March 24, 2016

Excerpt & Giveaway! All that Jazz (A Butler Cove Novel) by Natasha Boyd


There’s something totally inconvenient about falling for your best friend’s brother. Especially when he’s turned into a pompous, arrogant, albeit annoyingly sexy a-hole that you’d like to punch or kiss to death at any given moment.

The summer she turned eighteen, Jazz Frazer accidentally lost her heart to Joey Butler, after a favor that blurred the lines from friends to lovers.

For three years they’ve pretended there’s nothing between them anymore. Jazz is finally ready to move on with the rest of her life. She’s looking forward to the end of college and fulfilling her dream of travelling the world. She’s determined that experiences and relationships will be fun, casual and easy. After all, she learned the hard way that men just don’t stick around anyway. But when her best friend gets herself into a relationship with a celebrity, Jazz has to do the one thing she never thought she’d do, call Joey and ask for help.

Repeatedly thrown together, Jazz tries everything she can to protect her heart and not fall back in love with Joey. But when Joey finally admits that Jazz is the one he’s always wanted, all bets are off.

Contemporary, friends to lovers, second chance romance. 17+ for strong language and sexual situations.





The Summer I turned 18

Joey shook his head. “This is a really fucking bad idea,” he muttered before leaning down and taking my mouth with his. 

My heart raced. 

He moved in front of me. His hand slid into my hair behind my head and his lower body connected with mine, pressing me against the railing. 

Oh, God. 

My arms skated up his biceps to his hard shoulders until they grasped at his neck. 

I was terrified he’d suddenly raise his head and stop kissing me. The feel of him against me, against my body, the heat of his mouth, the skin of his neck under my fingers was like what I imagined a hit of ecstasy felt like. It was sudden and overwhelming and euphoric. I let out a low moan of need, my mouth opening under his. God, yes. 

His hands tightened on me. He lifted his mouth fractionally as if the sound shocked him. His eyes were dark, his brow furrowed. We each took a breath against each other’s mouths. 

I licked my bottom lip. Please let him not stop, I want more. I leaned up and nipped at his mouth.
He let out a shallow breath that caught. “A really, really bad idea,” he murmured before his mouth was on mine again. His tongue licked into me. His hands couldn’t seem to find where to hold me as they moved from my hair, to my back, to my face. He held my face, angling my mouth to suit him. Jesus. My body strained against his without me even meaning to. I felt his erection thick and heavy between us. Holy shit. Yes. I pressed closer. Damn, he tasted good. I kissed him back with everything I had like I could imprint the taste and feel of him on me forever. 

His mouth pulled from mine, his wet lips and hot breath skating to my ear and down my neck. I held his head, my fingers slipping into his silky hair. 

“But really, really … really good,” I whispered, gasping as his teeth and tongue worked down my neck. The sound of his ragged breathing almost did me in as much as the feel of it against my skin.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his tone tortured as if he had no will against what he was doing.

An aching and relentless need had taken root low in my belly. The urge to open my legs and wrap them around him, seeking relief was almost becoming tunnel-like. I could barely think. How had a simple kiss moved from hot to … this … in less than two minutes? This was no kiss for anyone’s benefit. This was no favor. This was pure, raw, unadulterated want. This was what I wanted sex to feel like. This was not even close to how it felt when Chase kissed me. Chase was definitely the wrong choice. Joey. I wanted this with Joey. I wanted him to be my first. The sudden image of him naked on me, my legs wrapped around him as he kissed me like this, went off like a lust-bomb in my stomach and I whimpered—a strange tortured sound. 

Fisting my hands in his hair, I pulled his face back to mine. His hips rocked against me, and his tongue sank into my mouth. We kissed, and we kissed. It was like we couldn’t stop. He became my air, and I thought I’d rather die kissing him than ever breathe again.




Natasha Boyd is an internationally bestselling and award-winning author of contemporary romantic southern fiction. She holds a Bachelor of Science in Psychology, and has a background in marketing and public relations. Eversea, her debut novel, was a finalist for Contemporary Romance in the 2013 Winter Rose Contest, won the 2014 Digital Book Award for Adult Fiction and is a LIBRARY JOURNAL self-e selection 2015. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Georgia Romance Writers and Island Writer's Network in coastal South Carolina where she has been a featured speaker on book marketing. She lives with her husband, two sons and the cast of characters in her head. 
Natasha grew up in South Africa, Belgium and England. She now lives and writes full-time in the USA. 
Her work is available in English, Italian, Turkish, German, and Indonesian.



Excerpt & Giveaway! Love for the Seasons Series by R.J. Jones


The perfect job or the perfect man. Surely Aiden and Noah can have both, right? 

Aiden Turner's world flipped upside down when his vengeful ex-boyfriend destroyed a major project, costing his uncle’s architectural firm an important client. Feeling guilty, Aiden has since sworn off all romantic involvement with anyone he works with. 

Noah Walker is getting ready to interview for his dream role when he catches Aiden’s eye on the London Tube. They strike up a conversation, and even though the attraction sizzles between them, Noah must decline the offer of a morning coffee. The interview is crucial, and he needs to focus on getting the job, not getting a date. 

When Aiden discovers the enigmatic man on the train is the same man he is interviewing, he is torn. But he knows Noah is the right man for the job, and he attempts to put some professional distance between them. However, it's not long before Noah makes his way under Aiden’s skin. 

Neither man can afford to risk their employment, but keeping their relationship a secret takes its toll. When things get ugly, they need to decide what’s more important—or if the job is worth the sacrifice. 


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As hearts begin to thaw, a betrayal of trust threatens to put out the flames. 

When Marcus McDonald receives a formal warning from his employer, he knows it’s time to tuck tail and head home to Manchester. His medical condition forces him to keep people at arm’s length, and it wouldn’t be the first time his temperament has landed him in trouble. 

All Adam Radney wants is some time to paint, but his father’s death, leaving Adam and his mum up to their ears in debt, means taking on two jobs. Working at the family’s run-down Manchester fish and chip shop, Adam is confronted by a new, surly face in town and instantly dislikes the icy newcomer. So what if he pushes all of Adam’s hot buttons? 

When the ice melts and things heat up between Marcus and Adam, Adam thinks all his dreams have come true. With Marcus’s help, new customers arrive and the chip shop starts to flourish, easing Adam’s mind. But when Adam puts all his trust in Marcus on the busiest night the shop has seen in years, thing go awry and it leaves Adam with more questions than answers. 

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As the Ice Melts

THERE WAS a lull in the evening’s trade, and we had only two customers waiting, and five phone orders to wrap up. I wasn’t worried. There was always a small break between the times people ate their dinner. Some liked it later than others.

I’d been watching a guy through the glass front door who’d been standing outside the shop. He’d glanced at the faded sign in the window then walked away. Now he was back, looking up and down the street, before eyeing the sign again. I wondered if he was going to enter or not.

“Mum. Do you know who that is?” I asked, nodding my head towards the door.

Mum frowned. “No. Doesn’t look like a regular. What do you think he’s doing?”

“I have no idea.” I was hoping he wasn’t trying to get up the nerve to rob us.

The guy walked away again, only to return five minutes later, and this time he actually entered the shop.

He shook his hoodie off and stomped his feet on the mat, dislodging the dirt and ice from his pricey-looking black boots. If he’d been a criminal, he wouldn’t have taken the time to dust off. I couldn’t see where he’d be hiding a weapon, either; his dark blue jeans were practically painted on.

Maybe he was lost. If he was I would’ve loved to help him find his way. This guy tweaked all my buttons, and I couldn’t help but take in his lean form, slim hips, and dishevelled dark blond hair. Designer stubble on a pretty face and I was pretty much a goner.

His icy, blue eyes met mine, and his plump lips pulled into a tight line as he approached the counter.

“Are you Rodney?” he practically snapped at me.

I bristled. Who did he think he was? “Who’s asking?”

“Gran told me to go to the chippie around the block and order her usual, only double. At first I thought she was having me on, but I’ve walked around two blocks and you’re the only chip shop around. She said Rodney would know what her normal order was, ’cause I have no fucking idea. So again, are you Rodney?”

“Did you read the sign?”

“I can’t bloody see the sign, the paint’s all faded. You should do something about that, you know. People will think you’re a run-down drug house or something, which is why I’ve been wandering the streets for the past half hour. Do you know how cold it is?”

Mr Shithead glanced around the shop with a look of disgust. The shop needed a lick of paint, and not just the sign in the window. The wallpaper was peeling, and no matter how many times Mum and I scrubbed the floor, it was always going to be a stained mess.

I reined in my temper. “Gran, you say. From Forbes Road?”

“You know Gran?”

“Obviously.”

He looked down his nose at me, which was quite a feat considering our height difference. “Well, I know you’re not her grandson. How do you know her?”

I bristled again. What an arsehole. “How do you think? She comes in every week and orders the same each time. We all love Gran here. And just how do you know her?” I was hoping he hadn’t just robbed the poor lady blind on her way here. She always walked the same route at the same time of night, so she’d be easy prey for a thug who knew what he was doing.

“Because I’m her grandson. Unlike you.”

“Ahh, you must be Mark.” It was hard to picture. Gran was lovely and sweet, the way most doting grandmothers were. She told it like it was, but she was never rude. This guy couldn’t possibly have been related to her.

His eyes flashed in obvious annoyance. “Marcus. How do you know?”

“You haven’t been listening, have you?” You dumbarse. “Gran comes in each week. Over the years, we’ve gotten to know her a bit. She speaks about you a lot.” I gave him a not-so-subtle once-over. “Some big shot in London, apparently.”

“Well, Rod.” Marcus sniffed. “Gran would like her usual, only doubled. How long will it take?”

“Who’s paying?”

“What?”

“Who’s paying? You or Gran?”

“Me. Why?”

“That’ll be ten quid.”

Marcus’s eyebrows drew together. He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and searched through the large stash of bills, seemingly looking for a tenner. He handed me a five.

“And the rest of it. That’s only a fiver.”

Marcus’s features went from frustrated arsehole to red and embarrassed in a nanosecond. He pulled a twenty out, handed it to me without a word, and then sat down to wait for his order.

I left it till he sat on the farthest chair from me before I asked, “Did you not want your change?”

Marcus came over and I handed him his notes. He wouldn’t look at me, and it appeared all his bravado had fled. He seemed vulnerable and exposed, and I had the distinct feeling he would’ve slunk out if he didn’t have to wait for his food. Without looking at the money, he stuffed it back into his wallet. I could’ve given him anything and he wouldn’t have known.
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RJ started as a reader and eventually made the progression to reviewing. It wasn't until two men popped into her thoughts, insisting on telling her their story that she started to write. It started with one scene. A hot and dirty one in the shower.
RJ's initial thought was if she could write their scene then they'd shut up and allow her to concentrate on other aspects of the day. That shower scene was 3000 words long and three hours of work. But they didn't shut up. They told her their entire story and she didn't sleep for days. Sometimes she couldn't keep up with what they were telling her and she had to keep a notebook by the bed.
Whilst RJ was writing their story a side character decided he needed his story told too. Then other characters followed suit.
You see the problem? If RJ ever wants to sleep again then she needs to write.
RJ is a wife and a mother to two boys. Even her dog is a boy.
She is surrounded by males.
RJ writes emotionally charged, character driven romances. Her guys will always get their HEA, but it will never be easy.



Excerpt & Giveaway! Negotiating for Love, Jenkins Family Series #4 by Sharon C. Cooper


Master carpenter, Martina “MJ” Jenkins, has built plenty of structures in her day, but none as sturdy as the walls she’s built around her heart. After crossing paths with a sexy U.S. Senator, with gorgeous brown eyes and a seductive smile, her resolve to stay unattached, crumbles. Martina is determined to steer clear, but the Senator’s kisses are too delicious to resist. Third generation U.S. Senator, Paul Kendricks, faithfully represents his state and is loyal to the family’s political legacy. Still he yearns for a wife, children, and a new career far away from the political arena. Too bad the object of his desire is the one woman who wants nothing to do with commitment. But the sparks that fly between them can’t be ignored. As Paul chips away at the wall Martina has built, can he convince her to put her fears aside and open her heart to love? 



“Good morning. What can I get for you?” the perky brunette behind the counter asked Martina.

Before Martina could give her order, Paul jumped in. “She’ll have a cranberry walnut muffin, steel cut oatmeal with brown sugar on the side, a fruit cup, and a venti caramel macchiato.”

“I can place my own or—”

“And I’ll have another black coffee and why don’t you throw in a slice of the coffee cake.”

Martina mumbled, but Paul couldn’t make out what she was saying. That was probably for the best. He had been on the receiving end of enough of her rants. 

The brunette’s amused gaze darted between him and Martina. “Will there be anything else?”

“No that’s it.” Paul paid for the order and gently gripped Martina’s elbow to guide her to where they would pick up breakfast. Surprisingly she didn’t jerk out of his grasp when he didn’t release her right away. 

“I hate when you do that,” she finally spoke. “I’m capable of ordering for myself. Besides, for all you know I might not have wanted what you ordered.”

“Hello, Martina.” Paul couldn’t stop the smile that found its way to his mouth. “So, were you going to order something different?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s beside the point!”

He chuckled. God, he missed this woman. Davion had asked the day before, why if Martina had such a big mouth, he’d want to get with her again. Paul knew that behind that big mouth of hers was a kind, generous, loving woman who would give her last dollar to someone in need.

“Number fifty-four,” the server called out. 

Paul glanced at the receipt. Fifty-six. 

“Why are you here anyway?” Martina pushed a long, wayward curl from her face only to have it return to the same spot.

He reached out before thinking and tucked it behind her ear, letting the back of his fingers glide down the softness of her cheek.

Interesting. She didn’t push his hand away. Maybe this was a new and gentler Martina Jenkins. He could get used to this calmer side of her.

She pulled away as if suddenly remembering that she had dubbed him the enemy.

“You no longer have the right to touch me.” She spoke through gritted teeth as she jabbed a finger into his chest.

This time, he laughed out loud. 

Okay, so much for being gentler and kinder.

He grabbed hold of her finger and brought it to his lips.

“Ah, my sweet Martina. I was hoping you’d be here.”



Award-winning and bestselling author, Sharon C. Cooper, spent 10 years as a sheet metal worker. And while enjoying that unique line of work, she attended college in the evening and obtained her B.A. in Business Management with an emphasis in Communication. Sharon is a romance-a-holic – loving anything that involves romance with a happily-ever-after, whether in books, movies or real life. She writes contemporary romance, as well as romantic suspense and enjoys rainy days, carpet picnics, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. When Sharon is not writing or working, she’s hanging out with her amazing husband, doing volunteer work or reading a good book (a romance of course).



March 22, 2016

Excerpt & Giveaway! The Vampire's Daughter by Leigh Anderson


When Ethan discovers that the love of his life, Victoria, is actually the child of a monstrous beast and must marry another man to save her family, he retreats to a monastery to live out the rest of his days alone. But the Church has other ideas. Ethan’s mentor asks him to lead famous vampire hunter Dom Calmet back to his home village to rid the town of the vampires that plague it. Ethan must then take a journey, emotionally and literally, back to the town of his youth and choose between love and faith when he once again meets The Vampire’s Daughter. Containing many tropes of a classic Gothic novel combined with the sensuality of a passionate romance, The Vampire’s Daughter will leave you gasping for more.




Victoria rode her horse Gregory toward the village at a steady pace. She was looking forward to seeing Ethan, and Gregory was glad to be out of the barn. As she got close to the village, she could sense something was wrong. She could hear the faint sound of a woman crying. Sorrow seemed to hang on the air. As she got closer, she could see a few people moving about quickly and quietly. Some were boarding up their windows; others were reinforcing their animal enclosures. Riding through the town, the usually cold people looked at her with disgust. In one house, she saw a little child pointing at her until the mother came up to close the drapes. A group of older women gathering firewood stopped and mumbled as she got closer. She dismounted at the blacksmith’s and greeted the man with a smile, but he did not repay her in kind.

“Thank you for watching Gregory for me for a few hours, sir,” she said as she tied him in his usual stall.

“No need to thank me,” he replied as he untied the horse and gave her back the reigns.

“Why?” she prodded, confused.

“You should not be here,” was all he said as he headed inside.

She led her horse back out into the street and looked around. There was hardly anyone about. A few prying eyes watched her from the houses.

“I have just as much right to be here as any of you,” she thought to herself as she held her head up high. She felt herself getting mad, but she wasn’t sure why. Why were the people staring and pointing at her? Why would the blacksmith say she didn’t belong there? What had she done to any of them? She decided to go to her future home and see if Ethan was there.

She tied her horse to the hitching post at the end of the walk. She approached the house and ran her fingers through what looked like claw marks on the oak front door. She did not remember seeing them there before.

“Hello?” she called inside as she opened the door. A small fire was going in the fireplace, telling her Ethan had been there and most likely would return. She felt herself calm down and her anger at the people melt away. The room was warm and safe. She closed the door and looked around the cottage. It already looked so homey, fully furnished with curtains on the windows and rugs on the floors.

She ascended the wooden steps to the second floor and opened the first door to a room on the left. It was small with equally small furniture - most likely a child’s room. She imagined that one day, her and Ethan’s children would be playing on that floor looking up at her with wide-eyed wonderment. Then their eyes reflected fear, and she thought of how the townspeople reacted to her today and how, even now, she was an outcast. She sighed, frowned, and shut the door on the frightened children she imagined were there.

She opened a door on her right and found the master bedroom. She entered the room, took off her cape, and hung it on a hook by the door. She walked over and placed her small hand on the large pine spindles of the bed. She walked to the far side of the bed, running her fingers over the covers. A multi-colored crotched blanket overlaid a beautiful pink and ecru quilt. She folded the blanket back so it only covered the foot of the bed and the quilt could be more fully seen. The quilt was so soft to the touch. She bent down and put her cheek to the fabric. She sighed in delight. She looked at the door and listened to see if anyone was there. When she only heard silence, she took off her shoes, climbed up onto the bed and laid long ways across it. It was a large bed. She stretched her hands way above her head and still could barely touch the other end. She laughed at herself and how she found such delight in such a simple thing.

“What are you doing?” a voice asked.

“Ahh!” she screamed and sat up straight and turned toward the voice. “Ethan! You startled me!”

“I startled you?” he asked. “What are you doing in my house?”

“Your house?” she asked. “I thought this was our house.”

Ethan began to laugh as he put the wooden club he was carrying by the door. “You should see yourself,” he said. “Why were you so afraid? I did not mean to scare you.”

“Oh, I do not know,” she replied, settling herself down. “Everyone was just acting so strange when I got here. I guess I am just on edge...” she trailed off, noticing the club. “What is that for?”

“Oh, well, do not worry about that,” he said, taking off his coat and sitting on the other side of the bed. “Everyone is a little nervous. Some wolves came into town on Sunday night and killed a man.”

“Oh, my goodness,” Victoria said, putting her hand to her mouth. “That is awful. Who was it?”

“Mr. Stanek,” he said. “We just had the funeral this morning,”

“I am sorry I missed it,” she lamented.

“It’s all right; you had no way of knowing about it.”

“Still, I feel awful.” She laid back and placed her head on one of the pillows.

Ethan looked at the sorrow on her face. He knew Father James was wrong about her. She cared and felt deeply for every person.

“Wait!” she said, sitting straight up again. “You said ‘wolves’ as in many of them? Is that what clawed the front door?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “There were five by my count, but some people saw more.”

“A whole pack attacked the town?” she asked. “That is like something out of an old legend, back when werewolves ruled the woods at night.”

“I know,” Ethan said. “The whole town is worried about the next full moon. Everyone is boarding up their windows and reinforcing their doors. I’m sure they are overreacting, though. Werewolves. How silly. They were just normal wolves. This cold weather probably has them desperate for food.”

“You actually saw them?” she asked. “My God, are you all right? You were not injured, were you?” She crawled over to him and put her hand on his face.

“No, no, I’m fine,” he said, chuckling over the fuss she was making. He liked how much she cared for him. “I’m fine,” he whispered, looking at her beautiful face. His face turned stone serious and he exhaled slowly.

She could tell by the way he was looking at her he wanted something. He turned his body to face her, reached up and pulled her toward him. She closed her eyes and let him kiss her. He stood up to kick off his shoes. She lay on the bed with her head on a pillow. He crawled up next to her and just looked at her for a moment. She pulled her feet up under her gown in a fetal position and put her hands under her cheek on the pillow. Ethan reached over and took the pins out of her hair, letting it frame her face. She looked so innocent, so pure. Her white skin was flawless and her dark eyes were glossy. She was not evil. If anything she was godly, angelic. He leaned over to kiss her, but she pulled back.

“Ethan,” she said. “Do you…would you mind if…maybe we…” She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but she needed to ask him something.

“What?” he asked. He reached a reassuring hand to her and rubbed her shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s …maybe we could not do that today. I still have not confessed from last time, and it has been a bad couple of days. Things have not gone well at home. I don’t need any more sin on my conscience right now.”

“Oh, sweetie. That’s all right,” he said. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Have you talked to Father James yet? I really need to see him.”

“Oh, yes. I did speak to him…” He didn’t want to tell her what Father James had said, but he did not want to lie to her, either. “He was not happy, as expected,” he said. “He still wants me to go to Rome, of course.”

“Of course he would,” she agreed.

“He is still upset; I doubt he would absolve you of anything right now. Or me for that matter. I actually never confessed after last time either. Don’t worry, though, I am sure that in a few days, he will calm down and see that we are doing the right thing.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“Did you tell your father?” he asked.

“No, I have not been feeling well; I have not even seen him since Sunday. I think my nerves are making me tense. It has only been a couple of days; there is still plenty of time.”

“We have all the time in the world,” he said and smiled. His tone and happy demeanor calmed her so much she almost forgot about the wolves, and the priest, and the way the people in town were acting, and the women back home. All she wanted was to be with him forever. She leaned over and gave him an enticing kiss.

“I thought you were feeling guilty!” he said, pushing her gently away.

“If I die without confessing my already many and egregious sins, I suppose it makes no difference if I have one more added to the list, does it?”

“No, I suppose it doesn’t!” he said, climbing onto her, wrapping his arms all the way around her, holding her just as close and tight as he could. He rolled over and let her lay on his chest as they kissed. She straddled him to keep from falling over. She ran her tongue down his neck and kissed his chest. He reached down, pulled up her dress and caressed both of her legs. He ran his hands up to the top of her thigh-high stockings and touched her soft skin. She put the full weight of her body on top of him and he kissed her forehead. He slowly removed one of her stockings, feeling her bare, exposed skin from her thigh to her toes. He then removed the other stocking, a little more quickly this time.

Victoria breathed heavily; the room was hot. Ethan was burning for her. Ethan’s hot breath on her skin was almost more than she could handle. She reached a hand under his shirt and touched the skin of his rigid stomach. The sensation of her cold touch on his skin made Ethan gasp, but he took it as a sign that the shirt needed to be removed. He sat up and removed it while she still straddled his lap. He suckled and bit her neck and chest and caressed her thighs while she ran her fingers through his hair. The way his muscles had a slightly moist sheen in the subdued light filtering in from the window dressings excited her.

She reached around her back to try to find the many buttons that ran from her neckline to her waist. Ethan’s hands followed hers and realized what she was trying to do. He laughed a little, out of surprise and joy. He had an easier time removing the buttons from their loops than she did. He only got about halfway down when he thought the dress would be loose enough to take off. They both got up on their knees and he helped pull the heavy gown over her head. His face sank for a moment when he saw the full-length shift she was wearing underneath a fully laced corset. She laughed when she saw his expression.

“You did not think it was going to be that easy, did you?” she asked.

“Sorry if I seem a bit eager,” he said.

She felt relieved; she could breathe better and she felt lighter with the gown off. Ethan kissed her while she ran her fingers down his naked back. He reached around her and began pulling at the laces on her corset. She did not protest. She did not care if Helena noticed the lacings or not. She did not care if her father found out. What could he do about it after it was already done? If she gave herself to Ethan, let him have her most prized possession, it was hers to give. Ethan removed the corset and laid himself fully on top of her. She undid the top button on his pants. She moved her fingers deeper inside his pants to undo the next one and he groaned in anticipation.

“Victoria,” he said, propping himself up and looking at her. “Victoria. I love you so much.” He reached up and brushed some stray hairs away from her face. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“I want you, Ethan,” she said, running her hands up his back. “I love you.”

He leaned back down and sucked on her neck. She held him tightly to her. He moved both of his hands to her legs and pulled her chemise up almost to her waist. He kissed her so strongly and his tongue prodded her mouth so deeply he almost gagged her, but she did not dare protest for fear he would stop. Her breath quickened. He did not want to go too quickly. This was the first time for both of them. He wanted to make sure it was perfect.

She was about to tell him to take her when a terrible feeling flooded over her. It was as if someone inside her head told her to run. She froze, trying to listen to the voice.

Ethan felt her tense up. He stopped because he was afraid he had hurt her or that she had changed her mind. “Victoria?” he began.

“Shhhhh!” she said, holding up a hand to silence him. Her harsh tone shocked him. She did not mean to sound cruel, but something was certainly wrong. He saw a disturbed look on her face. All of her senses seemed to come alive - she could see and hear everything around her. Hushed tones, the light clang of weapons, the smell of the cold air wafting in through an open door.

“Ethan!” she said, letting go of him and sitting straight up. “Someone is in the house!” She had a feeling it was more than someone simply looking for them – they were in danger.

“What?” he asked as he got up, closed his pants, and moved toward the door. She stood on the far side of the bed, pulled down her undergarment, and looked around for something she might be able to use to defend herself, but there was no time. As Ethan reached for the door, an unimaginable sense of danger overwhelmed her.

“No!” she screamed.

He stopped, but it was too late. Someone kicked in the door, and several of the village men entered the room followed by Father James.




Leigh Anderson is an American author and editor living and traveling in Asia. She has a master’s degree in English and her thesis was on Gothic imagery in vampire literature. You can learn more about her at her website LeighAndersonRomance.com.