

Felicia exited, shivering as she scanned their surroundings. He slung an arm around her and drew her against his side.

Bristling, she backed away. “I’m perfectly fine. There’s no one about.”

“You’d be surprised by the things that go bump in the night.” He smiled grimly at her. “Besides, you’re freezing. Let’s go.”

The moment they stepped away from the car, the January wind whipped through them anew. She shivered in the delicate lace of her wedding dress and crossed her arms, huddling into herself to keep warm.

Stubborn woman. Duke shrugged out of his coat.

“Oh, no. You don’t—”

Felicia didn’t even finish her protest before he settled his dinner jacket over her shoulders. Almost instantly, she sank deep into the warmth of the coat.

“Warmer?”

Felicia buried her hands in the lapels and inhaled deeply. Duke was already hard, but his erection turned painful.

Cheeks red, she lifted her face from the garment and nodded. “T—thank you.”

At the door, Duke hesitated. If Felicia weren’t with him, he’d simply wave a hand and let his magic open the door. He couldn’t send her two hundred meters away now. Too dangerous. So in addition to kidnapping, less than four hours later, he’d be adding breaking and entering to his criminal repertoire. Wouldn’t Mum be proud?

He reared back to elbow out a little pane of glass above the handle when Felicia tapped his shoulder. She held the key in her hand.

“Where did you find that?”

She gestured to her feet. “Flower pot. I keep my spare there as well.”

Very smart. Duke grabbed the key and stepped forward to open the door for Felicia.

They stepped into the cozy little house with its neutral colors and masculine touches. Duke closed the door behind her and locked it. Just in case, he tried to magically secure the door…but nothing. Damn. He’d have to keep her close and take other precautions.

He passed her on the narrow stairwell, his body brushing hers at the chest, and thighs. He steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. All right, it was an excuse to touch her. The yearning to press her bare flesh against him and unleash his need for her pounded him again, growing dangerously with every moment they were together. Only thoughts of Mason and Mathias enabled him to release her and trek down the hall.

Duke opened the first door. A slightly musty scent drifted out, as if no one had slept here recently. He flipped on the nearby lamp. The room was stark, masculine, minimal, and very small. The owner had squeezed an armoire, a wooden bench, and one narrow tester bed into the room.

It was going to be a long night.

Biting back a curse, Duke ushered Felicia into the bedroom. He took another glance at the little bed. His gut tightened. “Would you like the shower first?”

“If you don’t mind…”

Duke gestured to the adjacent room, and she edged past him, flipped on the light to reveal glossy black tiles lining a stark white shower, then turned. His gaze locked with hers, squeezing the air from his lungs, until she closed the door between them.

Letting out a breath, Duke tore off his shoes, coat, tie, and shirt. He’d rather strip down and ease this aching erection, but Felicia was forbidden, and wanking off to thoughts of her would not be helpful, he knew from experience. Besides, he must stay focused on her safety.

Lifting the dark wooden blinds, he looked outside at the night around him, alert for any signs of menace. He couldn’t see a damn thing beyond the trees, but Mathias must be out there searching, waiting for him to fuck up and expose Felicia to danger.

Suddenly, Felicia opened the bathroom door and peeked out, her face hesitant. “Can you help me? I hate to ask…”

“Anything,” he vowed, crossing the room to her.

She bit her lip. “My dress…”

Then turned her back to him. A row of small satin buttons secured the lace gown from her neck to her waist—twenty of them, at least. And she wanted him to unfasten them? Unwrap her like a package?

A fresh wave of desire swamped him, nearly overwhelming. Dear God, how could he touch those buttons—her skin—and not take more?

Felicia cast a nervous glance over her shoulder again, moving the thick tumble of golden curls that had fallen from her twist out of his way.

Duke did his best to school his face and soothe her as he closed the distance between them. His heart revved, his palms turned damp. He wanted her so badly, he could hardly walk right.

She’s not yours.

With shaking hands, he reached for the first button at the creamy flesh of her neck, just below the wispy curls rioting near her hairline. Another button, then a second, a third…revealing the line of her spine and the softest skin. With each button, Duke exposed more and more of her, and his greedy gaze ate up every inch. The dress fell away, baring the delicate slopes of her shoulders, her upper back, the hint of her small waist.

His breathing turned ragged. As close as he was, Felicia couldn’t possibly fail to notice.

Two buttons left. He reached for the first, and couldn’t resist caressing one fingertip down her spine. She shuddered and looked back, wide-eyed, pupils dilated. She bit her plump bottom lip between her teeth, her breathing sounding harsh in the silence.

Dear God, she was aroused.

Grabbing the last button, he twisted it, sliding it free of its mooring. He had to get away from her before he did something they’d both regret.

The dress sagged forward, and she caught it—but not until it fell from her bare shoulders and slid toward her hips, revealing a bit of the white lacy knickers he yearned to rip from her body.

“Thank you,” she breathed.

“You’re welcome.” His voice sounded rusty, as if he hadn’t used it in years.

Walk away!

But he stood, rooted. Staring.

Felicia retreated—until her back hit the portal. With one hand, she grabbed the edge of the door. To steady herself? To shut it? With the other, she clutched her dress to her breasts. Duke still saw the shadow between them, pale, plump, tempting…

His gaze jerked up to her face. She stared back.

The lust thickening his blood nearly knocked him over, and Duke gripped the door jamb above her head for support. In forty-three years, he’d never felt anything like this.

This was totally unfamiliar and beyond his control.

Duke shuffled closer. Her body heat grabbed him across the mere ribbon of space between them. He leaned in, tilted his head, his gaze zeroed in on her lips, thoughts of tasting her storming through his head.

He was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.

“Stop me,” he murmured.

Felicia stared, breathless, silent.

Heart revving, Duke inched closer, enough to see the little line bisecting that lush lower lip and smell the peppermint of the holiday candy he’d given her in the car. “Felicia, stop me.”

But she swayed closer, her eyes fluttering shut. Her hand left the door and latched onto his bare shoulder. Her touch jolted his system, a lightning rod charging through him. Thought stopped, desire flared.

Yes, he was going to hell, but he’d go with her sweet taste on his tongue.

 *     *     *

On that same day, I will release “Mated” in a totally new anthology with New York Times bestselling author Jeaneine Frost and fellow Texas author Sharie Kohler.

“Mated”
HAUNTED BY YOUR TOUCH
Publisher: Pocket Books
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance
ISBN: 978-1439166765
Release Date: October 26, 2010
Pre-order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Borders | Books-A-Million
Simon & Schuster | Indie Bound | Overstock

In the shadowy world of Shayla Black’s Doomsday Brethren, magical warrior Raiden vows to protect his woman and their unborn youngling from evil—and deliver her safely to another man. But once he’s saved her, can he let her go?

Excerpt

A moment later, they stood outside a neo-modern office building. Built in the 1960s and topping about five stories, the concrete structure had been carved with magical runes between each tier of white-draped windows. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“It looks abandoned.” Eerily so, in fact.

He frowned, grabbing Tabitha’s hand tighter. “Indeed. Bram said the Council ministries no longer use this building. Apparently, it’s been the source of human speculation, particularly the meaning of the runes.”

“I recognize some of the symbols. Magic, mastery, truth, Fate. Death.”

Raiden shrugged, his wide shoulders looking almost menacing in a dark trench. “We don’t have time to decipher it now. I have an uneasy feeling. Let’s move quickly. I don’t want you out in the open where you’re vulnerable to Mathias or any eyes he might have watching.”

“He likely has no idea where I am.”

He hustled her under the building’s portico, deep in shadow, and pinned her with a glare. “Do you really think it would take Mathias very long to figure out that your father had a daughter he hadn’t managed to kill in the attack? And that the daughter carried my child? Once he pieces all the information together, he’s going to be but a breath behind us.”

Dear God, she’d never thought of that before, but her father would have recorded her own birth. There would be no mating listed in The Peers and People of Magickind because she’d never mated. The fact that she carried Raiden’s child wouldn’t be listed until the youngling’s birth, but even so, a wizard with Mathias’s cunning and resources could find that information. After all, he hadn’t managed to outwit most of the Council and stay a step ahead of the Doomsday Brethren by being a half-wit.

“Fuck.” Raiden ran a hand through his long, pale hair. “And once he starts pursuing us, I know where he’ll look first. We can’t go back to your house. Or mine.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll tell Ronan to warn my father away until this is settled. He won’t be happy, but if we can find what we’re looking for now, then I can set all back to rights soon.”

“Meaning your father can go home, and you can wash your hands of me by dumping me on Sean Blackbourne’s doorstep?”

His face tightened, darkened. Raiden’s temper wasn’t a small thing, and she wondered if she’d crossed some line.

He cursed and turned away. “That would be for the best.”

“For whom?” she challenged, furious to the bone with his oblique answers. “It would certainly be easiest for you. Then you could rid yourself of me, guilt-free and—”

Raiden grabbed her and pulled her close. “Listen to me. I have tried every way I know to spare you more heartache. I was a bastard to you, yes. I seduced you with every intention of walking out the door. I don’t mate. I am my father’s son.”

“I refuse to believe that.” Tabitha shook her head.

“I’m trying to do the right thing now. Instead of seducing you again, I’m warning you away. Which do you think I’d rather do?” He raised a golden brow, his hot gaze wandering down her body.

*     *     *

Haven’t tried the Doomsday Brethren series yet? Read my free novella about Raiden’s twin Ronan here. Want a chance to win MORE Doomsday Brethren? For a chance to win a signed copy of each of the first three books in the series, leave a comment about either of the excerpts, and I’ll enter you in the drawing.

POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT releases!

It’s FINALLY here!!! POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT should be available everywhere in both print and eBook format. I’m putting up one of my favorite excerpts below…along with prizes.

Possess Me at MidnightDoomsday Brethren Series, Book 3 — Ice’s story
Publisher: Pocket Books
ISBN-10: 1416578463
ISBN-13: 9781416578468
Genre: Paranormal/Urban Fantasy Romance
Release Date: October 27, 2009
Scroll down to read the first chapter!
Order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Borders
Books-A-Million | Simon & Schuster | Indie Bound
Overstock | Target
Download eBook: Kindle | Barnes & Noble
Fictionwise | Sony |Simon & Schuster

An apocalypse approaches in the new novel from bestselling author Shayla Black’s electrifying Doomsday Brethren series, as a magical warrior and a spirited witch ignite a smoldering passion that could destroy them both.

As a mysterious dark cloud drains the life of her beloved brother, Doomsday Brethren leader Bram, Sabelle Rion can think of little else. Still, every time she meets Ice Rykard’s intense green gaze, her body aches with need for the sexy warrior. Their attraction is explosive, incredible—and forbidden. As dangerous as he is unpredictable, Ice is her brother’s sworn enemy. But as Bram weakens, a more sinister force is gaining power. Evil Mathias and his ruthless Anarki army are on a bloodthirsty hunt for the Doomsday Diary. Sabelle must guard the potent book with her life—and Ice vows to protect the beautiful witch with his. Duty demands that Sabelle deny her lover’s fiery call of possession and mate with a man who can sway the magical Council against the impending rebellion. With the fate of magickind hanging in the balance, will she forsake the burning desires she can’t ignore or turn her back on her people for the courageous man she can’t resist?

Reviews
Rated HOT! “The volatile emotions in this tale are truly combustible!” ~ RT Bookclub

“Captivating… POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT [is] a book you won’t want to miss.” ~ Romance Reviews Today

Recommended Read! “Page-turning magical suspense… Wring[s] emotion from every pore… leaves readers clamoring for more.” ~ Fallen Angels Reviews

“I could not stop reading. POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT is absolutely perfect.” ParaNormal Romance Reviews

“I love the angst and passion between Sabelle and Ice; it’s tangible and often breathtaking. Possess Me At Midnight is another exciting chapter in the Doomsday Brethren’s fight…” Joyfully Reviewed

“Totally rewarding and particularly satisfying.” Single Titles

EXCERPT

“Better?” she asked.

Gingerly, he nodded. He looked white and exhausted and utterly depleted.

“Internal damage?”

“Healing.” He squeezed her hand. “I stopped the burn in time.”

A whole sentence. And now, he was breathing easier. His injuries were healing. “You’re certain?”

Again, he nodded. More a jerk of his stubbled chin than anything, but enough. “The damage stopped when you dragged me from the cellar. If you hadn’t come for me—”

“Of course I would.” Did he just assume she would leave him there to die?

“You could have run straight into danger, Sabelle.” He swallowed and fought for a breath, squeezed her hand again. “When I’m well, I’m putting you over my knee for that.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, her face flamed. “You’ll do no such thing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t take away all my fun.”

A joke? He’d nearly died ten minutes ago, and now he was telling a joke. He didn’t wish her to know the extent of his injuries, clearly.

“Amusing, indeed.”

“Infuriating,” he corrected. “No more chances with your safety. On this point, Bram and I agree. You’re into magickind’s troubles too deeply.”

“I’ll tell you what I told Bram: I won’t sit about like some helpless princess while the rest of magickind fights. It’s my cause too.”

“Your funeral as well, if you’re not careful.”

“It could be anyone’s,” she argued. “Everyone’s. That’s Mathias’s doing. Not mine. Now, stop arguing and tell me how you feel. The internal damage has stopped?”

“Yes. I fought it off in the cellar, then you took me away. Between distance and your touch, I’ve improved.”

“Anything else?”

He hesitated. “My head. When the mine hit me, the force of it thrust me back. My head hit the wall. I heard a loud thump.”

Judiciously avoiding looking at the lower half of his very naked body, she gripped his large calloused hand in hers. Closing her eyes, she gathered up her power and summoned the siren in her. To Ice, she sent waves of healing, peace, sleep.

He growled. Suddenly, a wall shot up between them, blocking her well-meaning sentiments. Sabelle gasped. Where had that come from? Ice? Did he have the energy for that? Or was the mine still working its dark magic?

Then the barricade crumbled, and she felt Ice again. But this time, he sent her a blast of something else—desire that was thick, hot, screaming with lust and sex and need.

With a gasp, she pulled back.

A tired smile creased his face, and despite his exhaustion, his arrogance shone through. “Felt that, did you? I told you, I’ve no need for your happy sunshine and rainbows.”

“I sent you peaceful healing,” she argued. “You do need it.”

“Rubbish. I let you feel what I truly need.”

That overwhelming battering ram of desires and yearning? She placed a hand to her chest and forced herself to breathe evenly. Knowing he wanted her that badly staggered her. She blinked, looked at Ice, focusing on those green eyes of his that glowed with unquestionable want. Exhaustion still etched his face, and she knew that sending her any emotion had cost precious energy he didn’t have. Why bother?

“No one has ever bombarded me with their emotions like that.”

“You tell others what to feel and they abide?”

She frowned. “I try to be helpful and soothe the troubles or worries others have. I’m hardly forcing unwanted feelings upon them.”

“I didn’t want to sleep, princess.”

Sabelle felt her face flush again. “So I gathered.”

“Glad we’re clear.”

“Ice, you hardly have the energy to be wasting on such things. My touch has given you some, I suppose. But the sleep was to help you. I meant no insult. You must concede, your energy is dangerously low. Your magical signature is nearly transparent.”

He pressed his lips together and said nothing.

“Is—is that why you sent me the sexual vibrations?” She bit her lip and felt her cheeks flame up again. What was it about Ice that made her feel so feminine? “You need…energy?”

He stared, heavy, glowing, jaw clenched. “Sabelle…”

“You do.” She swallowed, studying his increasingly sheer magical signature. Normally a bold green laced with a fiery red. Black rimmed it, and she’d always worried that was a commentary on his sanity or his soul. But now, she could see straight through it all. And that frightened her. Without recharging, he would be unable to run, flee, help her evade Mathias. Yes, her touch, because he had Called to her, provided a bit of energy. But without a full dose of power, eventually he would die.

She eased off the bed and rose to her feet. With trembling hands, she pulled off her shirt. Instantly, she felt his gaze on the slopes of her shoulder, the curve of her neck, the lacy cups of her bra. His icy-hot eyes made her shiver. She locked stares with him, unable to look away.

Sabelle reached for the button of her jeans. Instead, he reached up and clamped his hands around her wrists. “Don’t.”

“But you need energy.”

“Yes, but—”

“You Called to me, so you can touch no other. And…I have no anger in me now to try to boost you that way. You want me and—”

“You know it. But I will be damned if I’ll let you make me into your next Lucan: a patient, a duty, a burden. What passes between us will never be an act you endure merely to heal me.” He squeezed on her wrists. “I would rather die.”

“Your pride is misplaced. My opinion is neither here nor there. Your life—”

“Will mean little if I have to swallow the bitter pill of being nothing to you. I hardly expect you to Bind to me, but I won’t have your pity.”

His passionate speech had used up more energy he could ill afford. The stubborn man! Frustration built inside her, a crescendo that trumpeted into fury. Ice could die, and he wanted to debate the meaning of an act intended to save his life? He sought to force her admission that she trembled for his touch before he allowed her into his bed. The energy exchange would be clean, simple, if he would merely accept her help. Did he not understand that crowding it with words and confessions would only make matters more difficult?

She tore her wrists from his grip, stepped away, and stripped off her pants and knickers. Her bra quickly followed. Ice’s eyes clamped onto her. His nostrils flared. His entire body tensed, and though she swore she would not look down, her gaze drifted across the harsh rise and fall of his chest, the undulation of his abdomen…and fixed on the hard stalk of his cock rising between his well-muscled thighs. A sudden gush of dampness slicked her intimately, where she now ached. She swallowed against the riot of sensations, a need unlike anything she’d ever felt.

If she admitted that to Ice, he would use this desire against her mercilessly.

Sabelle wanted to believe, more than anything, that Ice was motivated strictly by his desire to possess the witch he perceived as his mate. But niggling doubt made her wonder if revenge fueled him more.

“You have my help.” Her voice trembled as she sat on the edge of the bed next to him. “You need no more than that.”

Ice raised a dark brow. “You have no idea what I need.”

Before she could argue, he grabbed her around the waist and threw her under him, until her back hugged the sheets steeped in his warmth and earthy scent. He loomed over her, his shoulders blocking out most of the room’s light. She felt surrounded, enveloped. Overwhelmed.

“Did you come for him?”

His big, hot hands gripped her hips, and slid up her torso until his palms cradled her breasts. And his touch burned her. She bit her lip to hold in a gasp, but the aftershocks of their contact reverberated, crashing wave after wave of desire through her body. She softened. Her nipples peaked. She grew wetter.

He stopped. Sniffed. Smiled. “You want me.”

“My body is ready.” She dared not admit more.

His smile slipped, and he grunted. “Bloody answer me.”

Damn it all, she’d forgotten the question. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Lucan,” he growled. “Did you want him? Did he give you pleasure? Bring you to peak?”

Very direct questions. That shouldn’t surprise her. But she couldn’t answer him. No answer would satisfy him. In either event, he’d turn this into some sort of chest-beating competition. And the truth would only cause…issues.

“It’s hardly relevant. You need me, and I am offering. Nothing more or less.”

He flicked his thumbs across her nipples. Slowly. Back and forth. Until she gasped.

“I plan to make certain it is much, much more.”

#

To celebrate this release, I’m giving away a signed copy of TEMPT ME WITH DARKNESS and SEDUCE ME IN SHADOW, plus free reads from some favorite authors including Maya Banks, Gena Showalter, Sabrina Jeffries and others. 10 books in all! To register to win, SPREAD the word about POSSESS ME AT MIDNIGHT. Mention the book, series and release day (blurb appreciated but optional) on your Twitter, Facebook, MySpace, blog, message/bulletin boards, etc OR review the book on an online bookstore or personal blog. Comment on my blog with the link and you’re registered to win. The winner will be drawn on 11/3.

Hope everyone enjoys the release!

SEDUCE ME IN SHADOW Sneak Peek!

seduce me in shadow_draft2Happy Thursday! The entire first chapter of SEDUCE ME IN SHADOW is now available on my Doomsday Brethren site for your reading pleasure! Here’s a bit for you…

When a villainous wizard escapes from exile, the devastatingly sexy Doomsday Brethren must defend all magickind in the spellbinding second book in bestselling author Shayla Black’s seductive new paranormal series.

Ex-Marine Caden MacTavish has shunned his magical heritage all his life, but he will do anything to heal his desperately ill brother, a Doomsday Brethren warrior in mourning for his missing mate. Posing as a photographer, Caden must convince firecracker tabloid reporter Sydney Blair to reveal the source of her recent exposé on a supernatural power clash. Unfortunately, keeping his hands off the sizzling redhead proves as hard as getting them onto the potent and mystical Doomsday Diary he discovers at her bedside. A bloody rebellion led by an evil, power-hungry wizard is imminent. If Sydney divulges the book’s existence, she will jeopardize magickind’s most deeply guarded secrets and become the ruthless wizard’s number one target. Caden has never trusted magic’s cruel and dangerous powers, but he will protect Sydney with his life and magic—even if it means risking his heart.

Chapter One

“We have problems.”

Caden MacTavish rolled his eyes. If Bram Rion thought that was news, it came two weeks too late.

Hovering on the edge of a bottle green armchair, Caden watched Merlin’s grandson slam the door to his palatial home office, locking the Doomsday Brethren into the edgy silence with him. Each were warriors in their own way, most magical. All had the kind of mettle that would have been welcome in the Marine platoon in which Caden had served.

Without Bram’s Hollywood smile, magickind’s Brad Pitt looked both jumpy and grave. In fact, all the wizards, and Marrok, the former immortal and King Arthur’s champion, looked grim. The tension ratcheted up, and Caden’s thoughts drifted to his absent brother Lucan, a Doomsday Brethren warrior.

Please God, let this end soon.

A loud crash upstairs thumped the ceiling, shook the walls. A woman screamed, terror bleeding from her voice. On the upper floor, a door crashed open, the shrieking grew louder, and footsteps pounded above him. She was running down the stairs. Heading out the door.

Tearing out of the library, Caden raced to the shrieking blond woman, ignoring Bram’s shout calling him back. He grabbed the frantic witch by her shoulders. Though likely over two hundred, she looked deceptively young. Her wide green eyes were frightened, as if she’d been playing a game of chicken with a barreling freight train.

“Wait. Please.” He caught her anxious gaze. “My brother—”

“I can’t.” Her voice quivered. “He’s big and feral and—snarled that I smell of another man. He ripped his ch—chains.” Her words broke with new tears. “And lunged for my throat.”

Caden closed his eyes and held in a curse. The fifth energy surrogate Lucan had frightened away in two weeks. Now what?

At the top of the stairs, Bram’s sister Sabelle appeared. Her lace shirt and golden hair were askew, but her demeanor was calm. “I have Lucan under control. Let her go.”

Instead, Caden clasped the witch tighter. If he released her, what would become of his brother? “He needs her. Without the energy she generates…”

Caden couldn’t finish the sentence. The thought.

“He’ll die.” Sabelle sighed. “He misses Anka so deeply that it’s unhinged him mentally. My Aunt Millie says she’s never seen a case of mate mourning this severe.”

More dreadful news. Where was the freaking light at the end of the tunnel? Bram and Sabelle had dragged him away from his peaceful life in Dallas two weeks ago; the hell hadn’t let up since. Frustration ate his gut like acid. He didn’t want to fail Lucan. Years ago, he’d been unable to save his younger brother. Damned if he’d let his older one die, too.

“If Lucan isn’t taking the energy to survive from these women, how can he have enough strength to fight them?”

“Primal rage,” Sabelle supplied. “When the surrogates come, it’s as if he’s defending an attack. It’s a delusion, and we can’t explain otherwise to him. All his senses, except smell, have shut down. Surrogates bring the smells of their other clients along unwittingly. Lucan fights back.”

“Maybe…it’s time to consider that he wants death,” Bram murmured behind him.

Fury slashed through Caden. What kind of friend even thought that? Caden had held the hands of fallen comrades in Iraq and prayed for their recovery…even as some rattled their last breath.

“My brother will not die like this! I will find Anka and bring her back.”

“It may be too late. Let the witch go,” Bram demanded.

“Please,” the scared blonde pleaded.

Caden shook with rage. He wanted to crush something, punch a wall, lash out at magic, which had again screwed up his life. But the sobbing witch in his grasp shrank back in fear, like he, too, was a monster.

For about the two hundredth time since returning to England a fortnight ago, Caden cursed magic. To a human male, the loss of a beloved wife could be emotionally devastating. But as a wizard, Lucan’s loss had reduced a perfectly sane person to a rabid animal. The man upstairs wasn’t the older brother Caden had idolized as a child.

Though he’d left his childhood home a dozen years ago and disavowed anything or anyone associated with magic, now that tragedy had struck, and he might lose his only remaining brother, guilt seared Caden. The thought of never speaking to Lucan again? Unthinkable.

He must restore Lucan’s mental health. To do that, he had to find Anka and return her to his brother’s arms—quickly. And clearly, the witch Caden currently detained couldn’t help.

With a sigh, he released her. “Go.”

She sprinted out and closed the door. Silence reverberated.

“Come back to my office,” Bram said.

Caden whirled on the wizard. “I won’t give up on my brother, damn you!”

With a twitch of Bram’s finger, Caden was magically hauled back into the office. Caden seethed with resentment slammed the door behind them. He opened his mouth to give the wizard a furious earful, but Bram held up a hand.

“I understand your frustration. But our difficulties aren’t merely about you and your family. These problems affect us all.” He gestured to the other three men in the room. “And the rest of magickind.”

“My brother is chained to a bed like a lunatic, Anka is missing, and we haven’t a single clue where she’s gone. We cannot make Lucan whole without her return. Nothing is more important.”

“I wish. Our other problems are many and grave.”

Ice Rykard, another of the warriors, was a big man, but when annoyance stamped his square, hollow-cheeked face, like now, sane people backed away. “You summoned me here to tell me what I already know?”

As Ice rose to leave, Bram blocked his path. “Something new has arisen. Prudence requires that we attend to it. All of us.”

Bram refused to help his brother, then sought his assistance? Caden would have laughed if he weren’t so furious. “I came only to find my brother’s missing mate—”

“Former mate,” Bram corrected. “Their bond is broken.”

“Involuntarily,” Caden stressed. “I’ve no doubt Lucan still regards Anka as his, and they were in love. Why would she not welcome him back? I’m here to find her so they can bond again, not solve your problems.”

Bram sighed. “Lucan is my best friend, and I want more than anything to make him whole again. But that is a mission of mercy. The other matters are of life and death.”
“If you do not help me find Anka, Lucan will die!”

“If we fail to act on this new problem, thousands, maybe millions, will die. Including Lucan.”

Sacrificing one for many. Bram had shoved this “necessity” down Caden’s throat before. His patience was wearing thin. Exhaling, he rubbed gritty eyes. Every day, worrying. Every night, not sleeping—he often paced, Lucan’s mad countenance swimming in his mind. Meanwhile, his brother’s “friends” worried about everyone else.

“Please.” Simon Northam, aka Duke, the youngest of the Doomsday Brethren, drilled him with a direct stare. “We need you as much as Lucan. The sooner we tend to these issues, the sooner we can help him.”

Caden felt four pairs of eyes locked on him. Except for the fact Bram had kept a roof over Lucan’s head, he owed these men nothing. He’d known them a mere fortnight, wanted nothing to do with magickind and their problems. But their stares accused him of abandoning them…and Lucan’s cause. Guilt twisted in his gut.

Blast them! He merely wanted peace and solitude since witnessing half his friends dying in Iraq. Of the few who had survived, two had returned home, only to commit suicide. Another was in prison, unable to make the transition from shooting terrorists in a desert shit hole to walking the dog in suburbia. The last had gone missing following a training exercise at his home base. The tragic death of Caden’s younger brother nearly two decades ago had proved that magic’s body count was even more shocking and heartbreaking. He’d had enough of loss, of death. As soon as Lucan recovered, Caden would return to his sedate life as a staff photographer for a Dallas newspaper. No one died taking pictures of city council meetings.

“The Doomsday Brethren means a great deal to Lucan,” Bram reminded.

Manipulative bastard.

“Besides, you may soon need us. Your magic is coming…”

Caden prayed that his sleeplessness was merely anxiety, stress, and not a harbinger of his own coming transition into magic. But there was no denying the electrical surges and flashes of emotion racing through his body of late. He feared the witching hour— in this case, his thirtieth birthday—was approaching. “Not if I can help it.”

“You can’t.” Bram shrugged. “If you have the magic gene, it’s coming.”

Marrok, the human warrior-giant who looked every inch a medieval knight, from the slash of straight hair that reached his shoulders to the sword strapped to his hip, frowned at Bram. “Does this new problem concern Shock? Have we yet heard from the varlet?”

The shadiest member of the Doomsday Brethren had been MIA since their battle two weeks ago with the evil wizard Mathias, who sought to control magickind with the help of his minions, the Anarki. During that skirmish, Shock had suddenly appeared to switch his loyalties to the other side. No surprise there, given the man’s dark background. Because Shock was both Anka’s previous suitor and cozy with Mathias, Bram thought he might be willing to divulge Anka’s whereabouts. Caden disagreed. Mathias had brutalized Anka after abducting her and forcing her to break her mate bond with Lucan. Shock had apparently done nothing to help her.

Bram, Ice, and Duke all shook their heads.

“Nothing? That is vexing,” Marrok snarled. “Surely he has told Mathias much about us.”

“It’s Mathias’s quiet that disturbs me,” Ice cut in. “Two weeks of it… Right dodgy. Makes me itch.”

If Caden cared about magickind, he’d agree. But his only mission was to determine what Mathias had done with Anka and return her in the hopes of restoring Lucan’s sanity.

“During our last battle, Olivia laid a bolt of power on Mathias that should have flattened the bastard,” drawled Duke. Clad head to toe in designer everything, he looked perfectly urbane and wealthy, the artful muss of his dark hair cut perfectly, just like his aristocratic features, all the way down to his cleft chin. “It appeared to deplete his magic and should have prevented him from rising again, but…”

“This is Mathias,” Ice finished.

Exactly. If Mathias regained even half his power, the small but determined cabal of warriors assembled under Bram’s direction were screwed, and every man in the room knew it. How could the Doomsday Brethren kill a wizard who had already returned from the dead once? He had an army of slaves at his disposal. Caden could count the Doomsday Brethren on one hand.

Bram winced. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, our problems are worse than that.”

Marrok muttered, “Would that we knew from whence Mathias found so many disposable recruits.”

Those were troubling, indeed. Mathias had stripped the souls from their human bodies to create walking dead Anarki, for the purpose of helping Mathias enslave magickind and destroy the Doomsday Brethren. During their last battle, the black-blooded zombies had been plentiful—and immune to magic.

“All true,” Bram conceded. “But I called you here to discuss something even more critical.”

Ice cast him a cutting stare. “Your magical signature tells me you took a human mate last night? A problem, indeed.”

Caden’s jaw dropped. Bram, one of the most pedigreed wizards today, had taken a human mate?

“Wouldn’t your grandfather be proud?” Ice sneered. “Merlin prized that pure bloodline. Pity.”

Bram charged toward Ice. “Shut your bloody mouth, you fu—”

“Cease!” Marrok grabbed him and held him back.

Caden was inclined to help. Bram and Ice were always at one another’s throats. If Bram needed wizards loyal to him for the Doomsday Brethren, why the devil had he picked Ice to join?

“Piss off!” Bram growled.

“We can fight no enemy if we are too busy fighting one another,” Marrok advised.

“Beating in the tosser’s skull would make me feel better.”

“What has you on edge?” Duke asked.

Caden wondered the same thing. Bram was usually the voice of sanity amidst all this magical muck. At the moment, he behaved as if he was crawling out of his skin, one step away from the mental ward.

“Where is your mate?” Ice added fuel to the fire. “I’d like to offer her my condolences.”

“My mate is none of your concern. However, the Book of Doomsday is.” Bram hesitated, then rolled his shoulders. “Last night, while I slept, she found it.”

“Found it? Lying about?” Duke demanded.

“It was hidden.” Bram rubbed the back of his neck. “She must have searched for it.”

An ominous gong clanged in Caden’s gut. Magickind wasn’t his issue, but if that book disappeared…everyone, magical and human, was at risk.

“She cozied up to you to find the book?” Ice looked ready to laugh.

Bram didn’t have to answer; the humiliation on his face did it for him.

“Shut up!” Caden glared at the stubble-headed wizard, then turned back to Bram. “What happened? Where is the diary?”

“She took it and disappeared.”

Bram’s quiet admission resounded through the room.

“Fuck,” Ice muttered.

“You have no idea where it is?” Caden struggled to pick his jaw off the floor. “Where she is?”

“None.”

“Double fuck,” came Ice again.

The Doomsday Diary was the ultimate weapon in the magical war. If used properly, it was rumored to grant any wish, up to and including the world’s annihilation. People had died in Mathias’s quest to obtain it. Lucan’s life was in shambles because of it. The Doomsday Brethren had formed and were fighting a war to protect it. If Mathias obtained the book and used it to bring about doomsday—well, that was everyone’s problem.

“I second what Ice said,” Caden muttered.

“You had no magical protections on the book?” Duke asked.

“Of course. Against anyone magical. I never imagined a human would know of the book’s existence, much less that I had it. The only way she could know is if she’s Mathias’s pawn. I worry… What if he has the diary now? What will he do to her?” Bram paced, raking a frantic hand through his golden hair.

Marrok planted a friendly hand on Bram’s shoulder. “Use your bond to find her.”

With a shake of his golden hair, Bram sighed in frustration. “I can’t and I don’t understand why. I should be able to… It’s confounding me.”

“You touched her, aye?” Marrok asked. “Did you not use your powers to read her mind?”

“Yes…and no. I could read her body with my touch, but not her thoughts. I’ve never encountered such a woman before.”

Duke sighed. “What the devil should we do now?”

Panic? Caden kept the thought to himself.

“Not to add to our problems, but have you seen this?” Duke slid a newspaper in the middle of Bram’s desk. The bold black headline screamed Supernatural Forces Battle in South London Tunnel.

Bram glanced at the paper. “Out Of This Realm? It’s a rag. No one takes that rubbish seriously.”

Not true. Back home, several of the reporters at the Dallas Morning News were addicted to the paper’s imaginative stories. They were more creative than The National Enquirer.

“That may change after this issue’s lead article. The byline belongs to a reporter named Sydney Blair. She’s disturbingly close to the truth. Most news outlets wrote off the battle with Mathias as a foiled terrorist act, a gang initiation, or the work of a madman. Ms. Blair calls it ‘an ongoing clash between powerful factions within magickind.’”

Bram’s eyes bulged. “How the bloody hell does she even know there’s a magickind, much less an ongoing battle? Few in magickind know of Mathias’s return.”

Though Caden had eschewed magic long ago, even he knew the necessity of keeping magickind’s existence a secret from humans. Witch hunts, trials for heresy, and burnings at the stake weren’t distant memories for a society whose citizens often lived to be one thousand. The seventeenth century was, relatively speaking, last year. No one was naïve enough to think that technology was any insurance policy against genocide. People still killed what they didn’t understand.

“I consulted Peers and People of Magickind before coming here. I found no mention of her,” Duke said. “She is no witch, nor is she mated to a wizard.”

“Human? Mayhap she’s one of Mathias’s soulless minions,” Marrok suggested.

“If Mathias wanted to influence humanity, he wouldn’t take over a tabloid reporter’s mind to do it,” Bram assured. “Besides, if she’s still leading a human life, she could not do so looking like an undead Anarki. The other humans notice walking cadavers.”

“So she’s fully human,” Duke surmised. “And frightfully well informed.”

“Or perhaps…” Ice glared at him. “She’s getting her information from someone who rejected magickind and would celebrate its end.”

“Me?” Caden jumped in the big wizard’s face. “I’ve no love for magic, true, but I would never advocate mass murder. Besides, ending you all would mean my brother’s death. Would I be here saving him if I was willing to kill magickind?”

Duke nodded, the cooler head prevailing. “He’s right.”

Muttering, Ice backed away. Barely.

Turning back to the newspaper, Duke went on, “Whoever she is, she’s dangerous. The rest of the article is equally disturbing. ‘The bodies discovered in the tunnel are decomposed far beyond expected, given their recent deaths.’”

“This is no secret.” Marrok waved his words away. “The media has been scratching over that like a mongrel with fleas.”

“Listen further,” Duke barked. “‘Out Of This Realm has learned the bodies bear new wounds and fresh traces of gunpowder, suggesting they somehow fought in the battle, rather than merely being left behind as a macabre message. It appears as if they were actually more dead than alive prior to the battle, but able to fight due to evil magic.’”

“She’s guessing,” said Bram.

But even he didn’t sound convinced. Caden winced.

Duke shook his head. “Here’s more: ‘According to an anonymous source, there’s a mad wizard on the loose once more, allegedly fighting social injustice in the magical world. He’ll stop at nothing to tear down the establishment and replace it with his version of anarchy.’”

Caden shook his head. Poor magical bastards.

“Who is this anonymous source?” Bram demanded.

Duke laced his fingers together with quiet concern. “Ms. Blair claims it’s ‘a witch who recently found herself tangled in this magical war.’”

“A witch?” Ice spat. “Who knows so much?”

Caden’s heart stuttered and adrenaline charged. “Anka.”

“Or perhaps any of the other missing women, like Craddock’s daughter,” Ice pointed out. “But what witch in her right mind would spill sensitive secrets to a bloody reporter?”

Who knew? Still… “It could be Anka,” Caden insisted.

And possibly the first clue Caden had discovered to her whereabouts in a fortnight.

“Whoever her source, Sydney Blair knows there’s a magickind, that we’re at war, and that Mathias is supposedly fighting the Social Order,” Duke insisted.

“The moment anyone actually listens, humanity will hunt us. It’ll make the Inquisition will seem like a bloody holiday.” Bram raked a hand through his disheveled golden hair and continued to pace. “And if Mathias reads this, her life may well be in danger. We must handle this situation immediately.”

Bram leaned back against his desk. The morning sun slanted through the office’s open shutters, showing just how much strain the wizard was enduring. He swallowed, then pinned a wily gaze on Caden that made his blood freeze. “I know how we can deal with Ms. Blair. You’ve worked at a newspaper.”

Caden sent him a wary glance. “So?”

“Offer your services as a photographer and shut her up, before she reveals anything more about magickind.”

He didn’t want to get involved. “Why don’t you visit her and do that wizard mind-reading trick of yours?”

“Only works if I’m touching a woman—deeply. Now that I’m mated…well, I can no longer get that close to Sydney Blair, or any woman except mine. So you’ll have to go and pry information from her the human way.”

Caden’s thoughts raced. Perhaps he could placate them and help his brother. If he worked for Ms. Blair, he could discern if her anonymous source was Anka.

Bram smiled tightly. Bloody bastard had Caden by the balls and he knew it. In order to make Lucan whole, he must find his brother’s mate. At the moment, the reporter was his best—and only—lead.

#

“Have we come to the part yet where I spank you?”

Sydney Blair closed her eyes as the last notes of “Happy Birthday” echoed through the small conference room. Had her perpetually-randy coworker, Jamie, actually suggested a little light S&M with the entire staff of Out Of This Realm looking on?

A dozen of the newspaper’s employees twittered with nervous laughter, except her yummy new photographer, Caden MacTavish. Mortified, Sydney risked a glance at him. The taut arms bunched over his wide chest and the chilly blue of his watchful eyes made her wince.

Sydney slowly turned to the office lothario with a glare that let him know how little she appreciated his comment. He merely wagged his brows at her and grinned from ear to ear.

“Have we come to the part yet where you leave?” Caden countered.

The words somehow sounded polite. Caden had that upper crust Londoner sound, though muted by time elsewhere. But he could still say most anything and sound civilized. His current expression, on the other hand, rivaled Attila the Hun’s on a bad day.

“You think you should be first to have a go at her?” Jamie challenged Caden. “I’ve seen how you stare.”

Sydney went hot all over—from more than simple embarrassment. Caden lit her up like a millennium fireworks show. She’d be thrilled if the man had sexual thoughts of her. But in the few days she’d worked with him, he had not appeared to notice her more than professionally, despite Jamie’s delusions to the contrary.

“Bad Karma!” Aquarius, her flower-child assistant, scolded. “Mellow!”

Neither spared a glance for the little waif. Silver bracelets tinkling, Aquarius reached out to Caden. Whether she intended to soothe him or test his aura, Sydney didn’t know. She shot a warning glance at her assistant. Now was not a good time for her healing-crystal/save-the-world routine.

“You may find this concept hard to grasp,” Caden asserted, “but some men are capable of admiring more about a woman than what’s in her knickers.”

Jamie scoffed. “If he’s a nancy boy.”

Sydney smothered a laugh. Caden was definitely not gay. Despite that, she felt certain he’d never considered what went in her knickers. “Stop it, both of you! This is a birthday party, not a brawl.”

“What’s your wish?” asked Leslie from Circulation, trying to smooth the tension.

A romping shag with Caden, but since that wasn’t likely to happen… head reporter had a lovely ring to it. Sure, she worked for a paranormal tabloid that few took seriously, but it paid the bills. Soon, she hoped to make a name for herself writing stories that traditional journalists eschewed. And people everywhere would recognize her once she found proof of the supernatural. Until then she would write about the world she believed must exist—and her parents had utterly rejected. Besides, Out Of This Realm was a scream to work at. Where else could she collect a salary for chasing Ripper ghosts and conducting interviews at the London Psychic Centre?

Her personal life, on the other hand? Disaster. How did one manage to become a sad spinster at twenty-eight? The endless string of dates from her uni days had been replaced with deadlines and staff meetings. Her last boyfriend… His pretty face had failed to compensate for the fact he had the IQ of a dead houseplant and the emotional range of a pea. Perhaps she should wish for a man.

For Caden.

Yummy waves of chocolate hair with caramel streaks, fathomless blue eyes, a body that belonged in magazines—and a reserved exterior that made her long to know the man beneath. Too bad the attraction didn’t run both ways. She sighed.

“She can’t tell us her wish or it won’t come true,” Holly, her editor, pointed out, then faced Sydney. “Now stop fannying about and open your gifts.”

Sydney looked at the gifts on the table, but her gaze strayed to Caden, who continued glaring at Jamie.

He was a puzzle, that one.

From the moment Caden had walked in the door, he’d been fixated on that battle in the South London tunnel a few weeks back. He’d said her story about the magical war was utter rubbish…but asked a load of questions, especially about her source. Not that Sydney would tell him—or anyone else—the woman’s name. Impossible, anyway. She didn’t know it.

Aquarius distracted the tense crowd by shoving a bright pink floral-wrapped box into Sydney’s hands. From the number of packages stacked on the small round table in the conference room, it looked as if everyone had brought her something.

“You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”

“We want to show you how much we appreciate you,” said Leslie.

Aquarius started pouring cups of her infamous home-blended herbal tea as Sydney unwrapped gifts. A pair of delicate silver earrings, a relaxing massage at a local day spa, and a sumptuous Italian silk scarf trimmed in blue crushed velvet. Jamie gave her a gift certificate for a large pizza and a Blockbuster card—both of which he’d likely insist on sharing. Caden had given her a somewhat impersonal card and a small box of nice chocolates. She would have preferred a hungry kiss.

Wrapping paper and greeting cards littered the table when Sydney at last got to Aquarius’s package. The young woman was practically vibrating with excitement. “Open this! It’s from me.”

“You baked and organized and still got me something? You shouldn’t have.”

With the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder and her mesh and lace top, Aquarius didn’t dress like a normal assistant and refused to make coffee—too full of chemicals and caffeine. She wasn’t good with a computer…yet. But Aquarius had a knack for stories, for juggling Sydney’s hectic schedule, fielding the editor-in-chief, soothing paranoid readers and keeping internal chaos at a minimum. And despite being total opposites, she and Aquarius had become good friends. Sydney smiled at the thought.

“Are you two going to start snogging or are you going to open that?” Jamie hollered.

After tossing another glare at Jamie, Sydney turned to the gift. It was square and slightly heavy, wrapped in buttery yellow linen.

“Open it. Go on,” she whispered.

An odd anticipation revved through Sydney as she plucked at the silky white bow and tore open the wrapping to reveal…a book. An old-fashioned book. A red leather cover with gilt framing and some sort of scripty-looking symbol on the front. Sydney tried to hide her confusion.

Caden elbowed in and gave the book a very hard stare.

Aquarius laughed and urged her, “Read the card inside.”

With a shrug, she opened the cover to reveal. Hmm… An empty book with ever-so-slightly yellowed pages and a little white square of paper with a formal-looking script that read:

On these magical pages, spill your sensual fantasy,
In a mere day’s time, your wishes will become reality.
A kiss, a touch, a whisper, whatever you most desire,
In the arms of your lover, pleasure will burn hotter than fire.

If you’d like to read the rest of chapter 1, click here.

I’m so excited to finally start sharing some of these next two Doomsday Brethren titles with you all. I’ve heard from many of you that 13 months between titles seems like forever, and I agree. Working my butt off to bring you stories in the series as fast as I possibly can.

In the meantime, read the excerpt and and leave a comment here. I’ll choose 3 winners a three-chapter electronic sneak peek of the book by Monday. Comment quickly!

I’ll be back next month with more information about my FREE Doomsday Brethren eBook, Fated, which will be out soon.