Crymsyn Hart's Blog, page 4

Jasmine thought falling into a magic book and landing in Oz with the Scarecrow, Micha, and Leon the Cowardly Lion was odd. However, getting sent to Dracula’s castle where she finds herself and her two men falling prey to the undead count even stranger. There they discover an unlikely ally who will help them save Micha from Dracula’s clutches.

Even as they venture deeper into the count’s castle, her feelings for both Leon and Micha deepen. Magic is growing within her thanks to the strange book which tells their story. Even with saving Micha’s very soul, the one most important thing they have to remember is keeping the book away from the evil Dorothy at all cost.

EXCERPT

Jasmine landed on top of both Micha and Leon, a much softer arrival than she had when she entered Oz. The plant monster remained in Munchkinville. She and Micha had gotten away after he pushed her through his magic book. She rolled off the men quickly and double-checked to make sure everything worked. Micha wiped the grime from his jeans and shoved the book back into the bag slung across his shoulder. It was his most precious possession and the reason they were on the run. They couldn’t let the tome fall into the wrong hands.

Jasmine went over to him, but tripped and planted her hands directly onto Leon’s chest. A zing went through her when she touched Leon. She blushed and caught the slight flash of green energy connecting them. Leon gave her a small smile as he stepped away. The bags Micha had conjured for her and for himself landed next to them. She put her pack on her back and handed Micha’s knapsack to him.

“Thanks. How did these get here? I left them in the room,” Micha asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine. You’re the one with the magic book that has a mind of its own and a wand,” Jasmine replied. She plucked a few small pieces of dirt from her shirt.

“It’s not a wand. It’s a pen,” Micha commented through gritted teeth.

She held up her hands in surrender. “Sorry. You wave the pen around and light comes out of the end. My mistake if I thought it was a wand.” Jasmine tried to joke away her fear of where they had landed. “Has your pen recharged yet so you can write us out of danger?”

“Afraid I won’t be able to handle what’s coming next?” Micha snapped.

She sighed. “No. That’s not what I meant. Good grief. Somewhere in all this, things have gotten all tangled up. I want to know if you’re okay.” Jasmine touched his shoulder. The image of him being lifeless and barely breathing hung in her mind. Micha was her way home, back to the real world, and if he died Jasmine would be stuck in Oz. “You were whiter than a sheet the other night. Now you’re jumping through magic books once more. I wanted to be sure you were okay. Using your magic pen won’t drain the life out of you again, will it?”

Micha’s firm expression faltered, and his lips turned up into a smile. The same one she first saw when he asked her if she was okay after they took shelter in Dorothy’s house — the one she’d dropped on the Wicked Witch of the East. He touched her hand and brushed his lips across hers. Her insides lit up and her stomach flip-flopped when she thought how she felt about him. “I’ll be okay. Everything’s changed in Oz. I had to channel my energy into the pen to get us to Glen-da’s. I used the last of what I had to heal your knee. I didn’t thank you for saving me, did I?”

“No, but how about saying we’re even? You saved me. I saved you. You finally figured out I’m not going to steal the book from you.”

“You still need to get home. You might decide to take it from me while I’m not looking.”

Jasmine crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes. “After what’s happened between us, do you really think I’d leave you high and dry?”

Micha ran his hand over the bag containing the book. “I’ve seen stranger things happen. She might have woven you into our story, but you’re a wild card no matter what’s happened between us.”

“I thought we’d be over this, or you’d be over the idea I’m going to screw you after our con –”

“Uh… guys… can you fight later?” Leon asked.

“We’re not fighting,” they both replied. Jasmine glanced at Micha and laughed. The whole conversation sounded ridiculous.

“Micha, I’m not going to run away with the book. I promise. I want to know what she’s doing to me and what role I play with you two.” Jasmine poked him and tried to feel more confident in what she said. Truthfully, the idea scared her to death to think she played any kind of role in the messed-up story she found herself in, getting thrown into a magic book Micha was trying to keep away from Dorothy Gale from Kansas. All Jasmine knew was that Micha and Leon had been friends. Somehow, Dorothy took the place of the witch she killed. After Dorothy found Jasmine and Micha in Oz, they had to flee from the Emerald City. Micha used the book for her and Leon to escape to the new world they arrived in.

Where is here? Jasmine wondered. The air felt gritty along her skin. She caught the undertone of death on the breeze and the smell turned her stomach. Deep down, she was scared. Night surrounded them. Being stranded in another strange reality, where the rules were probably different from those in the universe she left, made it all the weirder. The worst was their journey was being handled by a book that had a mind of its own.

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All Jasmine wanted was a quiet vacation. What she got turned into so much more than she could have ever imagined — her own fairy tale. Micha Hook saves her from death by pushing her into the pages of his magic book. Jasmine finds herself in a land she never thought existed — the Land of Oz.

However, in this magical kingdom, the Wicked Witch has been replaced. Books write themselves, and the magic is disappearing. While reuniting the old crew, Jasmine has to find out what’s happening in Oz before the magic is gone. All the while, she finds a handsome prince or two.

Excerpt

Jasmine stared up at the dark sky. The breeze pulled the remaining heat of the day toward the mountains and away from her campsite. It tugged at the staked lines she had pounded into the hard ground, trying to claim the shelter for itself. Even if the gust caught it, she wouldn’t blame the wind. This vacation had been planned for months. A whole week off was a dream because she didn’t have a backup at work. Jasmine needed time away from all the clients who called her for answers when she didn’t have them. The stress of it weighed on her.

In the middle of nowhere, silence greeted her, and she loved it. Half an hour from the nearest town, no lights polluted the view of the night sky. The illumination from her campfire relaxed her. I really have to do this more often. Jasmine let out a contented sigh and watched the vast expanse. Her gaze followed the three stars of Orion’s belt. Her grandmother had taught her about finding the shapes in the stars like the Big Dipper or Cassiopeia. Before she could locate another shape, a star broke the line of Orion’s belt. It sparked, seeming to bounce off the neighboring stars, before it divided into four separate trails. Each took a different path.

Her grandmother’s words filtered into her mind about making a wish upon a falling star. Jasmine closed her eyes and thought about what she wanted. Something to shake up her life a little. Maybe an adventure. Nothing too wild. Maybe a handsome man. The night greeted her when she opened her eyes — the falling stars had already burnt out on the horizon. Jasmine felt a bit disappointed. Probably a satellite breaking up as it hit the atmosphere. Let’s be realistic. The world doesn’t revolve around fantastical events or strange creatures offering people three wishes.

Jasmine pushed her thoughts away as the haze of sleep settled over her. She studied the stars to see if another would plummet. When none shattered, she banked the fire and slipped into the tent to sleep the night away.

The next morning the stillness of the desert greeted her. Jasmine rubbed her eyes and pulled on her jeans. Her stomach growled. She’d left her food in the car. She went outside. Pieces of her camp chair were scattered around the campsite. The stones from her fire pit were knocked across the campsite as though someone had swept them aside. The seat of her chair lay near the tent. She picked the fabric up and examined the tears in it. It looked as though an animal had invaded her spot. But her tent remained untouched and nothing had woken her up. What the hell happened?

Jasmine’s hands shook as she cleaned up the mess before heading to her car. Her spot should have been safe. Nothing at the site looked like an animal had been there. Nonetheless, she’d camped on a distant part of her friend Landis’s land. Landis had left her the key to the house in case she wanted to get away from the elements. At the moment, she didn’t feel comfortable staying in her tent.

Jasmine grabbed her bag. She patted her pockets and felt the box of matches she’d shoved in there the night before and her keys underneath them. She went to open the car door when a flapping sound made her stop. The back quarter-panel on the driver’s side swayed in the breeze. What in the holy hell? The metal over the tire was flayed like a half-peeled orange. Long gouges clawed the top of her trunk. Jasmine pressed her fingers into the grooves. Each was three times as big as hers. Good thing I bought the insurance.

She glanced around for whatever had done this and prayed it hadn’t stuck around. A Gordian knot twisted in her stomach. She quickly took the tent down and threw everything from the site into the back of the car. Why didn’t it touch the tent? Her keys jangled in her shaking hand. I’m not waiting around to see if something comes back. What does it want? What is the rental company going to say? Jasmine turned her phone on, but it didn’t pick up a signal. This is what I get for wanting to be completely alone. Jasmine got into the car and drove to town, praying the creature was long gone.

Half an hour later, she arrived in the thriving metropolis of Shifting, Arizona, a booming town of a thousand people. She parked in front of a strip of stores and grabbed her phone. Fifteen voicemails popped up on her phone. The last five didn’t show the callback number. “What’s going on?”

BUY LINKS: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Changeling Press, Kobo, Apple Books

Wishing everyone a Happy & Healthy Thanksgiving.

Alien Space Marines, a celebrity photographer, and a pair of vampires find their perfect mates on the dark side of the night.

Chain of Three by Willa Okati: Mix two alien Marines, a human BDSM Master, and a shapeshifting Empress with a mind of her own, and what do you get? A whole lot of trouble. It’s a three-way battle for dominance, and the Empress knows something she’s not telling…

Naked Exposure by Lacey Savage: When savvy celebrity photographer Deidre Laxon trespasses on private property in pursuit of hot Hollywood bachelor Greg Radigan, she has no idea she’s about to capture him in all his naked glory participating in some very explicit BDSM play. When Greg and Deidre finally come face-to-face, he’s ready to exact revenge. And nothing short of Deidre’s complete submission will satisfy him…

Torqued by Emma Ray Garrett: Being a dominatrix gives Reliant Agent Pru Gordon perfect access to the Nightside she polices. And it lets her fulfill her fantasies at the same time. It’s the perfect life. Until the night she meets Gage Mills and Ro Thomas. When two of the darkest predators around meet up with the best Controller alive, things are bound to get messy… Just what the Domme ordered.

Publisher’s Note: Please note that not all genres and themes apply to the entire collection.

Get it today at Changeling Press

or Preorder for November 27th at online booksellers

Praise for All Wrapped Up Vol. 2

“This is the perfect book to have on hand when there’s only a short period of time to fill. Each story is a very satisfyingly quick read. I highly recommend this entertaining trio of tales.”— Susan P., The Romance Studio

EXCERPT

Excerpt from Chain of Three Willa Okati
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Willa Okati

“So, you’re pretending to be a human again today, are you?”

Dane grunted in response. In his opinion, a stupid question didn’t deserve any kind of answer. Anyone with two, three, four or more eyes in their head or what they called a head ought to know better. Of course he’d shifted into human shape. He wasn’t stupid.

The Empress hadn’t exactly ordered Her subjects to assume the images of the humans She adored and fell passionately in love with. However, anyone who wasn’t too dumb to come in out of the rain knew they’d better wear the right “uniform” unless they had an itch to annoy Her.

You really, really didn’t want to annoy the Supreme Commander of a thousand-plus starships and a million trained warriors.

Besides, he’d decided to lounge by the pond in the garden of his new quarters that morning and tentacles had a nasty tendency to develop vicious sunburn. “Getting a tan” the earthfolk they’d rescued from their doomed planet called this practice. They’d said it was relaxing and made them look more attractive to those they wanted to mate with.

No, those they wanted to fuck.

If Dane was going to play human, then he’d damn well get the details right. Mating and fucking were completely different concepts. One of the new traditions most of his countrymen and women liked best when it came to playing human was the idea of fucking without having to tangle themselves up in mating.

“Fuck.” An interesting word you could use in almost any sentence.

Dane paused for a second to appreciate the amazing range of human obscenities, otherwise called “swearing,” “cursing,” or “cussin’.” They worked great when a guy didn’t really know what else to say.

Speaking of which, Dane decided getting a suntan was probably a piss-poor waste of time. He couldn’t figure out why anyone would enjoy damaging the pigmentation of their skin by sitting in the sun all day, but as the earthfolk also said, what the hell? He didn’t have anything better to do. Not since he’d been “honorably” discharged from the military, sent back to their home planet for recuperation, and then…

Dane shuddered.

“Aww. He shivered. Izza baby boy cold?” Julian taunted in American English.

Raising the middle finger of his human-shaped hand, Dane pointed it where he figured Julian would be standing. Another handy earthfolk trick, cussing with hand signals.

Julian hooted. “Up yours too!” He made the suggestion in cheerful good humor. Probably purely for the sake of annoying Dane. He never took offense at anything Dane did. He treated every barb and sting like some big game. Prick. “You’re cranky today, old man. What flew up your ass?”

Dane grunted again as his only answer, deciding if that wasn’t good enough for Julian he could go screw himself.

Mmm. He really, really loved human profanity. So rich, depending on culture, and so satisfying. He and Julian both studied the underground lists of new phrases together to figure out what they meant, bitching at each other over who got to read first if they didn’t both have a copy. The time when Julian insisted “son of a bitch” meant the same thing as “son of a motherless goat” had resulted in a fight of amazing violence and duration.

In the end, the Empress Herself gave them a tongue-lashing of Her own and sent them to their rooms to stand with their noses in the corner until they learned to behave like men, not children.

Julian’s fault, in Dane’s opinion. Dumbass.

ABOUT WILLA OKATI

Willa Okati is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants, genderfluidity, and a lifelong love of storytelling. She is definitely one of the quiet ones you have to watch out for. Favorite story types include: friends to lovers, reunited lovers, enemies to lovers, mpreg, polyamory, medical romances, Regency/Edwardian/WWII historical romances, and romantic comedies.

ABOUT LACEY SAVAGE

Award-winning author Lacey Savage loves to write about her dreams — or more specifically, she loves to breathe life into her steamy fantasies (and she’s got plenty!). She pens erotic tales of true love and mythical destiny, peopled with strong alpha heroes and feisty heroines. A hopeless romantic, Lacey loves writing about the intimate, sensual side of relationships. She currently resides in Ottawa, Canada, with her mischievous husband and their loving cat.

ABOUT EMMA RAY GARRETT

“…and I — I took the road less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.”

-The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost

The last line from award-winning author Emma Ray’s favorite poem pretty much sums up her life. Her tendency to do her own thing is what her friends and family love best, and least, about her. Chaos is a constant in the Garrett home, which currently houses her intelligent, energetic children, a devoted husband, a very large, very lazy, white tom-cat, a very crazy, very small black cat, and a very happy, very healthy rescue pooch — who’s black and white.

Kilted Wolves
Jessica Coulter Smith & Kenna McKay

Published by Changeling Press

A werewolf can only deny his destined mate for so long before the beast takes over.

Ranald’s Mate: Ranald has resigned himself to an arranged mating with a lass he can barely tolerate. He never counted on her turning into a feisty beauty! But if there’s one thing Ranald knows how to do, it’s woo a lass. His mate doesn’t stand a chance.

Highland Shifter’s Baby: One sniff and Camdan knows Lily’s his destined mate. Too bad she’s off-limits — or is she? When the temptation becomes too great, Cam knows that he’ll do whatever it takes to claim Lily and make her his.

Get it November 20th at Changeling Press

https://bit.ly/38JUg8I

Or preorder at online booksellers for November 27th

https://books2read.com/KiltedWolves

Excerpt

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2020 Jessica Coulter Smith & Kenna McKay
Excerpt from Ranald’s Mate

Blair tapped her fingers on her leg, trying not to think about what awaited her. She remembered the boy she’d met all those years ago. He hadn’t been thrilled at the idea of mating with her, and she couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t been anyone’s ideal. Blair liked to think she’d improved over time, but men still gave her a wide berth. Her father had wanted her to go to her mating a virgin, but she’d taken care of that little pesky problem when she’d turned nineteen and realized she didn’t want her mate thinking she was unprepared for him.

Oh, she’d heard the talk over the years. Her mate had been kicking up his heels and having a grand time, diving under one skirt after another. Good thing shifters couldn’t carry diseases or she’d worry she might catch something from him. She supposed she couldn’t hold it against him. He’d been so young when they were contracted, older than her, but still young. It must have chafed to have his life mapped out for him. As for her, it wasn’t uncommon for a father to arrange a marriage for a daughter, but not in the pack. A bit outdated, perhaps, but she understood he meant well.

What kind of wolf had Ranald turned into? Despite his obvious distaste over mating with her, he’d seemed kind when she’d met him. Her father had encouraged her to seek him out over the years, but she’d always held back. Truthfully, she’d been enamored of him at that first meeting. He’d been so tall, his shoulders already broad. The way his hair had fallen over his forehead had made her fingers itch to push it back to see if it felt silky. She’d had a crush, instant lust, and it hadn’t dissipated over the years.

She’d had lovers, but only a few. Blair considered it research, not wanting to go to her mate’s bed a complete innocent. Unbeknownst to her father, she’d downloaded videos to learn how to please a man, and she couldn’t wait to put the knowledge to good use. Whatever her mate wanted in the bedroom, he would get. She’d learned long ago, a satisfied mate was a mate who didn’t stray. If they were true mates, she’d never have to worry about it. Destined mates would rather cut off their paw than cheat on their mate. But with an arranged mating? Anything was possible.

“You’re quiet,” her father said.

“Just thinking. Do you think Ranald has changed much over the years?”

“I have no’ seen him, but I’ve heard the whispers. He’s something of a ladies man, but I wouldnae fret. I’m sure he’ll be faithful to you.” Her father muttered something under his breath and she smiled when she made out the words or I’ll neuter him. He may be old and dying, but her father was still every inch the alpha male. He took his duties seriously, which was why he would be stepping down after she was mated today. He hadn’t trusted anyone to honor the contract between Ranald and her, but once the deed was done, he would be free.

It was sad that she wouldn’t be part of her pack any longer. She was not just gaining a mate, but a father-in-law and new pack mates. Would they accept her? She didn’t doubt that there would be challenges. With a male of Ranald’s standing, she would be highly surprised if the females in the pack just sat back and let him mate someone without a challenge. But what no one knew was that Blair had been training for this day. It’s why she’d taken so long to mate with Ranald. Every morning she’d risen and gone into the woods where she met up with Fyor, an ancient elf. He’d sworn her to secrecy, as elves and wolves didn’t get along. She’d kept his presence a secret in exchange for battle training. If she could take down a two-centuries-old elf, then she had faith she could take down a bitchy she-wolf.

They pulled to a stop in front of the alpha’s house. Butterflies erupted in her stomach and she wondered if Ranald was inside. She hadn’t seen him in ten long years. Had those years been kind to him? He’d been handsome as a teen, had that carried over into adulthood? Blair had to admit she was both excited and nervous to see her mate again. She was a far cry from the mousy girl he’d once seen. Would he like the woman she’d become? Or would she still fall short in the eyes of the mighty Ranald Douglas?

Her hair wasn’t quite as frizzy as it once was, now hanging in sleek curls to her waist, thanks to a hair mask she used religiously. Her freckles had faded over the years and could be hidden entirely with a light layer of make-up, when she deigned to wear any. She was still tiny, not quite five feet tall, and her figure was… well, her hourglass had a little extra, but she hadn’t had complaints from the few boys she’d dated, behind her father’s back of course. She supposed she was pleased with her appearance.

Today being a special day, she’d chosen to wear a pretty sundress with low-heeled sandals. She’d even gotten a manicure and pedicure for her big day. She’d wanted everything to be perfect, but what happened next would rely solely on Ranald. He must have agreed to mating, or she wouldn’t be here, right? Surely, he wouldn’t wait until she showed up on his doorstep to deny her? She’d had all week to pack and think about her future, a future with Ranald. But she had to admit, that several times she’d pictured this day and what would happen if he denied her. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

“Ready?” her father asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her father patted her leg before opening his door and climbing out of the car. With a deep sigh, Blair got out and followed him up to the front door of the large house. She’d thought the alpha lived in a castle, like her father did, but this home was much smaller than the one she’d grown up in. It was nice and she could easily see herself living here. Was this Ranald’s home too? Or did he have his own place?

Alpha Douglas opened the door and ushered them inside with a warm smile. The sound of the door shutting seemed so final to Blair. She followed her father and the alpha into the living room. There was a bar along one wall and a massive figure stood in front of it, his back to the room. His kilt was of the Douglas clan, and his hair was a touch darker than Ranald’s. His shoulders were so broad she wondered how they fit inside his shirt. Beneath his kilt, his calves were thick and muscular with silky looking hair sprinkled across them.

Heat spread from her middle out through her limbs; a blush rose to her cheeks. She hadn’t even seen his face yet and already her body responded to him. Blair inhaled deeply and the scent that surrounded her was a deep, forest musk that soothed her inner beast and made her want to move closer for more. The hand braced on the bar was large, with long, thick fingers. Capable looking hands. The kind of hands a woman would beg to have on her body, stroking her to ecstasy. Good lord! She was practically mated and here she was lusting after this hunk of a stranger.

Blair licked her lips and tried to get her body back under control. She’d never felt such an intense stirring before and her wolf was more than intrigued. Then the guilt hit her. She was betraying her mate by lusting after this man, a man who she didn’t even know. Knowing he was kin to her mate just made it even worse. This was a man she’d probably have to sit across from at the dinner table. How she would manage it she didn’t know.

“Blair,” Alpha Douglas said. “You remember my son, do you no’?”

Son? Holy mother of… That was Ranald?

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About Jessica Coulter Smith

Award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith has been in love with the written word since she was a child writing her first stories in crayon. Today she’s a multi-published author of over seventy-five novellas and novels. Romance is an integral part of her world and she firmly believes that love will find you at the right time, even if Mr. Right is literally out of this world.

Find her on Facebook or Twitter

About Kenna McKay

Kenna McKay is a lover of all things Scottish—especially men in kilts! There’s just something sexy about Scotsmen. The Scottish burr, perhaps? Their rugged good looks? Maybe it’s not just one thing, but everything combined into one mouthwatering package.

Kenna didn’t start out wanting to be a writer, but she’s loved the written word for as long as she can remember. She devoured books from a young age, and even worked in a library for a while. Now she enjoys making up her own worlds and hopes you enjoy them as much as she does.

Find Kenna on Facebook or Twitter

After Irene Beckham accidentally discovers rock star Ace Hendrix’s big secret, she wakes up in his bedroom without any memory of how she got there. As flashes of her memory of the night before return, Ace makes her an offer. Let him suck her blood, and he’ll make her a wealthy woman if she can stay quiet about it. Ace even proves to her he didn’t take advantage of her the night before.

When the press gets wind of Ace’s new fling, Irene decides she’s not the right woman for him, but Ace knows they’re meant to be together. He doesn’t care what the paparazzi says, he has to have her in his life no matter the cost.

EXCERPT:

Irene opened her eyes and rolled her neck. A stab of pain struck her throat. She sat up and pushed her hair back. Her fingers hit her glasses. She pulled them off and found they had been fixed. “What the hell?”

Glancing around, she discovered she’d woken up in a room not her own. Dark blue walls were hung with pictures of the ocean and cliffside vistas. One was so huge it made it seem like she looked out a window. And yet she couldn’t find any windows. A bed large enough to sleep four people took up most of the room. What the fuck happened? She took off her glasses and inspected them to make sure they were hers. She ran her hands over the wall, looking for any crack that could be a door. After going over the whole room, she knocked on the walls to hear if any were hollow. With nothing but hurting knuckles, she slammed her fist on a bare spot on the wall.

“Let me out of here,” she screamed.

“Enough with the yelling. I have a headache as it is,” a male voice came over a speaker.

“Who are you and what are you going to do with me?” Irene scanned the room looking for a speaker.

Something clicked and a portion of the wall popped out. Someone hovered in the hallway. “Come on. We have a few things to discuss before you can go.” She recognized Ace’s voice.

Irene followed the rocker. Posters of old concerts from Buddy Holly, Jimmy Hendrix, The Doors, Madonna, all from different eras of music and mixed with framed golden records lined the hallway. As she ran after him, all she could stare at was his ass in those leather pants. “Mr. Hendrix, how did I end up here?”

He turned down the hall and Irene rushed to catch up with him. He turned another corner. She found him as he grabbed a bottle of water from a fridge that blended in with the cabinets around it. He flung himself down onto a sofa and gestured for her to take a seat across from him.

Irene sank down into the couch. Records, CDs, cassette tapes, anything music-related lined the bookshelves around the room. “You have quite a music collection.”

His gaze roamed around the room and a slight smile came on his face. “Thanks. I’ve been collecting for a long time. Music’s always been my escape. Would you like some water?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

He tossed the bottle of water at her. It hit the back of the couch next to her and bounced onto the seat. “Sorry. Like I said I’m getting over the hangover from last night.”

“About last night. How did I get here? Back at your house? Where’s my friend?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

She squeezed the bridge of her nose, trying to recall what happened. Her head pounded as she tried to draw forth the memories after she waited in line with Bev for Ace. “My glasses got knocked off and trampled. You picked them up and your assistant gave me and Bev backstage passes.” A spear of pain sliced her temple. She tried to pull up more. It remained out of her reach. “I don’t know.” She ran her fingers over her jeans as a thought passed through her head. “We didn’t… ahh…”

“Fuck?” he asked.

Her cheeks burned at his language. “Yeah.”

“No, we didn’t. After you wandered into my dressing room, you fainted. Nicole, my assistant, brought in my doctor. He said you’d passed out from having too much to drink. I thought it best to have you brought back here to sleep it off where no one’d bother you. We put you in the guestroom to sleep it off. I can have my car take you wherever you need to go.”

Irene sipped the water and thought back to being with Bev before the show. “I didn’t have anything to drink.”

“You sure? Maybe your friend slipped you something. It’d account for you thinking your glasses were broken.”

“They were. You picked them up for me.”

“You stumbled and dropped them right in front of me, but they weren’t broken.”

Nothing of what he said made any sense to her. Irene tried to rack her mind at what happened the night before. The ache hit her temple again. She winced. “No… I…”

“Look, you’re awake. You seem fine to me. Now, I have a life to get back to. It was very nice to meet you. I’ll have my driver take you home. Come on.”

Ace got up and walked out of the room. Irene sat trying to make sense of what he’d said. This doesn’t sound right. If I passed out, then Bev would’ve wormed her way into coming with me, playing at being nursemaid. She squeezed her eyes shut and recalled clearly her glasses had been broken. They went backstage with Nicole, and then she had tried to find the restroom. And then… she walked into Ace’s dressing room, but he was…

“What the hell was he doing?” Irene whispered.

BUY LINKS: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Changeling Press, Kobo, Apples Books

Today let’s welcome Alexanda Christian to the blog with her new book Falling Into Rhythm which you can get at Amazon. I promise you won’t be disappointed.

Hearts beat together, breath for breath in perfect time.

Jude Renfro came to the small island town of Crawford’s Landing looking to start over. The bright lights of the LA music scene don’t shine as brightly after losing your greatest love. All he wanted was to fix up his rustic old house on the beach and start a quiet, happy life out of the spotlight for his five-year-old son, Kit. A new romance wasn’t in the cards. The last thing he expected was a sassy kindergarten teacher and a fall carnival to change his life forever.

You and I are fallin’ into rhythm. One more kiss and you’ll be mine.

Harper Winslow is not exactly the stereotypical old maid schoolmarm, but she’s never managed to find Mr. Right. Her greatest love has always been the students she teaches at Sojourner Truth Elementary. That is, until her rock star idol, Jude Renfro, and his adorable little boy waltzes into her life. His bad boy swagger and soul of a poet has her mind and body reeling. She doesn’t have time to fall in love, though. The school is on the edge of financial ruin and the whole town is depending on her and the annual Fall Crawl carnival.

Together, Harper and Jude are a perfect duet, but will it be enough for a happily ever after?

Falling Into Rhythm is a small town, second-chance romance for anyone who loves seasonal, Hallmark-style love stories.

EXCERPT:

Harper smiled and put the saucepan on the burner. She reached to turn it on, but when she turned the dial, it wouldn’t budge. She tried it a few times and couldn’t seem to make the damn thing work. “I can’t get your burner to come on. Am I not doing it right?”

“It’s kind of old,” he said, coming toward her. He came in behind her and reached over her shoulder to help. He laid his hand on top of hers. “You have to push it in, and then turn it.”

Harper looked back over her shoulder, watching him as he focused on getting the dial to turn. He was so close. She could feel the warmth of his arm, sticky in the humid air. She could smell the scent of his soap and cologne, heady and strong now in the heat of the evening. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, taking the leather and smoke scented heat deep into her lungs. “I… uhm….” Her voice cracked a little, and she felt her cheeks go red. “I think I got it,” she said, turning to look up at him.

Jude didn’t pull back, his eyes cast down with a gaze so heavy that Harper could feel herself crumbling underneath. The tip of his nose nuzzled against hers. His cheek was so rough as it brushed the corner of her jawline. Harper couldn’t help leaning into the embrace, just slightly so their lips were so close that she could taste his breath. In another second, it would be too late. His generous mouth feathered across hers. It wasn’t a kiss, just a slight caress.

“I’m not sorry,” he whispered, feeling her mouth against his.

“Me either,” she said. There was no turning back now, and she turned up her chin to accept his kiss. This time it was full on. His mouth covered hers, capturing her in a fervent kiss. She let her arms slide around his waist and utterly surrendered. His hands were in her hair, tangling the soft curls around his fingers. He made her feel so small, and she held him closer, wanting the kiss to go on and on.

BIO

Alexandra Christian is an author of paranormal and contemporary romance with an occasional foray into horror. Her love of Stephen King and sweet tea has flavored her fiction with a Southern Gothic sensibility that reeks of Spanish moss and deep-fried eccentricity. Her guiding principle as a romance novelist has always been to write romantic adventures for people who think they hate romances. After all, love itself is life’s greatest adventure.

 Lexx is a native South Carolinian who lives with an epileptic wiener dog and her husband, author Tally Johnson, in a small town just south of Charlotte, NC. In addition to her writing, she also has unhealthy obsessions with supervillains, Sherlock Holmes and Star Wars. Her long-term aspirations are to one day be a best-selling authoress and part-time pinup girl. Questions, comments and complaints are most welcome at her website: http://lexxxchristian.wixsite.com/alexandrachristian

Social Media Contacts:

Website: http://lexxxchristian.wixsite.com/alexandrachristian

Blog: http://lexxxchristian.wordpress.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheSouthernBellefromHell/

Group: https://www.facebook.com/groups/TheHellsBelles/

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Hello! And thank you, Crymsyn, for inviting me to your blog. I wanted to talk a little bit about my urban fantasy series, Fairview Chronicles. People tell me it’s funny. My charming antihero loves giving interviews. We’ve crossed oceans in the latest installment, and all in all, even with the demons and the murder and the intestine throwing, it’s a lot of fun to write.

I brought an excerpt from the very first book for you today. If you enjoy that, do get your copy, and don’t forget to leave a review on Amazon! That really helps us authors out.

Rose felt her back pressed against the alley wall. Marcus’s arms on either side kept her facing him, made sure she didn’t run from this tall, dark-haired man.

Not a man, she reminded herself. Her lips quivered. Rose wasn’t sure why, but she was holding her breath. His eyes were sparkling like green fireworks. The need to run gave way to a different need.

“My Rose,” he said. “Don’t be afraid. I would never hurt you.” The spark was curling along his lips now too. “Unless that is what you want me to do.”

Rose swallowed. Her body seemed so noisy. “You mean, my blood — you want to drink my blood?”

“My Rose,” Marcus said, and the way he smiled at her now showed her his fangs.

Why didn’t I notice them before? she wondered.

“My Rose. I would taste you. But I would also have your pleasure, would see your face when it blushes a delicious red with the heat of your climax. Oh, Rose, I want to have you any way someone like myself can have a human, a lover.”

Rose’s legs felt like jelly. Her cheeks were hot, red, a fire that seemed to radiate through all of her body. And her body was reacting to the heat in the most exciting ways, feeling so warm and full of longing. Rose wanted him. She wanted his hands on her skin, she wanted to feel his body press her against the wall, and she wouldn’t object if he saw fit to pull her skirt up and tear a few buttons off her blouse. “Marcus,” she said, looking at the vampire in front of her through fluttering lashes. “I want you to have me like that.”

“Yes, my Rose. But not here, not in an alley. You are no whore. You deserve to be wrapped in silken sheets when I take you.” Marcus’s arms suddenly fell away, and although he had never touched her, Rose hated to lose his nearness. “Come with me,” he said, extending his hand.

All other thoughts had gone from Rose’s mind. She took the hand Marcus offered, willing to follow him. Willing to follow him anywhere.

Cora let the book drop to the floor of her apartment, next to her bed where she liked to read. With its unbent spine and glossy cover, the book was among the nicer things in her place.

“Aww, why are vampire lovers so damn scarce? Wish I had one just like you, Marcus.” She looked down to the bare-chested vampire on the cover and tried to wink at the book. Unfortunately, Cora, like many people, couldn’t get her eyelids to move independently, and her wink came out as an awkward blink. She was sure a proper vampire lover would be tolerant of her shortcomings in the facial expressions department.

“If only this wasn’t the vampire-lover-free real world. Where one needs a job to buy food and romance novels and things,” she told Marcus, whose head was not actually pictured on the cover.

Cora got up from the creaky bed that was probably older than she was — not that a college drop-out could be picky about her furniture, especially since she hadn’t shared her new status with the most relevant people in her financial life, her parents.

And I’d rather tell them I got a job, she thought. That would also be the best excuse not to hear their opinions about uneducated plebeians and about how dropping out of college is as wrong as a thing can be.

Luckily, Cora had a job interview lined up for this afternoon, and even if journalism wasn’t her passion, she wouldn’t let that stop her from pursuing it, with determination if not passion.

She dressed sensibly, brushed the tangles from her dark hair, and left her too small, too cockroachy apartment with high hopes of following a career in the newspaper industry while bare-chested vampire lover Marcus was left there all alone, staring up at the dark spots of uncertain origin that patterned the apartment’s ceiling — his chest was staring up, at any rate.

A deceptively warm January had the city of Fairview fully in its grip. It showed in the way a blue sky haloed all the buildings, in how the parks were dressed in budding green and visited by winter-sick people of all ages, and showed in how even the ocean that was always nipping at the harbor seemed to bring warmth on its waves.

The entire scene clashed with Cora’s feelings of dejection and uselessness. Her interview with the Fairview Chronicle editor had gone fine — gone fine until the editor thanked her for coming in and told her she wasn’t right for the position.

How did I manage to screw that up? she wondered.

She had walked out of the Chronicle building without really knowing where she was going. She was in shock, obviously. She should have just headed back to the subway, should have taken the silver line and gone back home where she could cry in private and consider the best way to approach her parents with the news, but her head had needed clearing, and her feet had just kept on walking. Now, she had no idea where she was or what she was doing there, which more or less summed up the entirety of her life.

Shit, she thought. Which summed up everything even more concisely.

She stopped at a traffic light. Traffic was slow as it always was at rush hour, so when she considered throwing herself in front of a car, it was rather more sarcasm than defeatism. As the light turned green again, she walked to the other side of the road just like everyone else around her. Except all of them are high on the smell of spring air, she thought. And all of them have things to go toward, goals, milestones. After another ten or so steps, she came to a coffee shop, the Queene Bean Fine Coffees & Artisanal Honeys. Their logo was a coffee bean with wings, framed by a hexagon.

Might as well blow my last money on some java, not that it matters much at this point. I’ll probably have to move back in with my parents. She put her right hand on the door, pushed, and entered.

Some adventures always start with walking through a door and not knowing what lies behind it. Cora’s adventure was one of those.

“Can I get a soy latte, please?”

“Right up,” the barista said. Her hair was light brown, and she had the most expressive almond-shaped eyes Cora had ever seen. The woman’s smart maroon blouse, yellow kerchief and apron all sported the Queene Bean’s logo in brown on yellow.

Cora exchanged coin for caffeine and sat down at a corner table, fully prepared to do some brooding and possibly form some sort of plan for what to do with the rest of her life. Her parents had suggested art history, and somehow Cora had taken their advice. She had tried, she really had, but she hadn’t liked the classes she was taking, nor had she liked the people who sat in the classes with her. Cora also hadn’t been able to shake that nagging feeling that there was nothing at all about art history she had ever liked to begin with. Dropping out had seemed like a good way to get her life back.

She stirred sugar into the hot beverage in front of her, more sugar than she would have put in on a normal day. A few grains sprayed onto the polished wooden table, and she brushed them to the floor.

The coffee shop was pretty empty for this time of the day. There was only one other customer two tables over. Funny, this really is a nice place, Cora thought, taking in the decor. The reprint of a portrait of Shakespeare was staring down at her. Its frame was decorated with about a half dozen tiny plastic bees. Books in hexagonal bookshelves lined one wall, while another was sweetened with jars of honey, large and small, ranging from the darkest ambers to almost quartz pale.

If I were a bee, at least I would know exactly what the point of my existence was, Cora thought. She stared back up at the Bard. If I lived back in the 1600s, I would probably be a multiple mother by now, living in questionable sanitary conditions. I think I’d rather be a bee.

Movement to her right caught Cora’s attention and pulled her from her daydreams. The other customer rose from his table and approached the counter with a piece of cardboard in his right hand. He was a weird-looking guy — his salt-and-pepper hair appeared estranged from comb or brush. He wore a pair of brown corduroy pants with an orange sweater, and his black-framed glasses were intended to look stylish, but somehow, they didn’t rise to the occasion. Cora decided, from her place of a little higher-than-sensible heels and black knee-length dress, that the man looked weird.

“June,” he said to the barista, “can I put this in the window?”

The barista turned and looked at the piece of cardboard he was holding up to her. “What, your ‘Help Wanted’ sign?” There was the slightest sliver of distaste on her face in the way she crinkled her nose at the hand-drawn design.

“Yes. People are more likely to see it here. All the glass windows. Not something I need in the PI business.”

Cora wasn’t sure she was hearing right. Help Wanted? It was, quite literally, a sign. She got up from her table, the sugary coffee all but forgotten, and tapped the man lightly on the shoulder. “Excuse me,” she said as he turned. “Are you hiring?”

The man had missed a shave or two — either that or he was trying to grow a beard, with the emphasis on trying. Despite his unkempt appearance, Cora froze when he focused on her with a set of sharp blue eyes. “Serendipitous. You are looking to be hired?”

“Erm. Yes. Yes, I am.”

He stared at her as if she were a gallery painting to be examined and evaluated. Cora almost thought he was about to tell her he didn’t need her. “Hold this,” he finally said and dropped what looked like an old-fashioned pocket watch in her outstretched hand.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” she said. The thing wasn’t a normal watch as far as she could tell. It had hands, but they were not ticking the seconds away, and the symbols on it were not numbers, or at least not a script she recognized. One hand was spinning quite fast.

“Nothing,” he said and took the watch back. “The alphabet,” he said after a tiny pause.

“Excuse me?”

“You know the alphabet?”

“Of course.”

“Odd hours too.”

“Oh, that’s great. I love odd hours. I mean –”

“You’re not a screamer? I absolutely cannot have a screamer.”

“What? Scream about what? What kind of job are we talking?”

“Answering the phone, greeting clients, filing, that sort of thing. If you can start right away, that would be best. Screaming, as in at big spiders, things to do with violent murder, darkness in general, and special circumstances.”

“I kill my own spiders, and so long as I’m not at the receiving end of the violence or the murder, I’m good. As for darkness, I carry a flashlight in my purse, right next to the pepper spray. Don’t you want my resume?”

“You’re too young to have anything interesting on there. I’m Dominic Rafe St. John, private investigator. No one calls me that. You can call me Rafe,” he said, holding out his hand.

BUY LINKS:

Changeling Press

Amazon

Kobo

Barnes & Noble

Apple Books

Find the entire series on Amazon or directly at Changeling Press.

About Alexa Piper:

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. She loves writing series, and her Fairview Chronicles follow a ragtag gang of supernaturals who try to make their city safer. Mostly. Her second series, Dusk & Dawn, explores banter and the trappings of a world in which Vampires, Werewolves, and the Fae live alongside humans. Connect with Alexa on Facebook or follow her on Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter!

To be fair, I have read this book before and the whole series. However, I wanted to give it a second read. With some spare time on my hands, I’ve been going through the books on my shelves that I want to keep or get rid of and this was one I intend to keep.

I enjoyed the story that Ms. Synder spins with Yelena being a poison taster and all the intrigues she finds herself getting into. From starting the book as a victim, to finding her strength, and then her power to overcome all the years of torture that she has endured.

If you enjoy, fantasy that isn’t too over the top with magic and sword fighting mixed in, which can be a lot of books, but I would recommend this one. I enjoy the strong female heroine in Yelena and will want to continue on with her journey.

Four out of five.

About to be executed for murder, Yelena is offered an extraordinary reprieve. She’ll eat the best meals, have rooms in the palace—and risk assassination by anyone trying to kill the Commander of Ixia.

And so Yelena chooses to become a food taster. But the chief of security, leaving nothing to chance, deliberately feeds her Butterfly’s Dust—and only by appearing for her daily antidote will she delay an agonizing death from the poison.

As Yelena tries to escape her new dilemma, disasters keep mounting. Rebels plot to seize Ixia and Yelena develops magical powers she can’t control. Her life is threatened again and choices must be made. But this time the outcomes aren’t so clear.

…now what?

You’ve gotten your momentum going and you’ve written the first chapter. You’ve started your first book, your 25th, or your 100th. Even if you have an outline you still might wonder, where do I go from here? Can I run with my outlines? What the hell am I doing? Should I even be writing a book?

The first thing to do is take a breath and congratulate yourself. You’ve gotten this far. The first chapter might be a thousand words, five thousand, or somewhere in the middle. There is no perfect word count that has to be in a chapter. (If there is somewhere, please let me know.) My normal word count for a chapter is 2500-3000 words. Sometimes they run shorter or longer. It depends on where I get that happy feeling where the scene should end. But that’s just me. The one rule you do want to follow no matter where the chapter ends, is that you want to have a hook.

The main character could be hanging over a cliff or getting ready to be eaten by demon-possessed zombies. Maybe your hero is Krampus and trying to decide if he wants to save his enemy, Santa Claus. Whatever the hook might be, it is important to keep the reader interested.

Then you get into your second chapter and figure out where to go from there. Some people make writing look easy. I wish I was one of those people. Writing at times is difficult for me. More than lately it’s been hard due to life, hurting fingers, or no motivation. However, I keep doing it because I want to see where the story goes. I try to keep the reader interested. I write what I would like to read.

No matter what you are writing, you’ve gotten this far. Write and don’t stop until the book is done. Then keep on going.

Best wishes on your endeavors.