Sunday, 25 June 2017
Kilchoan, Mainland Scotland 1672
Swathes of wet hair clung and tangled around her face in a heavy curtain, enough to obscure her view as another spasm seized her. Pain far worse than she’d ever imagined wrenched through her, and clutched deep into her belly to tear at her insides. Pride refused to allow her to cry out. As she surfaced, she snatched another lungful of air. The frigid waters chilled her to the bone, sending a fresh rash of shudders through her between each painful contraction.
The villagers crowded closer, faces twisted with fear and rage. People she’d known all her life, people she loved. Women she’d tended in childbirth, and men whose wounds she’d healed. The sentiment turned vicious as the sun dipped below the horizon and the moon rose in the darkened sky. After a full day of her tied to the ducking stool, their disgust in her was palpable at not obtaining the confession they sought. How could she confess to something that wasn’t true?
She’d never consorted with the devil.
Hysteria driven, they leaned in closer to scream their blood lust. “Kill the witch, kill the witch.”
The terror of the moment was overcome with something far more important. Another stab of pain seized her body, forcing her to contort once again, but she pried open her eyes and met his frigid, slate-gray gaze across the wide expanse of water. Tall and regal in his gentleman’s finery, there was no trace of the passionate lover she knew so well. His handsome features were carved into a cold mask. He could say something. In silent entreaty, she begged him to intervene.
He could save her.
He chose not to.
Instead, he took hold of his pregnant wife’s hand and turned away to stare up at the night sky. Her heart died long before her body. Tears flowed unheeded down her cheeks to streak through the slime of mud coating her skin as she sucked deep breaths into her lungs, ready for the next duck of the stool into the stinking, fetid depths of the river. She knew it was all in vain. Death was upon her. Moya drew on her last ounce of strength and concentrated. Every muscle in her body contracted as she bore down to push, while her power waned. The ducking stool plunged once again, to submerge her into the icy depths and steal her breath away. The burn in her chest spread while she held the air in her lungs for as long as she could, but it was pointless. She closed her eyes and forced her muscles to relax. Her body floated a little above the stool. The ropes stretched in the cold and the wet. Moya raised her hips high, and her attention never wavered as she remained centered on this last, essential feat.
Little effort was required to weave the curse, for any witch knew a curse did not need to be spoken aloud. Instead, she focused the last of her energy to accomplish her final deed. Eyes wide again, she stared up through the dark murkiness of the water, into the night sky, where blood smothered the full moon and spread its tendrils out to blur beneath the overpowering cast of light.
She recognized her death written in the blood. Death and rebirth. She took cold comfort in the knowledge her curse had worked. Agony clenched her body. She drew her lips back from her teeth and expelled the final, desperate clutch of air she held in her lungs. In a wild, frenzied scream, distorted by the bubbles, the sound carried to the surface.
Ice froze the blood in her veins to numb her mind and dull the pain as she expelled the bairn from her womb in a cloud of thick mucus and crimson blood. It bloomed through the dark waters while her child spewed into the evil world. The heat of her own blood stroked a tender warmth over her frozen hands in farewell as Moya floated, lifeless, to the surface.
The full moon, obscured by a blood-soaked cloud, transformed the land into a desolation of deep shadows and dark craters while the scarlet waters around Moya turned inky black as it bubbled and steamed in the chill of the Scottish night. With proof of the witch’s existence, their screams pierced the dark as the villagers fled to hide behind closed doors and deny the wrongdoing they’d taken part in that night.
Available now for pre-order
Amazon UK http://bit.ly/2sQil6T
Saturday, 10 June 2017
One of my lovely fans asked me "where are the wordz?" but I do like to tease, so here's the fabulous new cover, and... oh go on then, you can have some words.
Since the age of ten when his father died, and he lost his childhood, cynical journalist Stuart Caldwell has searched the world in his quest to find the key to his family’s centuries-old curse.
What he finds when he lands on the Scottish island of Breggar is far from what he expects. Instead of a battle to the death with the ferocious witch he believes resides there, Stuart finds he is the one in the firing line, and the target is his heart.
And I promise you can have an excerpt next time.
Wednesday, 7 June 2017
Saturday, 27 May 2017
Soooo, it's only been two weeks since last I was here and once again the time has flown.
Along Came Dani has been accepted by my publisher and I'm expecting the edits to come through any day now. Under the Full Blooded Moon is with the final line editor.
In the meantime, I flipped manuscript. I'm quite happily writing Hunter's Quest, but no, If Love Had Wings, the second book in my Montgomery's Sin Series insisted that I pay it some attention.
At the rate I have been hurling out the words lately, I hope I'll have this one wrapped up by the end of June. I'm currently at 30,000 words with it and as anybody who knows me will tell you I'm a true panster, but once I have my story in mind, it flows. And this one is flowing.
By the way, if you haven't tried my books yet, and you'd like to give them a go, this weekend the first in my Atlantic Divide Series is free.
The subject of his grandmother’s enthusiasm to marry him off, Sheriff Jack T Swan is fighting dirty to save his skin and has sworn off women until further notice. So the very last thing he needs in his life is a beautiful damsel in distress. Despite initial appearances, Jack soon discovers Kate is anything but distressed. In fact, she’s more than capable of skewering him with her kitten heel.
Doctor Kate Marsden is handy with a scalpel, but she’s not quite sure how to deal with the local sheriff, who she inadvertently mistakes for a pervert while trying to report a crime.
Time and again their paths cross and attraction rages between them, but while Jack is adamant he’s not in the market for a serious relationship, Kate is definitely not interested in a one-night stand.
Shit. They’d sent him a stripper.
Jack raked his gaze along the woman’s just-got-out-of-bed hair, followed it down her slender body dressed in a cheap, wrinkled suit to where her messy plait stopped at her hips. God, he hoped she was only a stripper and they hadn’t sent him a prostitute. He almost leaned forward to check out the rest of her shapely legs, but he didn’t want to make her think he was interested in any way. Not in a prostitute or a stripper. Whichever one she was; this was beyond a joke. He thought he’d reached an understanding with his grandmother, but from the look of it, she’d got together with his aunts and had managed to find another one.
Perhaps this time they’d made a big mistake.
He took his time as he studied the woman, noted with satisfaction the nervous way she licked her lips, but he’d caught the quick flash of awareness when his half-asleep gaze first met hers. It wasn’t ego, but at his age he recognized that look of admiration in a woman’s eyes. Under different circumstances, he may well have returned that interest, but as it was, he needed to get rid of her.
It wouldn’t take long.
With a roll of amusement, he squinted at the woman across the room. What would be the best way to achieve it without enlisting Bill’s help?
Since the incident with the eighteen-year-old Lucy, he’d become a laughing stock. The little hoots of laughter and the sly digs from his deputies weren’t subtle. Couldn’t handle a kid, they snickered. Well he could handle this woman. He studied her a moment longer. She’d not been sent by his grandmother, he’d stake his life on that, but the boys may have clubbed together to send him a kiss-a-gram as a joke. From her willowy slenderness, she had to be a performer. Perhaps he should wait to see if she started to sing.
With slow indolence, he trailed his gaze back up her body, deliberately resting his hands back on his stomach so he gave the impression of being relaxed. He wasn’t relaxed. His nerves jumped and twitched. He could call Bill in to get rid of her, but if he did, they’d have even more to laugh about.
Damn, but they all thought he was frightened of women. They weren’t far wrong, but it was more that he was frightened of what he’d become for the right woman.
There was no right woman. Not for him.
He let his gaze continue to cruise over her.
Fine boned, her delicate face would have been perfection if not for the tell-tale worn-off makeup, black smudges of tiredness and mascara swiped under her lazily hooded eyes. Her drawn features hinted she’d already put in a full day. She may not have the energy to sing. As long as they didn’t expect him to pay for the pleasure of her shimmying her hips. He wouldn’t put it past them to land him with the bill too. That was if she could bear to push herself away from the door long enough to shimmy. Perhaps a little stagger would be more likely, if he was lucky enough for her to stay upright.
He tried not to laugh, but his lips twitched up at the edges, and the thick black flutter of her eyelashes warned that she’d noticed.
The way she leaned against the door, she didn’t seem to be in any hurry to start. He’d be willing to give her a moment longer, but from the look of her, there was the distinct prospect she was about to fall asleep. Perhaps she needed an invitation. Or some music.
“In your own time, sweet cheeks.”
Where to Find Diane Saxon
About the Author
Diane Saxon lives in the Shropshire countryside with her tall, dark, handsome husband, two gorgeous daughters, a Dalmatian, one-eyed kitten, ginger cat, four chickens and a new black Labrador puppy called Beau, whose name has been borrowed for her hero in For Heaven's Cakes.
After working for years in a demanding job, on-call and travelling great distances Diane gave it all up when her husband said “follow that dream”.
Having been hidden all too long, her characters have burst forth demanding plot lines of their own and she’s found the more she lets them, the more they’re inclined to run wild.
Loving Lydia -Atlantic Divide Book 2
Bad Girl Bill – Atlantic Divide Book 3
Finding Zoe - Atlantic Divide Book 4
Flight of Her Life
Flynn’s Kiss – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 1
Barbara’s Redemption – Disarmed & Dangerous Book 2
Short Circuit Time
For Heaven’s Cakes
Banshee Seduction – Montgomery’s Sin, Book 1
- Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Gun-Shy-Atlantic-Divide-Book-ebook/dp/B01INWUHRM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1468932111&sr=8-1&keywords=Gun+Shy+Diane+Saxon
- Amazon.com https://www.amazon.com/Gun-Shy-Atlantic-Divide-Book-ebook/dp/B01INWUHRM/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1468932248&sr=1-1&keywords=Gun+shy+diane+saxon
Monday, 15 May 2017
Today starts the voting for the RONE Awards for which Gun Shy has been nominated. I'm thrilled about this as you can imagine and would love for Gun Shy to get through to the next round. If you'd like to vote, you need to register first at the following site, and then click on Cops, Jocks & Cowboys and vote for Gun Shy. http://www.indtale.com/2017-rone-awards-week-five
Saturday, 13 May 2017
Who would have known how fast the last two weeks would fly?
Here am I, leg still elevated, and yet I've been really busy. The weather has been so beautiful that I've been able to sit outside to write and edit. For someone who is supposedly laid up, I look remarkably healthy, with a bit of a tan going on.
Work has moved on too. I've had some brilliant news this week. Because we've managed to get through the edits of Under the Full Blooded Moon in record time - because, hey what else have I got to do for 12 hours a day? I've heard that they've brought the release date forward to 11th July. That's not too long now and I am so excited about this new book. More details next time we meet.
I've also submitted my manuscript for Along Came Dani, my Atlantic Divide Series Book 5 and I'm currently working on Book 6.
I think I may ask the hospital if I can keep my cast on a little longer ... :)
If you'd like a little taste of my paranormal romance, try For Heaven's Cakes
Twelve years of living in Ireland smoothed Beau’s rough edges, and hard work as a construction worker made him a wealthy man. The call of his pack is stronger than he can resist though, and he isn’t averse to returning to show his small home town in America what he’s made of himself.
What he doesn’t anticipate is meeting the local pharmacist’s daughter - in his wolf form. By day, he renovates the pharmacy, and tries to cajole the lush assistant into having dinner with him. By night he watches Catherine bake her fantastic creations and blossom through her art.
Sleeping on her bed each night in his wolf form isn’t exactly ideal, but how does he tell her the wolf she’s come to love, is the man she lusts over?
Mrs. Timmins turned to see what had caught Catherine’s attention. Her pointed chin turned upward to meet the dip of her nose, which nearly fell into her wizened old mouth as it opened and closed.
He seemed to have the same effect on all women, no matter what age. He was probably used to it.
“Well now, this is precisely what I mean, Catherine.” Mrs. Timmins smacked her lips together. “Hello, young man. Don’t I know you?”
“Yes ma’am. Good to see you looking so well Mrs. Timmins. You don’t look a day older than when I last saw you.”
The harsh cackle took Catherine by surprise, but Beau smiled at the old lady as he leaned his elbow on the counter. She tried not to stare as his T-shirt pulled tight across his chest, but a small whimper threatened to escape.
Mrs. Timmins wiped her dry old lips with the back of her hand. “I remember you. You’re the middle Devlin boy. The one who left to make his fortune.”
“And did you?”
“Good. I never did believe all those rumors about you being trash.”
Catherine almost choked, but Mrs. Timmins hooted with laughter and patted Beau’s arm, pausing a moment to give it a sly stroke.
With a regretful sigh, she peered near-sighted into his face. “Are you married?”
“No ma’am, are you proposing?”
The hawking laughter drew Catherine’s gaze away from the flexed muscles of Beau’s arm to the old lady who seemed to have difficulty breathing. Another side effect of the hunk’s presence. He had the ability to stop a woman’s breath.
It wasn’t deliberate, but Catherine simply couldn’t stop uttering. “Definitely not!”
Heat washed over her as they both stared at her. Beau’s slow smile made her want to hide under the counter. She’d never had the ability to stop words blurting from her mouth before her brain had the foresight to stop them.
She tried a casual shrug, but from the deep laughter lines slashing into his cheeks, her awkward jerk had been just that.
“There you go. I just told Catherine how she needed a man to give her a real good…”
Friday, 14 April 2017
After a difficult week when I slipped while out walking with my lovely dogs, and broke my ankle, I had the terrific news that Gun Shy has been nominated for a RONE Award.
Saturday, 1 April 2017
Sometimes you have to try a little harder for what you want.
Taylor Elgin was a child star, but keeping her career as an adult is frustrating. Now executives want to cut her part unless she garners more audience appeal. Her producer has a perfect plan. Match her character up with a fan favorite played by hot guy and terrible actor Ryan Asher. It would be easier to just quit…
Ryan had a crush Taylor when he was a kid and is thrilled to be partnered with her now. But does a guy carrying the scars of an abusive childhood deserve America’s Little Girl? And then to learn she never wanted to work with him in the first place? There’s no reason to even try…
They knew. They all knew. Ryan drove to Taylor’s. He had to clear his stuff out of her place before she got home. He wouldn’t have to see her until next week on set and they’d have to figure out how to work around her disgust for the sake of the show. At least if everybody knew, she wouldn’t be able to blackmail him.
He bundled his dirty laundry into a trash bag and tossed his toiletries on top. Then he took one last walk through of the apartment. Her bed where they had made love so often. The amethyst necklace he’d given her on the dresser beside her jewelry box. Her bathroom where she made herself so stunning. And where they had made love a couple of times. The living room. Her color coordinated Christmas tree was still up. The lights were turned on, casting a soft white glow on the room. The first season of Vikings sat beside the DVD player. He grabbed his trash bag and left the apartment.
Gale and Devi were in the living room dressed for clubbing when he yanked open the front door.
“Whoa, what happened to you?” Gale asked.
“She knows. She fucking knows.” Ryan threw the garbage bag of his belongings against the wall. His dirty laundry tumbled across the floor.
“Fuck,” Gale said. Devi retreated into the dining room.
Mick thundered down the stairs in sweats. “What happened? Did she find out? Shit. Shit!”
“How did she find out?”
“Mrs. Spencer was at the party.” Ryan couldn’t breathe. His throat clotted with grief. It wasn’t supposed to happen this soon. He should have had a few more days at least.
“Mrs. Spencer told her?” Mick demanded. “Fuck. What are we gonna do?”
The woman who had been sleeping in Ryan's bed the other day came down the stairs but stopped on the bottom step. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a gym bag over her shoulder.
“I don’t even know if I still have a job.” Ryan rubbed his forehead.
“Text Marty and ask him,” Gale said. “It’s not like you were an extra. You were a regular cast member.”
“Do you really think Marty is going to want Ryan on his show now?” Mick demanded.
“He was a regular cast member,” Gale repeated.
Ryan pulled out his phone. He texted Marty, “do I still have a job?” he stared at the phone, but no response came.
“What happened?” the new roommate asked.
“Taylor was talking to Mrs. Spencer and Mrs. Spencer pointed at me and Taylor puked all over her.” Ryan dug his fingers into his hair.
“Taylor puked on Mrs. Spencer?” Gale said. “Awesome. Bitch deserved it.”
“Jesus. I knew she’d be disgusted, but that’s something else.” Mick shook his head.
Ryan closed his eyes. Tears leaked from under his lashes. Everything up in smoke. All day, until Taylor got sick, had been magic. They had sun and sand and waves, and she was so happy. If he had died two hours ago it would have been perfect. His phone rang. Marty.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” Devi asked. She hadn’t come back into the living room, but the new girl had moved to stand beside him.
“I don’t want to talk to him.” Marty loved Taylor. She was like a daughter to him. Marty had to be beyond pissed.
“Then I’ll answer it.” The new girl held out her hand.
Ryan pressed the phone to his chest. “No. I don’t want anybody to talk to him.” His phone stopped ringing. “They know where I live. They’ll come looking for me.” His phone started ringing again.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad,” the new girl said.
“Fuck you. What do you know about it?” His phone stopped ringing.
“We are all fucked,” Mick said. “Without Space Odyssey, we can afford this place for another month if we don't eat. I've got the one modeling gig coming. Tanya Bauer will pay, don't you think? Gale, you have a couple of cleaning jobs and I've got my PR clients."
“Don’t kid yourself,” Gale said. “Do you think anybody is going to want us in their house now? And your PR clients are gone when you can’t keep our own past under wraps.”
“I can earn two, three hundred bucks a night. I’ll just take more nights.” The new girl shrugged.
Ryan’s phone buzzed with a text. Everyone stared at it.
“What does it say?” Devi asked.
Ryan read the screen twice. “Yes, you have a job.” The phone buzzed with a second text. “Where are you?”
“Okay, you have a job. That’s good.” Mick raked his fingers through his hair.
“I have a job where I have to pretend to fall in love with Taylor over the next four months. I have to see her every day and know how disgusted she is by me.” His throat felt like it was tied in knots.
Barnes & Noble
Free series preview available at: https://www.instafreebie.com/free/YloWu
Christa Maurice spends a lot of time lost in imagination. When not writing, she loves to travel and has spent several years living overseas. She spent four years living in Abu Dhabi where the temperature was always hot, the sunrise and sunset were pretty stable year ‘round and she could go weeks without speaking to a man who wasn’t selling her groceries. You know that happens to a woman living in what amounts to a harem situation? She spends a lot of time talking about shoes and thinking about men. Which brings us right back to being lost in imagination…
Monday, 6 March 2017
Marianne needs to find who's leaking secrets from her company, before they lose another major contract. What she doesn't need is an affair with her married boss. Even worse, to fall in love with him.
She discovers the security leak is more than a case of commercial espionage: someone is lying in the shadows, playing games with them. Now more than her heart and career are at stake—her life is on the line.
Marcus faced her. Now the night was ending, he felt more awake and alive than he had in a long time. “Yeah. It was good.” He spoke slowly and looked her in the eyes. “Thank you. For all of it.” He was transfixed by a puff of her breath on the freezing night air. Her perfume, sweet and woody at the same time, teased his senses. It suited her perfectly.
They were inches apart. He wouldn’t have to move far, to close the distance between them. He gazed at her lips, unable to tear himself away. Everything about Marianne called to him and always had. He’d allowed himself to become friends with her, knowing it was dangerous. Wanting Marianne was wrong. He had to think of Louisa.
Marianne ran a hand through her pixie-cut hair and leaned against him. “It’s so pretty here, but it’s freaking cold. What the hell was I thinking?”
Wrapping one arm around her shoulders was instinctive. His yearning to kiss her roared back into life, and he tried to ignore it. “It is pretty, but you’re beautiful.”
“Sweet talker,” she murmured. She made no move, and Marcus held her closer.
Jesus. Marianne filled all his senses. All his needs.
One taste—that was all he wanted. One hint of this beautiful, sassy woman. It would have to be enough. He couldn’t offer anything else.
He lifted his hand and cupped her cold cheek, brushing a pattern over the soft skin with his thumb. The air felt charged. He gazed into her eyes, waiting for a sign. Waiting for her to tell him to fuck off.
Did she want him? He had to know. Need coursed through his veins, and he dropped his head and brushed his lips over hers. His world shrank to the bench in Trafalgar Square.
She didn’t retreat, so he moved in again, with another fleeting kiss that grazed her lips. He was crazy to think one taste would be enough. He wanted to gorge on her.
Marianne pulled back, opening a cool space between them. “This is wrong.” Her voice was husky. “We shouldn’t be doing this. You’ll hate me and yourself.”
She was right. He was behaving like an ass, but he still didn’t want to stop.
It took a superhuman effort, but he disentangled himself from her and stood. He took a step away and turned to face the empty square. His heart raced, as if he’d run a marathon. He tried to get his body under control.
“I’m sorry,” he rasped, his mouth as dry as a gravel path. He couldn’t look at her. Didn’t dare to.
She huffed a breath behind him. “I can’t be your lover, Marcus, but I can be your friend.”
No. He wanted more, and that scared him. He had to fix things with Louisa, not get caught up in a flirtation going nowhere. He should be beating himself up with guilt right now, but he wasn’t. Instead, he felt panic at losing the chance of a stolen afternoon with Marianne. “Are we still going out tomorrow?”
Spotify playlist: Spotify
Tagline: Good people sometimes do bad things
Twitter: @SofiaGreyAuthor https://twitter.com/SofiaGreyAuthor
Amazon author profile page: https://www.amazon.com/author/sofiagrey
Romance author Sofia Grey spends her days managing projects in the corporate world and her nights hanging out with wolf shifters and alpha males. She devours pretty much anything in the fiction line, but she prefers her romances to be hot, and her heroes to have hidden depths. When writing, she enjoys peeling back the layers to expose her characters’ flaws and always makes them work hard for their happy endings.
Music is interwoven so tightly into my writing that I can’t untangle the two. Either I’m listening to a playlist on my iPod, have music seeping from my laptop speakers, or there’s a song playing in my head – sometimes on auto-repeat.
Monday, 23 January 2017
Amy Woods, one of TV’s famed Beast Seekers, has come to Orkney, Scotland, to hunt sirens. One of them killed her sister and she has sworn revenge. Most people think she’s crazy for believing in monsters. She knows the truth. But while patrolling one of Orkney’s cold beaches, she runs into a naked selkie man rather than a siren, and he proves to be an alluring distraction.
Edan Kirk is a selkie, one of an ancient race of seal shape shifters. When he hears of Amy’s intention to hunt sirens, tragic memories overwhelm him. He knows he must get rid of the pesky human. As much as he tries to convince her she’s on a fool’s errand, he can’t resist trying to protect her. After all, he has heard the enticing song of the sirens and he knows its deadly power.
As Amy and Edan engage in a battle of wits and wills, other emotions rush to the fore. Their connection is intense, the sort to come along only once in a lifetime. Edan recognizes her as his mate. However, another woman has set her sights on him as well, one whose powers of seduction are legendary. One whose voice has driven men to madness and devastation.
Can Amy accept Edan as her mate, making her home in the world of the supernatural? And can they save each other from a beast that cannot be destroyed?
After patrolling the shore for the better part of an hour, Edan began to feel the call of his bed. He might possess more stamina than a human man but it had been a long day. Resolved to catch a couple hours of sleep before morning, he swam toward the shore. Relinquishing his pelt, letting it slide from his body, he stood up straight.
A man appeared before him.
No. A woman.
Because she wore fatigues, he was momentarily confused, but there was no mistaking her buxom figure. She was certainly doing her best to look like an army man, right down to her combat boots.
The lass smiled and aimed a camera phone at him. “Hello, sailor. Did you fall off your boat?”
Fuck. What sort of woman walked on the beach at four in the morning? “Something like that.”
Despite the obvious threat posed by her camera, he couldn’t help noticing she was a beauty. Perhaps not in the Hollywood starlet sense, but her imperfections intrigued him. She’d pulled her chestnut hair back into a tight ponytail. There was an asymmetry to her face that gave an edge to delicate features. Her nose was slightly crooked near the tip and one eyebrow arched higher than the other. Her generous mouth was compressed but it looked capable of wide smiles.
And her scent. It hit him hard and made him see stars, like that time his younger brother Calan lobbed a dictionary at his head. She smelled like strawberries, juicy and ripe from the bush. Interesting, considering she was dressed like Rambo.
His gut turned, as if skewered on a rotisserie. As his innards roiled, he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to wind her ponytail around his fingers, draw her close and...
“Well?” Her eyebrow quirked even higher.
How much had she seen?
He stepped toward her but when she snapped several photos in quick succession, he stopped moving. “It’s not polite to take photos of a man in his birthday suit.”
“Yes, but you’re not quite a man, are you?”
She’d seen everything, then. He’d simply have to persuade her not to trust her senses. He’d talked himself out of worse scrapes. Edan waved his hand in the direction of his crotch. “I’m all man, lass, as you can see.”
She indulged in a quick glance. Her eyes widened in clear wonder, as if she’d never seen anything quite like him before. “Something more, then.” She nodded toward his pelt. “I’ll take that, please.”
“I don’t think so.” He hedged his bets he could convince her to give up whatever mischief she’d planned. How had he missed her on the beach? Too distracted by the thought of Breena, perhaps. “You’ve seen enough to understand I’m a selkie. If you know that, you know I need this pelt. If you’re looking for a lover, you need to be wily and steal the skin. I won’t just hand it over, unless of course you can prove to me you’d be worth a tussle.”
“I’m not looking for a lover and I don’t want to tussle with you.”
“I’d say that was a shame, you know, if you didn’t look as if you were out to blackmail me.”
Two men, also dressed in camouflage, emerged from behind a sand dune. One of them looked as if his sole hobby was frequenting the gym. Although the other man was smaller in stature, he presented more of a threat and it had everything to do with his professional-looking video camera.
“I’d give her the pelt if I were you,” the bigger man said.
“Who the hell are you people?” Edan demanded as he slowly handed the skin over to the woman.
She took it but didn’t lower her phone. “We’re the Beast Seekers. You’re our first selkie. Smile for the cameras.”
Buy Link Information:
Selkie’s Lure will be available for purchase on January 16 at Liquid Silver Publishing: http://liquidsilverpublishing.com/
Preorders are now available at:
During release week, it will be available at Amazon, B&N and Google Play.
Rosanna Leo is a multi-published, erotic romance author. Several of her books about Greek gods, selkies and shape shifters have been named Top Picks at Night Owl Romance and The Romance Reviews.
From Toronto, Canada, Rosanna occupies a house in the suburbs with her long-suffering husband, their two hungry sons and a tabby cat named Sweetie. When not writing, she can be found haunting dusty library stacks or planning her next star-crossed love affair.
A library employee by day, she is honored to be a member of the league of naughty librarians who also happen to write romance. Rosanna blogs at www.rosannaleoauthor.wordpress.com
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/Rosanna-Leo/e/B007X5P4I8