For our final day – Bianca Sommerland

For our final day of the tour, I’m delighted to welcome Bianca Sommerland. Her latest release, Deadly Captive is a really intense read.
You can get Deadly Captive here:  https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=269
Bianca Sommerland was born and raised in Montreal, Quebec. When not reading neurotically or writing as though the fate of the world rests on her keyboard, she is either watching hockey or teaching her daughters the beauty of a classic, steel pony while reminiscing about her days in Auto Body Mechanics.
Her time is balanced with utmost care between normal family life, and the internal paranormal realm where her characters reside. For the most part, she succeeds. You can find her at http://imnoangelauthorsblog.wordpress.com/
Okay, Bianca, I’m turning it over to you!
Magic and the Great ‘What if?’
When I’m writing, the question at the forefront of my mind is ‘What if?’ What if the prince is the bad guy? What if the heroine likes the ‘hero’s’ best friend…or whole team? What if the fate of the universe rest on the balance of the ultimate orgasm?
Okay, I’ve never tried that one, but you get where I’m going. Sorta.
Anyway, when you’re writing contemporary, your mind has to stick with logical ‘what ifs’. Your human male cannot have the tongue of a snake unless he is Gene Simmons (not but enough for my tastes, but I do have wet dreams about that tongue. Um…yeah, you don’t wanna know). He cannot hump you while simultaneously undressing you both. And condoms are a good idea unless the couple have exchanged shackles.
Add a dash of magic and the possibilities…*evil grin* there are things a character can survive with a spoonful of enchanted sugar that would leave lesser men hamburger meat. In Deadly Captive, the only reason there’s any kind of Happily Ever After (I’m quite liberal with that term, so don’t get your hopes up) is because I tore him apart and used the paranormal elements in the story to…ah, must spoil the ending. All I will tell you is the heroine is not left alone.
So the hero doesn’t die?
Now, I didn’t say that, did I?
Real life fiction is fun to read because part of you let your mind be fooled—let’s your mind believe that the events could happen. Probably won’t. But could. Fantasy, paranormal, Sci fi—these are all ways to escape. You don’t believe it could happen in your world, because you’re not in your world, you’re in another. And it’s either a real nice, or real scary place to be.
Here’s a short excerpt from Deadly Captive to give you an idea of what I mean:
With a slow nod, Cyrus lifted his hand and curved his fingers inwards. “Come here, Lydia.”
His eyes were beautiful, the blue of a cloudless summer sky. My fear dwindled. It was ridiculous to be afraid, really. He wouldn’t hurt me; he would give me everything I’d ever wanted. I climbed over Joe, craving Cyrus’ touch so bad my skin crawled with desire. I would go mad if he didn’t take me. I would die.
Joe wrapped his arms around my waist and jerked me back. “Start with me, Cyrus. Have your fun with me.”
“And make her first time easy, Joe?” Cyrus smiled, and my heart melted. He had lovely, luscious lips. “In return for what? Your cooperation?”
“No! Please—” I pitched forward. Joe hauled me up and dropped me on the mattress. I bit my tongue and swore as blood filled my mouth. Pain shattered the urge to rush into the arms of the man who’d used my suffering as entertainment.
 Fun, right? Imagine all the things someone could do to you with some kind of otherworldly power at their disposal. All the things they could make you do…
Thanks so much for having me, Gianna! Enjoy the last days of the tour, lovely people!
Thanks for coming by, Bianca. The lure of different worlds, with characters who have all sorts of ways to manipulate situations and people using powers beyond our own frail humanity is hard to resist. I’m sure many of us agree with that!
Okay folks, don’t forget to comment to be eligible to win – including that $100 voucher to Eden Fantasy!

Click here for the next blog on the tour:


And don’t forget to check out the Red Roses & Shattered Glass Anthology. 

Noble Authors Blog Tour – Please Welcome Justine Elyot!

I am thrilled to host today’s guest – Justine Elyot. If you’ve stopped by the tour previously, you probably know that Justine and I know each other from other parts of the online world, so this feels like a reunion of sorts.  Thanks for coming by Justine – I’m delighted to have you here today. Our two worlds crossing is a really cool thing – I’m loving this, and so glad we’ve had such a great year with Noble so far! I’ll turn it over to you and let you scare us silly now! 🙂 

 
“I’d like to start by saying hi to Gianna and her readers and thanks for the opportunity to be here. It’s funny, but Gianna and I knew each other from ‘another place’ long before we both became Noble authors, and I couldn’t be more thrilled to share a publisher with her!”
Introducing myself, I should mention that I’m Justine Elyot, a UK-based writer of erotica and erotic romance. My first novel, On Demand, was the last title to be published by iconic British label Black Lace and, while their withdrawal from the market was disappointing, I took some comfort from reaching the number one spot in the erotica chart at Amazon UK. I’ve written for a plethora of publishers and editors including Cleis Press, Xcite Books, Total E-Bound and Carina Press. My Noble book is called The Choirmaster and it’s romantic BDSM. Check out the gorgeous cover:
The theme on Gianna’s blog tour stop is magic and mysticism. I have to admit, I don’t know much about either – my tastes tend more to the contemporary/historical than fantasy/paranormal – but I have spent a lot of time in one of the most haunted villages in England, so I thought I might tell you a little bit about that.
One summer when my mother was five years old, she was playing in the cornfields at the back of her house when she noticed the figure of a man rising up from the golden ears of wheat. This wasn’t such an amazing sight in itself, but the fact that he was shirtless and his chest was green attracted her attention, as did the coronet of leaves in his hair. She raced off to tell her sisters, but by the time they came back, the man was gone.
Years later, she was reminded of her experience when she came across a picture of the man in a book about mythology. The caption identified him as Robin Goodfellow – a spirit whose appearance portended a good harvest. And, as it happened, they had a very good harvest in 1952.
The village where my mother grew up, in a fertile vale in the middle of England, famous for its lush fruit and vegetables, has more than its fair share of ghosts. A spectral horse and carriage are said to thunder over the crossroads just outside the village, while the manor house has its own ‘white lady’.
As children, our absolute favourite story was of the local ghost, or ‘spot loggin’, a man who was allegedly hanged, or murdered (nobody seems to really know which). Great Uncle Fred reported being chased by the ghostly figure as he bicycled past the church one foggy night, and we could never resist the temptation to go to the old well, near the tithe barn, and walk around it three times anticlockwise and three times clockwise before uttering the magic words that would call up the spot loggin.
The problem was, we didn’t know what the magic words were. My aunty Mary claimed to know them, but she wouldn’t tell us.
So he stayed in the well and we eventually grew out of our fascination.
When I visit the village now, the thing that haunts me the most is the distant view of Long Lartin maximum security prison, where the terrorists are held. I wonder if any of their ghosts will ever drift across to join the spot loggin.
Now that I’ve spooked you, I must ask you to hurry along to say boo! to Indigo Skye who is gracing my own blog with her presence – http://justineelyot.wordpress.com/
Enjoy!”
Yeah, you certainly spooked me! But I love that village picture. I’m a bit of an Anglophile and long to visit England again someday. That pic just makes me more anxious! I’m a sucker for an old stone church, they call to me almost as much as the castles!
Thanks again for coming by Justine. The Choirmaster is a super hot read, I sucked it all down in just about one sitting, I couldn’t put it down. And I agree with you 100% – that cover is gorgeous!
Here’s where you can pick up a copy of The Choirmaster:  http://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=224
And don’t forget, Justine also has a story in the Red Roses & Shattered Glass anthology.
You can get your hot little hands on it here: http://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=260
Don’t forget to leave comments and be eligible to win some super prizes. Make sure to stop by Justine’s blog as well and talk to Indigo Skye, the next stop on the tour. Clickety-click on the button below:

Happy Easter

Another week gone by, and Easter is here. Passover is about over – hope my friends who celebrate had an enjoyable one. It feels like it was Christmas just yesterday, the months are flying by at breakneck speed.
This was the third week of the Noble Authors Blog Tour. For those of you who have been following the tour, thank you for your support and excitement over this super fun event. I’ve had a wonderful time hosting and guesting and meeting new readers and fellow writers. Thank you to JS Wayne and Indigo Skye for being here at my blog this week, and thanks also to Justine Elyot and Cherie De Sues for hosting me. There’s still another week of the tour left, so don’t forget to stop be again and visit with next week’s guests.
Here is a recap of the winners this week of a copy of Healing the Mage:
From Justine Elyot’s Blog: Anne
From Cherie De Sues’ Blog: Dawn
And the winner of the $20 All Romance Gift Certificate is Tracey D.
Congratulations ladies!
In other news, my computer has a defective motherboard. And they want more to fix it than it cost me to begin with two years ago! However, in looking back, I realize that this board has been slowly dying for some time, since right around Christmas (wow, that came up twice in one post!). Anyway, the sluggishness, hanging up for seconds or minutes at a time, failure to recognize USB connected devices, all this has been going on for months. I would shut down programs, log off other users, run virus scans, and restart the machine, and it would be fine for a couple of weeks. Then it would start again, and I would go through the whole process again, and it would be fine again. The last incident resulted in the machine not powering up again.
The way I see it, this is covered under the two year extended service plan, since the failure began in December. So now I am in the middle of wrangling to get them to pay for this repair. I just want my computer back – I cannot get into a solid writing groove using my work laptop, and it’s killing me. Especially since I am fired up to work on my medieval. Tuesday’s critique group was very productive for me, and I have some major re-arranging to do. I’m going to attempt to hook up a real keyboard to the laptop and see if that helps, but I don’t have my lovely 20″ screen to view, since my PC is an all-in-one. I’m going to have to increase my view to 150% to be able to see my words properly. Especially since my eyes are rapidly getting worse – the OTC magnifiers are getting to the point they don’t work much anymore.
Update – since I did not document any symptoms prior to the failure and contract expiration, it won’t be covered.  I am supposed to get a hefty discount on the service, I’m still waiting for that. Some employee consideration, eh?
I’m hoping this week starts out well – much like today. Sunny (for now) and warm and all kinds of fun. It finally, actually feels like Spring today. Though they are calling for the chance of rain later on – what a surprise. My little guy has been up, much earlier than usual for a Sunday, of course, anxiously awaiting his older sister to join him so he can hunt for Easter eggs. He’s hopping around more than any rabbit! Lol I need to tell him to conserve his energy, it’s going to be a long and hectic day!
I am just grateful I don’t have to attend this month’s trade show – everyone’s leaving today for Florida for the week. I’m more than content to avoid airplanes and airports for the next few months. It’ll be October before I fly again – to Orlando. Though I will admit, several nights with a hotel room (and bed) all to myself is a luxury I do savor! I will get to enjoy that little delight again at the end of June, when I attend the RWA National conference in NYC. But I’m driving in, since I live so close, no planes this time around. I’m very much looking forward to that – it’s been a while since I attended National, and I always have so much fun. This year will be extra special, since I now have two titles and the anthology to promote. I hope to get to meet face-to-face some of my fellow authors whom I’ve gotten to know online. And that bed all to myself! lol
One last reminder – the Noble Authors Blog Tour picks up again this week, on WEDNESDAY. So be sure to stop by, we have more prizes and fun. And the grand prize, a voucher to Eden Fantasy, is up for grabs. So be sure to comment so you can be eligible to win!
Happy Easter and I’ll see you on the tour this week!

Noble Authors Blog Tour – Indigo Skye

Today, I’m thrilled to welcome Indigo Skye to my blog.  Indigo is a writer and photographer living in the American Southwest. Her first novel, Her Captive Muse, was released by Noble Romance Publishers in January. Her work has been widely published online. Last fall, her short story “True Confession” was published in the anthology Uniform Behavior. A full list of her published works is available on her blog, Indigo Skye: Ink and Art- http://indigoskyeinkandart.blogspot.com.
Here’s the blurb for Her Captive Muse. It sounds terrific – right up my alley, and on my TBR list!
When Brendan Delaney answered an ad for an artist’s model, he was looking for an easy way to earn some extra cash. But Morgan Roan wanted more than just a model. Soon, Brendan finds himself caught in a web of deception and desire, lust and betrayal—her captive muse. What price pleasure?
And in keeping with the magical theme for my portion of the tour, here’s a tasty snippet from Indigo’s book:
Chapter Three
The Magician’s Folly
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Morgan asked. She toked hard on the joint and passed it back to him.
“No. I don’t.” His voice sounded flat. No one had ever called him beautiful before. She’s just shining me on.
“I’ll show you. I’ll prove it.” She looked excited. An attractive flush of color bloomed on her pale cheeks. She rummaged through a huge, roll-top desk in the corner, muttering to herself. “Where the hell did I—oh, there it is.” She pulled out a small sketchpad and a box of oil pastels and brought them back to her chair near the hearth.
Brendan groaned. “Not this shit again. I’m off duty.”
“This is different. You don’t have to pose. I can work from memory.” The artist began to sketch without looking at him. Her talented fingers worked fast.
He squirmed in the chair as Morgan studied his face. A perfectionist—trying to get it just right. Brendan watched her as she sketched. He drank his Scotch and smoked the last of the roach. He stood to toss the butt into the fire.
“There. Done.” She ripped the page from her sketchpad and handed it over.
Brendan examined the drawing. He didn’t recognize himself at first. It’s not me—or is it? She’s drawn me just as I am, and yet . . . .
Something about the sketch made him look twice. The way she portrayed his compact, wiry strength lent beauty and nobility to his features. He looked like a young man with a bright future ahead, rather than an aging fuckup with a past. He glanced up at her. Did she mean for him to keep the drawing? He’d been kicked out of his apartment—he didn’t even have a wall to hang it on. He tried to hand the drawing back, but Morgan waved it away.
“It’s yours. Keep it.”
“This is how you see me?” His hands shook as he studied the picture.
“It’s one of the ways I see you,” she said. “It’s the way I see you right now—in this light—after a few glasses of wine. The next time I look, I might see someone else entirely.”
Brendan couldn’t stop looking at the sketch. Instead of a tumbler of Scotch, she’d drawn him with a crystal ball in his left hand. She’d scrawled a title below her signature: “The Magician’s Folly.”
“A magician? I wish.” He laughed.
“You’re more powerful than you know, Brendan.” Her indigo eyes stared straight into his soul. He shifted in his chair and tore his gaze away to look down at his hands.
“I should get going. I’m late.” He stood up and got a head rush. Too hot. Shit. I think I’m gonna puke. His head spun and his stomach roiled. God, I need a fix. Could he shoot up in the bathroom? He wanted to get off—but he couldn’t nod out here. Gotta stay sober enough to drive over to Chad’s and score some more skank. A river of sweat ran down between his shoulder blades. I have to get out of here. Can’t let Morgan see me like this. He struggled to navigate the stuffy room on unsteady feet.
“Wait—you shouldn’t be driving. You’ve had a lot to drink.” Morgan put a hand on his arm.
“I’m fine. I’ll be all righ’.” Brendan said, slurring his words a little.
“No, you won’t.” She touched his face and framed it in her fingers. “I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you. You can sleep here. There’s plenty of room.”
Brendan hesitated at the doorway. “You don’t mind if I crash here? I don’t want to put you out.” He didn’t want to seem too eager—but he was almighty sick of couch-surfing and sleeping on park benches.
“Of course I don’t mind. Stay.”
The thought of sleeping in a real bed tempted him, but he tried one last time to refuse her hospitality. “No. It’s too much trouble. You got better things to do than babysit a drunk.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” She waved away his polite words as if she were like a cloud of mosquitoes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I should go.” He turned to leave and stumbled over his own feet.
“You can’t drive—you’re wasted. You’re staying here tonight.”
He knew it was useless to argue. Morgan was a woman who’d grown accustomed to getting what she wanted. Brendan guessed the challenge of the hunt was half the pleasure of any conquest for a woman like her. He resolved to play hard to get.
“Since you’re staying, would you like another drink?”
He shook his head. “Could I just have a glass of water? Please? I got cotton mouth.” He felt woozy from all the booze, and Morgan’s skunky pot.
“Strong stuff?” She smiled and laid a cool hand on his arm.
“Dy-no-mite.”
“Lie down.” She led him to a loveseat beneath an open window. “I’ll be right back with some water.”
The cold air felt good on his face and revived him a little. Brendan took off his leather jacket and dug through the pockets until he found the last little bit of his smack in its bindle. Could he shoot up? No time. Shit. He tipped a pile onto the coffee table and snorted it. The glitter-gold aura of poppy-bliss embraced him. Smack, for fast, fast relief. Brendan laughed under his breath. He bundled up his jacket, folding it into a pillow of sorts. The first warm wave of his buzz washed over him like a benediction.
Morgan returned with a glass of water. She sat beside him and stroked his hair back from his face. Her fingers felt like cool water against his fevered skin. She fussed over him, replacing his lumpy jacket with a soft pillow. He sipped the cool water with a grateful sigh and turned his head to catch the breeze. He could smell wood smoke and darkness. The north wind foretold winter’s coming chill.
“Thank you—feels good.” He closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when Morgan leaned over and kissed him goodnight.
“My room’s at the end of the hall if you need anything.” She nibbled on his earlobe, then pulled away. He reached for her, but she ignored him. She stood and crossed to the door. “Sweet dreams.” Her pale form dissolved into the darkness, leaving Brendan to wonder if he’d imagined the whole thing.
I cannot wait to read this, I’ve got chills, in a good way, and am salivating to see what comes next. Thanks for that taste, Indigo!
You can find Indigo on the web here:
And here’s where you can get your hands on Her Captive Muse- https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=235
Here’s a link to Uniform Behavior-
In addition, the Red Roses & Shattered Glass Anthology features a fantasic story by Indigo. 
Remember, we’re giving away some great prizes, so leave a comment for Indigo, or a question, or anything else!
You can meet up with Bianca Sommerland over at JS Wayne’s blog. Click the button to continue along the tour route!

Noble Authors Blog Tour – Word Wizardry with JS Wayne

Today, I’m delighted to welcome JS Wayne, my guest for this day of the Noble Authors Blog Tour. Check out the awesome poem he wrote, I’m seriously impressed. Talk about multi-genre talent! And don’t forget to leave a comment for JS to be eligible to win some awesome prizes!

Born in Amarillo, Texas, J.S. Wayne has lived, worked, or traveled in approximately two thirds of the North American continent and has amassed a resume that could kindly be described as “eclectic.” He currently resides in the Texas Panhandle with his wife, a vicious attack cat, and a terrier puppy who believes socks are a threat to national security. In his laughably sparse spare time, he enjoys reading, scary movies, strategy games, and collecting obsolete weapons. His professional writing credits include two current novels, Shadowphoenix: Requiem and Wail; a short story, “Angels Would Fall,” which has been contracted by Noble Romance Publishing and was just released April 18; and a host of poetry and work-in-progress novels and short stories, including a nascent graphic novel with artist extraordinaire Bill Fish, who created the covers for J.S.’s first two novels, his website, and took the photos J.S. uses for various publicity needs. He maintains a home page at www.wix.com/jswaynesite/herebemonsters and a blog at www.jswayne.wordpress.com.
Word Wizardry
Sorcerer
Dreams and visions are my stock in trade
Cryptic runes and sigils flung into the cold blue fire
Of the magick mirror through which I see and am seen
Building dreams of romance and nightmares of horror
Erotic meetings in shaded places and lust in broad daylight
Lover and warrior, I mix phials and filters
With the mortar of language and the pestle of my mind
Every phrase, word, and letter fraught with meaning
Text, context, subtext, and back again
To form the picture in the mind
Denying sleep, laughing, as I create that
Which will stir the heart…or freeze the very marrow
Flinging my magick webs and spells
To make you laugh, weep, shiver, or tremble
With these bizarre little squiggles I force your reaction
A game of chess as foreplay and your emotions the prize
A modern-day Merlin, robed in black
Sending new imaginings to produce a new idea
A new view of the world.
If I succeed only one time, with only one person
And my words reverberate with that soul
Long after the grimoire, the tome is closed
Then I have succeeded to my satisfaction
At the sorcery I weave for your entertainment and edification.
Seems a little over the top, doesn’t it?  But it’s true, in its own, admittedly melodramatic way.
Writers create magic.  From the basic building blocks of language, we create entire universes and destroy them just as readily.  We give these universes Gods, people, laws, and form.  The people that we engender in these worlds of the mind live, love, grow, suffer and die as we see fit.  And in doing so, we have the potential to wreak very real changes in the people, and hence the world, around us. 
Take as a basic, cookbook example the stressed-out banker who goes out after work and picks up the bloodsoaked horror novel he’s heard so much about.  The next day, he might have gone smooth out of his mind, purchased a rifle, and gone into work the day after that shooting.  But because he found catharsis in the horror novel and the demented little fantasies worked out there, he feels a little bit better.  He doesn’t beat his wife or kids or drink himself into cirrhosis and a coma at thirty-five.  Instead, he lets fictional characters bear the brunt of his frustration and irritation.  Maybe he even experiences a sea change in his perspective.  Would anyone argue that the seven, fifteen, or thirty dollars he spent on that novel was money wasted, given the potential outcome if he hadn’t found that outlet? 
Another example is the woman in a position of power, who finds that all her subordinates, and even people on her level, find her offputting simply because of the title she holds.  She may be as hot-blooded and passionate as any woman, but she feels like she can never let on because she’s afraid that by doing so, she may compromise the power she wields.  So she goes home and in the privacy of her own office/living room/bedroom downloads that hot new erotic romance novel she overheard a couple of the girls talking about by the water cooler.  Losing herself in the imagery and the tacit permission to be sensual that such a work offers, she allows the passionate side of herself to surface.  She might even place a phone call to someone who reminds her of the hero and who she would never have dared to approach without the catalyst of the feelings the book stirs in her.  A good time is had by all, a new love blossoms, it is hoped, and she goes to work the next day glowing and a little easier to be around.
These may be somewhat extreme examples, but the reality is that a million stories like these are acted out daily.  Stories, fantasies, and books that they read change them.  They learn something new.  They consider a different point of view.  Maybe they even go so far as to make a fundamental change in their life. 
What all of these have in common is that somewhere, at some time, someone sat down and put together words in a certain manner to convey a specific mood, concept, idea, or emotion.  The way they did it resonated with these particular people in such a way as to force a conscious change in their thought process, mood, or feelings. 
Okay, you may ask, this is all very intriguing, but what’s so magical about it?  After all, people write things all the time.  I write out a grocery list every week, but it has never inspired any life-altering event for me.  What’s the difference?
The difference is very simple, but to explain it, we must first set a working definition of magic to properly place these events in context.
Donald Michael Kraig, the author of Modern Magick: 11 Lessons in the High Magickal Arts, defines magic as any change in a person or their environment which is occasioned by will, using means not currently understood by Western science.
But wait!  Science tells us about brain chemistry and function and how these affect our thought processes.  So we already know and understand why we feel what we feel at a certain time.  No need for some half-baked Gandalf wanna-be to wave his wand and make us feel something different. 
Perhaps.  But the point is that the writer’s creation stimulates the reader’s brain, oftentimes without their even being aware of it.  We literally create the world we desire, and in doing so, in a very real way, we change lives.  And if that isn’t magic, then I don’t know what is.
I want to extend a very warm thanks to Gianna for letting me take the stage here today.  I can’t wait for next time!
Until then,
J.S. Wayne
Thanks JS! I can’t wait either! 🙂  Here’s the cover of JS’s latest release, Angels Would Fall:
Isn’t that a gorgeous cover? Definitely drool-worthy! lol   You can get Angels Would Fall at Noble Romance Publishing: https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=270
JS also has a short story in the Red Roses & Shattered Glass Anthology:
You can purchase the anthology here:  https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=260   There are some seriously hot stories – you don’t want to miss a single one!
Check out what Cherie De Sues is up to over at Bianca Sommerland’s blog. Click the button below to continue on the tour!

Winners – and other chit-chat

If you’re here, then you know about the exciting Noble Authors Blog Tour that’s been underway for the last couple of weeks. I’m having a hell of a time visiting all the other blogs and meeting readers and fellow authors. I’ve also added a few books to my wish-list myself! lol  And I want to thank everyone who came by to visit with my guests and leave comments. I’m very happy to see you all and make some new friends!

I thought I’d recap here the winners of copies of Healing the Mage and some swag to accompany it, so here goes:

From my guest post at Indigo Skye’s blog: Jean P
From my guest post at Sarah Ballance’s blog: Andrea I
From my guest post at JS Wayne’s blog: Lucy Felthouse
From my guest post at HC Brown’s blog: The Pick Pack

Congratulations ladies, I’ll be emailing you today or tomorrow with a copy of Healing the Mage.

On to other updates. On the writing front, not much has been going on – last week was an absolutely horrendous week for me and technology. First, my main home computer died. *sob*  Actually, it’s not as bad as I first thought, it appears to be a pwoer problem, rather than anything else, so with fingers crossed, I am awaiting results on diagnostics. The stupid thing was acting sluggish so I shut it down, It never powered up again, and no matter where I took it, there was no power reaching the machine. So back to Sony it goes. The killer – this happened exactly ONE MONTH after my extended service contract expired – to the very day! So I have to pay – even though I’ve worked for Sony for 22 years, there’s no way to get it back under service contract, no assistance at all for me other than paying $150 just to send it in and get a diagnostic. Figures.

The morning after this happened, I get to work and the copy machine is down, so no copying, scanning or sending outside docs electronically through the network. Not five minutes later, the fax machine runs out of toner, though that was an easy fix. The next morning, my boss’s hard drive crashes, and that same day, my blog reset some settings. (I swear the blog did it all on its own!).  To say I was nervous about getting on a plane last week was an understatement. I get nervous enough on my own, I didn’t need this adding to it.

Obviously, there were no issues with the flight. Had a wonderful time in Vegas, even though it was for work, I did manage to get some fun time in. Walked the strip and won enough money to keep playing for a few hours. And I managed to talk up my books to anyone and everyone who would listen – I played my author role rather than my Sony role whenever possible. Handed out a few cards and maybe I’ll get some new readers out of it.

Needless to say, my writing has stalled a bit. I can’t get comfortable writing on my work laptop, and it’s very distracting and aggravating. On the bright side, we’ve purchased a new laptop for the house, and it’s gorgeous. I may try my hand at using that this weekend, but again, we have another crazy busy schedule, so we’ll see how much actual time I have at my disposal. But I’m anxious to get my medieval finished – it needs lots of editing and revision, and I’ve been moving at a snail’s pace. Especially after I got scores back on a contest I entered with it.

Now to be totally honest, I only entered because the category was in danger of being eliminated for being short entries, and I would hate for that to have happened. So I didn’t expect anything, really. When I received the scores, I was floored to see I had scored so high with the first two judges: 109 and 104! Wow, I truly didn’t expect that. I was brought quickly down to earth by the third score – a 36! Obviously, I offended that judge – the story does contain plot threads that border on non-consensual activities. Then again, I tend to write heroes who overpower the heroine, and I know some people don’t like that. But 36? I have NEVER, EVER received such a low score, even when I was getting trashed by the judge. I really *really* must have offended her terribly. At least the other two scores told me I was doing something right.

So, in light of that, I thought I’d turn my attention to the other trouble I’ve been having with this manuscript – the title. Right now, I’m calling it Warrior’s Vengeance, but I really don’t like it. So, I’m going to hold another contest – I’ll give away a copy of either Healing the Mage or In The Devil’s Arms – winner’s choice. I’ll give a brief synopsis here, and whoever comes up with the best title, wins. Simple, eh? Sounds like it, though I’ll bet I’ll get some great titles and won’t be able to choose! lol

Here’s the summary of the story – as it’s written now.

Scotsman Ian MacCallum lost his wife and young son to a brutal attack by English soldiers two years earlier. Swearing revenge against the man who led the attack, The Earl of Montchester, called the Panther, Ian plans an attack on Montchester. During the final scouting mission, one of his men kidnaps a young woman. Ian saves the girl from a brutal rape, only to realize he holds captive the daughter of his enemy.

Marissa Langley determines to free herself from her captors, but unarmed and helpless, she cannot fight against the man who saved her from the rest of his men. When Ian sets out to seduce her, Marissa finds she doesn’t want to resist him, despite her determination to free herself. Ian keeps her bound, treats her badly, yet gives her pleasure she’s never known before. She realizes that she must sacrifice herself to save her family, but when Ian brings her back to his village and collars her as a slave, she vows to destroy him for what he’s done to her. Yet, little by little, Ian’s seduction wears away her resistance, until all she wants is to remain in his arms. And Ian finds he cannot bring himself to harm the daughter of his enemy; instead, she worms her way into his heart, forcing him to rethink his plans of revenge.

So there it is, as it stands now. Of course, not everything is known to either Marissa or Ian, but then again, that’s a big part of the story. For my critique partners familiar with The Panther, they’ll know what I mean! 😉 Okay, everyone, get those thinking caps on and help me come up with a title! :p

Day Four – Noble Authors Blog Tour – Cherie De Sues

Today, I am delighted to host Chérie De Sues here at my blog. As you can see from her bio, she’s quite accomplished and extremely talented! And her books are red hot!
Chérie De Sues is a “critically acclaimed” and “award winning” author of thrillers, paranormal and contemporary suspense romances from sensual to sizzling heat levels. When Chérie takes a break from writing novels, you can find her at book signings, online, or traveling to research her next novel. She shares her home in San Diego, California, with her Irish terrier, Reilly.
Welcome, Chérie! I’m so excited to hear about “The Seduction of Simone.” I’ve got it loaded on my Reader as a matter of fact, and I’m looking forward to reading it!
“Merry meet Gianna,
I’m thrilled to be on tour with a stopover on your fabulous website! Although I write contemporary suspense and thrillers on occasion, my focus has been on paranormal suspense and pagan paranormal stories for the last year. Many of my pagan friends wanted stories with believable characters and situations that might face a Wiccan, Gypsy, Wizard, Druid, Witch or Fae. Since I’m a witch, I jumped right in with both feet!
In the highly erotic novel, “The Seduction of Simone”, readers will find paranormal and pagan elements throughout the book. Here’s a blurb:
Simone Devereaux has inherited an estate on the Northern California coast after her Aunt Celeste meets with a sudden, mysterious death. The hot neighbor, Trent Grayson, insists Celeste was murdered, and wants to be more than the man-next-door.
When clients arrive to pose for their nude portraits over the weekend, Simone realizes she’s inherited more than an estate. Two randy poltergeists enter her dreams for a lusty ménage, and a budding serial killer threatens her sanity.
Now her Wiccan mother and gypsy father are coming for a visit, just in time to watch Simone lose her heart . . . and possibly her life.
I really enjoyed writing this novel so much, I started, “West Salem” and have just finished editing this novel that will start a trilogy of stand-alone novels. I wanted to represent each pagan in the village as a real person, with erotic romance, ritual and a relentless enemy.
I have an alter ego and pen name for my nonfiction book, “Spellcaster: Book of Magic” by Rose Embyrs. For all your pagan or interested readers, they may enjoy the website at http://www.roseembyrs.com/ where they can read a portion of this book and enter “Irish Gypsy’s Parlor”. I’ve actually seen people enter the parlor and never come out. LOL The parlor is a fabulous world of the Fae, Gypsy lore, witchcraft and the supernatural. Enter at your own risk.”
I have to say, that sounds like a lot of fun! You can bet I’ll be stopping by for sure! I’m getting chills already – good chills! J
“I write a column in the Pagan Pages Magazine under Rose Embyrs and the HUB under the same name, filled with spells and witchcraft magick. I belong to a circle and practice solo too, I love hearing from other pagans on my facebook page, http://www.facebook.com/roseembyrs
Wow, Cherie! I’m impressed with all that you do – how do you find the time? I’m not a pagan, but I do love learning about it.
I’ve really enjoyed spending ti”me with you and hope your readers will stop by my author website at http://www.cheriedesues2.com and read the first chapters of my novels, sign up for a contest and watch some book videos! Speaking of book video trailers, here’s “The Seduction of Simone”. Many blessings, Cherie De Sues )0(
Thank you so much for stopping by Cherie, it was a delight to have you today – I am looking forward to getting lost in Simone’s story, it looks absolutely riveting!
Here’s where you can find Cherie on the web: 
For the next stop on the tour, click the button. Justine Elyot is hosting Mindy MacKay today, so hop on over!

Noble Authors Blog Tour – Mindy MacKay

Today, I’m hosting Mindy McKay. Thanks for coming by, Mindy. I’m so happy you could be here today! I’ll let you take it away and share your magical tale!
First, I’d like to thank Gianna for having me here on her blog. I’m really psyched to be here today, and to be part of this tour!
Now, for a more detailed definition of “I”. I’m Mindy MacKay, student, writer, and occasional TVTroper. To date, I’ve had three novels and three short stories published in the genres of scifi/fantasy, horror, and romantic suspense. In my spare time I enjoy watching obscure movies, playing the piano, and meeting with the local poetry club at an indie coffee shop. That’s me.
Most of my recent work has been realistic and free of paranormal elements, as I like to keep my writing thick with a “try this at home” element. I like writing about things that I (or readers) could plausibly do, and woodland warfare doesn’t rank highly on that list. However, I am in the middle of an ongoing series, namely Puppetmasters, that draws from a number of paranormal influences.
The most obvious speculative elements are the mutants and their powers, though this is a much more sci-fi thing. I won’t lie, I’m a complete nerd. I’ve been a Trekkie since I was eleven and grew up on a steady diet of Justice League, so a lot of the character abilities and fight sequences I use are drawn off of pulpy superhero stuff.
Then there’s the death lore I use. The grim reaper, who in my series appears as female, makes her first official entrance in the third installment, Bulletproof (release date TBA) and in book four, her surprising connection to the hero will come to light. I’ve modeled her after Santa Muerte, literally “Saint Death,” who is venerated in Mexico among certain circles. I wanted to portray Death as an all-accepting figure rather than all ominous gloom-and-doom, so naturally, she turned out a little like the Dia de los Muertos death goddess.
So, there you have it. A combination of hard sci-fi and goddess worship. Not the most likely combination, but it’s certainly fun mixing things up.
Thanks again to Gianna for having me, and don’t forget to swing by the other stops on the tour! ❤ Mindy.
Here’s the lowdown on the latest from Mindy, Fallen from Disgrace: 
Rosella Cartwright wakes up in the hospital after a yearlong coma with no recollection of who she used to be. Her only clue is that everyone around her despises and avoids her. Then, she discovers the truth: before she was hospitalized, she was the most wanted maniac of New York’s criminal underbelly.
Disgusted by reports of her own heinous crimes, she attempts to reform herself, but her efforts are in vain as society continues to cast her out in hatred and fear. All the world seems against her until she is offered a job by Daniel Ryan, a rising executive and self-made success who hides a lifetime of inner turmoil behind a façade of cool indifference. Drawn to his mystery as he is by her irrepressible darkness, Rosella starts falling for Daniel, but love can’t save her from her past. A former victim of hers wants revenge, and will stop at nothing to get it. Her partners in crime want her back by their side, though she wants nothing more to do with them. And a sinister plot of her own design, buried beneath her amnesia, is, unbeknownst to her, still very much in progress. These are the monsters she will have to fight off alone, and if she doesn’t watch her step, she might not make it out alive.
You can find Mindy’s latest release, Fallen from Disgrace, at Noble Romance Publishing, here: https://www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx?i=201
That book sounds awesome, Mindy. I can’t wait to read it! Mindy’s giving away a copy of Fallen from Disgrace, so be sure to leave a comment, and don’t forget to also leave your email address.

To continue on the tour – today you can meet Justine Elyot over at Indigo Skye’s place – click here:



Sarah Ballance – Encounters with the Unexplained

Today, I welcome Sarah Ballance, author of Contemporary Romance and Romantic Suspense. Sarah wrote her first novel a couple of years ago just to prove she could do it.  DOWN IN FLAMES was published in 2010, spurring the initial “told ya so” into a fledging career for the stay-at-home mom of six kids, all homeschooled.  She’ll be quick to tell you she writes to visit a world where people actually listen to her, but her characters didn’t get the memo—on a good day, they give her about as much trouble as the real kids do.  Married for nearly 14 years, her incredibly supportive husband spends his not-at-work hours bonding with the kids so Sarah can write.  He’s also a selfless volunteer when it comes to researching “the good parts.”
Encounters with the Unexplained
I must like being scared, because it takes very little to leave me quaking.  But it’s not the vampires or werewolves or other cultural phenomena that gets to me … it’s the events I truly can’t explain.
My earliest memory of the unexplained takes me back to my grandparents’ old barn.  There, from the attic, drifted the steady clack-clack tempo of a typewriter keypad—the sort resonating from an old-fashioned manual machine.  As a child, the noise terrified me.  It avoided rhyme or reason.  It defied typecasting, appearing instead in whatever random fashion it chose.  I seldom ventured into the barn on anything less than a sunny day, but when us kids bundled enough nerve into a dare, we’d creep in there at night and wait.  The Noise never demanded we wait long. 
My adult mind looks for reason behind the mysterious noise in my grandparents’ barn, but with maturity came the knowledge that, before they bought the place, a woman was murdered on the property in a cruel, gruesome matter.  This revelation left me no desire to venture into the attic, nor does the fact that neither of my sensible, level-minded grandparents would step foot in there—their property, to this day, abandoned upstairs to the tempo of keystrokes.  As for me, I try to chalk the unsettled memory up to animals, but the steady, unfailing pattern is one only the most talented of rodents could muster.
If the unexplained experiences stopped in my childhood, I might be tempted to write them off.  But there are two things I’ve witnessed I simply cannot explain away, and both happened right in my own home, both within the last couple of years.
One afternoon, my kitchen table was in a rare state of clean.  It’s an oak table.  The surface is level, as is the floor beneath it.  The kids put toys on it all the time, and I’ll even set down the occasional egg without it careening across the top.  So needless to say, when my untouched water glass walked itself several inches across the surface in a single smooth motion, I did more than a double take.  To be fair, condensation can cause a mini-phenomenon, but the distance was more like six or eight inches than it was millimeters.  Two of  my kids witnessed this, and I don’t know that I’ll ever forget the wide-eyed looks we traded.
The other incident happened as I gathered laundry in the bathroom.  With the door and window closed and no air blowing from the vents (believe me, I checked), the entire roll of toilet paper unrolled itself into a heap on the floor.  I can assume it finished due to momentum, but as to what got it started, I’m clueless—I know I hadn’t touched it in a while.  I was home alone with an infant, my back to the roll when it started unwinding.   
All I do know is after a long, dumbfounded look, I backed from the room, grateful for the daylight and really wishing we had another bathroom.
When it comes to believing in the unknown, having that feeling resonating in your gut adds a whole new level to a good story, one that makes it great.  I’m working that uneasiness into a story, but it’s in line behind a few deadlines.  Still, I can’t wait to see how those long-held emotions resent themselves into the plot.  
In a world full of the unexplained—of witchcraft and debauchery, of myths and legends galore—that, perhaps, will be the greatest spell of them all.
Man, I’m getting shivers, Sarah!  
Sarah’s latest, a Romantic Suspense titled Run To You, is a real intense read. Here’s the blurb and the drool-worthy cover:
Mattie James can’t pinpoint exactly when she lost control of her life, but the moment she decided to take it back made the front page of the local paper. Desperate to dodge the fallout— and the tabloids—she jumps at the chance to spend an off-season week in a tiny resort community by the sea. Making the trip with her ex-lover is a complication she can live with; coming face to face with a dead woman is not.
The last thing Sheriff Wyatt Reed expected to find on the storm-ravaged beach was a beautiful blonde with a jealous sidekick, but one look at Mattie left him wanting more. Their first date takes an ominous turn when he gets the call that a woman was found murdered. With a killer on the loose and a troubling lack of suspects or motive, Wyatt has to put his feelings aside to focus on the case. But his vow not to become personally involved is shattered when he discovers Mattie’s life is on the line, and this time the truth leaves her with a deadly choice . . . and nowhere to run.

I have this on my Reader, and it’s moved way up on the TBR list, I’ll tell you that!

To continue on the Noble Author’s Blog Tour, head over to see what I’m up to on Sarah’s blog by clicking the button:

 

Blog Tour – First Guest HC Brown



To kick off this exciting tour, I am thrilled to welcome H.C. Brown, a multi published, award winning, highly credited author of Fantasy, Paranormal, Sci-Fi, Historical and Contemporary Romance.  Having read several of her books, I can attest that H.C. is the author of some amazing, and super hot, tales. She has a real gift for weaving deep emotions into her stories, I can vouch for that! J
H.C. currently lives in Australia and she believes every story should have a happy ending. I agree with that 100%. 
On that note, I’m going to turn it over to H.C., and she will talk about writing fantasy romance, and we’ve got a really nice excerpt of her latest release as well.
Why Do I Write Fantasy?
I enjoy living in a fantasy world deep inside my stories. In truth, I believe in faeries . .  I wish I could tell you why. J I love magyck and having the fortune to be born into in a family of gypsies with exceptional psychic powers; my mind is open to all possibilities. The day of my birth, my father held me up to the stars and asked all the good spirits to watch over me.
 Many people make claims to be of the gypsies. We are a secretive people not prone to publicity.  I may tell you a little about my true self. My mother’s family goes back to the Bunni tribe in England. My father can trace his lines back to the Norman Conquest. We females still carry the distinctive royal blue eye color of the originals, not the brown of the invaders from Europe. One female in each generation inherits the gift.
I have seen true magyck, witnessed, experienced and created the thrill of many things too strange to tell. There is no evil in pure magyck. I feel sorry for the unbelievers, those who live in a world without seeing the magyck flowing around them; although it is not my place explain such things.
Magyck does not bring great wealth or success but it does bring happiness. There are many charlatans who extract money from people claiming they are Gifted. Those of the truly Gifted, give their knowledge freely—for it is in the giving that we gain true happiness.
Shifters & Demons by H.C. Brown
Paranormal Erotic Romance

Blurb: When bad boy alpha, Prince Dallin and his lover, Stryker, go 2000 years into the past to rescue Lailii, a Spellweaver, they didn’t plan on being captivated by the petite, delicate female.
Strong willed and determined to survive, Lailii has no option but to go with the two stunningly handsome men. Within hours, she finds herself in a world of big cat shifters and sizzling, uninhibited sex. Betrayed by a king to whom she owes no loyalty, she struggles to survive and acclimate herself in a strange, new land. And when a demon follows Lailii into the future, Dallin and Stryker must work together to keep their new lover safe.
Stryker followed Dallin from the great hall. His stomach unclenched. Lady’s blood, he had met King Leopold. The leader of all the Prides within the lands of the Twelve Gates had accepted him into his home. The days of sneaking from the barracks to meet Dallin were over. Gods, be praised.
With a grin, he took in the man walking beside him. The crown prince was the epitome of a Vane, the ruling Pride of white tiger shifters. Massive in build, he walked with authority. Black hair fell like water to brush his shoulders The silken mass framed a face only a god could have created, to hold amethyst eyes flecked with green and silver opalescence. Stryker’s gaze dropped from Dallin’s broad shoulders to his trim waist, and then down to strong thighs cased in a skintight material, woven by the Fae to resemble leather. He knew the feel of those strong thighs pressing against him. One whiff of his lover’s unique scent sent him into rapture. He touched his lips at the memory of Dallin’s demanding kiss. The taste of the prince lingered on his tongue.
“Do you mind if I see her alone?” Dallin stopped at the top of a flight of stairs. “I have some crawling to do.”
Drawn from his thoughts, Stryker blinked. He cleared his throat and met Dallin’s gaze. “Sure. I’ll hang around and wait. What do you think the king has planned for us at the waterfall?”
“I’m guessing hot, pride females and a ménage ceremony.” Dallin winked.      “My father may be old but he does encourage us to have frequent sex with a variety of females. How else would a male learn to cope with a female in Moonfire? One needs experience. It’s the same in most Prides.”
Stryker nodded in agreement. “I agree, but it’s after the mating that troubles me. My father insists all will be well, but do you honestly believe one female will satisfy us both?”
“After we bite our chosen mate and she us, all desire for another will fade.” Dallin placed a hand on Stryker’s shoulder. “It is the Lady’s way. Once our childseed is released we are bound to one female for life.”
They moved along a passageway with windows down one side. At the end, two guards stood to attention. The open door to the king’s solar revealed a      large, opulent room. The queen sat beside a massive, marble fireplace, her feet encased in red slippers supported by a large, blue silk cushion. She glanced toward the door, and her face creased in a wide smile. Dallin threw a mischievous grin at Stryker and strode into the room, closing the door behind him.
The guards’ stony expressions remained neutral; only their eyes flicked toward Stryker. He turned and rested his head on the windowpane. His breath clouded the view of the spectacular rose garden below. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders and looked out on the familiar landscape. So much had happened since his father sent him to train as a warrior in the king’s army. Well, in truth, the king offered him the chance to ride with the elite Vane Patrol after he defeated six of his warriors in a mock battle. Stryker grinned. At eighteen, he thought he was invincible—until he met Dallin.
Friendship followed the long training sessions at Vane Castle. Stryker’s heart missed a beat. The memory of becoming Dallin’s lover was still fresh      in his mind. He grew hard, and turned away from the guards. Hell, that night      had branded his lust meter for all time. Okay, like most Pride males of their age, they liked to share females, rolling off one and then onto the other. That night, only one female came to Dallin’s bedchamber. The thrill of them taking her, both at the same time, had blown his mind. The first brush of thighs, the touch of cock against cock, and then the first hot, wet kiss had sealed their fate.
1100 After Arious
Dragon’s Gate
“I will not allow the Butcher of Anwyn to capture my bride.” Prince Darik gathered up the reins of his prancing horse and glared at Lailii. “Do something, Spellweaver.”
Lailii gathered her magyck about her and gazed intently at the cloud of dust surrounding the oncoming, mutant warriors. Heat shimmered across the desert sands, turning the approaching army into ethereal beings. She turned to her prince. “Yes, your majesty. Have no fear. I will ensure you have a safe journey to Mulway.”
“See that you do.” The prince nodded curtly, turned his horse, and motioned to his small contingent of men to retreat.
In the distance, the Butcher of Anwyn rode proudly before a battalion of the undead. With each second, the Army of Lost Souls moved closer. Even now, Lailii could see the red and yellow colors of the Butcher’s standard. The ground trembled. Above, the sky darkened. Swirling sand had turned the twin, midday suns to blood red. A bad omen that heralded death and terror. Lailii’s heart raced. Her magyck would hold the Butcher less than an hour. She took one last glance over her shoulder at the prince she had vowed to protect. He and his princess would be safe, but she would make the ultimate sacrifice.
With a toss of her head, Lailii opened her arms. Goddess, give me strength. Magyck crackled in the air. Dark Light shot from her fingertips. The smoky streamers fell over the soldiers, snuffing out all sense of direction, sight, and sound. The Army of Lost Souls ground to a confused halt.
As each long minute dragged by, Lailii knew the prince moved closer to the safe haven of Mulway. She bit her bottom lip and held her ground. With her nightscape, she gazed into the black void. The Butcher’s men walked in circles or crawled in terror, mouths open in silent screams. Just a little longer and my prince will be out of harm’s way. Her arms ached and her concentration waned. The constant flow of magyck drained her life force.
Without warning, the dark light collapsed, and the roar of the Army of Lost Souls beat down on her. The beasts would kill her and feast on her remains. Praying the intense spell would take her life, she gazed into the twisted faces growing closer by the second. The desert folded in on her, and she collapsed over the neck of her horse.
“You will not die today, Lailii of the Tark.” The Butcher of Anwyn grabbed a handful Lailii’s hair, dragged her from the horse, and threw her to the ground. “Lord Passio will grant me passage into the Underworld in exchange for you, Spellweaver.”
In terror, Lailii kicked out at the man. She gagged at the smell pouring from his putrid mouth. Mutants surrounded her, blocking escape. The Butcher moved closer. An extra eye protruded from his cheek, flitting from side to side. She lifted her face to the twin suns to absorb a fraction of their power. Just a little magyck would gain her an advantage. The Butcher reached out one gnarled finger. Lailii scrambled to her feet. “Take your hands off me. I belong to Prince Darik.”
“Oh, we are going to have so much fun with you. It will be some time before Lord Passio arrives.” The Butcher pushed Lailii toward his men. “Hold her.”
Lailii screamed. Strong hands tore at her clothes. She fought to find the power for one small spell to use against the disgusting beasts. The Butcher approached, stroking a huge, twin-headed cock, the massive, purple tips dripping with pre-cum. The mutants’ misshapen hands dragged her legs apart and cheered encouragement to their leader.
The Butcher moved his twisted body between her legs. Lailii bucked to avoid the stream of drool leaking from the leader’s mouth. The man grinned and bent to lick her exposed nipple, his long, pointed tongue circling the tip. Goddess, help me. Lailii drew on her diminished powers to send a sting of magyck to her captors. The mutants reacted in shocked surprise and dropped her onto the hot sand. She snarled and met the Butcher’s gaze. “Any male who dares to rape me is cursed. His cock will turn black, shrivel, and fall off. As so I will, so mote it be.”
Chapter One
3,000 years later—4100 After Arious
Lightening Falls Gate
Dallin inhaled the female’s arousal and winked at Stryker. His lover lay on his back across the wide, black silk-covered bed. The sweetest Elfin female straddled his massive cock. They had hit gold this time. The willing female wanted both of them. After watching Stryker drive into her wet pussy for five long minutes, Dallin’s balls ached. He reached for the tube of lube and approached the bed. He ran his tongue over his fangs. “May I have your ass, sweet thing?”
The female shot him a smile over her shoulder and pressed her small tits into Stryker’s chest. Her sweet, white ass cheeks opened in invitation. Dallin groaned and applied lube to her inviting star. The female mewed her approval. Without hesitation, Dallin climbed onto the bed. He grasped his heavy cock and guided it into her tight hole with one thrust of his hips.
Taking a firm hold of her small waist, he drove into her. So damn hot, so deliciously tight. He gasped his thanks. With each plunge, he brushed Stryker’s cock through the thin barrier of skin. What bliss. He met Stryker’s hot gaze and knew they shared the same erotic experience. The touch, the slide of cock against cock, was intoxicating and one they both enjoyed.
Dallin’s climax built quickly. The shivery sensations started in his belly, and the heat deep in his balls intensified with each delightful thrust. The room filled with the slap of bodies and the warm scent of sex. The female began to tremble, and then cried out her climax. She fell forward, spilling chestnut hair across Stryker’s chest.
“Now, Dal.” Stryker squeezed Dallin’s thigh. “I’m gonna come.”
With short, hard thrusts of his hips, Dallin drove into the female. Erotic sensations blurred his vision; white spots danced before his eyes. He gave into the bliss and spilled in delicious, hot spurts. Collapsing forward, he reached for Stryker and crushed the man’s lips in a long, hot kiss. Gods, he loved the taste of the man.
“Oh, that is so sweet.” The female rested her head on Striker’s shoulder. “Can you get up now? You’re crushing me.”
After a long moment, Dallin broke the kiss. He glanced toward the digital readout flashing on the wall and swore. He rolled off the girl. “My father wants to see me.” He looked down at the female. “How much, sweetheart?”
“For a new customer, the price is just one gold strip.” The girl climbed off the bed and took a thumb scanner from her purse. “Each.”
Dallin pressed his thumb on the device and grinned. “We’ll call you again real soon. What was your name?”
“Rose. I work at the Freak Show most days.” She licked her lips and smiled. “I can always bring a friend—male or female.”
“I’ll think on it.” Dallin inclined his head toward the door. “You should leave now.”
“What do you think the king wants?” Stryker slid off the bed and headed for the shower.
Dallin watched the girl pull on a long dress and leave. He closed the door behind her, and then followed Stryker into the shower. Turning to face his friend, he stared at the control panel sending a spike of magyck into the system. “I have no idea.”
“Do you think he wants you to move back into the castle?” Stryker rubbed the back of his neck.
A blast of hot magyck swirled around them, and Dallin sighed. The fresh and clean glass cubicle did not compare to the satisfying experience of a hot shower. He turned around and grinned at his lover. “Well, it has been two years. He might—if he’s forgiven me. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing my brothers again.”
“I’ll miss you.” Stryker touched Dallin’s arm. “You know I can’t gain entrance to Vane Castle; will you come and visit me?”
With a chuckle, Dallin stepped from the cubicle and strode back into the bedroom. He went straight to the wardrobe and pulled out clean clothes. “You don’t really think I could live without you, after three years of being together, do you? You are as close to me as any mate; we care for each other.” He turned and smiled at Stryker. “I won’t move anywhere without you.”
“Good. Do you want me to come to the castle with you?” Stryker stood naked, his fists balled on his hips. “Or do you think the king will disapprove?”
“He knows about you already. We hardly hid the fact we were lovers. We were practically living together in my rooms at the castle.” Dallin pulled on his clothes. “As long he knows I seek a female for my future queen, all will be well. My father had a lover, a Fae male named Sash, who died in the Mirra Uprising not long after I was born.”
“Do you believe the Lady intends to find a mate for us to share?” Stryker pulled clothes from the chest of drawers and proceeded to dress.
Dallin pulled on his soft leather boots. He lifted his head to meet Stryker’s deep, emerald gaze. The Talynx Pride male had the hard, muscular body of a seasoned warrior. Long, golden brown hair tumbled down his back in a waterfall of curls. Dallin loved his full lips, high cheekbones, and long, straight nose. As tall as Dallin, Stryker stood a good head and shoulders above most Pride males.
At the sight of his lover naked, Dallin grew hard again. Gods, I can still taste him. He could never have enough of the man. Dallin cleared his throat. “I have no doubt we were paired by the Lady. We have to trust She will guide us to the female of our dreams.”
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