Lynne Connolly - author of sophisticated romance

January, 2012

2012-01-03T16:39:00.002Z

News

First thing’s first.

Happy new year! I hope this year brings everything to you that you want and a few surprises that aren’t unwelcome!

If you want to pick up “Sunfire” for free, you have a few more days before it goes back to its original price. I love offers like this, and usually it’s me doing the picking up, but here are a couple of links so you can download a free copy of the first Pure Wildfire book (it’s a self contained story, no cliffhangers!) then quick sharp, go here:

All Romance Ebooks - http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html

Barnes and Noble – http://is.gd/DKTJKi

I’m not including the Kindle link, because it never seemed to go up on Amazon for free, but if you have a Kindle, you can download the Mobipocket version and it will go on the Kindle fine, if you sideload it or use Calibre, or you can download a different format (try to avoid pdf, because it doesn’t convert well) and use Calibre to convert and upload it.

People usually take stock at this time of year, and while I try to avoid it because after all, it’s just a date, there are a few things I have to do, like keep track of the many and diverse places where I have my books. And I do have two resolutions. To lose a little weight, which is a regular, especially before RT, and something I rarely achieve, and to have another go at the big publishers. I’d love to see my name on a historical from one of the big houses! I know they aren’t the powerhouses they used to be, and in 2011 I became a Harlequin author, through Carina, but I’m starting a new series and I’d love to get a new contract to go with it!

On that new series – with the Richard and Rose series coming to an end in 2012 (Lisbon has a release date in June), I’m thinking of starting a new series. It’s still set in my favourite historical decade, the 1750’s, but it’s about an entirely new set of people. They will have similarities to Richard and Rose, because people living in a certain era do have that similarity going, but with very different concerns.

And on that note, many, many thanks to the beta readers who I appealed for last month. Your help has been absolutely invaluable.

I do have yet another historical series in mind, one I’ve planned for a very long time and not had the time to write, because Richard and Rose, Secrets and the Triple Countess took up so much time, but I do plan to write it this year. It’s based a decade earlier than most of my books, and has Jacobites in it, but it’s a very different view. Where I live, Lancashire, was historically a Jacobite stronghold, so I’d be able to use some of my local history research in this series.

For other genres – yes, there’s lots going on there, as well. I have an upcoming book with a new to me publisher, Decadent, and the second Trust book is with my editor at Carina, so keep everything crossed! I’ve put a new STORM book through to my editor at Ellora’s Cave, and a new series idea, together with the first novella in a new rock band series, although this time the stories are non-paranormal. I tend to start with the dilemmas I want to tackle, and work out which genre it’s best suited to. So, although romantic suspense was a new genre to me last year, when I wrote Learning to Trust, I tried to enhance the trust issues by putting them in a romantic suspense context. If that makes sense. I also have the last two rewrites in the Department 57 series in preparation for Loose-Id, so after that, it’s all new books! The first book, Rubies of Fire, which is a heavy rewrite, to account for its new position in the series, is out in March.

Last year wasn’t stellar for me in terms of earnings, but if you’re a writer, you learn to ride with that. I’m extremely fortunate that I don’t have to rely on my writing earnings to eat, but I take the view that it’s a branch of the entertainment industry which is volatile at best. I did mean to do a bit more on the self publishing front, but I didn’t find the time.

You might like to read the column I wrote for The Good, The Bad and The Unread about my year of reading dangerously – trying to find a new historical romance author to love.

http://is.gd/5yrWaZ

I found one! But that’s me as a reader, a voracious one, not a writer.

Oh, and I’ve been nominated for four awards! Two CAPAs from The Romance Studio, and two Love Romance awards. Here are the details in case you want to vote for me or any of the other great authors there:

http://theromancestudio.com/capa.php

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LoveRomancesCafe/message/280796

I don’t often do the “vote for me” thing, because I figure you’ve done your bit by buying the books! But if you find yourself over there, and you’re at a loose end, feel free!

And the Richard and Rose series was named as Series of the Year from MizLoveLovesbooks, too. I’m so happy!

http://www.mizlovelovesbooks.com/2011/12/best-of-2011.html

December Newsletter

2011-12-01T17:46:00.003Z

News

It’s been a funny old month, what with one thing and another, but on the whole, a good one. After all, my first Carina title has been released, and I’ve been very happy with the way things are working out there. Great, professional staff, fantastic support. It’s my first romantic suspense, although I do hold a romantic suspense award (funny old world, isn’t it?) so it’s been a learning process, but also a very enjoyable one.

Funny old year, too, come to that. Doors closing, doors opening, but at the end of the year I’m in a better place than when it started, and that’s what counts, isn’t it? Two new publishers, the others happily ongoing, one day I’ll have to slow down. One day.

Some drastic changes this year, and not necessarily for me. The publishing world is going through huge changes, and while speculation is interesting, the truth is that nobody knows. Nobody. People are trying to influence the change, and usually the change goes with the money, but sometimes someone or something will come out of left field, leaving the others saying, “Whoa, what just happened there?” It’s like that song out of “West Side Story,” “Something’s Coming.” But nobody is quite sure what it is.

I took part in NaNoWriMo last month, and I won! I wanted to write the next STORM story, and it’s about Oliver, Earl of Cranfield, who first appeared in “Emotion in Motion.” Writing about the modern aristocracy is an interesting change, especially when the aristocrat in question has lived a bit longer than the average lord. A couple of hundred years. He’s a vampire, you see, which complicates matters a bit. Well, the first draft is nearly written.

And after my resolution of last year, I wrote some books that don’t have a home. Yet. I wanted to give the muse a chance this year, and write books that interested me. Not that the books I already write don’t, but I had a few ideas that were driving me crazy, so I had to write them. I’m still pondering what to do with them! They are contemporary, but in different genres. I think that next year they’ll come into their own.

Sales? Loose-Id have offered me a contract on the last two reprints of the Department 57 series, Rubies of Fire and Diamonds of Ice. Not the last in the series, but the last two I wrote for Triskelion before it went into liquidation. I’ve drastically rewritten Rubies of Fire to fit its new position in the series. I can honestly say it’s almost like a new book. And I’m preparing to get to work on Diamonds of Ice. Exciting times, since now I can look forward to the new books in the series, and characters who have been waiting an awful long time for their stories to come out!

And I have my cover for the last Richard and Rose book, “Lisbon.” Pretty? I think so!

Excerpt:

Shall we have a new snippet from “Strangers No More”? Instead of a sexy bit, let’s have the setup, the very first pages. There is some strong language in this excerpt.

Neville’s decision didn’t surprise Whitney one bit. She kept her expression bland, but inside she decided to tough this one out, to take a stand. To make him say it.
“Why not?”
Neville blinked, surprise showing for a bare instant in his heavenly blue eyes, eyes that had fooled many an interviewee into thinking he was a pushover. “What do you mean, why not?”
Whitney sighed and shook back the curtain of dark hair framing her face. She’d have to go at this the hard way and tell him straight out. He wanted to humiliate her, make her admit it. Open questions were Neville’s stock in trade on his top-rated interview show, but she knew him better. She’d force him into saying something. Then she’d sue his ass. “Why won’t you give me the job? I’m qualified for it, much more than some of the bimbos I’ve seen coming in for interviews over the last few days. I’ve worked at NewsInc for five years now, so I know my way around and what the company expects. I can do it.”
He sighed and glanced away. “Some of those bimbos are highly qualified,” he said. “Beauty and brains in one package is hard to resist.”
At least he admitted it. He wanted a beauty to cover the foreign correspondent’s job, or someone did. Neville helmed and edited the wildly successful show that had attracted the sharks to NewsInc. A mixture of current affairs and chitchat, it was unlike anything else on TV, as it combined real news reporting with lighter fare. Whitney wanted the heavier job, the news side.
She held her ground. She was probably being unfair to some of the women she’d seen trooping into Neville’s office over the last week, but she’d take the chance. Neville was being unfair to her. “Not as well qualified as I am. Would they stand in the center of a battle zone with a mic and camera propped up against a stone, shouting to be heard above the barrage? Not if it spoiled their perfect hairstyles, they wouldn’t.” She’d done the job for the smaller company she’d worked for before NewsInc, but now Nev and the new owners wanted to expand the show and they needed new personnel. She could do it and she was tired of working in the back office, doing radio and research.
He clamped his mouth shut and she suddenly had a vision of editors in years gone by, clenching their lantern jaws on their cigars while the presses rolled. What made Neville different from other talk-show hosts was that he remained a newsman, never let the glamour take over. And the new situation had chafed him more than somewhat, she knew because she’d spotted the occasional twitch or frown. She was a journalist, after all, expected to notice these small signals.
Because of their respect for his abilities and the way he’d flashed through the broadcasting universe like a shooting star, everyone who worked here had let him get away with too much. Not this time. “You said you wanted more than a pretty face, someone with experience and nerve, someone who’d go out in the field and send reports back from the front line.”
These days the news got out almost as fast as it hit Twitter. And it needed professional journalists like her to deliver it. “It’s no good sending someone into the field who doesn’t know both the company and the background to the news. You know that, Nev.” None better. Nev had earned his battle scars, though none of them were visible on his smooth, handsome outer shell. He’d been in the Near and Far East, Iraq, Afghanistan and other trouble spots, he’d been there and ducked the bombs. He didn’t look quite so smooth and glossy out there either. She preferred the journalist Nev to the anchor Neville. Today he wore an Italian tailored suit and a button-down white dress shirt—the open neck the only sign of casualness about him. His dark-blond hair was smoothed back, maybe even gelled, and his face closely shaved. She’d rather see the grubby journalist in the crumpled jeans and T-shirts. But that was just her.
“These girls have some impressive credentials.”
Girls? Shit, she had no chance here, not if her boss thought of the applicants as “girls”. Not that it would stop her trying. She owed it to herself, to the rest of the women fighting to make a serious name in modern journalism. No, fuck that. She wanted this job, period. She wasn’t doing it for anyone else, she was doing it for her. “So there’s no problem, right? I have the experience and the knowledge. I even have the qualifications.” What more does he want?
Neville shifted in his chair, the worn leather not giving out even a squeak, he’d done it so often. He’d brought the chair from home, something that had some kind of relevance to him but she had no idea what. He glanced away, down to her application, which currently lay on his cluttered desk. “It’s more than that.”
And then she knew. He wasn’t telling her the entire truth. It wasn’t Nev, it was Mattson—the big guy, the disgustingly wealthy man who’d just added NewsInc to his portfolio of media interests. He was notorious for effecting change, putting in his own people when a natural vacancy occurred. Or he’d just order those below him to do it. Old Man Mattson had told Neville to employ the pretty ones.
Nev sighed and rubbed his jaw, his discomfort palpable. “I’d hire you if I could. You’re good at what you do. But I want someone who’s comfortable in China.”
Fuck, oh fuck. She didn’t have much experience in that part of the world. If he lucked on a bimbo who’d visited China, who knew it better than she did, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Do you speak any Chinese languages?”
“Some.” Not well enough. “But I can get up to speed fast.” Even if it killed her. But she didn’t know her way around China, had few contacts there.
“I interviewed a few interesting candidates today.” He was looking more comfortable now, an easy smile slowly spreading over his face. “One of them is fluent in Mandarin and she lived in China for a couple of years.”
She’d lost.

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9658-strangers-no-more.aspx

November Newsletter

2011-11-03T18:23:00.000Z

November News

Some months are quiet, but not, as it turned out, October!

At the start of the month, the latest Dept 57 book, Bloody Crystal was released. I adored writing this one, as it was set partly in a place that my husband and I love, Llandudno in Wales. But I told you all about that last time!

Then I got word that Strangers No More was being moved up to fill a vacant release spot, so that came out at the end of October. The story of a woman who needs plastic surgery to further her career as a journalist and news reporter. It was fun writing it, and showing the other side of cosmetic procedures, where it benefits someone. Her lover already wanted her, but he was worried, too. Would the new nose change her, would she let him make love to her in the light?

And then I had to prepare for a big release for me, in November. It’s big, because it’s my first mainstream romantic suspense, and my first release with Carina. As yet, I haven’t heard officially about the second book in what I want to be a trilogy, but I’m keeping everything crossed! Learning To Trust will be out towards the end of November. If any of you here are reviewers, there’s a copy on netgalley that you can pick up.

So all go here in the Connolly household!

The Festival of Romance was great fun, and I met some lovely people, and renewed my friendship with others. Jean Fullerton was there, doing one of her wonderful talks – if you ever get the chance to see Jean, I can highly recommend it. I took part in Charlie Cochrane’s first 150 word workshop, and I read the first 150 words of “Shifting Heat.” I was on the paranormal panel, and that was interesting, as paranormal is a fairly new romance genre for the UK market. I have no idea why the greats haven’t caught on yet, but they probably will in time, as how do you ignore someone as good as Nalini Singh?

And for November – I’ve signed on to NaNoWriMo! I must be mad, but I needed to get a book done, and that boot up the backside can really help. So far I’m only 6,000 words in, but I do want to get on and get it written, at least the first draft.

Finally – yesterday, so hot off the press, so to speak, I got an offer of a contract from Decadent Press. I’m so please. It’s a story about a haunted ocean liner, but it’s paranormal, not realistic, as I’ve given the characters and the ghosts attributes they don’t usually get! I’m so glad this story is getting an airing.

I write several stories that I have no home for, just because I need to write them. Recently, I realised that although I write in several genres, that’s because it’s the best way to explore an issue that interests me. So the venture into romantic suspense is because I want to explore trust in extreme circumstances – who do you trust, when you’re not sure about anything anymore? And where do you find the courage to do it? So I’m planning to change my tagline to reflect it. I’ve had several thoughts, but I haven’t discovered the final one, yet. I like “All roads lead to romance,” but it’s too clichéd, so I’m still working on that theme. Rebranding, in a way, but I don’t like to think of myself as a brand. More a force of nature! If you can think of a good tagline, there’ll be a little thank you gift on its way to you!

And I’ve been working towards Romantic Times next April. I’m on at least one panel, and I’ll be around all week, so I’d absolutely love to see you there, if you can make it. In these troubled times, we all need a little romance to warm us at night.

Excerpt

Strangers No More – a new story from Ellora’s Cave

Over 18’s only, please.

Whitney slid her keycard into the slot of a hotel room door in downtown L.A., the kind of hotel that hosted conventions and business meetings. Anonymous and huge. The green light flashed and she pushed the door open.

Someone dragged her into the room and slammed her against a wall. The door clicked shut, blocking out the only light available. The room was in pitch darkness, the windows covered, the lights out. She hit the wall with a soft thud, her face against the paper.

Her attacker grabbed her around the waist, his free hand dragging her head back by her hair, and then his mouth crashed down on hers, taking her with a hot desperation that flung her into the whirlwind. Now she couldn’t think. Now she could only feel. His hips pressed against hers at an awkward angle but he twisted them against her and she felt the insistent bulge of his erection.

The moment his lips came into contact with hers, she knew him. Knew that pressure, the way his mouth felt against hers, the way he flicked her lips with his tongue in an unspoken request—demand—that she open for him.

When she didn’t obey immediately, he nipped her bottom lip and when she opened her mouth to protest, he surged in, soothing the bite with his tongue in a gentle caress before resuming his fierce attack on her. She tasted him, peppermint and a touch of something else, something fruity. He’d had a glass of wine recently. He never met her drunk, but he sometimes tasted of wine and sometimes brandy. She loved it. It added a tinge of danger, the threat that he might get carried away and ignore her needs. But he never did.

“Never” being three times. They said that three times and one was hooked. Three cigarettes, three shots of heroin, three “Stranger Danger” encounters. The man with no name gave her what she needed, what she craved. He fed her addiction and she fed his.

He took her mouth with an intensity she could respond to only with the kind of helpless acceptance she never demonstrated in her real life. The life outside this door. Whimpering, she followed him when he withdrew, begging for more. With a grunt, he turned her around so her back pressed against the hotel wallpaper. Her backbone rolled against the hard surface but she welcomed the discomfort. He wasn’t going to stop. He seemed as desperate as she was. That had connected them from the first time, and he was no less desperate now. He wanted her.

Here, in the dark. No excuses, no explanations needed here.

He connected with her again, tilting his head to bring his mouth down on hers in a deeper, harder fusion. He swept his tongue around her mouth in total mastery. She opened for him and lifted her chin to meet his demands. He was much taller than she but then most people were. He must be over six feet, with the kind of abs a girl could get lost exploring. What a way to lose direction.

She grasped his shoulders, felt the rough edge of a T-shirt under her palms and groaned into his mouth. She loved the mounds and dips of his body. Fuck, this guy was ripped. Whoever he was.

He pressed against her, his pecs to her shoulders, and bent to kiss her. Sliding his hands around her waist, he lifted her with a convulsive motion, making her gasp for breath. The thick cotton of his pants rasped against her jeans, the only sound in this hushed room. Lifting his head, he spoke in Greek. He had a deep, gravelly voice and he rarely spoke much. Just to give her instructions. Her Greek was better than her Mandarin, but hardly fluent. In this situation, it didn’t have to be. “Skirt,” he said now. “Not trousers.”

It took her a minute to process the words, and she had to concentrate. Maybe it was time to buy that teach-yourself-Greek DVD. By the time she’d taken a step, he was on her, dragging down her zipper before he shoved her jeans down her legs. He thrust his hand between her thighs but the pants weren’t far enough down her legs for her to open them properly. Bending, he dragged off her sneakers and tossed them aside. They landed in dull thumps. Then he was back, tugging at her jeans again. He got one leg completely off but the other leg tangled around her ankles. She kicked, but it didn’t help.

With a rough word of frustration, a word she guessed must be a Greek curse, he stood once more, lifting her and setting her on a nearby table, dumping her as if she were a doll on the polished surface. She could only hope it would hold her weight because he didn’t give her a chance to protest. She gripped his shoulders as he pressed his nose against her crotch through her panties and inhaled noisily. His soft groan told her he liked it, that he wanted her.

He stood and her hands dropped to his chest, slid down the thin fabric over his lean but powerful muscles. Not bulky with gym-pressed goodness but strong as if he used them for his work. Maybe he was a builder or a construction worker, or maybe he worked at sea. Maybe a soldier.

She wanted him hot, exploring her near-naked body, taking her, forcing her to do what she wanted. Because he knew she wanted it too. He must know, from her response and the perfect way he took her.

He pushed his hand between her legs, forcing them open, and slid a finger under the elastic of her panties. She’d worn red silk for him. Stupid, unless she told him the color, but the texture was great and she knew she was wearing red. She needed that jolt of courage before she came here, or wherever he told her to be. Always a hotel, a good hotel. She found the keycard waiting for her at the desk when she asked for Nikos Sandaloros. Not his name, she was sure. She’d Googled it and found nothing relevant. She never called him Nikos. Only “Stranger”.

Strangers in the dark, meeting for anonymous, hot and dirty sex. That was the way it was meant to be. But Whitney is increasingly drawn to her Stranger, more than she should be. Even if once he sees her face, he’ll run screaming. Then Whitney receives an offer from the Durban Trust for cosmetic surgery. Although she knows looks don’t matter, they’ve cost her too many promotions. She has to change her face to change her life.

Her colleague Jay—reporter and thriller writer—has a secret to match Whitney’s. He’s her Stranger. He doesn’t give a damn about her face, but how does he tell her? Now Jay has two secrets. He put her forward for the surgery. Once he tells her, she’ll kick him out of her life, but he has to take that chance. He only wants her to get the job. Because she already has him. Hook, line and sinker.

2011-11-03T18:20:00.000Z

News

“Tempting Spy” was released this month, and it’s had a great reception. This was the book I wrote after the sturm und drang of “Lisbon,” about which more later. A froth of a book, set in modern day London, this got me out of the writing slump I managed to get into. Sometimes when you try hardest, you end up with that kind of exhaustion.

And another new release this month! It’s “Bloody Crystal,” a brand new Department 57 book, and the last of the “Crystal” miniseries. Finally, the villain gets his comeuppance, though not in a way anyone expects. It starts in Llandudno, Wales, a charming little seaside down, of the gentrified Victorian variety, and ends in Chicago, via New York, all places I know and enjoy very much. It was a treat to be able to link some of my favourite places this way! The hero is Rhodri, a Welsh vampire. It would have been too easy in a way to make him a Welsh dragon! He meets Cerys, a young, inexperienced, but not innocent, vampire, and together they get far closer to their adversary than they would have done apart. When the Department gets involved, Cerys meets gorgeous merman Kai, the hero of “Crystal Tides” and a chilling Sorcerer, who help her and Rhodri in their time of peril.

This month I’m attending the Festival of Romance in King’s Langley, near Watford. It’s the UK’s first attempt at the kind of reader/writer convention that the US holds, and I’m very excited about it. Of course it’s a lot smaller than something like Romantic Times, but I think it will be choice. I’m on a panel about paranormal romance, and I’m introducing Gillian Greene, who is debuting Random House’s new Rouge imprint. If you want to know more, go here:

http://festivalofromance.co.uk/

It’s not too late to book! We are assured – there will be chocolate!

Considering that in June I had no scheduled releases for 2011, I’ve done a lot better than I thought, and written some stories I’ve absolutely adored writing. Earlier in the year I thought I’d drop the writing for a while, utterly exhausted by the work on Richard and Rose. I thought the mojo had well and truly gone. But I got back from Romantic Times and found a seam of creativity. Not historical, although that is beginning to come again, and I did write one more historical this year, but the other side, the danger and excitement side.

Someone told me that Mercury was in retrograde for much of the time, and that affects creative people. While I don’t really get on with astrology, sometimes you just have to accept that something is wrong, and maybe that’s it. I don’t know, but I do know a lot of people who’ve had problems this year.

Or maybe it’s the new market conditions. It’s changing so rapidly that people are being left behind, and other people are embracing it fully. The whole publishing world is on the move, and we won’t know what it looks like for a few years yet, I’m thinking. So I decided to watch it all and carry on writing. After all, that’s what I do!

Excerpt:

Of course, it’s “Bloody Crystal.” I love the cover. The artist, the excellent April Martinez, didn’t fall for the vampire-blood-red cliché, but gave me a cover that depicts the characters just as I saw them in my head, and a gorgeous green background. Anyway, I’d love you to buy it, as always, but if you don’t, I’ll love you anyway!

http://www.loose-id.com/Dept-57-Bloody-Crystal.aspx

There’s another excerpt on my website:

http://homepage.ntlworld.com/lynneconnolly/BloodyCrystal.html

Cerys is happy working in the bar in her home time of Llandudno, Wales. Nobody knows her secret until she meets dark, brooding Rhodri Tryfanwy. He knows her at once, because he’s like her. Vampire.

Rhodri sees the ethereal Cerys as everything he’s ever wanted. Light to his darkness, he takes her and she responds. Long nights of passion give him the hope he’d almost given up on finding. But events move too fast and Rhodri has to return to the dangerous, violent world of Department 57. His old adversary, Geoffrey Wilkinson, gives him no choice.

Thrown into a new world, Cerys is forced to leave everything she knows behind to search for him. She is Rhodri’s only chance. Without her help, he’ll be taken apart, piece by piece, and sold to people who will exploit what he is to make money and take power they’re not entitled to.

Chasing the enemy of the Department across the world, Cerys has to adapt fast to find the man whose only desire was to protect her. Without her love, he is dead. Without his love, she will want to die. Together, they can face anything.

In this excerpt, Cerys has fed on a drunk the night before, and Rhodri has taken her home and put her to bed.

Cerys rolled over and hit something solid. Something solid and warm. She came instantly awake, then wished she hadn’t. Her groan woke him up.

Slowly the memories of last night returned as he blinked and smiled at her, one hand under his cheek. He leaned up on one elbow, looking far too sexy for his own good. Or for her good, come to that. His short haircut meant he looked pretty much immaculate, even first thing in the morning. “You slept with me?”

He grinned unrepentantly. “There weren’t many other places.” He lost the grin. “Besides, I wanted to keep a close eye on you. The blood shouldn’t have affected you that much.”

“Why not?” She’d woken up with somebody else’s hangover before. It would clear soon. Already she could feel the headache lifting. A phantom hangover never lasted as long as the real thing, she assured herself, although when she moved, her stomach roiled alarmingly.

“It’ll pass soon.” That dark, soothing voice could guide her through dreams. “Close your eyes. I’ll make coffee and toast. If you have any.”

Nothing loath, she did as he commanded, for command it was, but his suggestion sounded good to her. Except for one thing. “Can you make it tea, please?”

“I can probably manage that.”

The old bedsprings sagged as he sat and got out of bed. She ventured a look. He was dragging a pair of jeans over a pair of white boxers, standing with his back to her. Probably just as well. But he had a beautiful arse, his buns tight and grabbable.

How could she be feeling like that when her stomach still rolled with the hangover? Although the headache was fading nicely.

By the time he returned with the promised tea and toast, she was feeling a whole lot better. He found a couple of cushions from the couch to prop behind her back and bolster the pillows, making her feel looked after. She hadn’t felt that way for so long. Not cosseted like this. Dave looked after her at work, running shotgun for her when customers got too rowdy. Nothing like this. He handed her the plate of toast, and their hands brushed.

Tingles sparked between them, shivering up her arm to her shoulder. She ignored them, but she didn’t ignore the attraction she felt for him. As yet she had no idea if he felt anything for her that was more than camaraderie and concern. And she wouldn’t let him see until she knew. She wasn’t that desperate.

He sat on the hard chair she usually kept flat against the wall, the twin to the one she used as a bedside table. She glanced at her watch. “I have to get to work by noon. I’m on the early shift today.”

“Does that place open all day?”

She bit into her toast and cleared her mouth before she answered him. “We open at noon and usually close at one or two a.m. Dave lets us go home early if the place clears. Saturdays we’re open later. That’s the worst night. But I can handle the rowdies.” She took another bite. “Too well, really. I have to pretend sometimes, let them think they’ve hurt me. But I’ve never had any real problems.”

“Until last night.”

“Yes. Until last night.” She chewed in silence and then reached for her tea, letting out a moan of contentment when the hot liquid hit her tonsils. She drained the mug, then stared at the bottom with disappointment. “Did you make a pot?”

“Yes.” He grinned and held out his hand for her empty mug.

This was too easy. She felt too comfortable with him. That ended when he leaned over her to put her tea on the impromptu bedside table. She smelled hot male and couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this close to one. She couldn’t help it. She had to touch.

She flattened her hand against his chest, rubbing to enjoy the feel of the hair sprinkling the tanned skin. He stilled, and his throat moved in a convulsive swallow. Then he looked at her.

Heat poured through her. Steaming, burning heat. He touched her mind with it, let her see it. “You should know if I start, I won’t stop. Don’t make me fuck a woman with a hangover.”

She wet her lips and watched his gaze follow the motion. “What hangover?” The tea and toast had taken care of most of it. Right now she wouldn’t have admitted to it, anyway. This man was the epitome of hot. Beautifully delineated features, sharp cheekbones, mobile lips, dark eyes lit with an inner flame. And the body was simply ripped. She’d been enjoying the sight of his powerful chest, framed with the broad shoulders just made for a woman to cling to.

And the casual use of the word “fuck.” She used it herself, but the way he used it made it sound like a caress, something she wanted above anything else.

“I want to hear the word,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “I want it. I want you.”

Whatever she planned to say next, he cut off with his mouth, bending to take her in a kiss, their first. He claimed her with that kiss, touched her lips with his tongue. His arms bracketed her, and the mattress dipped as he knelt on it.

And still he kissed her. She opened for him and let all that tea-flavored magnificence in. He was so big, although he hadn’t seemed that way against the giant Dave. But he was. He climbed over her and surrounded her with his heat, his cock a hard ridge through their clothes, pushing at her, making demands she was only too ready to fulfill.

September Newsletter

2011-11-03T18:18:00.000Z

News

It’s been a quiet month, considering I had my first release since March! “Shifting Heat” has gone out into the atmosphere and I’m keeping my fingers crossed for it. I really love the hero, Andros, because he was dying, and had reconciled himself to it, but then got a second lease of life when he was converted into a shape-shifting dragon. All his troubles were over, right? Oh no, because inside, he still felt like the physically weak man he was for most of his life. He can’t take that final leap. Until he meets a woman who accepts him for who he is now, not who he was then. Anyway, love to hear your take on it!

And I have another release in September! How’s that for cool? This one is from Total E-Bound, and it’s a novella, called “Temporary Spy,” part of their “Tempting Temps” collection. Hopefully, it will come out in paperback, collected with a couple of others from the series, and it’s coming out in audiobook, too.

It was a treat to write. I wrote it straight after I’d finished and polished and rewritten “Lisbon,” the last Richard and Rose book, and that was so hard to write, with all the research, and keeping the timeline straight, and the writer’s block I was in denial about at the time, that it was lovely to turn to a one-off story set in a place I know well (London) about people with different problems. It was the fizz, the dessert, that I needed to get me out of the deep funk I was in. I find that helpful when I’m faced with a block – write something else! I think it’s partly fatigue, but also other things that are going on bleeding into the writing day. And I don’t talk about it, because, like depression, it’s something that has to be endured and got through.

So Tempting Spy is my fizz book, and there’s an excerpt below for you. I’ve put the first chapter. And it’s out from Total E-Bound on the 25^th September.

Other things? I’m currently writing the second “Trust” book, which I’ll send to my editor at Carina. I loved writing the first one, and it introduced a character I really wanted to know more about, so this is his story. How could I ignore the world of the Naples gangster, once I’d uncovered it? And while writing this book, I discovered a new to me setup, which will lead me into writing another one. It seems inevitable.

Some great news from Ellora’s Cave, which was leaked last week – prices to third party sellers like Amazon are going down! Unlike other epubs, Amazon did a test study, taking a few authors and experimenting with price points (all with the cooperation of the authors). It turned out to be a great success, and so the prices after October will be comparable to the prices you’ve always been able to get on EC’s website. Although I’ve never had any trouble, I know some people have difficulties with the site, so this is great news. Lower prices might mean a drop in royalties, or it might not – we’ll have to wait and see. But I honestly think that EC still has some of the best authors out there, and they deserve to be wider read. It’s still the market leader for erotic romance, and I can’t see that changing.

Not as good news on the Samhain front, for me at least. Still no word from my editor on the Richard and Rose and Freddy front, I’m afraid. I was asked to rewrite “Lisbon” twice, and she takes 12 weeks to read each rewrite. Since the books are still uncontracted, it looks like I won’t have a new Samhain book out in 2012, as they are now scheduling for 2013. However, “Maiden Lane” is coming out in print in February, yay! While I’m Samhain’s bestseller in historical romance, that doesn’t mean my sales compare to the erotics that constantly make the Samhain top ten these days. They are a great publisher, though, and I’ve loved my time there. Still will, if I can. I’ve decided to write a standalone historical, one from a potential series I’ve been thinking about for some time, and see how it does. I also have a historical paranormal out on query, so you never know…

From time to time madness takes me and I try to write a Harlequin Presents. These books are in every bookstore, all over the world, and while the money’s not great, the promotion and publicity is invaluable. My latest effort returned to me after a read and a discussion, so I intend to rewrite it a bit, deepen it and see where I can send it. I loved writing it. It’s about a girl who loves vintage and second hand clothes.

If any of you are reviewers, drop me a line. I’d love some reviews for the new releases! There are some on the way, but I’m greedy! They are – Shifting Heat, with Temporary Spy, Bloody Crystal (a new Dept 57 book) and Learning to Trust (romantic suspense) coming up soon.

And I think that’s about it for now. If you want to know anything, if I’ve missed anything out, shout out. And as always, thanks for being here. You make what I do real. Not to mention giving me the greatest reason for sitting at my computer for 12 hours a day, making stuff up!

Excerpt:

Finlay Scott knows someone is stealing his architectural designs, so he employs an agency that specialises in weeding out industrial spies. But he doesn't know they will send Beth, a woman he had a torrid affair with years before, and has been unable to forget.

Beth sees this job as paying off an old debt, but matters get much further, much faster, and they're soon seeing how many office surfaces can take both their bodies.

Excerpt (over 18’s only, please):

Beth stretched, raising hands to the sky. “What time is it?”

Joy favoured her with a glance. “A quarter to five. The boss wants to see you at five. Chances are he’ll send you back to the agency.”

“What makes you say that?” She got it, she really did. Joy wanted Finlay. Well, as far as she was concerned, Joy was welcome to him. She was here to pay back a debt, that was all. And to see justice done in the best traditions of a superhero. Pity she wasn’t one, but she did her best to behave like a reasonable human being, unlike some people not too far away from here.

She grimaced. She had rather overdone it, screwing up the filing. Maybe if she made up for it in the next hour it would give Finlay a chance to rehire her. Not that he knew she was here. After all, she’d only started two days ago when he’d been in Rome and she was only here until she’d accomplished her task.

She stared at her computer screen. Joy had given her some standard letters to type, print and send. Her typing wasn’t perfect, but she could manage the computer formatting. She had the same program at home. So she set to it and, by five, she had half a dozen letters typed and printed out, ready for his signature. Glancing up from her screen, she gave Joy a tentative smile. “I’m sorry about the filing. I guess I was nervous.”

Joy sniffed and leaned against the copier, folding her arms across her chest. “I daresay. But you’ll have to put in some fancy talking if you want to stay here.”

“I do. Is fancy talking all that’s required?” She gave a winsome smile, and rested her arms on the sides of her chair.

Joy glared at her. “He doesn’t mix business and pleasure. Ever.”

Beth made sure Joy saw the up and down she gave her, paying special attention to that tight red skirt. “You could have fooled me.”

“It’s actually very comfortable. I wear it a lot.” I bet you do. But Beth didn’t say it aloud. The skirt showed the cleft between her buttocks. Puppies in a sack, she’d thought as she’d watched Joy sashay into Finlay’s office earlier.

Beth had actually suffered a pang of jealousy—her first for, well, two years. Nearly three. She’d worked so hard in the intervening years, she’d hardly noticed the time going by. Until, that was, she lay in her bed at night. Alone.

Joy gave her a warmer smile. “This is his favourite skirt. He never says, but I can tell. He was disappointed when I couldn’t go to Rome with him last week, but it couldn’t be helped. I think one of those letters you’re typing was thanks to the hotel? He likes to do that.” She sighed. “He wants to be sure of the room next time.”

She had noticed that. Joy had booked a one-bedroom suite. “He takes you every time?”

“Always,” Joy purred. “He wouldn’t go without me.”

Her inference was clear. Keep off! In a perverse way, Beth felt glad that Joy would even see her as a rival.

Beth gathered the papers together and tidied the edges, doing her best to ignore her trembling hands. She had to face him sooner or later. “Should I go in now, or wait until he calls for me?”

Joy grinned at her. “Go in, just knock and enter. He likes punctuality and he doesn’t like formality.”

Why did she suspect that friendly smile? Probably for good reason. But she did as Joy told her, knocked and went straight in.

Finn’s head jerked up. “Didn’t Joy tell you not to come in until…” His voice tailed off. “Fuck, oh fuck.” He sounded entirely different now, unsure and astonished.

“Where have you been? Where did you come from?”

Too late to retreat. He knew her, and nothing had changed from the last time they’d seen each other. Except that the desire between them seemed to have increased, if anything. She hadn’t thought that possible, had hoped it had died. Some hope.

Beth closed the door hastily as he got to his feet and rounded the desk, heading for her with a determination she couldn’t avoid. She took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. Her back hit the door as he reached her, and she got barely a glimpse of his eyes, hot with passion, before his mouth descended on hers.

All her good intentions melted when his arms enclosed her, all thoughts of keeping her distance disappeared. Hunger replaced reason.

With his mouth locked to hers, she knew they wouldn’t stop there, wanted more of him. His mouth worked hers, persuaded her to open to him and he took possession, eating at her as if he’d starved for a year or more. She knew because she’d felt the same way. She gripped his forearms, felt handfuls of crisp shirt fabric, and held on. Her head went back under the pressure of his, hitting the door with another thud.

He dragged his mouth away from hers, but only to stare at her, as if he couldn’t believe it. “Oh my God, you’re here, it’s really you!” With a groan, he settled his mouth on hers again. And this time he put his hands to work, gripping her waist then sliding up, bringing her top with them. He kissed down her neck to the place where her throat met her shoulders and she was toast. Lost. She breathed deep, inhaling the scent of shampoo and Boss and him. It felt like coming home.

But a home filled with turbulence. Shock reverberated through her system, but he was already replacing it with desire and swiftly escalating it to desperate need. He touched her bare skin and she shuddered, then he undid the buttons of her top and she helped him, let him draw it off her and toss it aside. His gaze stroked her with an intensity that made her shudder. As he watched, she lifted away from the door, took her hands off him and reached behind to unhook her bra.

When her breasts tumbled free, his hands were waiting to capture them. He gasped when he touched them, but she nearly drowned the sound he made with her soft moan. “I didn’t come for this.”

“But this is what you’re going to get.” His low, trembling voice increased the intimacy between them, his hot breath gusting against her skin, raising goosebumps where it touched her. He caressed her breasts, cupped the soft weights with his hands, the calluses rasping deliciously against her. She shuddered and pushed herself into him, urging him to do more.

“Come here.” In a sudden movement, he released her, grabbed her waist and pulled her even closer. His starched shirt hit her bare skin, the warmth of his body underneath tantalising her with its propinquity. She ripped at the fabric between them until it separated at the front. Then, with a sigh of relief, she touched him, slid her hands over the hard curves of his heated flesh and the tiny points of his nipples, as hard as hers were.

“Finn, oh, Finn.”

August 2011

2011-08-04T12:37:00.002+01:00

News

Well, it's August already, and it's been a very strange year. But at last I got a release date, my first since Griffin's Treasure in March. It's a new STORM book, and it's called Shifting Heat. And I loved writing this one.

Next? I plan to write the story of the sexy earl who made a memorable guest appearance in "Emotion in Motion." So I hope you're ready for an earl who is also a vampire, and who prefers people not to know what and who he is!

Over here in the UK, it's hot and sultry, but overcast. Not the best of weathers for me, but better than hot, hot, hot! I had to miss the RNA conference this year because I had the rewrite of the last Richard and Rose book to do. I told you it was a tricky one! But I've taken a lot of care over this one, so I hope you Richard and Rose lovers won't be disappointed.

Unfortunately it means that the release date won't be for quite some time, a year or more, but maybe it'll be worth waiting for!

I've also finished Freddy's book, which is waiting to be polished up before I send it to my editor. After that on the historical front, I'm not sure, because I want to write something new, but I'm not sure what. Still set in my beloved Georgian era, of course. I have tried to write outside the era, but I've never managed to make a book work properly. I think Dorothy Dunnett ruined me for the Tudors. I mean, who could top Lymond?

I'm currently writing a romantic suspense, the second in the trilogy I'm planning to write for Carina. Because it's romantic suspense, I had to take a lot of care with the plot, but I'm really enjoying the characters in this one. They're biting back.

Since it's summer, there's not a lot going on here apart from that, but once again, thanks for supporting me and sticking with me on this adventure. I just do what I do, and keep my fingers crossed!

Excerpt

I am so proud to be able to bring you the next book set in the STORM universe. This one is about Andros, the brother of Ania from "Red Shadow."

Ania is now a vampire, but Andros is a shape-shifting dragon. Siblings with a difference. Andros used to have a form of muscular dystrophy, and was at times wheelchair bound, and he's having a problem reconciling the man he thinks he is inside, the clever, physically disabled one, with the powerful being he has become.

The heroine, Faye, is a teacher, living without revealing who she is, but also a shape-shifting dragon. She needs to get into STORM but she got more than she bargained for when she used Andros to ease her way inside the

building.

This book is also a cougar book, of a very special kind! Andros is in his mid-twenties. Faye's age is in three figures.

This is the first chapter. Just for you. And be warned - you have to be over 18 to read this excerpt.

A book in the STORM world.

Andros was a severely disabled geek working for STORM but now he's a powerful shape-shifting dragon. Still a geek though. Meeting Faye when they're sharing the same air space is a bit of a shock they quickly overcome in a convenient hotel room.
Hot, fast, rampant sex is just what Andros needs. Tangling with Faye between the sheets, against her desk, pretty much anywhere he can have her takes energy Andros now has in abundance. But he won't let his emotions follow.

Faye never met anyone in her long life as exciting as Andros. But he works for STORM, Faye's enemy. She's never had anyone so young, either. But she can't resist his strength, his determination-or his ripped body. Together they must hunt down a mutual enemy, but to defeat him they have to come to terms with what they are, were and will become.

Andros hated the moment of chilly awareness combined with the vulnerability he always experienced when he got naked. He stepped out on to the roof of the STORM building and shivered. One of his colleagues, Nick Ivy, a roc shape-shifter, grinned. “You’re new, aren’t you?”
“I’ve worked for STORM for a while.” Andros tried not to cover his genitals, tried to act nonchalant.
The man’s grin broadened. “I meant to shape-shifting. I know you. You’re a geek, aren’t you?”
Andros hated to make assumptions, but this big, muscular man with an all-over golden tan—shit, all over—didn’t look as if he spent his days hunched over a computer screen. “Yep, that’s me.” He felt used to the label. More a part of him than the dragon he’d so recently become. “It’s getting cold, isn’t it?” Some of the chill of early fall might account for the goose bumps pimpling his skin. But it wouldn’t explain away the nerves prickling with the compulsion to shape-shift and the anxiety nagging at him.
“You’ll get used to it.” Nick’s grin broadened. “It’ll get worse first, mind you. It’s only September.”
Oh right, the cool air. Usually New York in September was mild, but this happened to be one of those evenings when an unaccountable chill swept over the city, especially this high up. Still, Andros wouldn’t swap it for the sultriness of L.A., where he’d spent most of his life before his recent move.
Neither could he get used to being naked with a bunch of other people, most of them strangers, and in a weird pretense of politeness, not let his gaze fall to their groins or stare at nipples tightening against the cold. It was like not acknowledging an elephant in the room. He’d spent much of his life getting naked for doctors and specialists before his conversion but he’d never gotten over the shyness of revealing his body. In the company of other naked people it seemed worse, not better.
He felt much happier these days. At least he could walk. He’d gone from a geek with a lifelong illness that would have eventually killed him to a powerful creature who could fly. It was too much, sometimes. He should be grateful. Shit, he was grateful, but he was also scared and unsure.
He turned his gaze outward to the lights flickering on in the tall buildings. Blessed evidence of ordinary life. Andros had always loved living in the middle of cities, watching the life going on around him. It gave him a reason not to look at himself, to forget his condition for a time.
Nick Ivy was still staring at him. Fuck, Andros would hate to disappoint the guy, but he was relentlessly straight. But this time, when his gaze flickered over him, he couldn’t help noticing the rising erection. The big man glanced down at his body and up at Andros again. “It’s okay. We get horny this time of the month. It doesn’t happen to you?”
Andros shook his head, then nodded, then changed his mind. “I’m sorry, you’re real good-looking and all that, but—”
Nick threw back his dark head and howled with laughter, but cut it off abruptly and shook his head. “I’m not hitting on you.” Several people nearby glanced at them and grinned. Andros felt like any kind of fool but studiously kept his gaze at face level. He had no intention of discovering he was the only male on top of this building without an erection. But as he thought that, he felt his cock twitch. Oh fuck. Nick, seemingly without Andros’ inhibitions, glanced down. “Yep, you too. It’s the imperative to procreate. At least, that’s what someone told me a long time ago. We’re animals, guy. Anyone will tell you that.”
He lost the smile completely and his eyes turned grave. “I bet you’ve seen some good stuff, working where you do.”
At Andros’ frown, he explained. “Hate mail. Or rather, hate email. STORM is open now too, and the letters keep coming.”
“I hardly see them. I built a filter to channel them to a folder, then I archive them without looking.” Why let that kind of grief into his life? “Want a copy?” Something he could do.
“Hey, sure, I’d love that.”
Andros felt better, useful. That was why he’d turned to computing. His body might be weak, but his brain worked just fine. Always had.
Someone nudged Nick. “Your turn.”
So many people packed this roof on the three days a month of compulsion that they had to stand in line.
Nick nodded at him and turned around. He stepped forward and calmly dropped off the building, joining others doing exactly the same thing. To the uninformed eye, it might look like some kind of weird mass suicide, naked bodies dropping off the side of a tall building. Some of them whooped as they fell.
Then, with a flap of powerful wings, the transformed shape-shifter appeared, swooping in the sky in a spectacular display of aerobatics. Dragons mostly, but griffins and other creatures amassed there too, wings sweeping up to catch the currents, creating an even stronger breeze up here. All kinds of flying beasts appeared, some rarely seen even by other Talents. He thought he spotted a basilisk, but the dull gray being disappeared around the edge of another building almost as soon as he saw it.
With a deadly shriek and a thrust of powerful wings, the roc soared up above the roof. His razor-sharp beak and huge talons were a testament to his lethal form, the huge bird that was everything an eagle should be but bigger, better. He blinked once, his lid sliding over the dark eye and then, with an agile twist, he turned and flew off in the direction of Central Park.
His turn.
Unlike the more experienced Talents here, and that meant most of them, Andros didn’t enjoy the thrill of hurling himself off a building and changing his form mid-flight, however much his colleagues told him about the exhilaration of transforming with air rushing around their arms, finding an air current and riding it. Swooping their wings down and rising higher. It sounded like less of a thrill right now, and more like dancing with death. He’d never enjoyed roller coasters much, either. Unlike his sister Ania, who’d shrieked her way around every theme park California had to offer. But now he could do something Ania couldn’t. He could fly.
Still scared that he’d lose the knack and plummet out of the sky, Andros decided to shape-shift and take to the air on top of this building before he ventured farther. It had taken some time before he was able to rise up higher than ten feet or so, but at least he could do that now. And bank, and dip. He wished his friend Jack Hargreaves had stayed here instead of moving to England, because Jack was a new shape-shifter too. They’d learned their new skills together, laughing at each other’s clumsiness. It didn’t matter between them because they were both new. Except Jack, as a jaguar-god shape-shifter, couldn’t fly. But he’d laughed plenty, as had Andros when Jack had tripped over his paws and lost coordination.
The human population on the rooftop had thinned some and Andros shivered as a fresh breeze drifted over his skin, putting goose bumps on his goose bumps. He concentrated, lifted his head and stared at the rising moon. The breeze sifted through his hair, tickling his scalp. All he had to do was let it happen.
Then he felt it. A prickling sensation as scales slid over his skin. He still had no idea how it happened, but inside, his body relaxed as it obeyed the monthly compulsion. His boss, Ann Reynolds, had told him once that it was Nature’s way of forcing shape-shifters to acknowledge their true being. Maybe so, otherwise some might prefer to remain in human form, their base form.
Though, despite his fears, Andros couldn’t imagine choosing not to fly. Overcoming his fear acted like a high, and every time he did it, his apprehension lessened. Once in the air, he found flying a thrill like no other. The nearest he could get to describing it would be a sustained orgasm, not the high, fast kind, but the long-drawn-out, flowing ones. And thank fuck he’d had a few more of those recently than he’d managed before his conversion, even though he’d had to go solo. The extra boost to his libido at this time of the month helped too.
There was also a lot to be said for basic good health.
The tarred, blackened surface of the roof receded as his size increased. He used to shape-shift with his eyes closed but it wasn’t cool, so now he forced himself to watch. He just didn’t turn his head very much until he’d completed the shape-shift, otherwise the process made him nauseous. The feeling of moving without moving, the way sitting in a train and watching the next train move made him feel as though he were moving himself. Weird. These days the whole world had turned weird. The elastic of his ID ankle bracelet stretched to take the increased size of his leg. That ID would get him back on to STORM’s roof. Otherwise, on his return, a bunch of heavily armed security staff would arrive before he’d shape-shifted back.
He’d learned to accept the sensation of cracking, reshaping bones and muscle by now, but if he could shape-shift faster, he’d hardly notice it at all. Or so his colleagues told him. At first they’d stayed back, nannying him, but Andros had done with that. After a lifetime of coddling, he tended to get impatient with people who asked him if he was okay. A shame a kid with a debilitating condition like muscular dystrophy hated being cared for, but there it was. His surly responses to the twentieth “Are you feeling okay today?” had gotten him a bad rep, probably with reason, but sometimes that had proved too much on top of the constant pain. And his resentment against the world, that he should be burdened with this illness when he’d done nothing to deserve it.
Not that he had it anymore. The first few shape-shifts had taken care of the disease. Jesus, if he could market that as a cure, he’d make a fortune.
He shuddered, but this time not with cold. His dragon form didn’t feel the cold the way his human form did. He swung out his wing, enjoying the sensation of the breeze rippling across his leathery skin, ruffling the scales. Exhilarating power surged through him, but that was nothing to what he felt when he swept his wings down—which was possible now with few people left on the roof—and felt his body respond, rising with an effortless strength that defeated his remaining forebodings.
One downsweep of his wings brought him into contact with the air currents and he left STORM behind, surging through the air. Like swimming but better, without the resistance of water. After a few powerful thrusts, he allowed himself to drift lazily in the direction of Central Park.
It was almost tradition now for the winged Talents to head there. After all, Alessandro Gianetti had done the first daylight unfuzzed flight there.
Soaring up, he effortlessly avoided the other dragons and flying creatures, enjoying their company but not feeling the need to communicate. Heaven. This part of shape-shifting had filled Andros with joy when he’d first discovered it. Countless dreams of flying just didn’t compare with the reality.
Only when he glanced down did he realize how high he’d climbed. Above the tall buildings, even overtopping the Empire State Building, which dominated the midtown skyline. Creatures danced and soared around its spire, chasing each other or just demonstrating their skills.
Flickers of bright light from below indicated the inevitable flashes of cameras. Tourists and locals gathered in Central Park and on top of the tall buildings, as well as the street. Some of the building owners held special late openings on the nights of the full moon each month to take advantage of the newest attraction. Sparks of light twinkled over the green swathe of the park below, broken only by the calm blue-gray of the reservoir and lake. Andros could appreciate the true beauty of the park as he never had before.
On his descent, he encountered a blue dragon, one whose scales gleamed in the waning light. He banked to avoid it but it swooped and swerved, following him, and a tingle in his mind told him she wanted to communicate. Oh yes, she. He sensed the feminine essence of her, had scented her as he passed but hadn’t wanted to intrude on anyone’s enjoyment tonight.
Seemed she wanted to enjoy it with him. So he slowed and powered his wings, driving himself up until he floated above her, then swooped behind her to tease her with an extra surge of air to throw her slightly off course. Andros had rarely played before. Life had seemed too short for him to waste time doing anything like that. He’d taken a laptop when he’d accompanied his sister to theme parks, used the time to work on a current project, but now—now he had all the time in the world to play. Hundreds of years to learn how to do something just for the exhilaration that coursed through his veins.
He heard her laughter in his mind. Dragons rarely used their vocal chords—a bellow, a roar, an odd clicking sound and a kind of purr were more or less the extent of their verbal skills. But their telepathy reflected all the verbal dexterity they had in their human forms. Her amusement tickled his senses, gave him a flush of arousal to add to his already heightened state.
She swept past him, brushing his wing with hers. A sweet touch that sent shivers through him. He liked this game. He responded, twisting his flexible body around to come back at her, rushing toward her, only to soar over her head and sweep up, hovering. But dragons couldn’t hover long so he flew past her and turned.

Shifting Heat from Ellora's Cave - out August 17th, 2011

Andros takes a stand

ISBN: 9781419934254

http://www.jasminejade.com/p-9517-shifting-heat.aspx

July 201

2011-08-04T12:35:00.000+01:00

Newsletter, July, 2011

News

I’m suffering from conference envy. I love attending conferences, but sadly, the pressure of work meant I couldn’t attend the RWA Nationals, a conference I’ve never been to and keep meaning to attend, and also the upcoming RNA conference in Caerleon. Just bad timing on my part.

But it’s been an interesting month for all that. I added Kindle and Barnes and Noble buy buttons to my website, and on 40 books that’s quite a bit of work, so I hope you’ll check them out.

I got a provisional acceptance for the final Richard and Rose book from Samhain, although I had to do a rewrite. It is really difficult rounding out a series satisfactorily, and giving a conclusion for the characters. They do come to the end of the beginning, and it is a romance, and that’s all I’m going to say for the time being!

I’m currently writing Freddy’s story, which I’ve tentatively titled “Freddy meets his match.” I’m really enjoying showing Richard and Rose from someone else’s perspective, namely Freddy’s right now, although the heroine will get to meet them pretty soon, too. Sometimes I don’t know what’s going to happen until I write it. I might write “Richard and Rose meet – ahem” in the plan, but I don’t know how they’ll actually get on until I get to that scene and write it. As a result, the plan could change.

I’ve just finished writing a new Department 57 story, and Loose-Id have offered me a contract on it. That will be Rhodri, the Welsh vampire, and his heroine is Welsh as well. I live quite close to the Welsh border, so we visit the places described in the book quite a lot. But New York also figures, and Chicago, both of which I’ve visited, too. I’m a very fortunate person in that respect. I never used to travel much because I used to get crippling travel sickness, but that passed, and now I’m an avid solo traveller. While I adore meeting up with people in the places I visit, the solo part is wonderful, too.

And if that wasn’t enough, Ellora’s Cave offered me a contract on two books. “Strangers No More” is a hot little contemporary about a woman who has plastic surgery and worries that it might affect her relationship with her lover. “Shifting Heat” is a new STORM book about Andros, the man who was suffering from muscular dystrophy and is now a shape-shifting dragon. He’s the brother of Ania, the heroine of Red Shadow. I wanted to explore how a man would feel going through such a seismic change. Could his new, strong body really be his? Did it change how he thought about himself? I love exploring these dilemmas, which is why I write in the genres I do.

So from having no contracts a few months ago, now I have four.

Amazing, this world.

I’m thinking of filling the gap between releases by self-publishing a book that was out briefly with Triskelion. I have no plans to go into self-publishing as a major part of my career, but this book, “Wicked Intentions” has already been professionally edited, and it came out just before Triskelion decided not to publish any more historical romances, so it has potential. If I put it out with Kindle, and, say, Smashwords, or another site that does epub, that would at least give people the chance to get hold of a copy. And it might help keep my name out there, something I worry about constantly, as most authors tend to do these days.

After I’ve written Freddy’s story, I have a few options. I could write the next romantic suspense, which I hope Carina will like, or I could write the new STORM book. Or even another Skin Deep book. What do you think?

Excerpt

How about an excerpt from one of my personal favourites, “Tantalizing Secrets”? it’s one of my favourites, because I love Peter, the hero of the book, and it’s set in a beautiful manor house that I got to know well when I was growing up. There’s a whole page on my website which explains the settings for the book.

Arabella Mason is too busy investigating her brother-in-law’s “accidental” death to entertain thoughts of love. She’ll go to any lengths to ease her sister’s grief, even accept the help of the distressingly attractive Viscount Bredon, Peter Worsley. Instead of answers, the trail of clues only leads to more questions. Who was her brother-in-law, really…and why does Peter, who poses as her brother in public, make mincemeat of her resistance in private?

A successful politician and confirmed bachelor, Peter has bedded the loveliest women in society. He never imagined he’d wind up in a Leicester backwater, helping a pretty widow investigate his brother’s untimely death. As his suspicions of foul play grow stronger, the danger rises—and so does his desire for Arabella. One kiss, and she snatches away all his resolve, leaving him wondering which he wants more…

To find his brother’s killer? Or keep Arabella safe—and make her his?

Excerpt

“I missed you.”
Arabella wasn’t sure who said that. She sat up, went to him. His arms went around her, where she wanted them. His mouth descended to her and softened against her lips in a gentle kiss.
Peter groaned, low in his throat. Arabella pressed closer and pushed her arms around him, under his coat. He finished the kiss and drew back so he could study her face. “Arabella you’ve been in my mind all the time, whether I wanted you to be or not. I want you very much. I can’t sleep in the same bed as you—in the same room, even, without wanting you. I’m sorry. That must be the last thing you want tonight.”
He made to draw back but she wouldn’t let him. “If it were anyone but you. Peter, I know there’s no future for us, but this once, just this once, stay with me. Make me forget Nathaniel, give me something good to remember.”
“Are you sure?” There was something else in his eyes that Arabella couldn’t interpret. Warmth perhaps.
“Yes, I’m sure. Love me, Peter.”
He swooped down to claim her with his mouth and she responded with all the ardor surging through her body. At first tentative, when she curled a hand around his neck he pushed his tongue into her and she welcomed him and touched it with her own.
He kissed her with leisurely thoroughness and she lay back, immersing herself in the sensation. He drew back and studied her, his hands cupping her face, desire and care warming his gaze.
After a blissful interval, she lifted her hands and began to undo his waistcoat. He helped, shrugging off his coat and starting at the top of the waistcoat so their fingers met half way. He took her hand in his and placed it on his chest. Arabella felt his warmth under the fine linen of his shirt and heard his groan when she smoothed her hand over him. “Arabella, I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re vulnerable.” His voice was huskier than usual.
“This has nothing to do with Nathaniel. It’s all about us. You asked me before you went away if I would consider this and I have. I want you too much to say no.” Respectability be damned. She knew this kind of opportunity wouldn’t come her way twice.
“Arabella!” He kissed her again, and she felt his need in the way his hands roamed over her back, caressing her and pressing her to him. His mouth explored hers urgently, warmth from his tongue and lips penetrating her desire.
He broke away from her. “Just a moment.” He picked up his coat and slipped off his waistcoat, moving to a chair and throwing the garments across it. He looked at her, a long, lingering exploration of her contours, and smiled shakily. “We’re getting close to the point of no return. Remember, I said I’d tell you.”
“I thought we’d reached it already.” Arabella felt warm and wanted, her despair dissipated by his desire for her.
“Not quite.” He undid the fastenings on his cuffs and at the neck, dragging the shirt over his head. When he saw Arabella looking avidly, he turned to face her. “Disappointed?”
She examined the hard muscles that rippled under his skin when he moved, the lean athleticism he displayed for her. She shook her head. He laughed lightly and bent to the buckles at his knee. He sat on the chair to remove his boots, the spurs jingling. He took them off by the simple expedient of treading on the heels and pulling his legs out of the boots.
“Your valet wouldn’t like that.”
“My valet isn’t here.” He gave her a wicked grin. “Thank God. He wouldn’t approve of any of this.”
“Your valet is a Puritan?”
“Not far from one. He wouldn’t stay with me if I didn’t pay him well and bring him the prestige he craves. He’d hate it here, where I’m nobody.”
“You’re not nobody. You’re Peter.”
He gave a soft laugh. He tugged off his stockings and undid the flap of his breeches. Holding them up, he glanced at her. “Last chance.”
She shook her head. He let the breeches fall, and dragged his underwear down to follow. When he stood up he let her look her fill, unashamed of his body and his rampant arousal. Her attention went to his face, and he chuckled. “A lady.” He crossed the room to her. “My lady.”
Arabella wasn’t afraid, but she was apprehensive. He sat on the edge of the bed and she sat up. He watched while she undid the ties at her neck and rid herself of her ruined nightgown.
Something else entered his gaze; Arabella recognized it as hunger, although she’d never seen it before in these circumstances. Her apprehension broke, replaced by a new tension. She wanted him badly now, and not for comfort. Her thighs dampened with her essence—she was ready for him.
Arabella daren’t move and break the spell. He might move away, or think better of it, and she couldn’t bear it. Rejection from Peter would hurt her terribly, but from the look on his face, she doubted very much that he would.
She was right. He was the first to move, reaching forward to grip her shoulder and pull her close, none too gently. His mouth met hers and he lifted his feet to join her in the bed. “Now,” he said against her mouth. “Now it’s too late.”

Tantalizing Secrets
A murder… A lord’s desire…and her quiet, respectable life is gone forever.
ISBN: 978-1-60504-394-4
From Samhain Publishing
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/tantalizing-secrets

Newsletter, May 2011

2011-05-30T16:44:00.000+01:00

News

Back from my travels! I went to RT Booklover’s Convention in LA, and so I took the opportunity to go to San Francisco beforehand, with a friend, Cait Miller. We had a great time, and saw a lot of things, and I could cut a few more things on my Things To Do list. I have always, always wanted to walk down Haight, and stand on Haight/Ashbury, and I did it. I knew it would be tourist-ridden (including me!) and I knew it wouldn’t be magical, but I didn’t expect to be offered a “special brownie”! Not that I accepted, but it was nice to be asked! So many iconic places from my youth and it was such a thrill to see them. Yes, I turned into Typical Tourist, but I didn’t care. I enjoyed it thoroughly. We also went to Alcatraz on a night cruise. The view of San Francisco is breathtaking, but the place itself is the stuff of nightmares. The atmosphere catches you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Deeply disturbing, but I’m so glad I went. I learned a lot there, and it might yet come out in a book.

LA was interesting, too. I stayed in a great hotel (remind me never to stay less than three star in future!) in a dicey area of Hollywood, but I’d chosen the hotel because it was across the road from a metro station, so it was fine. And a great price, too. I went on a tour of Warner Brothers, which was really good, and visited some of the museums and art galleries, including the Getty. The decorative arts collection is first class. The paintings not so much, one or two good ones, and a lot of secondary works by major artists, or primary works by secondary artists. But as I understand it, JP Getty was more interested in the decorative arts. It shows.

The bus tours in both cities were great. Highly recommended. I’d say when you visit a place like LA, go and see the things it’s known for best. The studio tours, the Kodak Theatre, all that stuff. Because that was unparalleled and highly enjoyable.

Then it was on to the Westin Bonaventure, and the Convention. One of the best yet, of the ones I’ve been to. Kathryn and Kenneth know how to throw a party, with the help of the wonderful Jo Carol and her teams. All of them helped to make the convention great. The bar at the hotel was wonderful, perfectly situated to wander around and talk, and join friends.

I loved the ATF demonstration with the two dogs, the sniffer and attack dogs, and for this Brit, seeing the weapons that the ATF had taken off the street was jaw-dropping. They let us handle them, and I had my picture taken by Andrew Peterson (get his book, it’s a goodie) with one of the biggest guns.

We had a great Cougar Growl in Club RT, and my panel, while sparsely attended, did very well. It was a bit nerve-racking, captaining my first panel, but it went reasonably smoothly.

A lot of RT happens off campus for me these days. I had dinner with some of my publishers, and caught up with the others at special events. And yes, I went to a BDSM club! One of our number, Allie Standifer, had asked them, and we went, just for the research, you understand. I made the mistake of putting my hair in a high pony tail, because I thought it was kind of appropriate with the black skirt and top I was wearing. Well, erm, it seemed that pony tails were worn by the Doms in this place. I am not a Dom, at least I don’t think I am. There was a two man one woman ménage going on in the chair next to me, and a woman gave a wonderful flogging display (she didn’t leave a mark, just a pink glow) and then took her pony tail out, took her top clothes off and turned into a switch.

Oh yes, you can bet it was eye-opening!

We also went to the Viper Room to see the band Run, Devil, Run. A good rock band. There were seven or eight booths, that was all, and it was like every club you’ve ever been to. I guess there’s a VIP room, or the equivalent, and the door opened straight on to the street for anyone who wanted a smoke. But you never know, Jonny Depp, who was in town that week promoting “Pirates” and I might even have shared the same seat! Well, a girl can dream!

And for news – I have sold a book to Ellora’s Cave, the next STORM book, which features the dragon shapeshifter Andros, the brother of Ania from “Red Inferno.” I’ve also sold a story to Total E-bound, for an anthology. I don’t usually write shorter than novella, but this story worked for me, and I had a lot of fun writing it. And I have sold to a new publisher! Carina have accepted “Learning to Trust,” a romantic suspense I just had to write, after getting the idea late last year. I am thrilled to be working with Angela James again.

The book that was giving me a lot of trouble, the final Richard and Rose, is in the hands of my editor at Samhain, and I’m waiting to hear if she likes it. It was so hard to write, because I was saying goodbye, at least for now, and because I wanted to write a book that would satisfy. But I got it done, amongst tears and laughter.

So you might say I’ve been busy! Right now I’m finishing a story I want to submit to Ellora’s Cave, a new book in a new series that I can’t tell you about right now because it’s not been announced. But I am very excited by it, and I’ve really enjoyed writing it.

As always, if you want to know anything, if you review for a site and want review copies, or if you just want to chat, do get in touch. I love to hear from you!

Excerpt
How about something from my other March release, the rewrite of “Griffin’s Treasure”? This is the book that won the EPPIE for Paranormal Romance in 2004, but I’ve heavily rewritten it for its re-release, and to make sense of the order in which it now appears.

This extract isn’t suitable for the under 18’s.

International soccer star Josh Friedland has a secret. He's a griffin shapeshifter, and a covert operative for Department 57. Josh's brother Laurie is missing, and Josh is sure businessman George Skeffington is involved. So he definitely can't trust Skeffington's stepdaughter, Chana Rafiz, even though he wants her with every fiber of his being.
When her controlling stepfather asks Chana to look after his guest, she suspects another trick to keep her by his side; only she finds that Josh is the man she's been waiting for all her life. Long, hot Californian nights see their bodies twined in more inventive positions than Chana even knew existed, but when she finally discovers his secret, she uncovers another. One about herself that'd been kept from her her whole life.
Together, Josh and Chana have to face dangers only Department 57 can help them with, but they plunge the whole Department into peril. If the Department is to endure, and Laurie is to be found, Josh and Chana must defeat the longest odds to succeed in their mission.

By the time the last stragglers left, it was nearly three a.m., and exhaustion filled Chana. Knowing she had to get up in the morning to attend to Josh’s requirements, she staggered upstairs to get to bed as quickly as possible. Only when she stood outside the door to her bedroom did she realize her stepfather hadn’t even thanked her for her efforts. She remained by the door, her forehead resting on the wall, gathering her thoughts before she went inside, because she knew as soon as she took off her clothes, she’d be asleep.

A sound just behind her made her start, fully awake. “Tired?”

“Oh, I didn’t hear you.” Heart beating wildly, she turned to confront Josh.

He stood very close to her, so he didn’t have to move to take her in his arms, except to curve them around her and urge her to lean against him instead of the wall.

“You’re done in. Come on, I’ll help you.”

He’d changed out of his tuxedo and wore a soft robe of silk that came down to his knees. As far as she knew he wore nothing else.

She heard the catch on her door click as he opened it, and then he guided her inside.

“I’ll just help you into bed. Then I’ll go. I won’t hit on you. Enough people have tried to do that tonight.” His voice turned grim. “I hope your stepfather’s paying you well for this. I wouldn’t let you do this, if you were mine. Come on.”

Her gown unzipped at the back, and the halter parted around her neck. Too tired to protest, she felt the gown slide down her body. When she began to pull away, he hushed her with soft words and led her to the bathroom.

She hadn’t known what he intended until she heard the shower, the hard sound of water on tile. With a sinking heart, she realized her evening hadn’t ended. She felt too tired to enjoy any sexual encounter she might share with Josh. Yes, she found him attractive. Yes, she would probably have ended up in bed with him sooner or later, but not tonight.

He lifted her with gentle hands, and his voice came just as gently. “No, not tonight. I’ll help you get ready for bed. That’s all. You’re too knackered to do it for yourself. How do you take your makeup off?”

With an effort, she lifted her head and stared at him, his golden eyes clear and wakeful, watching her calmly. “Cream in the cupboard over there.”

He chuckled. “Get in the shower. I’ll bring the cleanser.”

She did as he told her, stripping off her thong and stockings before she got in and gloried in the warm spray cleaning her body. He’d taken off the needle setting she usually used and set the temperature to pleasantly warm. He’d aimed everything at relaxing her. She felt cared for, the notion alien to her.

When he drew back the screen and got in, she didn’t protest; she only wished she could stay awake enough to appreciate the toned body drawing her close. His arousal jutted against her stomach. “Ignore it,” he told her. “I want you—of course I do—but that’s not what this is about. Not now.”

He reached for the cream and tilted her face up, stepping back so his body was out of the hot stream of water. She hadn’t realized the simple action of spreading cleanser on her face could feel so enjoyable, but his gentle touch made it more than that. Despite her exhaustion, her lower body stirred, came awake, although he did nothing other than clean the makeup off her face. He reached for a handful of tissues he’d placed on the broad shelf at the end of the shower and wiped her face gently, paying special attention to her eyes, which she’d loaded with cover-up and mascara to hide her tiredness.

“Keep them closed,” he murmured and steered her under the shower again, tipping her head up to receive the gentle, warm spray.

“You do that better than I do,” she confessed. “Sometimes I just wash it all off with soap.”

“Hmmm.”

She shook her head and opened her eyes to see him pick up a bottle of shampoo.

“Turn around.” He pulled her against his chest, where she rested gratefully while he pulled out all her hairpins, tossing them on the shelf. When they’d all gone, he ran his fingers through her hair, loosening its heavy weight and letting the water soak through. “You apply makeup very well. Too well.”

“What does that mean?”

“It wasn’t until I took it off I saw the shadows under your eyes.” He rubbed shampoo through her hair.

“How much do you charge for showering women? I could employ you every day.”

He chuckled. “I might be too expensive for you.”

“You’d be surprised. My expense account is very large.”

“Who’s talking money?”

He pulled her back when she jerked away in shock, realizing just how relaxed she felt with him. How could she allow him to take her off guard like this? She’d opened to him again, let his mind soothe hers, persuade her to take part in this outrageous scene.

“Don’t worry,” he said as if he could read her. Of course he could. She’d just let him. “We’ll talk about it another time. For now, just accept that it is. That we can communicate mentally. Your barrier is strong, so I can’t read your inmost thoughts, just your outer layer. Okay?”

She nodded, relishing the sensation of his fingertips gently massaging the shampoo through her hair. He guided her head under the showerhead to rinse, then drew her close to him again, her back to his front. His cock pushed against her, and she flinched before relaxing back against him. “You’d be puzzled if it didn’t happen, wouldn’t you?”

Yes, she would. They were naked and relatively fit, so yes, a natural reaction when she thought about it in that way. “I’m too old for you. You shouldn’t want me.”

A rumble began low in his chest and erupted in a gale of laughter, but he wouldn’t let her go, holding her around her waist, close to him. “You have no idea,” he managed weakly. “No idea at all.”

He wouldn’t explain but instead reached for the body shampoo. It smelled of one of her favorite scents—vanilla—sweet but not too feminine for him to use. He disdained the sponge and washcloth, using his hands to smooth the shampoo over both of them, turning her to face him. Kneeling down, he soaped her legs, her calves, her thighs, then her pubis. That he sent thrills through her when he touched her sensitized skin was hardly his fault. He couldn’t have failed to notice.

“Relax,” he said. “I’d have to be a monster to take you now. Your tiredness is beating at my mind. You’ll be in bed soon, I promise.” He separated her labia, guided her so the water rinsed her, and just grazed her clit when he released her. A sharp jolt of arousal went through her, enervating her, but he didn’t take advantage. He could, so easily.

He rinsed her thoroughly but slowly, doing nothing to break the sense of warmth and well-being suffusing her mind and body. He leaned over her to turn off the water.

“Just relax. I’ll do everything. Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

She did as he asked her, feeling the warmth of a soft towel draped around her shoulders. He toweled her hair, then rubbed her body, all his movements cherishing, gently caring rather than arousing. “You’re in complete control of your body, aren’t you?”

His rich chuckle answered her. “Almost. I have to be, in my game.” He lifted the towel away from her hair and then lifted her into his arms. His lips, pressing softly against hers in a featherlight kiss, hushed her small squeak of protest. She relaxed as he took her through to the bedroom and laid her against the cover, pulling it back before lifting her to lie on the crisp ivory sheets. Before he could cover her, she gripped his wrist and opened her eyes.

He gazed at her. Only the bedside light remained on, and softened by the golden shade, his skin gleamed invitingly. “Don’t go yet,” she murmured. “Please stay for a while. Get into bed with me.”

She didn’t want to be alone. She spent every night alone. A long time had passed since she’d shared the dark hours with anyone else. Tonight she wanted company, and she no longer cared if he wanted sex in return. She’d welcome it. His toned, gorgeous body made her mouth water, he liked her, and this would be the first time she’d had a younger man in her bed.

He met her gaze honestly, and she felt him stirring in her mind, removing his presence. She didn’t want that.

“I can’t,” he whispered, so close his breath heated her skin. “I’m at the end of my endurance.” His mouth flattened in a wry grin. “I have to go, or you’ll get no sleep.”

“I can stay awake a little while longer.”

“You need to sleep.”

“Please, just get in.”

He straightened and glanced around the room. “If I get into bed with you, I’ll make love to you. Fuck you. Are you sure you want that?”

Newsletter, March 2011

2011-05-30T16:37:00.000+01:00

News

New month - two new releases and a new look for my website!

The website trend seems to be toward simpler looks, with more emphasis on content, rather than fancy flash effects. Gradients and textures are replacing more elaborate layouts and effects. I quite like it, so I set to simplifying my website a little. I enjoy sprucing it up, it gives me a break from writing. Pop over and see if you like it - I'd appreciate your comments!

I've also been busy getting ready for Romantic Times. I'm having a break in San Francisco and in Los Angeles before the convention itself, a mixture of research and fun. I do want to write some books based in that part of the country, but I'm a strong believer in visiting a place to get a real sense of the atmosphere there. So I'm really looking forward to my trip there.

To writing - I have two new books coming out next month, but apart from that, nothing else planned! I do have several books with editors for consideration, but I've taken a slightly new approach recently, and I wanted to try some new ventures. I have no idea if these will meet with any success, but if I didn't go where the muse led me, I'd get stale and tired. I feel that very strongly.

I'm still writing Richard and Rose. I want this last book in the series to knock your socks off, so I've been very careful with the way I'm writing it, and what the characters do. It is hard going, but I think it will be worth it, in the end. It does mean that releases this year might not be as prolific as previous years, and while it's a risk, I think it's one worth taking.

I've been asked to take part in two projects, and I hope to get them off the ground soon. It's far too early to talk about them, but I can't resist - not to you people, anyway!

So far the agent search has resulted in a few promising leads, but nothing certain. I want to take care and choose the right person for me, and present them with the right project, so I've taken two of my unpublished books and worked hard on them. I don't know if they'll ever see the light, but I'm excited about them, and I'd love to see them get there one day.
One is in a new genre, supposed to be potentially hot. The other's a contemporary. I don't know why, but I caught the contemporary bug recently. I think it's the conflicts between the characters that engage me to start with, and the desire to write about a problem or a "what if...?" that intrigues me.

This month check out my interview with Evie Balos and don't forget to catch me over at The Good, The Bad and The Unread - I have some special features coming up!

Excerpts

Two releases this month, two excerpts!

The first is the penultimate Richard and Rose book, "Maiden Lane." Maiden Lane was, and still is, a narrow street at the back of Covent Garden with an extremely diverse history. In Richard and Rose's time it was mainly shops and clubs, with a few tall houses, semi-respectable, like most of London in that period. It's on the other side of the Square to Drury Lane, and the decidedly non respectable rookery of St Giles. Something vital happens there, and when Richard and Rose's main enemies decide to join forces, it comes to a head in Maiden Lane.

Life is cheap. So is death.
Richard and Rose, Book 7
With Rose expecting again, it should be a joyous time for her and Richard. Yet old enemies and new come out of the woodwork, seemingly intent on using whatever means possible to destroy their happiness. Not only is the legitimacy of their marriage called into question, a young man steps forward claiming to be a by-blow of Richard's dark, wild past.
Closer to defeat than he has ever been, Richard musters all his friends and allies to defend against this attack on his own ground. However, no amount of incandescent lovemaking and tender care seems to keep Rose out of harm's way.
Then a mutilated body turns up on their doorstep-and all fingers point at Richard. Rose has no choice but to emerge from his near-smothering concern to do what she must to save the love of her life. Even if she must appear to work against him.
As she lays her heart on the line, Richard fights to keep the violence that marks his past from claiming her life. For if he loses Rose, with her will go his humanity.
Warning: Rose gets her mad on, and Richard gets turned on. Contains married love, married sex and married fooling about. And pink coats with lace ruffles. And swords. And wicked goings-on.

Richard didn't allow me to worry for long. I did my best to prevent him knowing how much the appearance of his son concerned me, how deeply I prayed it wouldn't disturb our tranquillity at this time, but of course he knew.
He took me up to my bedroom and gave me into the hands of my maid, who efficiently removed the elaborate gown, stomacher, petticoats and panniers, washed the powder out of my hair and found my favourite wrapper, one Richard had bought me to replace the one he gave me in Venice on our honeymoon. That garment, sadly worn now, was neatly folded away in my clothespress. I'd never get rid of it.
I removed the necklace and bracelet and laid it in its box to join the earrings I had removed earlier. They twinkled back at me and I smiled. Small stars of diamonds surrounded deep blue sapphires in this latest parure, one I'd chosen myself. Richard presented me with much of my jewellery, especially after I'd confessed a fondness for it, but this had appealed to me from the moment I saw it in the jeweller's shop. I fancied I'd struck a good bargain for the pieces, which as every woman knows, added to their lustre.
I hadn't realised I was waiting for his step until I heard it. The door that linked our bedchambers was never closed. Any disputes we had, we tried to settle at night, after an adage Martha had instilled in me. "Never close your eyes on an unresolved argument." I found it good advice. Not that Richard and I were at odds tonight. We rarely were, but because we were humans and not heavenly beings, we had the occasional dispute. I loved him through them all, but I didn't let that prevent me from stating my views, even though they might displease him. No disputes tonight, but a new concern that might threaten our peace. Already I knew that Richard would try to protect me, especially in my present condition, but I wouldn't let him coddle me.
Now he came up behind me and took the brush from Nichols, dismissing her with a smile. "I'll see to your mistress now."
He drew the brush through my hair, smiling when I purred and leaned back. He'd done this more times than I could count, and I loved it still. I'd always enjoyed having my hair brushed, but Richard brought an extra sensuality to the act that I'd never known before I met him. I barely heard the quiet click as Nichols closed the door behind her.
"You have beautiful hair," he said.
"Will you still say that when it's grey?" My dark brown locks had already sported a grey hair or two, but I'd yanked them out. One day there would be too many to pull.
"You know I will." That rhythmic, gentle stroking soothed my soul, reached deep inside me and brought me peace. I relaxed, the only sounds the swish and crackle of the brushing and the rasp of silk brocade as Richard moved his arm.
I opened my eyes to see him smiling at me in the mirror, and a thrill went through me. Sometimes I received a shock when I saw my handsome husband, so relaxed and intimate. His formality gone with his wig, his golden hair gleaming, his fathomless eyes ultramarine in the flickering candlelight. I had a candle in each of the sconces either side of the mirror, and a branch of three on the nightstand. That was all. I rose, snuffed the two by the mirror and crossed the room to the bed, using the little step to climb up. I stripped off my robe and tossed it at the foot, pulling the covers over me. He watched me, and only when I'd settled did he stroll over to me.
He sat down and took my hand, his new green robe falling casually open over the ivory coverlet. "John's sorry reappearance hasn't disturbed you too much?" His clear blue gaze fixed on me, none of the haughtiness from earlier left, only concern.
"I'm fine," I repeated. "Truly."
He smiled then. "I know I worry too much." The smile faded. "But perhaps I have cause this time."
"It was a shock to see the man, but I half-guessed we'd see him again one day." I knew he wouldn't stay away forever. His hatred of Richard had become too ingrained for him to leave it alone.
"Understandable." He regarded me gravely, his gaze far too perceptive for my liking.
He took his robe off, getting up briefly to fling it across a chair. Unlike me, he wore nothing under his robe. I admired his lean, hard body as he came back to me, loving the way his muscles flexed, the way the candlelight caressed his skin. I drew the covers back so he could get in and lifted my arms so he could draw my night rail off over my head. It upset Nichols, my maid, if I didn't even use the pretence of one. Sometimes I thought that I was a slave to my maid.
When I saw him watching me with an avidity I couldn't misinterpret, shyness swept over me, a foolish thing because we spent every night together, more often than not naked. He knew everything about my body, perhaps more than I did. I smiled and lay down beside him, pulling up the covers to hide my breasts, which were noticeably fuller these days. He took me into his arms and I snuggled up.
"I shall miss this," I said.
"Why should you need to miss it?"
"When my belly grows too large for us to do this."
He moved his arm across my back, holding me closer. "There are other ways." He sat up and reached out to snuff the three remaining candles. They hissed, then gave up. He came back to me, only moonlight to guide us now. "Sweetheart?" I heard an edge of anxiety that hadn't been there before.
"Yes, my love?"
"Do you think I've given you twins this time? You seem to be larger than you were with Helen at this stage."
The thought of our little daughter made me smile. "Maybe. Your family seems to produce them with great regularity." His mother had constantly reminded him of the damage to her health when she'd birthed twins. "But there's no reason to suppose I'll have the same difficulties as your mother. I'm larger than her, taller, and this isn't my first birthing. I couldn't be better looked after. Or we may have the dates wrong, and I'm further along than we thought."
I wanted to distract him. In fact, I considered it possible that I had conceived twins this time. Richard was a twin; my mother had been a twin, something Richard was unaware of, so I thought it might come. My accoucheur and my midwife, Mr. Simpson and Mrs. Rooke, also had their suspicions. But there was no way of finding out for sure, so I decided to try to allay Richard's suspicions as much as I could. He would only worry, and it would do no good.
Richard's hands swept over my back and I sighed in pleasure.
"Backache?" His movements grew more purposeful, and he smoothed warmth over my skin, moving down to the small of my back where it tended to ache the most.
"Oh that feels so good."
Slipping his hands from me, he urged me to turn over to face away from him, and he began to rub and knead. He had a facility for this, the soothing away of pain by touch. The knot of incipient pain eased. Such bliss! In place of the pain grew warmth and a longing for him to touch other parts, bring them more than ease.
"Better?"
"Oh yes, thank you."
He stopped rubbing and curled behind me instead, curving his body around mine in a deliciously protective gesture. His skin touched mine from my upper back to my heels, where his feet cradled mine. He cupped one of my breasts and his shaft hardened against my bottom.
I pushed back into his heat. "You want?"
"No," he said firmly. "Well, at least, yes, but not tonight. You're tired, and you ache. What kind of beast do you take me for? Go to sleep, sweetheart, you need your rest."
Every day I loved him more.

MAIDEN LANE
Life is cheap - so is death
http://store.samhainpublishing.com/maiden-lane-p-6277.html
ISBN: 978-1-60928-384-1

Griffin's Treasure is a Dept 57 book. It's a rewrite from an earlier book, the one that won the EPPIE for Paranormal Romance, but it's been heavily rewritten. It's always interesting, revisiting a book previously written, and it was fascinating to see how much my style has changed.

International soccer star Josh Friedland has a secret. He's a griffin shapeshifter, and a covert operative for Department 57. Josh's brother Laurie is missing, and Josh is sure businessman George Skeffington is involved.
So he can't trust Skeffington's stepdaughter, Chana Rafiz, even though he wants her with every cell in his body.
When her controlling stepfather asks Chana to look after his guest, she suspects another trick to keep her by his side. Only to find that Josh is the man she's been waiting for all her life.
Long, hot Californian nights see their bodies twined in more inventive positions than Chana knew existed, but when she finally discovers his secret, she uncovers one of her own. One she doesn't even know about herself.
Together, Josh and Chana have to face dangers only Department 57 can help them with, only to plunge the whole Department into peril. If Cristos and the Department are to endure, Josh and Chana must succeed in their mission.

Josh thought his room over-luxurious, so much so that it verged on the tasteless. And it could have been a luxury hotel room anywhere. He saw no specific character there, none of the individual touches that made a room special. An undraped four-poster bed in the Spanish-style of heavy, dark wood vied with a large sofa by the window. An elaborate crimson carpet adorned the floor, one Josh's feet would sink into once bare. The whole house reminded him of a perfect showplace. He didn't want to leave a mark anywhere. At least, part of him thought that. The other part wanted to run amok and ruffle everything, disturb everything, make some kind of a mark on the polished perfection.
Much as he felt about the woman by his side. She moved across him to show him the bathroom, releasing a touch of scent, a smidgeon of woman under the designer perfume. Allowing himself to feel it, knowing he would never become involved with a woman as refined, perfect, and most likely spoiled as this one, he laid his hand on her shoulder when he leaned over her to look at the bathroom.
A great bath with lots of gold knobs and taps sat in a bed of red porphyry, and a large shower stall occupied one corner of the ivory tiled room. "A bath made for sharing," he murmured, and she started.
"Possibly," she said in a small, sharp voice. "But you'll have to find someone else to share it with."
A devil took him by the tail. When she would have backed off, he moved to stand behind her, catching her as she stumbled, off-balance. "Why can't it be you?" She felt delicious, firm but female, filling his arms beautifully.
She shot him a look filled with negativity. He could almost feel the ice exuding from her. "Because we've only just met. Because I'm not sure I like you. And besides, I'm five years older than you."
He chuckled. "Five years? What difference does that make? Are you sure you're not just making excuses?" He entered the persona of the identity he had labeled the Footballer. "Disliking somebody can make sex even better sometimes. Wildcat sex, you know. You can rip me up a treat, if you like. I won't tell who did it, unless you want me to."
Now the look was definitely hatred. "I respect myself more than that."
He took the wind out of her sails by saying, "I don't. As long as it feels good, I'll do it." He loved her dark eyes widening, her slim brows rising. Laying his hands flat on her waist, Josh slid them up toward her armpits. He loved the way a woman's body curved; the gentle lines lured him in. But when he bent to kiss the side of her neck, she jerked, forcing him to take a step backward to stop from falling to the floor.

Griffin's Treasure - a Dept 57 book
ISBN: 978-1-60737-967-6
From Loose-ID Publishing
http://www.loose-id.com/Dept-57-Griffins-Treasure.aspx

Newsletter February, 2011

2011-05-30T16:33:00.000+01:00

News

I wanted to be so far on with the last Richard and Rose book, and I just couldn't do it. I think it's because they go through so much in this book. But mostly it's because I don't want to say goodbye to them. I've said that this book is the end, the very end, but I've even relented on that. This book is the end of the current cycle. It brings to a close the first phase of their married life, and says goodbye to a lot of characters.
I've learned so much while writing this series, but other things remain a mystery. Such as why this series in particular has proved so popular. And why it had to be written in the first person. I'm not a first person writer, never have been, but this series had to be written in that way. I tried rewriting it in the third person, and it - died. Just died. So I didn't fight it any more and I let Rose tell her story.
I've had a number of emails asking me to write Freddy's story, and I think I might have discovered his heroine. They came to me, as characters often do, while I was doing something else. She's what I wanted for Freddy - someone who will make him think a bit more seriously, someone who will give him something to fight for, but not a meek or timid woman. That wouldn't suit him at all!

On the contemporary front, I've got together with a few authors at Ellora's Cave, and we're considering getting a new series together. I can't tell you what it's about, that's top secret, but it's very exciting and everyone is stoked about this one.
For paranormals, I have a new STORM story in with my editor, one I loved writing. It's the story of Andros, the newly converted dragon shape-shifter who used to have muscular dystrophy. It should be a dream come true, to find yourself cured of a life-threatening disease, but Andros is finding it hard to adjust. Then a mysterious woman seduces him, and when he wakes up, he finds something important missing.

But I have to concentrate on Richard and Rose!

Excerpt

This month, A Betting Chance comes out in print. I still love this book! Richard, Lord Strang and Freddy, Lord Thwaite, make appearances in this book. Like a guest star cameo!

Sapphira Vardon needs five thousand pounds to avoid a cruel marriage and a grim future, and there’s only one path for her. Don a mask and an assumed name, and risk everything to win at the gaming tables. First, though, she has to get through the door. Luckily she knows just whose name to drop.

Corin, Lord Elston, is curious to find out who used his name to gain entrance to Mother Brown’s whorehouse and gaming hell. The enigmatic woman who calls herself Lydia isn’t the sort of female usually found here. Behind her mask and heavy makeup, she’s obviously a respectable woman—who plays a devilish hand of cards.

Sapphira is desperate to keep her identity a secret, but Lord Elston’s devastating kisses and touches demand complete surrender. And once he learns the truth, there’s more at stake than guineas. Corin finds himself falling hard for a woman who’s poised to run. A woman who’s about to learn that he only plays to win…

“I wish you’d trust me with your secret. I might be able to help,” Lord Elston said.
“I don’t know you.” Not in any recognized meaning of the word. The connection Sapphira felt to him had to be her imagination. He couldn’t feel it, not this wild needing.
“I think we should get to know each other better. I want you to trust me.” He touched her chin, his forefinger stroking her skin. She wanted to purr like a cat, but instead she moved back. Before she could retreat out of his reach he tilted her chin up so she had to meet his direct gaze. His eyes bored into her soul. “There’s something about you—I don’t know.” He bit his lip. It was the first time she’d seen any vulnerability about him and she found it meltingly seductive.
She couldn’t risk weakening. She put her guard back up and kept it firmly in place, reminding herself that he was a stranger, that she didn’t know him. “I told you, I can’t do that. I’m here to play cards, no more.”
“I love a challenge,” he murmured, and lowered his head.
The first touch of his lips against hers paralyzed her. Recognition—of what she still didn’t know—shot between them and she opened her mouth to protest, but he used it to his advantage and licked her lips before he slid his tongue into her mouth.
Now shock held her rigid. Nobody had ever kissed her like this. She hadn’t imagined it possible. She’d seen the caricatures in the shops with their sometimes explicit content, watched a man fondling a whore, seen mercenary transactions take place in the street—she’d thought herself reasonably au fait with sexual matters, for a virgin.
She’d been wrong. She knew that watching and experiencing were two different things but had never known it could be so devastatingly different. The intimacy floored her, and she could do nothing other than reach out for something to steady herself.
The memory of that other kiss—that disgusting, slobbering kiss George Barber had forced on her—returned in full measure. This didn’t compare, couldn’t. She wanted to press closer to Elston, not jerk away, put as much distance between them as she could. Nothing like that. If anything had told her that she couldn’t go ahead with marriage to George Barber, this did.
Corin cupped the back of her head as her hand made contact with his velvet-clad arm. She clutched it, praying for control as he took his time exploring her mouth, caressing her with soft strokes that made her heat up right down to the forbidden area between her thighs. He held her safe, didn’t move his hands or try to unfasten her clothing. One arm curved around her waist, the other over her wig. She wanted his hands under it, in her hair, cupping her head intimately. One of the strings of her mask loosened.
She jerked back, her hand going to her only protection against discovery. “No, don’t!” Her voice was breathless, whispery, but at least it still worked. As did her common sense.
“I want to see you.” He sounded as out of breath as she did.
“No, you can’t.” She reached up and retied the one string he’d managed to undo. Luckily the other one still held firm. He’d dislodged her wig, and she pulled it back into place, but he must have seen that she was a brunette.
“Why not? Will I know you?”
Having regained her composure, enough to confront him anyway, she shook her head. “It’s highly doubtful. But you might see me somewhere else.”
“And you’ve lost that accent. I knew you’d assumed it, but there’s still a tinge left. Are you a Londoner?”
Born and bred. “I’ve visited London a lot,” she said, hoping desperately to put him off the scent. She had to get out of here before he guessed more. Before he had her out of her clothes and spread out on the bed for his pleasure. How could she have been so stupid?
But she had to pass him to get to the door, and he caught her skirts. “A challenge, sweet Lucia. Just between us.”
“Why?”
“Because of the danger. Because you want a bit of excitement in your life.” If only he knew she’d have more excitement than she’d ever wanted soon. But she appreciated that he didn’t threaten her. He could have her barred from this house with very little trouble, but he hadn’t done it.
She turned around, willing at least to listen, but keeping some distance between them, as much as this small room would allow. He sat there in his splendid clothes looking every inch a prince. A wicked prince. He released his clutch on her skirt, and she resisted the urge to put her hand where his had just been, to touch the residual warmth. “Well?”
“Let me get to know you better. You intrigue me. Can you meet me, talk to me, with your mask and maquillage off? Can you look me in the face without your protection?”
“No.” She couldn’t do it. With no mask or makeup he’d see every expression on her face, and he’d know she was his for the taking, however hard she fought against it.
He leaned back, smiling. “A challenge, then. A bet, just between us, with no money at stake. If I recognize you and challenge you in public without your disguise, you promise to meet me at a place of my choice.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “I want you, sweet Lucia. I want to see your face while I’m making love to you.”
Before she could repress it an image flashed into her mind. Him, naked, admiring her naked body, kissing it, touching it. Oh she wanted it so much, but she couldn’t. Mustn’t. She held back her shock. Barely. “And what’s in it for me?”
His rich laugh filled the small space with joy. “I hope to give you pleasure as I’m taking it.”
She pulled out of his grasp, put her hand on the door latch. “I can’t.” Then she was gone, hurrying toward her servant, Frankie, as fast as she could without colliding with anyone or losing her foothold.

A Betting Chance
In this game of hearts, winner takes all!
ISBN: 978-1-60504-973-1
From Samhain Publishing
http://store.samhainpublishing.com/betting-chance-p-6225.html

Happy January!

2011-01-03T16:06:00.000Z

News
First things first - happy new year! I hope 2011 brings you a lot of happiness and good fortune!

News - well, you'd think that the Christmas season would be a bit quieter for everyone, but this year, not so much. Editors try to clear their desks before the holidays, so that's when the hapless writer gets the final edits, requests for blurbs and so on. I wish I could write good blurbs, and I can only feel grateful to the professionals, who take my efforts and make them much more professional!

And I have a new release! Sunshine on Chrome, the book I wrote after I stayed in Chicago earlier this year, came out on December 29th. I fell in love with the hero right along with the heroine. Verrill isn't just a hunka hunka burning man, he's a caring person, too. So I felt a bit jealous of Lacey while I was writing it! I've included an excerpt as this month's extract, and I do hope you enjoy it. It's part of the Cougar Challenge series, which has brought nothing but pleasure to me. Working with the other ladies on the series has been sheer delight. Having someone to discuss ideas with, and having great writers give me advice is something I'd really like to repeat. It's been the most successful multi-author series I've ever worked on, and I think it's because of the quality of the writers involved.

The first part of the year, for me, will be all about Richard and Rose. "Maiden Lane" comes out in March, and I think there are a few surprises in there that will, I hope, please a few readers. The first book I want to write in this new year, is the last Richard and Rose book in the series, at least, the last in this cycle. It will bring to a conclusion the fates of several people in the series, but I'm hoping that one day I'll write another cycle. These characters are so alive to me that it's been a privilege to share their lives. That probably sounds daft to you, but it does sometimes seem as if they are living their lives and allowing me to have little peeps inside it.

After that, I want to write Freddy's story. Finally, I "got" his heroine. Most often, I "get" scenes, as if I'm seeing something happening elsewhere. This time I saw Freddy, sitting in a beautiful room, talking to a woman with dark hair, sitting in the shadows as if she wanted to hide. Then she turned her head, and I saw a thin white scar down one side of her face. That was it, but I knew I'd found Freddy's heroine. Freddy is frivolous, privileged and he needs to stretch himself to reach his full potential. He's going to have his work cut out with this lady, who isn't shy, or embarrassed, but pragmatic and sensible. So she has to learn how to laugh and be silly. It's work in progress.

I'm currently revising a new project. I thought I'd try to write a Harlequin/Mills and Boon. I've tried before, but never made it. Another attempt earlier this year ended when the firebombers and mafia arrived. I've sent that book elsewhere, and I hope they like it. But it wouldn't do for the Modern/Presents line! So I tried again. I outlined some of my reasons on The Good, The Bad and The Unread blog, but basically it's because it's really difficult to write one of those, and if I can do it, remove all the frills then just write from the heart. It's been a very interesting exercise, and I think if everyone writing romance at least had a try at one of these, they might learn a lot. I certainly did. I'll send it to the line, but they get thousands of submissions every year, so I don't know how it will do. If they don't want it, I'll revise it with another publisher in mind. But I'd love to write for that line!

Sometimes you have to forget about writing as a career, and just go with the muse, and see if you can do something different, something new.

I've received a March date for another book, the heavily rewritten "Griffin's Treasure." When this book first came out, it won the Eppie for paranormal romance. I was so sure it wouldn't win that I didn't check the lists the next day, and it was the congratulatory email from my editor that told me I'd actually won! I don't enter many contests, partly because it only makes one person happy and a lot of other people not so happy, but also because I think that nobody can read everything that comes out, so "best of" is a strange concept. You can't know it's best, unless you've read everything, and who can do that?
Anyway, I digress. Not unusual, for me. "Griffin's Treasure" has received a heavy rewrite, to make it more erotic, and better fitted to Loose-Id's lines. But I have a wonderful editor there, and she can see right to the heart of the story and see which bits absolutely have to remain. It's a fascinating insight, to go back to earlier work and rewrite it.

I'm also planning to write another Department 57 book, Rhodri's story, and I have just "got" a scene from a STORM character. The next STORM book, Andros's story (Ania's brother, the man who had muscular dystrophy before he was converted). Andros has to learn to accept his new, non-disabled form, which, for someone who has had to make allowances for his condition all his life, isn't always easy. He takes great joy in his new form, but sometimes he forgets, and when he's forced back into disability on a STORM operation, he has to remember it all over again, face it, and learn to move on. The waiting period is the worst, the one where there is nothing you can do, when the decision goes out of your hands and into someone else's.

While 2010 didn't see me move on to larger publishers, as I'd hoped, I can't say that I'm heartbroken. I'd love a contract with one of the large New York publishers, who wouldn't, but it no longer seems so essential any more. At one time, publication by the "better" epublishers was seen as a stepping stone to other things, but now, with the vast increase of digital reading, and the boost in sales, it no longer seems so essential. I'd still love the experience, though and I'm still querying. But that part of it takes time - a lot of time, both waiting and composing queries, so it just has to wait.

So I'll keep writing what I love, and see what turns up. Thanks for sticking with me, and thanks for buying the books. Without you, I wouldn't have a career!

Excerpt
Sunshine on Chrome - a Cougar Challenge book

After working with sexy consultant Verill Harper for three months, Lacey Rezanov can hardly keep her hands off him. And it seems that Verill feels the same way. As soon as his contract with her company ends, he has her in a clinch she has no desire to end.

Encouraged by the sassy women of the Tempt the Cougar blog, Lacey has the fling of her life with a younger man. They only have a month before Verill is due to set off on a once-in-a-lifetime around-the-world bike ride. Can they cram all that passion into a few weeks? No.

Verill wants Lacey more than any other woman he’s ever met, but she won’t agree to come with him. This isn’t just a pleasure trip and he can’t cancel. The heat is turned way up when Lacey poses with Verill and his mechanic Dene at a photo shoot to promo the tour. Even that can’t persuade Lacey to change her mind. Can anything?

Excerpt:

Signing off, or signing in?

Verill grabbed his stuff and made his escape, almost colliding with Lacey, who was leaving the ladies’ restroom. Lacey gave him a cool smile. “I’m ready to sign off on our contract. Do you want to follow me?”

Anywhere, sweetheart.

As he followed her down the carpeted hallway, the gentle swish of her hosiery made his cock stir. Her pencil skirt outlined the curves of her bottom and thighs, not blatantly, but the subtle hints were, in a way, worse.

She opened the door to her office before he could open it for her. It clicked quietly behind them. “You’ve done a great job.”

He detected a quaver in her voice, too slight for most people to notice. But he wasn’t most people.

“I might have difficulty getting everybody on board, but with the launch of the new face cream we’ll need the extra guidance. Not to mention the online ventures.” She grimaced. “Did I say that some of the board members think that’s going down-market?”

He stuffed his hands in his pockets in a desperate attempt to hide his erection. “Yes, you did, and some of them mentioned it to me. I tried to assure them that it’s the image of the product plus the pricing that matters. The client needs to think she’s buying something exclusive. It doesn’t matter what socioeconomic class she’s from.”

“‘A touch of luxury.’ We’ve had that slogan since the beginning, did you know?”

He did. “I did my research. Ever since your great-grandmother came over from Russia and decided to bring some Russian exoticism to America.” Like her sleek mahogany hair, her slightly slanted eyes and that rich, full mouth, enhanced with a slick of lip gloss. Lip gloss he wanted to lick off. Her light, floral perfume urged him to move forward and fill his lungs. He didn’t know what kind she wore and he didn’t care. Guess he didn’t have to worry that he was turning metrosexual.

She laughed. “Something like that. I didn’t know her, but I knew my grandmother and everyone said they were the same. My mother wasn’t very different, but it was a different world then. Times change. So do Rezanovs.”

When he took a step toward her, she retreated behind her desk. She obscured the glorious view of North Lake Shore Drive and the harbor beyond, but he didn’t care one bit. He could see a similar view any time he wanted from his condo. But he couldn’t see Lacey, much though he’d like to.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’ve had your fee wired to your account. That’s the final amount.”

“So that means we’re quits.” He wanted to make sure she understood they weren’t business colleagues anymore. Because he wanted more than that. “I don’t work for you now.”

“I guess so.” She glanced up at him almost shyly.

He loved it, as though she were a kid about to have her first adult kiss. It made her look—not younger, but freer, somehow.

He rounded the desk. Her skirt twitched, as if she thought about retreating then decided against it. Good. “I’ll get my staff to handle everything else, if you have any queries in the future. I shouldn’t need to return unless things go badly wrong, and then you’ll have to re-contract me.” Chances are he wouldn’t be available, anyway. “Clear?”

She swallowed but met his gaze. “Clear.”

He took a moment to stare into those gorgeous blue eyes, the darker flecks enhancing the trepidation he read there. But she held her ground. Fuck, she’d be a wildcat in bed. Hopefully he’d find out. He lowered his head, giving her plenty of time to duck away, but she didn’t. With a surge of triumph, he saw her lift her chin.

A breath of hot air whispered across his skin when he touched her lips gently with his. To Verill, it felt like surrender. Her hands came up to clutch his upper arms, her touch like a challenge for him to take this further and discover her response. He lost his mind.

Gripping her waist, he deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue over her lips. Her mouth open under his. He swept inside, not giving her a chance to withdraw, taking possession. His cock strained his pants and he drew her closer, pushed against her stomach in mindless need. God, she smelled good, like a whole field of wildflowers underlaid with spice. Expensive perfume, he’d learned recently, reacted to the wearer’s skin, the chemicals blending and creating something unique. He’d never smell lavender again without thinking of her. Remembering this.

She tightened her hands on his arms and he withdrew, gasping for breath. “Do you know I’ve wanted to do this since I first set eyes on you? I even considered throwing the job and just going for you.”

She huffed a laugh, sounding as shaky as he felt. “I didn’t know. You’re so damned professional.”

“Fuck, if you knew!” He’d kept rigid control of his desire for her. But watching her and wanting her over the last three months had driven him crazy. The first month, he and his team had done research. Shadowed the staff, gone out in the field, conducted questionnaires. He’d known then that he couldn’t work with her around, and although he’d planned to shadow her, he couldn’t do it.

Now he had her. He bent his head and they shared another long, luscious kiss. Drawing her closer, he spread his hands over her back, tracing the indent of her spine. He had to kiss all the way down it. Now. He stroked, felt her responsive shiver, and knew he had her permission.

He nibbled her neck just behind her ear and carried on when her muscles tightened, pausing at the base of her throat when she gasped and stretched her neck to give him better access. Paused to nibble and lick, to tease the sweet hollow he found there.

She loosened her grip on his arms, rubbed her hands up and down, around his neck and into his hair, ruffling it. Her fingers massaged his scalp with a sensuality that made him moan.

Her blouse buttoned at the front. One, two, three and he’d undone enough to see her bra, a smooth expanse of satin, lightly padded. When he slid his fingers inside, he touched her nipple, puckered and hard, ready for him. He wanted to see it, to taste it. He gave a soft “umph” of approval and pleasure. “Did you think ahead, sweet Lacey? Put on something padded because you knew you’d react to me? Get hard like this?” He tweaked again, loving it when she gasped.

“Something like that.” Her breathless voice urged him to explore more. He pushed down the soft bra cup and lowered his head to take her nipple into his mouth. Like a pretty rosebud, deep pink and crinkled.

Sensation exploded over his tongue. The way the peak hardened even more, the tip pushing into his tongue, insisting on attention. He gave it willingly, sucked hard, taking her soft flesh, wanting more. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close but allowing her to arch back enough to thrust her breast up. Nothing would stop him now. Nothing. He stroked down her body to the sweet indent of her waist, the curve of her ass, and swept back up to find the zipper of her skirt.

She was the first to register the meaning of the quiet click, jerking up in his arms. Since it was followed by an explosive, “Mom! What the hell are you doing?”

Sunshine on Chrome from Ellora's Cave
Can Lacey walk away from it all with sexy biker Verill?
Order Page: http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-8958-50-sunshine-on-chrome.aspx
ISBN: 9781419931413

Newsletter, December, 2010

2010-12-07T16:03:00.002Z

I write surrounded by the blue bags that contain our Christmas tree. I used to have a real one, but then we got children and a cat, and they really don't mix very well, so now we get the artificial kind. It looks fine. And while, when the children were young, we had lots of glitter and tinsel, now we tend toward the more tasteful. I don't miss the tinsel and the bits of glitter that my vacuum cleaner used to pick up well until April.
Thank you for helping me to have such a good year! Looking back, I had fewer releases, but great sales, so something nice must be happening! Like most writers I've met, I have that amazed feeling of "when did this turn into a career"? but I'm really glad it has.
I moved further into the contemporary this year, with the release of "Texas Heat" and "Unbroken." I really enjoyed it, and I'll probably do some more. Which is probably my cue to tell you that I'm currently doing the edits on "Sunshine On Chrome," the next Cougar book. I've been floored by the number of "Seychelles Sunset" downloaded (the Naughty Nooner that is the epilogue to "Beauty of Sunset") so I have great hopes for "Sunshine On Chrome." The hero is a company owner who secretly yearns to go around the world on his motorbike. And who can blame him? I have a cover for the book now, and I thought you might like to take a peek. I love it!
On the historical front, I'm shortly to begin edits on "Maiden Lane," the latest Richard and Rose book, and the penultimate one before I give the series a rest. I might start with a new cycle, set a couple of years later, but it's been an amazing journey and it's not finished yet. I plan to write Freddy's story, for instance, but I haven't yet found the lady for him, although a few have shown up. After the fiasco with Corin, where I originally paired him with the wrong woman, I'm going to write a few chapters of Freddy with one or two women, and see which one really sparks.
And I have a cover for "Maiden Lane" now as well, and it's gorgeous!
"Griffin's Treasure," the latest Dept 57 book, will be out at Loose-Id in April.
The recent controversy on writers who review was interesting. Since I review for two big sites (ERWA and The Good, The Bad and The Unread) it was of great interest to me. I was relieved to find that most people like them. I do it because I'm a reader, a passionate one, and when a book works for me I really appreciate the chance to tell people so. But I don't think that a series of "this is great" reviews would give readers a reference as to what I like and what I don't like. I get the occasional galley to review, and when I do, I feel as if I owe a review. Sadly, they don't always work for me, although I do try to choose them carefully. Maybe if I were cold-bloodedly planning a career, I wouldn't do it, but I tend to take things as they come.
Currently I'm in the process of planning my trip to the States next year. I love my trip and I've discovered the joys of solo travel. It really is marvellous - you can do exactly what you want to do, and if I can arrange to meet up with people while I'm there, so much the better. I'm having a week in San Francisco before I move to Los Angeles for Romantic Times, so if anyone is around, that's where I'll be! Booking for the visit is probably the hardest part, but once that's done, I can look forward to the visit.
This year we are led to believe that the ebook really took off. That means that the big publishers are finally taking it seriously, although they are still offering a small amount to their writers in compensation, and sadly, most are accepting it. But when there are hundreds of writers waiting to fill the spots of published writers, the publishers tend to use that, and the writer's basic insecurity.
I decided to just carry on enjoying it. I don't know how long it will last, or what tomorrow brings, but I still love writing and doing it for a career.

Excerpt

Since I don't have a new release this month, and the last two excerpts were contemporaries, I thought you might like an excerpt from Eyton, which is newly out in print. If you see it in a bookstore, let me know, because I don't see them until I go to the States!

When Richard and Rose visit his family estate in Derbyshire to celebrate the christening of their firstborn, Rose comes face to face with some hard realities about the powerful Kerre family. The vast majority of them are far from delighted with Richard’s choice of wife. Plus, they think a man who shares his bed with his wife every night must have something wrong with him.
Rose is driven half mad by Richard’s overly careful love for her. Somewhere underneath that smooth, sophisticated surface lies the passionate, intense lover she longs for—and she takes steps to seduce that savage lover back into her bed.
Their joyous occasion is marred by the theft of a valuable necklace. Richard’s family looks to him to solve the crime—but something isn’t adding up. Evidence pointing to two trusted servants seems too convenient…and then they’re murdered.
From the tangle of jealousies, secrets and desperate lies, Richard and Rose once again dance on the edge of danger to achieve justice—without dragging the family name into public scandal.

I made to leave the room, but turned back on an afterthought. “You’d better use my safe for that thing.” Although I trusted Carier, I didn’t like to think the necklace might go missing again.

I nodded to the two men with their captive. I was glad to see he was quiet now. I went down the same stairs I had gone up, but went in the opposite direction to which I had come once I reached my part of the house again. I hoped to avoid the awkward questions of my mother-in-law and Lady Kerre.

I headed downstairs towards a quiet room where I could get some peace for a while so I could think. I was passing through the great hall, past the painting of an ancestor from the previous century, a Cavalier. The man had been a follower of the King and had died abroad in penury, like so many of his kind, but his portrait from kinder times was set here. Like all the Strangs, he was fair-haired, and his eyes seemed to be of the same porcelain blue that I saw every morning. Around him was gathered his vast family, all of them in the ravishing silks of the time, the foundation of a dynasty which sometimes seemed to me to encompass the whole of society. Several people, including the housekeeper, stared up at the work. Part of the housekeeper’s privileges included any tips from tours of the public rooms of the house, and while I was surprised to see this while the family was in residence, it wasn’t my house, and I concentrated on getting past them before they turned around.

Too late to attempt stealth, my unguarded footsteps made them look around from their contemplation of the picture. The housekeeper swept me a curtsey and following her example, so did the visitors. I was forced to pause in my flight. I acknowledged the curtseys with a gracious bow, and I stepped forward to greet them before I made my escape.

It was then I realised I knew them. The Sturmans.

I was at a loss as to what could have brought them here but I gave them a pleasant smile. “Why, Mrs. Sturman, how pleasant to see you. How are you all?”

There were three of them, the mother, father and their only daughter who had been and probably still was a friend of Miss Terry. Eustacia Terry had terrorised me in my younger days. She had laughed at my shyness and lack of style, and gathered the younger set about her. Miss Sturman had for a few seasons been her particular favourite, but she was by no means as vicious as her mentor. I still felt strangely nervous before them. I hoped it didn’t show.

“Very well, your ladyship.” Mrs. Sturman waited politely for me to say something else. I was trapped.

I asked them if they would like some refreshment, to which they naturally replied they would love some, so I glanced at the housekeeper who nodded to a footman standing next to the door to one of the rooms. He went away to arrange the refreshment.

“We’ll be in the Green Drawing Room, Mrs. Gravelines,” I told her. The lady bowed and left, and I took the guests to the room I had chosen to use. We climbed the great staircase. “Mrs. Sturman, what are you doing here, so far from home?”

“We have been to visit my sister in Scarborough, and we could not miss the opportunity to call on you on our way home.” Mrs. Sturman’s attitude was as critical as if she were still my social superior back in Exeter. She glanced at my simple gown, and for once I had nothing to blush for; it might be simple but it was in the latest taste and finely made.

While we walked she looked about her, but I had to confess I knew very little at what we were looking at. “I know the major points of the rooms, of course, but we don’t spend much time here. We’re here to celebrate the birth of our first child.”

Mrs. Sturman’s face unbent into a smile, and I remembered she had always been particularly fond of babies. “I’m glad to see you so well."

Eyton
Scandal, murder and passion - an ordinary day for Richard and Rose
http://mybookstoreandmore.com/shop/product.da/eyton
ISBN: 978-1-60504-691-4

2010-10-03T23:58:00.002+01:00

Newsletter, October, 2010

News

I've worn my computer in by finishing a story. It's a story I just had to write when I started thinking about the heroine and her dilemma. She's an ex addict. Three years ago she went into rehab and came out clean, and she's been rebuilding her life ever since, but her past catches up with her. I loved writing it, but this month and next, it's back to the dragons and vampires!

I'm planning the story of Andros Zelinski, who some of you might know from the STORM series. He had a wasting disease, but that was cured when he was converted to a shape-shifting dragon, but I'm fascinated to find out what scars are left when that happens, and how you cope. I've been looking at real life cases of people who've had a debilitating illness or condition, and what happens after they recover. It's not all a bed of roses. Sometimes they have to relearn skills they haven't used since childhood and they have to grow accustomed to a whole new way of life. How much would that affect a man who thought he'd die early and slowly lose his faculties, only to find himself stronger and longer-lived than any man on earth?

"Maiden Lane" was accepted at Samhain. That's the next Richard and Rose book, so I'm really pleased about that. It should be out in early Spring next year. Now I have to write the last one.

I'm thinking about Freddy's story. I know a few things about the happy-go-lucky Freddy that have never emerged in the stories, so I might use those aspects to develop his story. I also want to do Antonia's story, from Alluring Secrets, but I doubt that Freddy and Antonia will make a match of it.

As always, if you want to know anything, if you review for a site and want review copies, or if you just want to chat, do get in touch. I love to hear from you!

Excerpt

This month, "Texas Heat" is released at Loose-Id. I am incredibly excited about it, as it's my first full-length contemporary romance, and one that has been on my computer for some time. It's a story I've worked and reworked, one of the personal projects many writers have. But I thought it was time that more people met Annie and Vin, and luckily, LI liked it enough to accept it for publication.
Here's part of the first chapter. I do hope you like it.

Description:
Colliding with a gorgeous man in London’s National Gallery leads Annie to sharing days of steamy passion with him, closeted in her hotel room. Even when she discovers that Vin owns the company buying hers, she can’t get him out of her mind -- or her bed. Poor Vin is going blind. Can she deny him his last sight of a woman’s naked body?
Vin’s worries are piling up -- the company he’s buying has financial problems verging on the criminal, and he’s going blind after an operation that went wrong. There’s a slim chance he could see again, as slim as the prospect of having Annie, after he discovers that it’s her company with the problems. But he can’t stop wanting her. Can’t stop taking her to bed and claiming her as his own.
She denies criminal activity and he wants to believe, but all the evidence is against her. His instincts tell him Annie is innocent, so he takes a new complication in her life as a chance to keep her close -- and safe from the danger that threatens her.
But Annie won’t let him take control of her life. She wants to prove her innocence, even at the expense of the man who took everything she had to give, and came back for more.

Chapter One

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Startled by the masculine voice so close to her ear, Annie let out a startled shriek and jumped back, colliding with the hard body just behind her. Her voice echoed around the hallowed space of London’s National Gallery, shattering the peace. Embarrassment heated her skin to the boiling point.
She and the man behind her tumbled into a heap of flailing humanity. From tranquility to chaos in the space of a few seconds.
Just like her life.
She pushed her hair back from her face and looked up. A curator sitting next to the entrance to the next gallery watched her warily but didn’t get up from his seat. People stared, some smirked, and Annie bit her lip, feeling every inch the clumsy idiot.
The curator glared at her, exasperation hooding his pale blue, rheumy gaze. Annie attempted a conciliatory smile, trying to share the joke of her clumsiness. The man remained unimpressed, and his mouth didn’t move at all. People walked on, murmuring to one other, reminding her forcibly of a T.S. Eliot poem.
But she hadn’t tripped over J. Alfred Prufrock, she realized when she turned her attention to the big body that had cushioned her fall.
Heat and masculine warmth surrounded her when he steadied her, both arms around her as he helped her to sit up. Horror struck her first and then confusion.
She stared into the blank lenses of the darkest sunglasses she’d ever seen. “I -- Oh I’m so sorry!” She had never wished so fervently for the world to swallow her up.
“Think nothing of it.” His voice slipped over her senses like hot syrup, a rich American accent adding to the unexpectedly visceral response that mingled with her embarrassment. When she shivered, his arms tightened a fraction before she shifted to get to her feet.
Could it get any worse? She’d just tripped over a visually impaired hottie, one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen in her life. His sharply defined cheekbones and strong jaw added structure to the full lips, currently quirked in a smile of amusement. Definitely something she didn’t feel at the moment. Well, at least she hadn’t sworn as she went down. She couldn’t have; the fall had knocked the breath out of her.
What the fuck was a blind man doing in an art gallery?
When she tried to scramble to her feet, her heels slipped on the polished wooden floor, and she fell on him. Again.
He crowed with laughter, but she just wanted to cry. If falling on a blind man weren’t bad enough, having the hots for him made her feel worse. Much, much worse. He shifted his body under hers. It was beautifully toned, if the way his muscles flexed against her offered any indication. For a bare instant, his crotch came into contact with her hip as he sat up again, and she froze. That hard ridge was unmistakable. He got turned on by having women fall over him? She didn’t want to know that.
No longer caring how she looked, Annie scrambled to her feet, hoping to get out of this place before she could do anything else. She didn’t know if she could ever come here again. But as she stared at him, sitting with his hands on the floor, ready to push to his feet, she knew she couldn’t just walk off and leave this blind man to find his own way. This sexy, gorgeous blind man.
This time she made sure she planted her feet well apart before she held out both hands for him to take. He took one, but he put no pressure on it, getting to his feet in one smooth motion.
People started to walk around again and stare at the art, the low conversations punctuated by the occasion chuckle. The small drama was over for them.
But not for her. Annie found herself close to the stranger, close enough to feel his warm breath on her cheek and smell his sharp aftershave. He had short dark hair, nearly but not quite black, which topped a frame that must have been over six feet. That smile still quirked his mouth. Blind, gorgeous, and probably bruised as well.
“I’m so sorry!” Her voice sounded girlish and flirty instead of the sensible adult tones she’d aimed for.
To think she’d come here for an hour or two to try to regain some serenity. Well, that hadn’t worked. Take me please, God. One little heart attack. It doesn’t have to be much.
That smile should be banned. It didn’t seem decent in a respectable place like this. “It doesn’t matter. I took you by surprise; that’s all. It’s as much my fault as it is yours.” The smooth Southern accent melted what was left of her composure. Dark and sinful, it invited her to sink into the honeyed tones and let him do whatever he wanted to her.
“Hey.” He lifted his hand to her cheek and pushed a lock of hair off her face, tracing a tingling path to her ear with one finger. “Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”
“No, I mean, yes. I mean --” She swallowed, realizing one thing at least. “So you’re not --”
He grinned. “Blind? No.” He glanced at the painting that had so absorbed them both before she’d knocked him over. “I can still see that Bacchus is about to sweep Ariadne off her feet and carry her off to a happy ever after. I always wanted to see what happened next, but from the look on his face, I can take a pretty good guess.” His deepened voice told her he knew only too well, and brought heated visions to her mind, ones she could do without right now.
“It’s my favorite painting here.” She gave him a wry glance. “Or rather, it was.”
“Great, isn’t it?” He still held her hand and showed no sign of wanting to return it. Instead, he turned it over and smoothed his thumb over the back, along her third finger, sending chills right to the heart of her sexuality. “No wedding ring. It could be my lucky day.”
She couldn’t believe what he was saying. “After what I just did to you?”
He drew her aside as a couple walked past them. “Definitely. Calm down. I’m fine, and so are you. We just gave a few people some entertainment they weren’t expecting; that’s all.” She couldn’t see anything behind his sunglasses, but she felt his gaze on her, and her body tingled under his regard. A frown creased the space between his brows. “You’re shaken up. Would you like a coffee? This place has a good cafeteria, I’m told.”
What harm could there be in having a coffee with a stranger in a place as busy as the National Gallery Espresso Bar? And she didn’t want to lose contact with him. Not just yet. “Thank you. Yes, I’d like that.” She shot him a sly glance. “Though I don’t usually come here to pick up men.”
His chuckle rumbled low in his chest, and he tugged her hand, urging her toward the stairs.

Texas Heat from Loose-Id
When she's the last woman you'll ever see...
Order Page: http://www.loose-id.com/Texas-Heat.aspx
ISBN: 978-1-60737-863-1

Emotion In Motion

2010-09-09T13:16:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow, STORM enters a new phase...

2010-08-20T22:05:00.003+01:00

Newsletter, August, 2010

News

Although I know some of you will be fresh from the RWA conference, we in the UK have a big conference that month, too. Ours is the RNA Conference. This year is the 50th anniversary of the Romantic Novelists' Association, so we had it at the Old Naval College in Greenwich. In case you are unaware, this is the building designed by Inigo Jones in the early 1600's and the first pure Classical structure in England that survives today.
Frankly, it's an awesome sight. Huge, much bigger than it looks in the pictures. The weather was lovely and sometimes, crossing the quad to listen to another lecture, we could hear the music coming from the music college across the way. It was very tempting to get a bottle of champagne, a punnet of fresh strawberries and just lie on the grass by the Thames, enjoying the day.
Our bit of the college for the weekend was just across from the Chapel and the Painted Hall, so most of us took the chance to go and see them. We had a gala dinner on the Friday evening, a gorgeous sight of beautiful shoes and wonderful company. My friend Mandy (Amanda Grange) and I ended up on a table full of Harlequin Presents writers. Our banquet started demure enough, but it didn't finish that way! I met some wonderful women, and my special greetings to Sarah Morgan, who writes for Mills and Boon Modern, that end up as Harlequin Presents.
I also got the chance to visit the Thames River Police museum, site of the oldest police force in the country, dating from the 1790's. For those of you who have read my historical romances, you'll know that there was no such thing before then. Parish constables were something else entirely, and if your house was burgled, you had to prosecute the perpetrator yourself. If you could find him.
The custodian of the museum was Joss, a man with a chequered career, including bodyguard to the Queen. He had the information at his fingertips, and everything we asked him, he could answer. It was a delight to meet him.

And when I got home, I had to work. With "Hareton Hall" coming out, this month has been quite eventful, but highly enjoyable. It was such a treat to see the book out at last, and I celebrated by putting an extra out with Smashwords and Amazon. "Barbara's Wedding," it's called, if you want to hunt for it.
I've written the next Richard and Rose and sent it to my editor. Fingers crossed! I have one more in the series to write, then there should be a break. And since so many people have asked and he interests me anyway, I want to write Freddy's story. I have no idea what it will be, yet, but I have some thoughts. I also have another historical project in mind, but this year has been so busy, I haven't had time to get it off the ground, yet.

I'm currently writing what I hope will be the next Cougar book for Ellora's Cave. I do enjoy writing these stories about older women and younger men, because the conflicts involved are different. The women know how their lives are going, they are usually confident, have a career, even children, so they're looking for something different. Perhaps something that starts light-heartedly morphs into something deeper and they find what they haven't yet found. I've loved working with the women on the series. They were chosen very carefully, as professional writers who can put out a well-written story on the same theme but vastly different in theme and execution. It's been a sheer delight.

After that, I have a contemporary I dearly want to write. The idea came to me last year, and I've been working on it since. I have an idea of the publisher I want it to go to, but of course that's not my call.

On the big publisher front, there's no news, I'm afraid. I've had manuscripts requested through my agent, but I'm told that things are still very slow and publishers are loath to take on many new authors. Whatever the reason, I'm delighted to have made a career in ebooks, especially considering how the market is going!

I have two more releases this year for sure, but more about those as the time comes. I've just finished edits on "Emotion in Motion" so we'll have to see when that is going to be released! It's Jack's story, from the STORM series, but with the Ecstasy in Red series ending, I'm starting a new direction for the series. Britain, to be precise. There's a sexy vampire earl in this new book who I can see featuring in a book of his own, and I'm thinking about writing a sexy Scot. How do you all feel about Scotsmen, even if they don't usually wear kilts?

I'm still doing columns and reviews for The Good, The Bad and The Unread. I absolutely love Sybil, who heads the blog, and I enjoy writing about the publishing world. It keeps me on my toes, that's for sure! I also write for the Raven Happy Hour and UK Regency and Georgian authors, so don't forget to check me and the other contributors out there!

Excerpt

Since I gave you a historical excerpt last month, how about a contemporary this time? Or a paranormal?
Lest you forget, the Department 57 series is still going strong at Loose ID. My next release there is unconnected with the series, but I am planning another instalment, which hopefully I'll get written before the end of the year. Originally the Dept 57 was going to have an Arthurian theme, but a plethora of Camelot books at the time, made me think further and develop the secret agent aspect more. So here's a reminder of the first book I ever wrote for the Department 57 series, "The Chemistry of Evil."

Sophie tried to pull away, but Archie was having none of it. He dragged her back and angled his mouth over hers, settling in for a nice, leisurely kiss. The whistles and catcalls from the interested bystanders only served to encourage him. When he finally pulled away, she felt numb from the pressure of his arms and mouth. He waited for her reaction and gave her a cocky grin when she smiled at him. “I can’t wait to leave because of what happens next.”
He released her. Sophie took a deep breath, trying not to show her anger at his enforcing his so-called male superiority. Tonight. She would tell him tonight, as soon as she had a private moment with him.
The whistle gleamed evilly in the find tray, reminding her of her failure. Archie saw where her gaze went and picked it up, tossing it high into the air and catching it without looking at it. “Someone’s tried his or her hand at engraving this. I had a look earlier. But it’s not old.”
“How do you know it’s not old?” She wished she could take the words back. She knew.
Archie gave her a pitying glance. “Really, Sophie! If it’s silver, it would have tarnished and rotted. If it’s steel, then by definition it’s modern. Good steel didn’t occur on a regular basis before the nineteenth century. Take it as a souvenir. I’ll sign it out as irrelevant to the dig.”
Sophie felt hurt by his light response, as though he denigrated her efforts that day. Archie could still make her feel as though her achievements amounted to nothing. He did it to most people, and she suspected he wasn’t even aware of it. Defiantly she picked up the whistle and rubbed it against her T-shirt to polish it up. “I’ll use it when I need help. It might come in handy in New York.”
“Down those mean streets?” Archie laughed, just as a new voice, dark as night and twice as sinful, sounded from the open flap of the tent.
“I believe that quotation was about Los Angeles.”
The occupants of the tent fell silent, their end-of-the-day chatter stilled. Before them stood the embodiment of masculinity. Handsome, as dark as Archie was fair, tall, and whipcord lean.
Sophie lifted her gaze and met his dark stare. Now she knew where her restless feeling came from. This was her fate.

Sophie Adams is engaged, but the second she sees sexy Evan Howell, she wants him. When her fiancé dumps her, Evan is there to catch her. And show her a passion she'd never dreamed of before, drawn from his dark experiments into sexual magick, a magick that has driven more than one man insane.

Evil follows them across the Atlantic. From Arthurian Cornwall to New York, Mordred, cursed son of King Arthur, stretches his evil influence to encompass Sophie, Evan and everyone they love. Evan has already lost his sister to Mordred and his supporters--he refuses to lose Sophie, too. It will take all his skill to save Sophie from the danger threatening to take her over, body and soul. All his skill--in the bedroom as well as out of it.

Chemistry Of Evil - a Dept 57 book
A volatile mix of passion and danger detonates explosive desire
ISBN: 978-1-59632-845-7
From Loose-ID Publishing
http://www.loose-id.com/detail.aspx?ID=847

newsletter July 2010

2010-08-20T22:04:00.000+01:00

Newsletter, July, 2010

New Releases

One new release this month, and it's a biggie, for me, anyway. A brand new Richard and Rose, out on July 20th from Samhain.
These books always take a lot of writing. I have to immerse myself into their world before I start, and because the same couple feature in all the books, the continuity is a nightmare. I made one mistake, when I changed the name of Richard's sister, but when there's three years between books, as there was at one time with Richard and Rose, it's sometimes tricky to get everything right. And I made it right in the book I've just written (news below!)
After the relative tranquillity of Eyton, in which Richard and Rose concentrated on family affairs, as well as discovering the murderer of two footmen, Hareton Hall plunges them right back into their central struggle. Richard's vicious past comes back to bite him again, and threatens his present happiness. An enemy emerges, someone who has been there all along, but someone Richard only meets in this book. And, as usual, Rose isn't just there to make weight. She has her own decided opinions, and won't take the easy way out if it's not good for them.
I've given you the whole of chapter one as an excerpt! You won't see this anywhere else, so it's all yours.

News

I have a little news. First, yesterday I finished revising the next Richard and Rose story, and sent it into my editor. It's provisionally titled "Maiden Lane" and it's set in London. Now I have to wait and see if my editor likes it. It's always a nail-biting time! It takes me a long time to write these books, but I do love doing them.

On the weekend of the 9th July, I'll be in London, for the Romantic Novelists' Association conference. I love this annual shindig, and this year it's even more special than usual. It's our 50th anniversary. Luminaries like Denise Robbins and Barbara Cartland were members of this venerable association, and our current president is Katie Fforde, whose books and personal presence are both sheer delights. The conference is at the Naval College, Greenwich, and yes, it is that amazing place where Greenwich Mean Time originated. Here's a picture of the main building:

Awesome, yes?

I got the cover art for Emotion in Motion. Absolutely beautiful, but it might not be work safe in some places. I had one of those "stop the press" moments when I saw it:

My free Naughty Nooner from Ellora's Cave went live on Amazon this month. If you've read "Beauty of Sunset," or even if you haven't, it's a short story designed to enliven your lunch hour. And absolutely free. You can pick it up here:
http://www.jasminejade.com/pm-8299-332-seychelles-sunset.aspx

Or here, for Kindle:
http://www.amazon.com/Seychelles-Sunset-ebook/dp/B003SX12BM

It was at number 23 in the Kindle list of free reads this week, something I'm really proud of. I'd love to do a Richard and Rose free read! There are some on my website, and maybe I should think of doing a few more.

I'm starting the next Cougar Challenge book this month, and then, I don't know. I'm really tempted to do a new contemporary romance. Ideas have been flowing for those recently, and I really need to let the contemporary muse run for a while. Any preferences?

Speaking of which, I have a release date for "Texas Heat" from Loose-Id. October! It's always nerve-racking, moving into a new genre, but exciting, too. But I don't plan to give up the paranormals or the historicals anytime soon!

As Richard returns with Rose to her childhood home of Darkwater for two weddings, romance is in the air—but so is trouble. It begins with Rose’s stolen watch. Tensions rise when they learn their old adversaries, the Drurys, have taken a house nearby. A series of attacks on those they love, plus a rise in smuggling activity, only add to the threat of violence.

Then illness strikes at the worst possible time, threatening everyone in the district—especially the children. Questions abound: Was the infection deliberate? Is someone striking at Richard through Rose, or are their enemies targeting Rose for information she possesses?

Richard calls on his resources, public and private, to counter an enemy that threatens to destroy his beloved Rose. Rose is no helpless victim, however, and refuses to let anyone—even Richard—take away her independence. She finds ways to fight that aren’t in his armoury. Whether he likes it or not…

Excerpt from Hareton Hall

Chapter One
"Rose, my love."
I opened my eyes to see my husband's face. Since we were alone in the coach, I'd pillowed my head on his shoulder, after having spent an indifferent night on a lumpy mattress in what was supposed to be a first-class inn.
"We're nearly there, my love. Should you like to stop somewhere to freshen up?"
I sat up. "Your shoulder must be numb."
"Not really," he said, but I didn't miss the way he flexed his arm as I took my weight off him.
"Liar." We exchanged wry smiles. "If you don't mind, I'd like to go straight there. I want to see what James has done to the manor."
His smile turned wicked. "I thought you didn't want to leave Oxfordshire."
"I didn't." I let my mind wander back over the last two blissful months. "It was wonderful. But I do want to see Tom get married-and Lizzie of course."
The coach jolted as the driver pulled on the reins to stop the horses so abruptly I was thrown forward, but I saved myself by seizing the strap above my head.
My husband grabbed me by the waist and restored me to my seat before he glanced out of the window. "It appears we're being held up." His voice sounded calm, but I knew him better than that and I noticed his note of alarm.
"What? Highwaymen?"
Almost without thinking I took off my ruby betrothal ring and slipped it down the front of my dress, but when I tried to take off the wedding ring, Richard put his hand over mine. "No. He'll expect to see a wedding ring, and if he doesn't find one he might go looking. I'll buy you twenty more, but let that one be."
I saw the sense of that and did as he bade me. Richard reached up and took the pistol that hung in its holster above us. He thrust it into his coat pocket then spoke over the shouting that was going on outside. "Give him your purse and anything else of that nature he asks for. If he tries to go too far-I'll deal with it." He gave me a smile of encouragement as the door was wrenched open.
Cold air rushed into the coach. A figure swathed in a greatcoat with a muffler covering most of his face stood silhouetted against the rain-spattered hedge and trees. He'd pulled his hat well down and had a pistol in each hand. His eyes were grey, but I couldn't see any more of his face.
I'd never gone through this experience before, but I'd read a lot about it in the papers. The country was currently at peace, the army mostly disbanded, and many disaffected soldiers had taken to crime. Highway robbery was on the increase, together with housebreaking and shoplifting, but we were usually better protected than this and hadn't been touched before. I could only thank God that our daughter and her entourage were a few miles behind us.
The man gestured, one pistol jerking towards us. "Get out."
Richard climbed down and held his hand out to help me down, then took a position slightly in front of me, shielding me as best he could.
The two postboys stood by the front of the vehicle. The robber kept one pistol trained on them and one on us, but when he moved we saw he had more flintlocks thrust into his belt.
"Your valuables, please. One person at a time."
He moved to the postboys and I examined him closer. He was a little shorter than Richard, and that glimpse of the weapons shoved into his belt also showed me his figure was actually quite slight. He might be young, but then highwaymen rarely lasted very long. They worked alone or in pairs, vulnerable to a determined person.
He took the watches and purses the postboys offered him without demanding more, and moved on to us. Richard silently handed him his watch and some guineas from his pocket. He wasn't wearing the diamond solitaire pin he used at his neckcloth, for which I was thankful. I'd have hate d to see that go.
I gave him my purse and the necklace I wore, part of an agate set I hadn't owned for long. He pointedly stared at my hand, and reluctantly I slipped off my ring. It was a plain gold band, but it had been engraved inside for me. I was sad to lose it, but Richard was right. It wasn't worth risking injury or abuse for. I handed the ring over, trying not to touch his hand. Highwaymen sometimes took more than items of monetary value. Rape and beating weren't unusual. Richard would kill him if this man attempted that with me.
I tried to meet his gaze steadily, although inside, fear was turning my stomach.
"There's more. Your pockets, if you please."
I'd hoped to keep it from him. Unlike some people, I didn't carry two purses, one for the robber and another for me, so I had my handkerchief, my necessaire and the watch Richard's brother, Gervase, had given to me, which was a fine item, a French enamelled repeater set with gems, but it wasn't the value I'd miss. Gervase had bought it for me in Venice in thanks for the help I'd rendered him there.
Reluctantly I handed the highwayman the watch. He turned it over in his palm to see both sides of the pretty toy. "Thank you. You can have this back." He gave me my wedding ring.
It hurt to thank the man who had just robbed us, but I managed it.
He indicated a space away from the coach with the pistol he carried in his left hand. "Move over there."
We obeyed him, Richard keeping his body between me and the highwayman, who climbed into the coach. I remained as still as I could, controlled my trembling and lifted my chin, just like the time when I'd been presented at court. The fear I felt seemed identical.
Ladies hid their more valuable items in secret compartments, but although he found the one in ours in a few moments, its vacant nature must have disappointed him. I was thankful he was on his own, for if he'd got down on his hands and knees outside the vehicle he might have seen the long box lashed to the underside of the coach. But on his own he would be too vulnerable in such a position, so he didn't make the attempt.
A fine bay horse stood by the side of the road gently cropping the grass, but there was nothing to be deduced in that. The horse was part of the highwayman's stock in trade, and he would acquire the best he could find. The chill left by the recent shower of rain raised goose bumps on my arms, but I restrained my shiver. I wasn't afraid, just cold. Not that I could fool myself with that notion for long. Highwaymen were brutal and unpredictable. He might take our valuables and then kill us anyway, since both offences carried the death penalty. Dead witnesses were safer than live ones.
Our horses champed at their bits and shifted, but the coachmen easily kept them under control. We'd collected them at the last inn, but they were a good team, and I doubted they'd bolt or panic. One blew down his nose, the harrumphing sound unnaturally loud in the still air.
Richard had attempted no violence, but he was ready if he needed to. I sensed his tension radiating through him, waiting for a chance. Although events had shaken me, I could still think, and I was pleased to discover that my hand remained steady after my efforts to control it. I wanted to reach for Richard's hand for comfort, but I knew better than to do so. He would need to be free of encumbrances if the man should offer violence to us.
A loaded pistol reposed in the pocket of my travelling cloak. It pulled that side of the garment.
We waited while the man searched the coach as well as he could, but he found nothing except the empty holder for the gun. He wrenched it down, the first time he'd done anything remotely violent, and despite my good intentions, I flinched. He glared at us. "Drop it on the ground," he ordered, looking straight at Richard. "And any others you have."
Richard kept his sangfroid as he took the gun out of his coat pocket and threw it to the ground a few feet from where we stood. The man didn't look at it. "Any more?"
"No," Richard lied. I don't know if the man knew he was lying, but he let it be. He climbed down from the coach.
"I'm going to ride away now. Count to a hundred, then be on your way. I have people watching you."
Richard nodded. The man went to his horse and mounted. If we planned to take him, now would be the best time, but neither Richard nor the postboys made a move.
In the saddle, he wheeled around to face us. "Goodbye."
We watched him ride up the road away from us, and Richard turned around and put his arms about me. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder and took a couple of deep breaths before I showed him an untroubled countenance.
"Spring 'em," he ordered the postboys. "I want her ladyship safe at Hareton as soon as possible."
The postboys nodded and climbed up to their seats on the box while Richard helped me back into the coach and pulled the steps up behind us.
The vehicle set off again with a jerk. The coach rocked as the driver whipped up the four horses and it moved faster.
Richard kept his arms about me, and I was grateful for the comfort. "All right?" I heard a note of anxiety in his voice.
I snuggled in to his warmth, feeling like a small child. "I'm fine. But I'm sorry he got my watch."
He sighed. "So am I, but we might yet get it back."
"How?"
"If he sells it locally, it might reappear in Exeter. I'll send people to look. It's a distinctive thing, perhaps even unique." He cupped the back of my head in his hand in a soothing movement. I looked up at him to show him I was all right and he kissed me gently. "He didn't try to get the only thing I'd have killed him for."
I smiled at him. "I had a pistol too," I told him. "I might have killed him first."
"He wouldn't have got that far."
I tumbled against him when the coach went over a pothole in the road. This wasn't a good road, and our driver must have been very skilful to go over it at such a pace. "He didn't find the diamonds either," I pointed out.
"It would take two or more of them to get to that box." Richard kissed me again. "I might as well take advantage of this. We won't be alone again until tonight."
"No." I'd have consigned the robbery to history, but he drew back as though he'd thought of something. "What did you think of him?"
"The highwayman? He knew what he was about, that's for sure, but I don't think he was very old. Early twenties perhaps."
"Maybe younger," Richard commented. "But you're right-he's been doing this for some time."
"He's not a Devon man. He spoke with an accent, but it wasn't from here."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I think so too. His voice had the twang of the cockney about it, but there's something else there too-the north, maybe. Many of these men are disaffected Jacobites, so perhaps he's been in Scotland." Richard smiled. "We should wait for Helen's coach to catch up with us." He forbore from reminding me that I had been so anxious to press on that we'd left Helen's nurse changing her and letting her nap at the last inn. We should have waited, but in that case, she might have been held up too. "Shall we get you upstairs when we get there? For a rest," he added hastily, when he saw my raised brows.
"No indeed, what sort of person do you take me for? Of course I was afraid; what sane person wouldn't be? But we're not hurt and we have most of our belongings still."
"Such heart." He drew me to him again.
When I could, I smiled at him. "I've been through worse than that with you."
"Yes," he said regretfully. "And all I wanted to do was to look after you, cherish you and keep you from harm. I really think we should give up on Thompson's, give it back to Carier and Alicia." Richard's valet, his friend Mrs. Thompson and ourselves jointly owned Thompson's, one of the best domestic staffing agencies in the country. And sometimes our private spy network. Every household required a variety of servants and Thompson's could provide them all. Occasionally some of them had special duties to perform.
"That would be foolish. Thompson's is our protection, and as long as we have enemies it would be an act of great folly to give it up."
"But we don't have to get involved in the special activities," he pointed out.
"I enjoy it," I told him. "And I enjoy seeing what it does to you. You come alive, you know you do."
"And I'm not alive at other times?" His smile would have once made me blush, but not now.
"Very much alive. Richard?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Will you comfort me again?"
The seat creaked as he drew me onto his lap and we forgot everything except each other for a time.

"Hareton Hall" will be out on July 20th from Samhain Publishing

2010-06-09T20:43:00.000+01:00

Newsletter, May, 2010

New Releases

Two releases in May and one in early June! I sent you an email about them, but I've spent all month playing catchup. I haven't caught up, but I'm on the way!
These releases were:

Red Inferno

One kiss was all he wanted. And one kiss was the only thing she denied him.
Dragon shape-shifter Ricardo wakes in a sweat, knowing he has telepathically contacted a woman in trouble. The same trouble he got into a year ago. With the help of STORM, he tracks her, the latest victim of the evil Dr. Bennett
But Kristen is no pushover. A bodyguard for the first openly Talented senator, Ricardo’s brother Sandro, she’s used to looking after herself and doesn’t wait for someone else to rescue her. She escapes, and Ricardo finds her naked and shivering on a crowded New York street.
Need sparks between them; they can’t resist each other. They set the night on fire and Kristen loves Ricardo’s sizzling passion, even as she resists loving him. But Bennett wants her back…which means the lovers could lose everything.

Red Inferno from Ellora's Cave
One kiss is all he wants
Order Page: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8368-red-inferno.aspx
ISBN: 9781419928017

And the other was Jewel of the Dragon.
This one was out in a very different form a few years ago. I rewrote it for Loose-Id, and it was re-edited. It was a fascinating exercise to do, and I was pleased with how well the book held up. I added some heat, tidied up other parts and I hope, made it even better than before! But of course, as always you are the judges of that.

Dev Wyvern is Welsh, tall, dark and sexy as sin. When he walks into Alix Lancaster's jewelry shop he knows her brother, Clay, has set a trap for a shape-shifting dragon. Which he happens to be. The minute he sees Alix he wants her. She sets him on fire, and it’s not long before Dev persuades her into bed for a heated and passionate lovemaking session. But he doesn’t know if he can trust her, if she’s a member of the enemy to all Talents, the PHR society.
Alix has a choice. She can betray her brother by warning Dev or she can let Dev walk into a lethal snare. Nobody has turned her on like this before, nobody has seared her soul the way he does but Dev isn’t only a shape-shifter, he’s an agent for Department 57. He’s sexy, dangerous and she wants him.
It’s time to make up her mind. And maybe start living her own life.

Jewel of The Dragon - a Dept 57 book
His only love born of his only hate
ISBN: 978-1-60737-800-6
>From Loose-ID Publishing
http://www.loose-id.com/Dept-57-Jewel-of-the-Dragon.aspx

News

Not so much news this month, after last month's exciting times in Columbus. I'm writing like mad! I do have a little news - Emotion in Motion has been accepted at Ellora's Cave!
The Ecstasy in Red series concluded with Red Inferno, but there were some characters in that series who were left without their own stories. So I told one of them in Emotion in Motion. It's Jack's story - the new jaguar-god shape-shifter, still getting used to his new form when his lady was killed. Now, in Emotion in Motion, he returns to his old haunts in Oxford, England, the city of dreaming spires. Old friends of his are involved in a money deal, and he's traced their old nemesis back here. He wants to discover if there was any connection with his and Megan's involvement in New York, and his enemy Bennett's involvement with his friends. And he meets Shere, a devastating Egyptian bastet, or cat shifter. He's wary of looking for love, but hot sex works well for him. Or so he thinks.

I'm currently writing the seventh Richard and Rose, which is currently called Maiden Lane. I was going to call it Pall Mall, but apparently that's a brand of cigarette in the US, so I've shifted the location of the club that gives this book its name. I'm drawing several threads together in this one, John Kneller's, and Steven and Julia Drury, so it's taking some time, for which I apologise.

Hareton Hall will be out in July, but more about that next month!

Excerpt from Red Inferno

As always, although this except might appear elsewhere in the future, you are the first people to see it, outside my editors. This excerpt is for over 18's only.

“Sounds good to me.” She dropped her gaze to his groin. He had pubic hair, black and thick, and she wanted to feel its texture. Was it wiry or silky?

Silky, she decided a moment later. Ricardo took a deep shuddering breath when she caressed his balls. Maybe she was wrong about the wanting part. “I missed this.”

“You couldn’t have missed me.”

She wasn’t so sure. Something about him screamed at her not to get close or she’d find herself tangled up in something she didn’t want to cope with right now. If ever. But she could have sex. That didn’t have to lead to real intimacy.

“I missed this, missed fucking a man blind. I can do it, you know.” She drew her hand over his balls, stroking so gently he’d hardly be able to feel it, then up and around his thick cock. A very generous cock. Uncut if the furl of skin around the straining head was anything to go by. That intrigued her. More to play with.

Exhaustion still crept along her bones but she put it aside, her training coming to her aid. She wanted him. The moisture gathering at her crotch wasn’t just water—its slickness told her that. His cock lay about four inches under the water in the deep tub. She straddled his legs and widened her knees so he could look his fill.

He did more than that. At last. His hand, until now curled around her waist, slid down to her thigh, the fingers curving over her buttocks and then across her stomach, trailing slowly toward her cleft.

His gaze met hers. She read desperation there and wondered at it. “I feel all kinds of shit for doing this. You should stop me.”

She laughed, genuine pleasure filling her. It felt like a long time since that had happened, long before her captivity. Perhaps she’d been working too hard for some time. “Why should I stop you when I started it?”

Oh she wanted this, wanted him in her, filling her. She slid closer, the silkiness of the fragrant bathwater making it easier for her, and reached out to grip his shoulders. He looked up at her, then down at her breasts, now at his eye-level. “You have lovely breasts.”

“Small but exquisitely formed?”

“Something like that. They make my mouth water.” He groaned. “Oh fuck.”

“That’s the general idea.”

She sank down, savoring every moment. When his lips touched her nipple, her body went into spasms of pleasure, and when he took one into his mouth and sucked, she hissed between her teeth and then moaned. He knew how to do it right. Perfect. For her at any rate. He alternated licking with sucking. She hovered, waiting, his cock close but not touching.

Christ, Kristen, you’re so hot!

“Oh Ricardo, you too, you too, baby.” Unable to wait any longer for her reward, she sank down and felt his cock head touch her clit. She nearly shot back up with the reaction but she clutched his shoulders and held on, gritting her teeth as she let his cock, now slick with her juices, slide toward her pussy.

He touched it, filled it. Despite her arousal she had to push, his cock too big to slip inside her without help. She sank down far enough to lodge his cock head inside her body.

She wanted to enjoy every moment of this, feel every inch. She wasn’t into measuring, figuring it only took a few inches to reach her sweet spot, but Ricardo was a tight fit and he seemed to go on forever. She bore down, pushing her knees forward, bringing them closer but holding him off enough so he could carry on tormenting her breasts. He nipped a little harder this time and she brought herself farther down. And down and down until he was fully seated inside her.

Only then did she look. He let her nipple go with a soft pop and leaned back, his arms sliding up and around her waist to rest on her ass. “You’re so pretty.”

“Tits like apples,” she commented.

“Always my favorite fruit.”

Looking at the expression on his face, she didn’t doubt it. Fear clutched at her, as it sometimes did during sex when she felt herself getting too emotionally close to her partner. She needed to lighten the mood. “So do you only fuck women with small tits?”

His smile broadened and a knowing look entered his eyes, as if he recognized her attempt. “No. I appreciate beauty.” Again she thought he was about to say something else but he didn’t. He bit his lip, letting the subject go, and bringing her attention to it. “So what do your lips taste like?”

She never kissed anyone except small children and in greeting, small childish pecks. No soul kisses for her, an intimacy she refused from everyone.

So she avoided it now, laughing and lifting up so he couldn’t reach her lips, and slid down again. “You have a beautiful cock and it works so well. Have you been practicing?”

“Would it matter to you if I said yes?”

“No.”

A shade of sadness crossed his expressive eyes. She felt it in his mind, then it was gone. “Pity.”

She didn’t want to wonder why. Instead, she concentrated on the fucking. Which was fine. Except he kept missing the best spot inside her.

Then he caught it. Fucking a Talent was always better than fucking a mortal because they picked up what you wanted. She didn’t have to say a thing.

She grinned and tried to regain the position where he’d caught her sweet spot. But he shifted again, and when she glared at him, he raised a brow and smiled. So cool, as if he were sitting opposite her having a conversation instead of lying beneath her with his cock embedded deep inside her. “You want something?”

“Yes, damn you!”

His smile broadened, then disappeared. “I’m afraid somebody else has already done that. You seem to have no problem expressing yourself. What exactly did you want?”

She tried to push an image into his mind of the direction she wanted him to take, but he blocked it effortlessly.

“Tell me.” His voice deepened. “Maybe I like it when my partners talk dirty to me.”
A suspicion crossed her mind—that he recognized something in her she wasn’t aware of herself. No, it couldn’t be that. He just liked dirty talk. Well, sometimes so did she. And this was most definitely one of those times.

So she said as calmly as she could manage, “I want your cock touching my G-spot with every stroke. I want to give you a good hard fucking.”

“Why didn’t you say so?”

Red Inferno from Ellora's Cave
One kiss is all he wants
Order Page: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8368-red-inferno.aspx
ISBN: 9781419928017

One kiss was all he wanted. And one kiss was the only thing she denied him.
Dragon shape-shifter Ricardo wakes in a sweat, knowing he has telepathically contacted a woman in trouble. The same trouble he got into a year ago. With the help of STORM, he tracks her, the latest victim of the evil Dr. Bennett
But Kristen is no pushover. A bodyguard for the first openly Talented senator, Ricardo’s brother Sandro, she’s used to looking after herself and doesn’t wait for someone else to rescue her. She escapes, and Ricardo finds her naked and shivering on a crowded New York street.
Need sparks between them; they can’t resist each other. They set the night on fire and Kristen loves Ricardo’s sizzling passion, even as she resists loving him. But Bennett wants her back…which means the lovers could lose everything.

2010-05-06T19:59:00.000+01:00

Newsletter, May, 2010

New Releases

I had two releases this month, neither of which I could promote because I was in a hotel with expensive, awful Internet. I did sign up to one day's service so I could do a little promotion, but it wouldn't let me upload my website, or any promotion. But I am so pleased with these releases.

The first is a new Department 57 book from Loose-Id. Crystal Tides is the story of Kai, the merman who featured in Liquid Crystal. I've had numerous requests for Kai's story, so here it is, and I've included an excerpt below. I loved Kai, and it was very rewarding to give him his happy ending. You can buy Crystal Tides here.

The second is a free release from Ellora's Cave. Seychelles Sunset features Edie and John from Beauty of Sunset, and takes place a year after their Cougar story concluded. You can pick it up here. And it's free, although it's been properly edited and is an official Ellora's Cave release!

News

I am just back from the Romantic Times Booklovers' Convention, and this year it was a great conference. No controversies, lots of fun and great signings and book fairs.
I went to Columbus via Chicago, where I went for the Chicago International fair, a huge collection of lovers of miniatures and dolls' houses. For those of you interested, I bought a kit that will see a venture into half scale. I've been a diehard inch scale (1 foot to 1 inch) user, but a few half or quarter scale projects might prove interesting! The quality of skill on display is absolutely amazing.
I decided to fly over a day early, as I got a cheaper flight, and it meant I could sleep off most of my jet lag. Sneaky, jet lag, it gets you when you think you're over it, and you end up asleep in your dinner if you're not careful! So I booked into an airport hotel, the Aloft at O'Hare, which turned out great, and slept. The day after, I went to the convention hotel to meet my roomie, Thelma, and people kept telling me I was lucky to be there. Well, yes, I knew that, and I was thrilled, but it was only when someone mentioned the volcano, and I said, "What volcano?" that the full extent of the disaster was brought home to me. The disruption was immense, and I couldn't believe my luck, as well as feeling sorry for the people caught up in the mess.
Then I moved to downtown Chicago for a week's stay. I stayed at the Allerton, which has mixed reviews at Trip Advisor, but honestly, it was my favorite hotel of the stay. I absolutely loved it. The decor wasn't "just another hotel," and while the room was smaller than most of the other hotel rooms I stayed at, it was plenty big enough, and actually made me feel a bit cosier. Those big, open spaces tend to fret me a bit. Since I was a lone traveller at this stage, I didn't go out at night, but there were lots of great restaurants and cafes nearby where I could buy to take out. My room had a view right down Michigan Ave, and I really enjoyed Chicago. Vibrant and exciting, with some great shops, and the Art Institute is awesome. The Thorne Rooms, a collection of miniature rooms assembled in the first half of the 20th century, were amazing. And I got to do a booksigning at Borders, Michigan Ave.
Then Columbus. Another good flight. My friend Linnea Sinclair met me off the plane, with Stacey Kade. Great to see them again. I taught at the precon. There was a mix up with the workshops, so I ended up on the synopsis panel, but it was a really good experience, and I got to critique the first 5 pages of 5 new authors, all of which showed promise.
For me, the convention proper started on Tuesday night, with the private Ellora's Cave party. That's always fun, with people to reconnect with and new people to meet. I couldn't possibly do the whole conference for you, I'd bore you rigid, but here are the highlights of my Romantic Times:

1. The Ellora's Cave Paint It Red party. That was fun, the dancing was appropriate to an erotic romance imprint, but not embarrassing, and the music was good.
2. Sharing with Judith Rochelle/Desiree Holt. One of the most fun people around, and a hugely successful writer. I had lots of fun with Judith. She's retiring Judith Rochelle this year, and going with Desiree Holt for future releases.
3. The Cougar Growl in Club RT. We had a special event on Thursday, and had a draw for Sheba, the cuddly cougar, about the only cuddly thing about us. Writing "Beauty of Sunset" for the cougar series has been a wonderful experience, working with savvy writers I'm proud to be associated with. The Growl was less of a promotion, and more of a celebration. I plan to write another cougar book, but I don't write as fast as some people, so although I'm aiming for this year, I'll have to see how my other projects go. I'm currently writing a new Richard and Rose, and they always take time to do.
4. Meeting friends and reconnecting. Gail Delaney and Jennifer Rainieri of Desert Breeze Publishing, all the Cougar ladies, Kathryn Falk and her husband, Kenneth Rubin, Ollie, Supereader and now bookseller, Cait Miller, Linnea Sinclair and many others. That is such fun. And meeting new people, like the utterly charming Victoria Alexander and Cheyenne McCray and Judi McCoy. I should really try to promote myself more, but at RT I tend to get carried away and I have far too much fun!
5. The two booksignings. So wonderful, that people buy my books! I never cease to be amazed by that. This year I had Ellora's Cave and Loose-Id ebooks at the Expo, and three of my Samhain historicals at the book fair. Amazingly, I sold out of "Yorkshire" quite early on, and was only left with a couple of copies of "Tantalizing Secrets" and "Met By Chance." We're only allowed three titles. Amazingly, because the "star" authors were urban fantasy writers, and so the fans who travelled there wanted to see the likes of JR Ward, Jim Butcher and Richelle Mead, so I thought my historicals wouldn't stand a chance. I was wrong, and very happy to be so.
6. I have to mention meeting Barbara Taylor Bradford. Oh my lord, I was star struck. I read "A Woman of Substance" when it first came out, and I loved it. It opened my eyes to certain possibilities, and did influence my writing. I stammered like anybody would, but she was gracious and extremely nice.

Worst part was coming home, because the volcano got me. They diverted our flights, because although Manchester Airport was open, Scottish airspace was not. I was put on a flight to Heathrow 6 hours after my scheduled flight. There I got lucky, having a seat with extra leg room and sitting next to a very nice family, who didn't want to converse all the time, and didn't want to ignore me. The flight from Heathrow to Manchester was tolerable, and then I got home. And slept the clock around. I can't remember the last time I did that.

Excerpt from Crystal Tides

This excerpt is for over 18's only.

Kai had just about given up on love -- until he met sexy merman Tyler and Tyler's wife Zoe. The three heat Kai's hot tub to scorching together, but now Kai's seen something he wants and he plans to have it. He doesn't want another fleeting relationship. He wants Tyler and Zoe. For keeps.

Zoe's not sure she can commit to two men, but when danger threatens the underwater archaeological excavation she's working on, she needs them both to protect. Zoe and Tyler's oldest enemy has returned. They've always run from him, but now it's time to turn and fight.

But Tyler's going to have to trust Kai to protect the love of his life. Can he?

Zoe got her first good look at the tub and caught her breath. It lay at the end of the room and up two upholstered steps, steam wafting into the air. The bathroom itself consisted of shades of blue, with the porcelain white and the fittings shiny chrome. Roman blinds were the only adornment the windows had, and she saw why once she'd mounted the steps and slid into the bath.
Headrests lined the wall the bath—or rather, the hot tub—rested against. And it stood higher than the rest of the room because the whole point was the view.
It revealed a magnificent view of the sea. Gray waves, crested with foam, lapped against tiny buoys that blinked orange as the water washed over them. The long pier jutted like an invasion at the left. Altogether three windows opened onto the view.
Kai joined her, and he moved to her right, while Tyler stepped in and took her left side.
Zoe broke the silence. “This is fantastic.”
“I love it.” Kai slid his now wet hand up her arm and cupped her shoulder. When she tore her gaze away from the view outside and watched him, he was staring down at her breasts. Then he lifted his regard, taking his time, and she felt as if he touched her before he met her eyes.
Blue, blue eyes stared into hers. His smile came slowly. For a moment out of time they held that position, and Tyler, sitting quietly next to her, let it happen. Then Kai leaned forward and reached out a hand to Tyler.
Zoe knew Tyler never wanted to touch the partners they occasionally shared their bed with but he tolerated the necessary contact. This time he took Kai's hand. “I know what I want,” Kai said, “but I don't want to make either of you unhappy at any time. That doesn't mean I don't want to push. I will, and I'll keep pushing. But please open your mind, take everything as it comes, and if it feels good, block your judgment and just let it happen.”
Next to her, Tyler stiffened. Then he took a deep breath. “Deal,” he said and shook Kai's hand in an oddly formal gesture.
Deciding she wasn't about to be left out, Zoe put her hand atop their clasped ones. “Deal.”
Kai gave them an easy smile and broke contact first. He reached behind him and lifted down a clear glass jar. Frowning critically, he took off the lid and sniffed before sprinkling a handful of the jar's contents on the water. Dried leaves and flowers floated on the surface, but unlike dried herbs they began to melt. A scent Zoe knew well lifted into the steam-laden air. She gave a happy sigh. “Lavender and roses.”
“A friend of mine makes these.” Kai replaced the jar. “She does several mixtures, and this is the relaxing one.”
“Why are they melting?” Zoe asked, fascinated. She picked up one of the buds and watched it dissolve in her hand.
“She crystallizes them or something. I don't really know, but she claims every ingredient is natural.” Kai rubbed a few leaves over her skin then leaned forward to smell them. “Beautiful.” He licked her neck. “Tastes good too. That's what sold me on these.” He drew back, watching her, his eyes turned suddenly mischievous. “So how are you feeling now?”
He cupped one of her breasts in his hand and curved his thumb up to touch the peak. “You have lovely breasts. 'A quite magnificent bosom,' as another friend of mine was fond of saying a very long time ago.” He glanced at her face. “You look like honey personified, and you taste of spice and the forbidden.” He leaned forward, taking his time, slowly nearing her nipple that crinkled as his breath touched the tip.
She moaned.
“Oh yes,” he murmured, before he took it into his mouth.
He sucked, and her head slammed back. Just as well for the headrests, because the jolt of awareness that went through her forced carelessness into her. Hot water lapping around them, the spiking awareness of something new happening, and sheer sensation.
Tyler stroked her other breast, and a gentle swirl of water indicated he'd changed his position. His hand slipped between her thighs, and she opened for him. Tyler's hand was broader, his fingers thicker than Kai's.
Kai had left some slickness for Tyler, and he caressed it, took the clitoris between his finger and thumb, and pinched it the way he knew she liked.
Gasping for air, she realized the two men must be working in tandem, Kai's sucking in rhythm with Tyler's pinching. They meant for her to come again. Soon.
Kai's voice came darkly into her mind. “That's the beauty of having two Talents taking you.”
Oh yeah. Working together. Tyler kissed her throat. His tongue snaked out to lap a passage up and down, and he nipped the pulse at the base of her neck. She was finding it hard to breathe. Two mouths, four hands, all for her. At her pleasure. But not at her command.
Kai murmured to her, the words purring against her skin, and he touched her other breast, the one he wasn't kissing, tweaked it, and stroked it. Her legs opened, and Tyler slid his thumb into her, his fingers curling behind to pet and tickle her anus. He'd introduced her to that incredibly sensitive skin, and she'd let him take her there a couple of times, but she hadn't really enjoyed it. Maybe with Kai…
Such a beautiful man. Strong and lithe, built like a sprinter, muscles honed but smooth. She watched his cock and idly wondered what it tasted like.
Kai's groan didn't come as a surprise. She'd felt his presence in her mind, the kind of warmth Tyler had taught her to notice, that meant a Talent was making contact. Kai had picked up her thoughts about his cock, so she concentrated on that now. It strained, the top shiny, peeking clear of the water when he moved, reddened and engorged. Ready for her.
And the other joy about fucking Talents was that they didn't need to use protection. The thought gave her a lift of pleasure. Talents didn't transmit mortal diseases, neither were shape-shifters fertile, except during the three days of the full moon. The thought shot her arousal up to nuclear. She could experience them with nothing between them. Bareback.
“Please. Please one of you, fuck me now.” Her voice sounded strangled, tight. She pulled in a breath. Another.

Crystal Tides - a Dept 57 book
Kai finds his woman - and his man!
ISBN: 978-1-60737-571-5
From Loose-ID Publishing
http://www.loose-id.net/detail.aspx?ID=592

Where to find Lynne Connolly and her Books

My website
The hub of everything I do. It's updated regularly, with excerpts, short stories and other goodies:
http://www.lynneconnolly.com

My newsletter and yahoo group.
Members get a monthly newsletter, where the news ALWAYS breaks first, and new excerpts are aired. There is also a free book, available in the Files.
To join, go here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LynneConnolly/
or send an email here:
LynneConnolly-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Lynne Connolly, author of Sophisticated Sensual Romance
http://www.lynneconnolly.com

New Release - A Betting Chance

2010-04-06T19:17:00.001+01:00

Sapphira Vardon needs five thousand pounds to avoid a cruel marriage and a grim future, and there’s only one path for her. Don a mask and an assumed name, and risk everything to win at the gaming tables. First, though, she has to get through the door. Luckily she knows just whose name to drop.

Corin, Lord Elston, is curious to find out who used his name to gain entrance to Mother Brown’s whorehouse and gaming hell. The enigmatic woman who calls herself Lydia isn’t the sort of female usually found here. Behind her mask and heavy makeup, she’s obviously a respectable woman—who plays a devilish hand of cards.

Sapphira is desperate to keep her identity a secret, but Lord Elston’s devastating kisses and touches demand complete surrender. And once he learns the truth, there’s more at stake than guineas. Corin finds himself falling hard for a woman who’s poised to run. A woman who’s about to learn that he only plays to win…

A Betting Chance
In this game of hearts, winner takes all!
ISBN: 978-1-60504-973-1
From Samhain Publishing
http://www.mybookstoreandmore.com/betting-chance-p-5238.html

“I wish you’d trust me with your secret. I might be able to help,” Lord Elston said.
“I don’t know you.” Not in any recognized meaning of the word. The connection Sapphira felt to him had to be her imagination. He couldn’t feel it, not this wild needing.
“I think we should get to know each other better. I want you to trust me.” He touched her chin, his forefinger stroking her skin. She wanted to purr like a cat, but instead she moved back. Before she could retreat out of his reach he tilted her chin up so she had to meet his direct gaze. His eyes bored into her soul. “There’s something about you—I don’t know.” He bit his lip. It was the first time she’d seen any vulnerability about him and she found it meltingly seductive.
She couldn’t risk weakening. She put her guard back up and kept it firmly in place, reminding herself that he was a stranger, that she didn’t know him. “I told you, I can’t do that. I’m here to play cards, no more.”
“I love a challenge,” he murmured, and lowered his head.
The first touch of his lips against hers paralyzed her. Recognition—of what she still didn’t know—shot between them and she opened her mouth to protest, but he used it to his advantage and licked her lips before he slid his tongue into her mouth.
Now shock held her rigid. Nobody had ever kissed her like this. She hadn’t imagined it possible. She’d seen the caricatures in the shops with their sometimes explicit content, watched a man fondling a whore, seen mercenary transactions take place in the street—she’d thought herself reasonably au fait with sexual matters, for a virgin.
She’d been wrong. She knew that watching and experiencing were two different things but had never known it could be so devastatingly different. The intimacy floored her, and she could do nothing other than reach out for something to steady herself.
The memory of that other kiss—that disgusting, slobbering kiss George Barber had forced on her—returned in full measure. This didn’t compare, couldn’t. She wanted to press closer to Elston, not jerk away, put as much distance between them as she could. Nothing like that. If anything had told her that she couldn’t go ahead with marriage to George Barber, this did.
Corin cupped the back of her head as her hand made contact with his velvet-clad arm. She clutched it, praying for control as he took his time exploring her mouth, caressing her with soft strokes that made her heat up right down to the forbidden area between her thighs. He held her safe, didn’t move his hands or try to unfasten her clothing. One arm curved around her waist, the other over her wig. She wanted his hands under it, in her hair, cupping her head intimately. One of the strings of her mask loosened.
She jerked back, her hand going to her only protection against discovery. “No, don’t!” Her voice was breathless, whispery, but at least it still worked. As did her common sense.
“I want to see you.” He sounded as out of breath as she did.
“No, you can’t.” She reached up and retied the one string he’d managed to undo. Luckily the other one still held firm. He’d dislodged her wig, and she pulled it back into place, but he must have seen that she was a brunette.
“Why not? Will I know you?”
Having regained her composure, enough to confront him anyway, she shook her head. “It’s highly doubtful. But you might see me somewhere else.”
“And you’ve lost that accent. I knew you’d assumed it, but there’s still a tinge left. Are you a Londoner?”
Born and bred. “I’ve visited London a lot,” she said, hoping desperately to put him off the scent. She had to get out of here before he guessed more. Before he had her out of her clothes and spread out on the bed for his pleasure. How could she have been so stupid?
But she had to pass him to get to the door, and he caught her skirts. “A challenge, sweet Lucia. Just between us.”
“Why?”
“Because of the danger. Because you want a bit of excitement in your life.” If only he knew she’d have more excitement than she’d ever wanted soon. But she appreciated that he didn’t threaten her. He could have her barred from this house with very little trouble, but he hadn’t done it.
She turned around, willing at least to listen, but keeping some distance between them, as much as this small room would allow. He sat there in his splendid clothes looking every inch a prince. A wicked prince. He released his clutch on her skirt, and she resisted the urge to put her hand where his had just been, to touch the residual warmth. “Well?”
“Let me get to know you better. You intrigue me. Can you meet me, talk to me, with your mask and maquillage off? Can you look me in the face without your protection?”
“No.” She couldn’t do it. With no mask or makeup he’d see every expression on her face, and he’d know she was his for the taking, however hard she fought against it.
He leaned back, smiling. “A challenge, then. A bet, just between us, with no money at stake. If I recognize you and challenge you in public without your disguise, you promise to meet me at a place of my choice.”
“Why?”
He smiled. “I want you, sweet Lucia. I want to see your face while I’m making love to you.”
Before she could repress it an image flashed into her mind. Him, naked, admiring her naked body, kissing it, touching it. Oh she wanted it so much, but she couldn’t. Mustn’t. She held back her shock. Barely. “And what’s in it for me?”
His rich laugh filled the small space with joy. “I hope to give you pleasure as I’m taking it.”
She pulled out of his grasp, put her hand on the door latch. “I can’t.” Then she was gone, hurrying toward her servant, Frankie, as fast as she could without colliding with anyone or losing her foothold.

Update

2010-03-20T15:12:00.002Z

I'm really sorry I've neglected this blog recently. I send most of my stuff to the ladies at The Good, The Bad and The Unread, where a great bunch of duckies hang out. But I should try to do this more often!

March 2010 newsletter

2010-03-20T15:11:00.000Z

News

Wow, March! And finally the snow goes away and the sun comes out!
Not that I can do much more than look at it out of the window while I get on. When did this absorbing hobby become a full-time job? Not that I'm complaining (much) because it's the best job I've ever had.

So in a couple of days I'm off to Loughborough, to sit on a panel at the Writing Industries Conference. The panel is "Traditional Romance vs Paranormal Romance." While these things make me incredibly nervous (am I supposed to admit that?) I'm with authors Mary Nichols and Sue Moorcroft, so I'm also looking forward to it enormously.
The conference looks great, with one-to-one editor and agent meetings and a number of panels and workshops. So if you can make it, here are the details:
http://writingindustries.com/
I know I mentioned it last month, but I thought a reminder might be in order, since it's happening this weekend.

The first ERWA newsletter has come out with one of my reviews in it. I'm really enjoying the new challenge.
http://erotica-readers.com/ERA/SL/BR-Magic_University_2.htm

And there are quite a lot of my reviews this month at The Good, The Bad and The Unread, together with a column on the growth of self-publishing, and what might be driving some of the demand.
http://tinyurl.com/yf48jnn

I was one of the two runners up in the Love Romances annual awards, for "Harley Street." Since I share the award with the wonderful Alex Beecroft, I'm delighted with it. I don't do much canvassing for awards, so it's doubly warming when I win something.

And to writing:
I'm still writing Jack's book from the STORM universe. Jack led me a wild dance and I had to stop part way through and rewrite. It happens sometimes, when a character doesn't work within the plot, and needs rethinking. Since I care more about the characters, it's always worth stopping and rewriting.

I've also been deep in planning with the ladies from Tempt the Cougar for our Cougar Growl at RT Convention. We've booked an hour at Club RT on the Thursday where we plan to have lots of fun and give stuff away. It's been an absolute joy working with these women, so much that I want to do another cougar story. The conflicts fascinate me.

No new releases in March, except for "Venice," out in print, so I thought you'd like a little of that for this month's excerpt.

Excerpt from Venice

Venice is perfect for their honeymoon. Unless an assassin plays his cards right…

Richard and Rose, Book 3

At long last, it is Lord and Lady Strang’s wedding day. Yet no sooner do Richard and Rose leave their wedding breakfast than two shots ring out, forcing a hasty change in honeymoon plans. Instead of traveling together by yacht, Richard goes on ahead, making sure the road to Venice is safe for his beloved.

Rose is by no means alone, however. Along her journey by packet, coach, even mule, she befriends young couple, the Ravens, who have a strange confession to make. They are traveling incognito—and are really the newlywed Lord and Lady Strang!

Once reunited in Venice, Richard and Rose heat up the sheets, making Richard consider the delightful possibility of keeping his wife in bed for the rest of their stay. Except Venice is as full of knaves as London, and one of them is still trying to find them with a bullet.

The Ravens could hold the key to the assassination attempts. Or perhaps they are playing a deadly game of their own…

Excerpt:

The following day the sound of bells woke me, myriad bells, commanding the faithful to attend church. If we had joined the British community here, no doubt they would have expected us to attend, but we had protected our privacy too well to let it slip now.

I turned my head to look at my husband, but he was still asleep. I watched him, so vulnerable in sleep I could almost see the boy he had been, before his nightmares had begun.

I slipped out of bed and went to the chair where I had thrown my dressing gown the night before. I threw it around my shoulders, thrust my arms into the sleeves and then went to the two long windows, withdrawing the bolts holding the shutters closed on the first one. I didn’t open the other window, because its light would have fallen directly on the bed and woken him.

I stood by the window, looked out at the glow of Venice and listened to that glorious sound, from the deepest boom to the brightest, highest chime.

How could I have got this far? Last year, a forgotten old maid, preparing to dwindle into a dependant spinster, this year the cherished wife of the man I was meant for. How close we came to not meeting at all! Or, if we had met and it had been in company, I doubt he would have noticed me. I never showed well in company. He might even have been married already to Julia Cartwright. I might have married Tom, spent all my life in Devonshire, the wife of a country squire. Once I would have been happy with that but not after I’d met Richard.

If Richard was a country squire, it was enough, more than enough. That he was not sometimes left me feeling inadequate, not up to the position I must now learn to take. I hadn’t been brought up to it, as the girls he’d been presented to year after year had—to be the eventual mistress of a great estate and a member of one of the first families in the country. It filled me with dread but I would do it for his sake. Here, in this paradise, I’d start to learn.

The rustle of the sheet behind me told me he had woken, but I didn’t turn round. I heard him cross to the chair in his turn and fling on his gown and then felt him slip his arms around my waist and rest his cheek on my hair. We didn’t speak, but I put my hand over his and we stood, listening to the Sunday greetings outside.

“I’m so afraid I’ll let you down when we go home.”

“You won’t,” he assured me calmly. “If you’re reserved, everyone will assume you’re proud. Stand tall and always make sure they look away first.”

His warm breath tickled my neck. “I love you very much,” I said.

“I know. It’s all that matters. We’ll buy you some fine clothes, the sort that stand alone and you can inhabit them while they speak for you. Shall we buy an estate in Devonshire and go and live there, in seclusion?”

I turned away from the window into his arms. He could have been reading my mind. If I had accepted his offer he would have gone through with it, but it wouldn’t make him happy. “No. You are what you are and as long as you’re here with me, I’ll do whatever’s required of me gladly. Will you come to my presentation at court?”

“Of course. My mother will present you. It’s soon over and a dead bore. I don’t move in any royal set, so be assured that won’t come into our lives to any great extent. For the rest, we’ll please ourselves and if you’re not happy, you must promise to tell me.”

“I promise.” We kissed to seal the bargain.

I slipped out of his arms and went to open the shutters on the other window. Light streamed across the unmade bed. I turned to see him watching me from the middle of the room, golden hair lit by the sun, tousled from sleep, making him look like a knowing putto. I went back to him.

“I said something once about these bells,” he reminded me, mischief in his voice. “Do you remember?”

Of course I remembered. It had been in the humble nursemaid’s room at Hareton Abbey. “That you’d like to make love to me in the Venice sun, with the sound of the water outside and the bells. You made me blush.”

“So I did. Do you think I could make you blush now?” He undid the frogged fastenings at the front of my dressing gown.

“Without a doubt.” He slipped his hands inside the gown and I let it slide down my arms to the floor.

He loved me, just as he’d once promised. He kissed my mouth, my throat and went down on one knee to take a nipple into his mouth, running his tongue around the very tip, then the other and then lower still, making me sigh in pleasure. My knees grew weak from his caresses. I gripped his shoulders to keep from falling to the floor and he delved between my legs, kissing and tasting until I thought I might die. But he didn’t let me climax, he withdrew when he had me shivering with need.

Venice - Richard and Rose, book four
Venice is perfect for their honeymoon. Unless an assassin plays his cards right…
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/venice
ISBN: 978-1-60504-517-7

2010-03-20T15:09:00.000Z

News

February already, and it's the shortest month of the year, so that will be over before we can turn around!
The countdown to Romantic Times has begun and I'm starting to get my promotional items together. I really love Romantic Times, but I'll try not to talk about it too much until nearer the time!

Instead, there are a couple of things you might like to know about.
Samhain is doing an awards thing, the Sammie awards, and while I can't hope to compete with luminaries like Deirdre Knight and Maya Banks, it would be nice to get a respectable showing. So if you want to vote for me, or any other Samhain author, here is where you go:
http://www.samhainpublishing.com/
And then click on the "Click here to vote" button. There are cover awards, best author awards and so on. I won't go and vote for myself, I don't do that, and I don't enter contests very much, but I am entered in this one, anyway.
Honestly? It would be a kick to win.

For those of you in the UK, I've been asked to sit on a panel at Loughborough University, at the Writing Industries Convention. It's a really good convention, with one-to-ones with editors and agents, and I'm honored to have been asked. It's only the second year, but it's proving hugely popular. If you want to check it out, it's here:
http://writingindustries.com/
And I'm on the Paranormal Romance panel. If you attend, do come and say hello! It's on the 6th March.

I've also extended my reviewing. As well as reviewing for The Good, The Bad and The Unread, I've been asked to review for ERWA (Erotic Readers and Writers Association).
http://www.erotica-readers.com/
It is a serious endeavour to find the best in erotic writing and reading, and is a prestigious set up. I've been a member for some time and I was thrilled when they asked me to review for them. My first book will be a Spice book, "Rampant" by Saskia Walker. But I'm not saying if I liked it or not here, you'll have to find out nearer the time!

I just wanted to thank you for making my first venture into the contemporary, "Beauty of Sunset," such a success. I had my sales figures and they were good. Not spectacular, but few sales figures are these days! Enough to make me very happy. Working with the ladies of the Tempt the Cougar blog and the Cougar Challenge series was more than fun, it was a learning experience that I really value. I want to write another, but the muse hasn't visited me yet. Instead, I wrote a completely unrelated contemporary that I've sent to my editor and I'm waiting on tenterhooks to hear about it.
I've written a "Naughty Nooner," a free short story featuring Edie and John from "Beauty of Sunset" and that should be out at Ellora's Cave soon. I haven't had the release date yet.

I spent most of January editing and rewriting. I've rewritten the Richard and Rose book, "Darkwater" into "Hareton Hall" (because Samhain already have a book called Dark Waters and they don't like to duplicate titles). I'm going to start writing the next one soon. While Richard and Rose don't always sell well initially, I've found they do well over time, so I'm happy that those of you who enjoy their exploits are sticking with them. I really love writing the books, and the chances are that I'd do it anyway. Every time I start thinking businesswise, something happens to waylay me and I end up writing another book that I love!
I also edited "Crystal Tides," a new Dept 57 book that is due out in April, and "A Betting Chance," a Triple Countess book, also out in April.

In February, I plan to start the next STORM book, which will feature Jack, the cat shape-shifter from the Ecstacy in Red series. I'm toying with the idea of giving it a new title, since it's very different from the previous four and might do better as a standalone story. I think the STORM series will go into single titles for a time, because I don't have a Big Idea that would go nicely into a series. More and more I'm finding that I'm interested in the characters and their dilemmas, and so it makes sense to deal with them that way. But I'd love to know your ideas on that!

Excerpt from Tantalizing Secrets

Tantalizing Secrets is now out in print! The books are beautiful, and now I can see the Secrets series on my bookshelf, I think they are some of the prettiest books I've seen. I do plan to do more, maybe Antonia needs a book of her own, but I'm also being asked to do Freddy's book, from the Richard and Rose series. It's mighty tempting! Anyway, here is a snippet from Tantalizing Secrets to tempt you into the bookstores and maybe lighten your day a little!

He threw back his head and crowed with laughter. “Oh, my dear, how well you know me already. I shall have to take care with you.”
“Not after all those sophisticated ladies of the ton.”
“You have something very rare in society. Straightforward honesty.”
He meant it. She saw no subterfuge in his gaze. Arabella felt he’d just given her a far more profound compliment than the verbal one. Tentatively she smiled, then got to her feet.
Her sewing slipped forgotten to the floor, and Peter rescued it for her. When he handed it back his fingers touched hers. She let the embroidery fall again and then bent to retrieve it with suddenly clumsy fingers. He took her elbows and raised her up before she could retrieve it. She looked up and met his eyes, knowing what was to happen and unwilling to prevent it.
He kissed her. A gentle, undemanding kiss. She didn’t do anything to stop it, and then felt him slip his arms around her waist. He lifted his head, tilted it a little and returned to the fray.
This time he meant it. He opened his lips, taking hers with them and slid his tongue into her mouth. Arabella was stunned. She’d never felt anything remotely like this before. The world began to drift away. No wonder they were willing, these other women.
He tasted her and she let him. When he withdrew, she almost fell into the trap, and followed him, but remembered just in time and pulled back. She stared up at him, breathless.

Arabella Mason is too busy investigating her brother-in-law’s “accidental” death to entertain thoughts of love. She’ll go to any lengths to ease her sister’s grief, even accept the help of the distressingly attractive Viscount Bredon, Peter Worsley. Instead of answers, the trail of clues only leads to more questions. Who was her brother-in-law, really…and why does Peter, who poses as her brother in public, make mincemeat of her resistance in private?

A successful politician and confirmed bachelor, Peter has bedded the loveliest women in society. He never imagined he’d wind up in a Leicester backwater, helping a pretty widow investigate his brother’s untimely death. As his suspicions of foul play grow stronger, the danger rises—and so does his desire for Arabella. One kiss, and she snatches away all his resolve, leaving him wondering which he wants more…

To find his brother’s killer? Or keep Arabella safe—and make her his?

Tantalizing Secrets
A murder… A lord’s desire…and her quiet, respectable life is gone forever.
ISBN: 978-1-60504-394-4
From Samhain Publishing
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/tantalizing-secrets

January 2010 newsletter

2010-03-20T15:00:00.000Z

News

Happy new year!

Are you planning anything in the new year? I've booked my place at the Chicago Miniature Shows next year and at the Romantic Times Convention and I'd love to see you at either, or both!
As for writing - well, 2009 was an exciting and rather different. I love the way that, in the writing world, things never turn out exactly as you think! I started the STORM series last year, with the Red series of books so far, "Red Alert," "Red Heat," and "Red Shadow," but after this series, I'm planning some standalone stories. I'm thrilled that so many of you bought the books and made it possible for me to continue the adventure. I'm currently writing the next book, currently titled "Red Passion," about Ricardo Gianetti, so I'll let you know its progress.
Department 57 is also continuing, over at Loose-Id. "Crystal Tides," Kai the merman's story is to be released in April, and "Jewel of the Dragon" has been contracted to be rewritten, re-edited and released later in the year.
I had my first contemporary romance released this year, too. I still don't have the numbers on "Beauty of Sunset," but I loved writing it, and if it's possible, write some more.
The historical romances started the year a little quietly. I'm thrilled that Richard and Rose have found a whole new readership, but at first, sales were, while respectable, not as good as I'd hoped. But over the year sales have grown, surprising me by the growth, and now I'm really happy with the way it's progressing. January 12th sees the release of the first never-seen-before Richard and Rose from Samhain, "Eyton." I can't wait. I've also written Corin's story, "A Betting Chance," from the Triple Countess series, and it's due to be released in April.
So I've been a bit busy. How about you?

Excerpt from Eyton

Scandal, murder and passion—an ordinary day for Richard and Rose. Richard and Rose, Book 5 When Richard and Rose visit his family estate in Derbyshire to celebrate the christening of their firstborn, Rose comes face to face with some hard realities about the powerful Kerre family. The vast majority of them are far from delighted with Richard’s choice of wife. Plus, they think a man who shares his bed with his wife every night must have something wrong with him. Rose is driven half mad by Richard’s overly careful love for her. Somewhere underneath that smooth, sophisticated surface lies the passionate, intense lover she longs for—and she takes steps to seduce that savage lover back into her bed. Their joyous occasion is marred by the theft of a valuable necklace. Richard’s family looks to him to solve the crime—but something isn’t adding up. Evidence pointing to two trusted servants seems too convenient…and then they’re murdered. From the tangle of jealousies, secrets and desperate lies, Richard and Rose once again dance on the edge of danger to achieve justice—without dragging the family name into public scandal. Warning: Sharp-shootin’ Rose goes gunning for her man in this one. So steamy sex ahoy!

One of the things I appreciated about my maid was her ability to be silent when I needed it, and to converse without too many your ladyships and the like. Tonight we were quiet, and she went about her duties efficiently, hardly raising a sound from the floor as she moved to the dressing room to take my clothes away. I used the precaution she had suggested. There was no need to mention it to her. What I required, a small sponge and a bottle, waited for my use in the dressing room.

I wore only my dressing gown. It was the one Richard had bought me in Venice that I had put away during my pregnancy. I was pleased to be able to get into this one again, a delicate confection of ivory silk and floral embroidery. He’d bought it in the week between his arrival in Venice and mine.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, remembering that time and how overwhelmed I was by the intensity of his loving and the intensity of my response, the trouble we’d shared there fading into the back of my mind. Partly because of that time I trusted him wholly now and respected his needs as much as he respected mine.

I heard the door from his dressing room open, but I didn’t open my eyes. I smiled as I breathed in that sharp perfume he always wore, and felt his lips gently touch mine. I opened my eyes and met his blue gaze, saw him smiling at me. “You’re here.”

“So I am,” he replied. “Are you tired, my love? Would you like to go to bed?”

“No I’m not tired, but I would like to go to bed.” It was an echo of our first night in Venice, an indication he had been thinking about it too.

I went into his arms. We stood for a long time, holding each other, before he gently loosened his hold and took my hand to lead me to the bed. He undid the fastenings on my dressing gown and undid his own. Neither of us wore anything underneath. I touched his hair, short, with a natural wave. I thought it gave him an angelic look. “Will you ever wear a nightcap?”

“I doubt it. The absurdity would make us both laugh too much to get any sleep.”

“You could wear a nightshirt with it,” I pointed out. “Most men do.”

“And you’re classifying me with most men?”

I smiled. “There you have me.”

Softly he kissed me and pushed my dressing gown off my shoulders. I let it slide to the floor.

I thrilled to see his gaze ignite. “I can’t believe I have you.”

“Believe it. It’s true.” His voice excited me right to the marrow.

He slipped off his own gown and drew back the light bedcovers that were all we needed on this warm night. Candles burned on the dressing table and on each of the nightstands so we could see each other. I got into bed and held out my arms for him. He came to me gladly.

“This time,” I whispered to him, my mouth close to his, “I want to make love all night. I want to see the sun rise, and know I’ve been with you every minute, every hour.” We would make tonight count.

He moved to hold me close, to make love to me, to show me his love in the most physical way, but the way that brought spiritual fulfilment sighing in its wake, that made the difference between love and sexual congress. This would be our time, our night.

I was determined to make this night memorable. Since it was summer and the fire not lit, I had a supply of candles on hand, so I could see him whenever I wanted to. My hair was brushed into a shining sheet of waves, a chestnut sea for him. I left it loose, to fall below my shoulders for his pleasure.

He took his time. He touched me, loved me, as though this were the first time and we had come fresh to each other, except by now he knew what I liked best, what would give the best response, the most intense sensation. I no longer felt awkward with him, indeed I hadn’t felt like that since our first night together.

He touched me, kissed where he had touched, my mouth first, deep and sweet, our bodies pressed together, my breasts against his chest, our legs entwined. “You have the sweetest taste in the world, my love, my only love.”

I touched him in return and ran my hands over his lean strength. “My heart is yours, my body and everything I have.”

He slid down, cradling my breasts in his hands before he kissed each one and took my nipples into his mouth to taste and nip. He could have done that all night and I would have begged for more, but he left them with reluctant kisses, to touch and lick further down, lingering at the soft space inside my hip, where I was particularly sensitive. His hands on my hips prevented me from wriggling out from his grasp, and his low chuckle told me he knew the reaction he had on me.

I gasped as he reached the inside of my thigh, lingering, softly kissing me. Every touch sensitised me even more. I could hardly bear his touches, but I wanted more and yet more. The longing was killing me, but it was exquisite torture, and I whispered, “Please—oh yes,” as he finally reached the place I yearned for him to be.

“I have missed this so much, sweetheart. Your taste has haunted my dreams.”

http://www.booksonboard.com/index.php?BODY=viewbook&BOOK=561412

Newsletter, December, 2009

2009-12-13T17:37:00.000Z

News

It's getting really cold here in the UK and last week the norovirus hit our house with hurricane force. I had it first, but it's extremely contagious and since I was incubating it for a day or so beforehand, I could have infected a fair few people. Without going into details, let's just say it's very, very nasty.

I have to say, I'm constantly astonished by the people who want to read the stories I wrote for myself for so long. It's opened a new world for me, one where I get to do a bit of globetrotting, after a lifetime of travel sickness and disability, and it means I can get to visit places I've always dreamed about. Next year, as well as Romantic Times in Columbus, I'm going to Chicago for the three big miniatures fairs. I can hardly wait! So for those of you to go to either event, I'll see you there and please tell me, so we can meet. This year has seen slow but steady progress, and a consolidation of several areas, not least the new STORM series, which has fulfilled my hopes for it, and the development of the historical arena. I'm working on a new series now, but I want to make sure I get it right before I discuss it in any more detail!
Thanks for helping make a lifetime's dream come true.

Gearing up for Christmas now. I refuse to think seriously about Christmas until December arrives. In the city where I was brought up, Leicester, October mean Divali, the Hindu Festival of Lights, and they used to leave the lights up afterward, so they kind of merged with the Christmas lights later in the year. Very pretty! But it's December already and I haven't even got the tree in place.
So now for the book news.

"Red Shadow", the new STORM book, has had its release date brought forward, and it's out December 2nd! I am thrilled to bits, and I've put an exclusive extract for you below, so if you enjoy my paranormals, do take a peek. This is my first vampire book for awhile, and it was really good to get back to them. Although my vampires are a little different to the standard myth (I used a lot of Russian mythology when I constructed my vampire "world") they are definitely red-blooded and passionate. Johann Kovacs meets Ania Zelinski in LA, his idea of vampire hell, and no holds are barred. The cover is lovely, just how I imagined these two and does depict a scene in the book.
The page for "Red Shadow" is here. http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-7828-50-red-shadow.aspx

On the historical front, the book I told you about last month, the new Triple Countess book, has been accepted. It's to be called "A Betting Chance," and features Corin, Lord Elston, and Sapphira Vardon, the daughter of a wealthy Cit, who is looking for a way out of an unwanted marriage alliance. But not in the conventional way! It's scheduled for release next April from Samhain Publishing.

Meantime, the new Richard and Rose book is due out in January. "Eyton" is the first brand new instalment in their story for four years. I'm so pleased to be moving on with their books again.

I'm taking part in the new Samhain contest, which is currently being put in place. Check with http://www.thesamhellion.com for some really wicked prizes!

I was so pleased that so many of you bought "Beauty of Sunset," and accompanied me into the world of contemporary romance. I loved writing the book and I'm hoping to write another.

Excerpt

Red Shadow(Ania has attended a function she part-owns, suspecting that the manager is running a prostitution scam on the side. She's incognito, dressed as a waitress. Johann is looking for a contact.
Then Ania drops a tray of champagne glasses.)
Now read on.

Shocked, she moved her hand and felt the sting. Crying out, she pulled away and felt the glass scratch her hand. “Oh no!” Instinctive reaction had her bringing her hand to her mouth, sucking the side where the glass had touched.

A strong hand pulled it away. “Let me see.”

Silence surrounded them like their own island of peace. A touch, warm and strong, took her hand in a warm grasp. A male rumble of sympathy.

She knew who had her hand, who had hunkered down to help her. Tall, dark and oomph. She tried to think rationally. This man could save her from Chase recognizing her and assuming she was in on the deal. But all she could feel was his hand, warm against hers, and the slightly rough texture of his handkerchief when he pressed it against her wound. His touch shot through her senses. He drew it away and then replaced it after he’d folded it to a clean side. “It’s not so bad. You won’t need stitches.”

“Are you sure?” She had to get out of here before Maynord recognized her and blew her cover. “I think there’s a first aid guy downstairs. Maybe I should go see him.”

“I’ve done some first aid. Enough to know you’re breathing regularly, not unconscious and not bleeding to death. Look, let’s get out of here so I can treat it for you.”

That suited her perfectly.

She let her hair fall over her face, but just before she exited the ballroom, someone stood in her way. Jeanine. A quick glance showed her Chase was standing a little way off. She pivoted so he couldn’t see her face.

“I hope you realize that you needn’t bother coming back?”

She met Jeanine’s gaze and bit her lower lip, the best she could do right now to offer regret. But a tutting sound reminded her she wasn’t alone. “Could you please move aside? This woman is bleeding.”

Jeanine spared a glance at Ania’s napkin-shrouded hand. She sniffed. “We can’t have blood on the glasses. Perhaps it’s as well they were smashed. Normally I’d expect you to clear up the mess, but I suppose you’ll have to take care of your hand first. I’ll get someone else to deal with it. I’m most displeased.” She glanced at the man beside her. “You don’t have to concern yourself with this, sir. I’m so sorry about it. Since the band has just struck up, may I introduce you to a suitable partner?” She moved aside to stand in front of Chase Maynord, effectively blocking his view.

The man smiled. “I have some first aid experience and the accident was more than half my fault. I wish you would reconsider your decision to fire her.”

Jeanine’s smile was all about sex and nothing about sincerity. “I have to stand by my decision.” She paused. “Unless you would prefer to engage her services.”

Ania caught her breath. How dare this woman be so blatant? She had to get out of this fast, before Jeanine implicated her. Her heart plummeted.

Her expression must have fooled Jeanine into thinking she was in despair, because the woman put up her elegant, pointed chin and stared down her nose at her. She must have four inches advantage on Ania, especially since Ania had dumped her usual high heels in favor of flats tonight. Jeanine hadn’t, which would make her around five ten in stockinged feet.

It didn’t help to know that.

Elegant, classy women had always intimidated her. She couldn’t help what she was or that underneath lay a bullied schoolgirl who’d never quite lost her awe of the soignée seniors, but at least she’d gotten better at hiding it.

This time she didn’t try. She let her hair hang over her face and bowed her head. “I only dropped a tray.”

“I’ll have the bill for damages sent on to you.”

Then the stranger next to her surprised her. He reached into his pocket and drew out a wallet before handing Ania a couple of bills. Two hundred bucks. “If that doesn’t cover it, let me know. I was at least half to blame.” Before she could protest, which she had every intention of doing, he cupped her elbow and gave her a gentle push. “We really have to get that cut seen to. Can’t have you bleeding all over the ballroom.” He guided her out, but not before he leaned toward Jeanine and murmured, “I’ll see you later. Don’t forget.”

“No, of course not,” she replied, but they were already on their way.

They stepped into an elevator and he pushed a button, then pushed her elbow so her hand was thrust up. “Hold it up until we get there.”

“Where?”

“My suite.”

He said nothing until they were out of the elevator and partway along one of the plush carpeted hallways that led to the hotel’s suites. Not a room. She chuckled low in her throat, the sound escaping before she could suppress it. “The tux really was misleading.”

With a lithe movement he pivoted to face her. She found his lopsided grin endearing. “Guess it was. Come on.” He led her halfway down then swiped a card through a slot. What surprised her was the extra level of security when he pressed his thumb against a plate on the door.

She walked in after him. “That’s not usual in hotels.”

The large room was lit by soft lights inset in the ceiling and several table lamps, two of which he flipped on when he walked across to the large windows. “Come into the bathroom,” he said.

Ania didn’t think about not doing it until he led her past the large, Spanish-style bed to the well-appointed bathroom. She’d never seen a hotel room like it. Oh she knew they existed, but this was something else. Seeing it, smelling the delicately perfumed air, feeling the soft carpeting under her feet, added to the sense of luxury.

“Sit.” The bathroom even had a chair. She was used to sitting on the toilet seat at home and she didn’t exactly live in squalor. Obediently she sat on the soft cushions covering the cane seat. He shrugged off the coat and threw it over the back of the chair. “Let’s see.”

“It’s not so bad.” It stung, but it wasn’t throbbing. She peeled off the napkin and revealed the cut.

He turned on the faucet over the sink and took the napkin from her, soaking the part that she’d left unstained. “I know. We’ll clean it up and get a bandage on it. You should be fine.”

He sounded completely unconcerned, totally unlike his attitude downstairs. As if he read her, he squatted down in front of her, taking her hand and turning it. He dabbed at the wound, wiping away the blood that made it look worse than it actually was. Ania shuddered. He paused and looked up at her. “Are you okay?”

It was worse when he looked at her, his dark eyes perceptive. Touch and sight. Now all she needed was taste. His voice was dark and velvety, his scent perfect, all soap and aftershave and pure male. And she knew she couldn’t deny her attraction. The more she pretended it wasn’t there, the worse it got and it had done so ever since she’d first met his gaze in the ballroom.

Warmth spread through her mind, as if, as if…

Shit.

His smile broadened. “Yes. I wondered if you’d notice before I told you.” He examined her scratch, because that was all it was once he’d cleaned off the blood. “I’m a Talent.”

She snatched her hand back but his hold on her wrist firmed and she found herself trapped. “Why didn’t you say something before?” She tried to keep her breathing steady. She’d never knowingly been this close to a Talent before. Mythical creatures who’d been living among them all this time, vampires, shape-shifters, even merpeople. In the last year she’d seen a dragon on TV and a vampire talking calmly about his lifestyle on Larry King. And now she was staring at one. Her tension racked up to panic.

“Hey, calm down. We’re human, just like you. Just a different kind of human.”

Ania stared at the man, trying to imagine him as a different creature, changing his shape. But she couldn’t see anything other than his broad-shouldered frame. “So you say.”

He smiled. She wished he wouldn’t do that. “You know I’m in the outer part of your mind, don’t you? I read you when you dropped the tray. You didn’t want Chase to recognize you. You two got history?”

She bit her lip. “Something like that.” She didn’t trust him enough to tell him the whole truth, at least not yet. After all, she’d heard Johann arrange to meet the hag later.

“Well, he’s not available now. Jillian came back.”

She frowned. “Jillian?”

He tilted his head to one side. “An old flame. The love of his life. He thought she’d died three years ago. She hadn’t. So Chase is now a blissfully married man.” His smile twisted to one of cynicism. “Sooner him than me.”

“You don’t believe in marriage?”

“I think it’s fine—for other people.” He touched the napkin to the wound then threw it aside. “That should do. Let’s get this bandage on.”

He crossed the room, something that would take him a maximum of two steps in her small bathroom, but in this room it took five strides. She counted. He opened a cabinet and took out a small pack of bandages, selecting a couple after rejecting one or two others. Fastidious then. Fussy, even.

“Very particular,” he said as he came back to her.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” she said, irritated.

He looked up at her through his ridiculously thick lashes. “What?”

“Answer things I haven’t asked, only thought.”

“You should learn to control your thoughts.”

“Yeah, right.”

He carefully applied a bandage across one end of the long scratch. “That will sting for a couple of days.” He took the other one and peeled off the backing tape. She coughed.

She stared at him and watched fire spark in his eyes. Perhaps he was a dragon. She’d love to see a dragon for real.

He bent down and presented his hand, his mouth quirking up in a smile. “I’m Johann Kozac. Pleased to meet you.”

She took his hand in her unmarked right one. “Ania Zelinski.”

“Polish?”

“Third generation. My grandparents came over in World War Two.”

“I was Czech, came over at about the same time as your grandparents, I guess.”

She stared at him. “I thought you were in your mid thirties. I guess it’s hard to—to—”

“You’re doing real well.” His voice softened and he reached up a hand to smooth back her wayward hair. “Is this your first close encounter with a Talent?”

“I guess.”

“Does it bother you?”

She gave a short laugh. “I used to read a lot of fairy stories when I was a kid. So when we heard Talents did exist, it was kinda expected. I don’t know, but it didn’t come as much of a surprise as it should have done. And now we know for sure.”

“Come on.” He tugged her to her feet. “Let’s get a drink.”

“Shouldn’t you go back to the ball?” She let him draw her up and found herself disturbingly close to him. Close enough to feel the heat of his body against hers.

Instead of releasing her, he curved an arm around her waist. “My work there is done.” He stroked her waist and she felt him through her clothes as if she were naked. Disturbingly intimate. “I’ll gladly miss the rest of it.”

Red Shadow from Ellora's Cave
A Vampire For Ania
Order Page: http://www.jasminejade.com/ps-7828-50-red-shadow.aspx
ISBN: 9781419924378

Johann isn’t happy with his latest assignment for STORM. That changes when he meets Ania.
Johann and Ania ignite passion that lights up the Los Angeles sky. They can’t get enough of each other, even though Johann thinks Ania knows more than she’s telling about his quarry, the elusive Dr. Bennett.
Ania should be concentrating on her failing catering company and her sick brother, not spending her days and nights in sexual ecstasy. She just can’t stay away from Johann. When Johann introduces her to his best friend, she discovers what it’s like to have two demanding, lustful men in her bed.
She’s falling in love with Johann, even though she knows, as a vampire, his lifespan is much longer than hers. Perhaps in his arms she can discover what forever feels like. Or perhaps they’ll both die, if they don’t find Bennett before he finds them.

What's happening in October?

2009-10-06T13:52:00.000+01:00

Newsletter, July 2009

News

Note: Don't forget to keep checking my website for the latest news and excerpts.

I have very exciting news! I hope you'll agree.
For a little while now I've been working with some women at Ellora's Cave to make a new series. It was the brainchild of Ciana Stone, who is a ball of fire and a great colleague. I hope now, a friend. We're producing a new series with a cougar theme, that is, older woman, younger man. Seven women meet at a romance convention, and agree that they need to move on, they're in a rut. One of their number challenges the others - find a younger man for real, don't just talk about it!
I thought this was interesting because it sets up new conflicts I hadn't thought about before, and if my book worked, it would be my first published contemporary romance. Not a paranormal being in sight.
My character is Edie, an ex supermodel and plastic surgeon John Sung, a half-Asian American. I've always had a weakness for a hot Asian man, so I could let my fantasies go with this one! Ellora's Cave were most insistent, and rightly so, that I emphasised there was no professional relationship between Edie and John. So he refuses to take her as his patient, refers her to someone else and then meets up with her another time.
The book was accepted by Ellora's Cave and we're working on the edits now. I really loved working on this one, it just flowed. My book is the second in the series, and the first, Samantha Kane's . Watch for "Play It Again Sam" on October 16th. My book, "Beauty of Sunset" should be out soon!
Oh, and before I forget. We have a blog. Our characters are blogging at the Tempt The Cougar blog. We thought it would be great fun to do that in real time, and let people join in.
The books are:

1. PLAY IT AGAIN, SAM by Samantha Kane
2. BEAUTY OF SUNSET by Lynne Connolly
3. WINTER’S THAW by Dalton Diaz
4. HOT TO TROT by Desiree Holt
5. ASSUME THE POSITIONS by Mari Carr
6. BLUE TATTOO by Mari Freeman
7. CAM’S HOLIDAY by Ciana Stone

and do visit the blog. http://temptthecougar.blogspot.com/

Writing - Kai's book is currently being assessed at Loose-Id. It was great fun to write and meant I could revisit Cromer, a seaside town in Norfolk which I really loved visiting in the summer. It's the home of the most decorated lifeboatman ever, one Henry Blogg. But Kai the merman isn't living there because of that!
I've started to write the next Triple Countess book, so at last Corin will find his lady. It should form a bridge between that and the new series, but if I say any more I'll jinx it, so I'll just carry on writing!

"Red Shadow," the next STORM book has been accepted at Ellora's Cave. This features the vampire Johann, my first vampire story since "Rubies of Fire," so that was a challenge, but a welcome one. I've introduced a few new characters, and you will get to reaquaint yourself with some new ones. The series also has a title - Ecstasy in Red. Isn't that nice? I do plan to continue this series with stories from Team Blue, and so on, as long as the ideas keep coming. While Team Red members were essentially fighting remnants left over from the old world, before Talents became generally known, Team Blue have a new challenge to face. But I'll let you guess that for now, as while I know where I want to take the series, I haven't worked out the details yet.

I'm currently writing a Triple Countess book. So for those of you who wanted a new historical, I'm working on it! Corin gets his lady, at last. I started to write Corin's story with Alethea from Last Chance, My Love, as heroine, but although they liked each other very much, they didn't fall in love. And I tried so hard to make it happen. Sometimes that happens, and since I wasn't on a deadline with this book I could go back and start again. This time I found someone and the magic happened!

Excerpt

A little taster from Beauty of Sunset. It's unedited, so please bear with my mistakes and oopsies!

Edie stood contemplating a splash of paint on canvas. She usually liked modern art but this exhibition had left her cold. Even though the splash was a particularly bright blue. Maybe she was getting old, or something. She’d felt enervated for a while now.

Then a sense, a feeling of warmth swept through her, and a voice, deep and somehow intimate, came from behind her. “Good evening.”

She caught her breath, breathed out slowly, and turned around. “Hi.”

John Sung, mouthwatering in a charcoal gray dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and black pants that she knew had to be designer, probably Ralph Lauren from the cut. His coal-black hair was short, cut to shadow the shape of his skull and his clean-cut cheekbones pushed against the gleaming olive skin, just below the almond-shaped eyes.

As before he watched her with a single-minded intensity. She shuddered and resisted clasping her arms around her body in a protective gesture. She hadn’t felt this vulnerable for years. Forever.

Stupid. She shook her hair back off her face and held out her hand. “Nice to see you again.”

A brief touch of his fingers, then he was gone, but she felt the tingle of the contact and wondered at it.

“Do you like them?”

She glanced around and gave a small shake of her head. “They’re perfectly fine, but not precisely my thing.”

“Me too.”

She couldn’t walk away again. Remembering the advice the blog girls had given her she decided to take the plunge. Business between them was far from over, she knew that now. “I live fairly close. Come back for coffee?”

“I’d be glad to.”

An old invitation, but sometimes it meant just that. She could throw him out if she chickened out, but at least she’d know him better, get him out of her system. Or they might just take things a bit further. She’d play it by ear.

Once outside the gallery they passed the inevitable gamut of photographers, who were more interested in the young heiress who’d just entered the gallery and walked away from the event, where John lifted his hand and hailed a passing cab. “Dreadful, weren’t they?”

She laughed. “Yes, but it wouldn’t have been good to say it there. That artist is the latest sensation.”

He shrugged. “I couldn’t live with one of those daubs for long. They’ll be decorating some swish offices downtown before too long.”

That was so much what she was thinking she had to suppress her laugh. He helped her into the cab and she gave her address and leaned back. “Not your offices, though.”

“What?” She turned her head to see him staring at her. “Oh, yes. Not fucking likely. Pure crap. Pretty colored crap, but if I had to look at it everyday I’d probably go insane.”

She laughed, knowing what he meant. She kept her apartment clean and filled with only the things she needed, or she liked. Only a few people saw it these days, so she kept it exactly as she wanted it.

The taxi dropped them at her building and she let Sung—John—pay. Fighting over a few dollars didn’t seem worth it, especially with her stomach tying itself in knots. The night she’d allowed her fantasy to win played through her again, sending thrills through her. And he hadn’t even touched her. Probably wouldn’t.

They stood either side of the elevator, as if avoiding touch and he stood back and let her exit first when they reached her floor. She unlocked the door and passed through, turning on the floor lights and touching the dimmer. Not to intimate, just lower than full-on.

“Nice.” He stood in the center of the large room and turned around. She’d left the mezzanine in shadow, but its depths added richness to the effect. She’d kept colors muted and cool, comfortable and soothing rather than challenging. This was her home now.

“Thanks. My last husband liked the French Empire style. Fussy, lots of gold, you know the type.”

He laughed. “Yeah. I’ve visited places like that. This is more to my taste. Understated. Classy.”

She smiled as she walked through to the kitchen area and found the coffeemaker. “Do you want something fancy, cappuccino or latte?” Her huge machine did it all.

“No, just coffee, black, no sugar.”

Typical. Most men asked for it like that, but she’d bet a few secretly went for double shot Americano when nobody was looking. Somehow, this man seemed the black coffee type. “Make yourself at home.”

She wasn’t. She took hers with cream. Plenty of it. She put the cups on a tray and carried them through.

He’d settled on one of the wide sofas facing the window. Lights twinkled in a cityscape she’d dreamed about as a little girl in small-town England. Now she was here. Having that view reminded her every day how lucky she was. It helped. Sometimes.

She put the tray down on the glass coffee-table and sat next to him. They didn’t have to touch on this wide sofa, but somehow she ended closer than she’d planned. He sat, his arms spread over the back and arm, more relaxed than she’d imagined him.

“Do you want to know why I wouldn’t take you as a patient?”

Yes. She swallowed, and touched her throat. “Why?”

His glasses glinted as he turned away from the view to look at her. Behind the lenses his eyes gleamed with truth. “Because I can’t take a scalpel to you. You’re too perfect to be touched. I can’t do it.”

She frowned, squinting at him. “Are you sure you were looking at the right woman? Maybe one time I might have agreed with you, but you have to know that I’m forty-five years old. My years of perfection are behind me.”

“I don’t think so. You carry your life with you and you’ll only grow better with age. Your bone structure is awesome.”

“Is that a medical term?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He huffed a laugh but didn’t sound amused. “Operating on you would be like smoothing the statue of the Venus de Milo back to a blurry approximation of what it should be.”

“You’re dissing plastic surgery? Don’t you make your living at it?”

His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Sure. But we don’t just do vanity stuff. And even then it isn’t always about vanity. Some women make their living from keeping their beauty. Actresses over forty have difficulty getting good leading roles, or they did before the cosmetic surgeon got to work. Pop stars need to be honed and buffed weeks after giving birth or leaving rehab.” He shrugged. “You know how it goes.”

“None better.” Although she’d never gone under the knife before she didn’t condemn people who made that choice. “But now it’s my turn. I take it the confidential doctor-patient relationship between us is no more?”

“You take it right. It was there for about five minutes. I’d still like to know why you want it done, but you’re not talking to a doctor here. Just me, John, a man.”
She loved that voice, the way it purred over her skin like the caress of silk.

2009-09-01T15:57:00.002+01:00

Newsletter, September 2009

News

This month I had to concentrate on my home life, somewhat, but things I'd set in motion beforehand came to fruition this month.

My first piece of news is rather exciting. For anyone who thinks an author is all about the money, well, many of us actually do it for the love. So to have "Yorkshire" available as a free download in the Kindle store is amazing. And the responses have been amazing, too.
"Yorkshire" is available at the Amazon.com Kindle shop - free! Pick up the first in the Richard and Rose series for no charge at all.
http://tiny.cc/ryxO6
It's a full length novel set in the Georgian era.

Rose Golightly is a country girl who thinks her life will continue on its comfortable course, but a series of events changes that for good. On a visit to the ancestral estate of Hareton Abbey, Richard Kerre, Lord Strang, enters her life. A leader of society, a man known for extravagance in dress and life, Richard is her fate. And she is his.
YORKSHIRE
Richard and Rose are back!
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/yorkshire
ISBN: 978-1-60504-269-5

Richard is to marry a rich, frigid woman in a few weeks, and has deliberately closed his heart to love. Then a coach accident throws his wounded body into Rose’s arms.
With one kiss, Richard and Rose discover in each other the passion they thought they’d never find.
But the accident that brought them together was an act of sabotage. Somewhere, in the rotting hulk of a once beautiful stately home, a murderer is hiding.
Richard and Rose set out to solve the mystery, and find the layers of scandal go deeper than simply determining who is guilty. And that doing the right thing could separate them—forever.

I hope you visit The Good, The Bad and The Unread blog from time to time. I have a regular column there, and I started doing it because I enjoyed it so much. Sybil, the owner, tries to keep it like a magazine, with lots of fresh input and views. I also review, mainly Harlequin/Mills and Boon. When I put a bad review up, I agonise over it, but a few things console me. I won't sugar-coat my reviews on books, but I always make it clear that it's only my opinion and someone else's could be entirely different. And when I review, I do it from the reader's perspective. That's why I won't review books written by friends or books put out by any of my publishers. Too close to home!
http://goodbadandunread.com/

Writing - I'm starting on a new series of hot historical novellas. I'm only on the planning stage right now, but a recent visit to London and the purchase of some great new books set me off on a new path. I'll probably feature characters from previous historicals, because there are a few with loose ends I've been asked to clear up, so it's not a new series as such, more a new direction for some favorite characters. I'm so excited about this series. I've never moved the historicals up into the erotic, and even given the setting of the stories I'm not sure all of them would qualify - I still intend to let the characters tell me which way they want the story to go.

I'm in the final stages of writing Kai's book for the Department 57 series. I've loved revisiting Kai, with his long, silver-blond hair and athletic body he's one of my favorite characters. A merman who is totally happy with his existence but aware that something is missing, or in Kai's case, two someones. There is the hint of another romance to come, but whether that will end happily or not, I don't know at this stage.

And "Red Shadow," the next STORM book has been accepted at Ellora's Cave. This features the vampire Johann, my first vampire story since "Rubies of Fire," so that was a challenge, but a welcome one. I've introduced a few new characters, and you will get to reaquaint yourself with some new ones. The series also has a title - Ecstasy in Red. Isn't that nice? I do plan to continue this series with stories from Team Blue, and so on, as long as the ideas keep coming. While Team Red members were essentially fighting remnants left over from the old world, before Talents became generally known, Team Blue have a new challenge to face. But I'll let you guess that for now, as while I know where I want to take the series, I haven't worked out the details yet.

My website
The hub of everything I do. It's updated regularly, with excerpts, short stories and other goodies:
http://www.lynneconnolly.com

My newsletter and yahoo group.
Members get a monthly newsletter, where the news ALWAYS breaks first, and new excerpts are aired. There is also a free book, currently being serialised, but it will be available in the Files for new members, when we've finished.
To join, go here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LynneConnolly/
or send an email here:
LynneConnolly-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

Newsletter, August 2009

2009-08-02T23:02:00.002+01:00

News
All under-the-hood work this month. I'm writing and editing like crazy, nothing to get excited about, not yet, anyway, but I do enjoy working in that way. It's what I do, it's why I decided to enter this world. That and the lovely people I get to meet and the places I get to go to. Who'd have thought that sitting at home writing would lead to all this?

Anyway, to get more specific, I had a new release this month (I'll put an excerpt below for you). "Red Heat," the second book in the STORM universe, came out. And I loved writing this one, because Sorcerers are my only original addition to the paranormal universe. The others, shape-shifters, vampires and so on, are there for me to research and put my own twist on, but Sorcerers are all mine. They're people with a normal mortal lifespan, but with extraordinary psi gifts. They are born without the natural barrier everyone develops naturally during the first week of life, so they have to learn to erect it. Until they do, they're deeply vulnerable to psychic attack, so Sorcerer children are usually brought up in peaceful, remote locations, until they learn to cope with the constant psychic bombardment of reading people's thoughts and desires - whether they want to or not. All Sorcerers can trace their origins to a Hungarian family, the Nadasdys, one of whom was married to Erszebet Bathory, the Blood Countess. That's why they use the capital S, because they're a race of people, not a type.
Chase Maynord, the hero of Red Heat is a Sorcerer. He also owns a chain of luxury hotels, the Timothy group, which is also very useful for his role with STORM. Now Talents are out in the open, it adds more complications to his situation.
The heroine, Jillian, is something very different and she was hard to write, because I wanted to get into how she felt, what she would do. She had to have a very strong centre, otherwise she wouldn't have survived.
She was in a car accident and the IRDC, (the baddies) used it to operate on her and brainwash her. The combination of techniques make her believe she's someone else, the other person in the car accident. They do it because they want Chase and they know a Sorcerer isn't going to be fooled by an imitation, however good. (I wouldn't consider this a spoiler because it's all in the first couple of chapters).
So Chase is faced with a dilemma. He wants to keep Jillian, and he needs to bring her memory back. Jillian has to decide whose side she is on and who she really is.
I had to work hard on this one, but I think I got it to work.

Also out later in August is the next Richard and Rose book. "Harley Street" is the last Richard and Rose book that was previously published. It's been heavily rewritten and re-edited, so I'd love to know what people think of it. Better or worse than the previous versions?
In this one, Richard and Rose go to London, ready to create a life for themselves, something they can call "normal." Rose is being pressurised to create the next Southwood heir, not by Richard but by his parents, and Richard's past returns to bite him in the butt. Badly.

After that, we go into the two written but never published books and the one I haven't written yet, but have planned.

And on a personal note - this is the month when my life changed, in a way. The whole ground floor of our house has been ripped out and redesigned. New floors, new furniture, new bookshelves. Like many people, we put up with things while the children were growing up, too tired or too lethargic or too distracted by more important things to sort it out, but this summer we decided to take the plunge. I'm sitting in a room which is at present bare floorboards, but the boards are stained and polished and the rug is outside waiting to be renovated before it comes back in. At least one part of the old house remains, if gussied up to within an inch of its life.
So I went on the netbook for a while, and thanks and blessings to Ikea for their Dave computer table. Portable, convenient - brilliant. Sometimes it's worth taking a 5 mile hike around the Ikea store looking for something in particular and getting sidelined by lights, boxes and sofas - or is that just me?

Excerpt

"Red Heat" this month. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Of all the hotels in New York, she has to walk into his.
Ever since Chase Maynord lost the love of his life in a car crash, he’s used her name as a password for STORM agents at his luxury hotel. So when someone registers as Jillian Miller, he assumes it’s business as usual.
But it’s not. Jillian returns to him and their lust burns up the sheets. Only she thinks she’s someone else, her memory destroyed by their mutual enemy. Chase wants her back and he’ll do anything to get her.
Jillian’s mission is to deliver Chase to the IRDC, enemy to Talents. But, stunned by her hunger for him, she doesn’t know whose side she’s on any more.
The old Jillian loved exhibiting herself to an appreciative audience so Chase takes her somewhere he can indulge her every desire. He prays that her old passion for making love in public will restore her to him.
She has to come back to him soon, or they’re both dead. And he won’t let her die alone.

Caroline’s heart pounded double time as she stepped through the huge glass doors of the New York flagship hotel of the Timothy group. Not for the first time she doubted she could accomplish her mission but she’d rehearsed this part so many times, she could have done it in her sleep.

One of the premier hotels in New York, the Timothy was imposing enough from the outside but the entrance hall staggered her, even though she’d seen pictures of it before. The reality was so much more.

Taste and opulence combined to create one of the most admired interiors in the city. Crystal drops spiraled down from the central chandelier high above, like a static waterfall, spreading sparkles of fractured color over the cream marble floor. Dark mahogany and brass fittings emphasized the sparkle.

In one of the most expensive areas of real estate in the world, this space stated its disdain for mere money. Except that was a double bluff, because the cost of a suite here for a night would keep an average American family for a month.

She tried to despise the kind of lifestyle that required this level of display but she couldn’t quite make it. She wanted to call it vulgar but it wasn’t. She wanted to condemn it but walking into the space lifted her spirits.

A shame the owner was a Talent who refused to share his gifts with mankind for the common good. Caroline was here to persuade him to change his mind. Not that he knew that yet.

This beautiful place served as nothing but a façade for deception. Because this world-famous hotel was a center for beings calling themselves Talents, who didn’t care if humans lived or died and refused to share their gifts with mankind.

And she was the first line of attack.

She had to remember that her name wasn’t Caroline but Jillian. For this mission, her name was Jillian. If she thought of herself as Caroline, she’d make a slip, so from her entrance through the great glass doors, she had to become Jillian. She repeated the name in her mind, sinking into the role as her trainers had taught her. Posing as his lost love, with extensive plastic surgery aiding her masquerade, she would do what nobody else had managed to achieve. The organization that had sent her today, the IRDC, the International Research and Development Clinic, needed Talents to help, otherwise the organization couldn’t distill the precious essences of what made Talents so special. Only Talents like shape-shifters, vampires and Sorcerers had gifts like longevity, strength, the ability to shift form, and to flash from place to place instantly.

This Talent was a Sorcerer, descended from a race of people originating in Hungary, people with incredible powers of the mind, telepathy in particular. Talents claimed that everyone could use a certain amount of telepathy, that everyone was born with it but developed a strong shield that few pierced in their lifetimes. The IRDC believed a shortcut to the ability would come if Talents allowed experiments and study. Talents constantly refused to allow the IRDC access, paranoid in their refusals. Now that Talents had come out of their particular closet and faced the light of day, it should have been easier to persuade them. No such luck. So here she was. On a mission, if not from God, then from the IRDC.

People stood at the checkout desk and three bellboys pushed laden luggage trolleys across the floor. The information desk was clear, so she walked up to it, each subdued tap of her shoes on the cold marble ticking the countdown to her fate.

The staff at the desks wore dark business suits that were only recognizable as a uniform by the T monogram on the lapel, so distinctively the Timothy that the hotel had made the letter into a brand, even trademarked the custom designed font. You could buy towels and robes with its distinctive flourish. As the advertisements in the glossies said, “We sell them to you so you don’t have to steal them.” She’d bet the guests still stole them, just for kicks.

The man at the desk, who wore a badge with his name, Malcolm, gave her a professional smile but his eyes didn’t quite meet hers. Some of the guests here wouldn’t like eye contact. It made Jillian feel even more isolated. “May I help you, ma’am?”

“I-I don’t have a reservation.” She watched the smile melt away. “But I wondered if room 139B was available?” Did Malcolm’s eyes widen just a fraction? “My name’s Jillian Miller.”

Oh yes, they had. He glanced down. “We are very busy,” he looked up at her, sharp eyes assessing, “but I believe that room is free. I’ll make a note and get someone to take you up.”

She was on the brink of saying she’d find her own way but a bellboy stood at her side as soon as Malcolm raised a finger. She took the keycard Malcolm handed her and signed the register. Only on her way to the elevators did she realize that he’d forgotten to ask for her credit card. She’d just given the code word, a mixture of her assumed name, Jillian Miller, and the number of the room, 139B. Maybe credit cards were irrelevant.

In the elevator, the bellboy passed a card through the base of the control panel instead of hitting a button. And where there should have been a button for the thirteenth floor, the one she wanted, there was only a brass dummy button. Nobody would think anything of that because superstitious people wouldn’t book rooms on the thirteenth floor, so many hotels just skipped it. It seemed they’d put it to use in the Timothy.

The elevator had an old-world feel, with art deco grilles over obsidian marble. Very classy. “Ma’am, if you swipe your keycard, it will take you directly to your floor,” the bellboy said in a voice as dark as chocolate. He was larger than the average bellboy too, his muscles clearly evident through his maroon uniform. She hadn’t known they made bellhop uniforms that big.

It was really happening. This was for real. All the way here she’d fought to persuade herself that her handlers at the IRDC trusted her with this operation and finally she believed it.

When they arrived and the doors slid silently open the bellhop stopped her leaving the elevator. “You see that painting?” He indicated a distinctive watercolor of a landscape hanging on the wall directly opposite.

“Yes.”

“There are copies opposite every elevator door and they tell you you’re on the right floor. The same watercolor, the same view. It works as a double check. Come this way, ma’am.”

She followed the man, who pulled her wheeled case, until they reached a door at the end. He took her keycard, swiped it through and she watched a unit slide out from the wall. The bellhop stood aside. “Press your left forefinger on the pad and look into the viewer. It will register your fingerprint and your iris print.”

Jillian bent and peered into the eyepiece and put her finger on the pad. A click, a blinding flash of light and the unit silently slid away. The door opened and Jillian caught her breath.

The door opened straight on to a huge room. Huge for a hotel, especially a hotel in New York. Sure, the Timothy was five star, one of the city’s best, and it provided a temporary home for celebrities and millionaires but still—Jillian couldn’t remember ever being inside anything this luxurious.

A queen-sized bed dominated one end of the room, the deep red draperies above it caught back on gilt hooks. The colors of deep red and cream, enhanced by glints of gold and clear crystal sparkled in the autumn sunshine. Everything spoke of luxury and the people born to expect it.

Not this girl, Caroline Cross from the boondocks. And that was the very last time she’d think of herself as Caroline. No more. Jillian Miller was Chase Maynord’s old flame, the woman he thought was dead, and she was more than used to rooms like this.

* * * * *

Chase ruthlessly dragged his mind back to the meeting, a discussion of the conferences scheduled for the next six months. He’d allowed a new consulting group to review the situation and make recommendations and now he heartily wished he hadn’t. The Timothy group got its bread-and-butter from conferences, as did most big hotel groups. The luxury traffic paid well as did the income from the honeymooners and ordinary rich folks but the conferences saved on administrative costs. The price they charged for the conference rooms more than paid for the reduced prices of the guest rooms.

Just as this person was telling him. Dressed in a good quality off-the-peg suit, the young man, fresh from Harvard, with all the arrogance of the newly qualified MBA, continued to tell him how to run his business. So far they’d told him nothing he didn’t already know. He wondered how much longer he could stay awake. A waste of time.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and although he’d told them emergencies only, he sighed in relief. Breaking up another fight between a “happily married” celebrity couple, even arranging for a B-list couple to move out of a suite so an A-list couple could move in, anything would be better than this.

The young man didn’t stop in his flow as Chase drew out his cell phone, switching off the blinker as he did so. He touched the screen and read the message. “Jillian Miller checked in to 139B.”

“Shit!” He shot to his feet and headed for the door, only then turning around with his customary charming smile, facing the row of shocked people at the conference table. Perhaps only that news would have jolted him from his usual suave calm. He turned his attention to the young man at the table’s head and shrugged. “I’m very sorry. I can’t ignore this emergency. May we re-convene?” And next time, he’d send one of his deputies. No way would this fucking pompous ass take any more of his time.

He couldn’t even remember the man’s name but to do him justice, the youth gave him a bright smile. “Sure. But we’ve dealt with most of it. I can send you my report first thing in the morning.”

“Fine.” Chase remembered to bestow another smile and add, “It was nice to meet you. You’re doing great,” before he left the room. If he’d cared about the guy, he would have stopped to give him some advice, like “cut to the real meat right at the start” or “remember your audience”, but the presentation had been so lackluster he couldn’t work up the interest to do it.

Outside the room, where there was no one to see him, he leaned against the wall, put his head back and took several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Every time Jillian’s name came up, he felt this way, adrenaline rising, heart rate quickening and breath shortening. Three years and still he felt this way. Even watching a Talent on TV didn’t affect him like this.

But it would be another agent from STORM, not Jillian. Jillian was dead. He ran the safe house or more accurately, the safe floor, in her memory. That was why he used her name as part of the code. It hurt to think of her but he never wanted to forget.

He took a moment to remember her laughter, the way she leaned against him to cop a feel at the most inappropriate times, her eyes flashing with delight when he responded with outrage or shock. Her smoky gray eyes had dominated her piquant face, her near-black hair provided a frame for her pale skin, almost vampire-like in its clear, transparent pallor.

It helped to think of her but when he remembered the car crash that had ended her life the familiar grief descended on him—a black cloud that never faded, never eased up however much he invoked it, like poking his tongue into an aching tooth to see if it hurt any less. It never did.

But life went on and right now a STORM agent needed him. Chase straightened up, pulled his jacket straight and headed for the elevators.

Red Heat from Ellora's Cave
Of all the hotels in all the world, she had to walk into his...
Order Page: http://www.ellorascave.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419922435

Where to find Lynne Connolly and her Books

My website
The hub of everything I do. It's updated regularly, with excerpts, short stories and other goodies:
http://www.lynneconnolly.com

My newsletter and yahoo group.
Members get a monthly newsletter, where the news ALWAYS breaks first, and new excerpts are aired. There is also a free book, currently being serialised, but it will be available in the Files for new members, when we've finished.
To join, go here:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LynneConnolly/
or send an email here:
LynneConnolly-subscribe@yahoogroups.com

UK Historical romance blog:
http://historicalromanceuk.blogspot.com/

My personal blog, which is shamefully out of date:
http://lynneconnolly.blogspot.com/

The Mavens of the Pen blog:
http://mavensofthepen.blogspot.com/

I currently write for Samhain Publishing, Ellora's Cave and Loose-Id. So you can find me on their loops and on their websites.

I write columns for Sybil at The Good, The Bad and The Unread:
http://tinyurl.com/6j42ut

And my email is lynneconnollyuk@yahoo.co.uk

Lynne Connolly, author of Dark and Provocative Romance
http://www.lynneconnolly.com

New Release - Red Alert

2009-03-27T15:56:00.003Z

Red Alert - the first in a new series of paranormal romantica.

When a dragon flies over Central Park, he jolts the world into awareness. Shape-shifters and vampires finally reveal their existence, and people show their fangs, wings and claws to their neighbors. But exposure doesn’t deter old enemies.
Megan meets Sandro at the lowest time of her life – when she thinks her crazy nightmares are symptoms of the tumor that is killing her. But the sexy dragon shape-shifter tells her the dreams are telepathic messages from his missing brother Ricardo. More than telepathy flares between them. Megan and Sandro burn up the night with sizzling passion, but Sandro won’t commit, and Megan wants more than a fling.
When Sandro rescues Megan from Ricardo’s captors she gives him the key to locate his brother, but he wants far more from the sexy archivist. He wants her body, all ways, all day, all night.
But this is his last case for the STORM agency and he knows he can’t promise Megan any kind of forever.

(Cover art by Seneca)

Excerpt:

A blast of bright light made Megan open her eyes.

The dragon soared up toward the higher buildings before straightening out his flight. Then it grew larger, just as it said it would. She found herself sitting between the great wings of a beast that until a few months ago was supposed to be only a legend. Well here it was. A real live dragon.

It was maybe ten feet from head to tail, covered in blue-green scales, dry and warm, not slimy as she’d imagined when she’d seen one on the TV. Its broad back gave her good purchase, if she lowered her body so she lay on her bag, the remnants of his jacket and the manila envelope holding her scan results. Wind whipped past them and she spread her hands over the thick neck, clutching the folds of skin she found there. “Holy shit!”

Hold on tight. We’re not going far.

“Yeah.”

And by the way, dragon or man, I’m always masculine. Never an “it”. Amusement rather than irritation colored his inner voice. Dark, smoky, sexy. And yes, very masculine.

That’s better.

Can you tell everything I’m thinking?

No. Only your outer thoughts. I could go deeper but it would hurt you. We try not to pry.

My, you are civilized.

You have no idea, was his bitingly sarcastic reply.

This was a hell of a way to find out she wasn’t afraid of heights.

They were higher now. He kept to about thirtieth-floor level, as far as she could guess. He headed for the heart of Manhattan. The oasis of Central Park sprawled below them, the lush green punctuated by sharp flashes as people took photos. Despite her fatigue, a sense of elation rose in her, purely from the flight. “We’ll be on the news. Will they be able to make out my face?”

Try to speak telepathically. I can hear you better like that when we’re airborne. No they won’t make out your face, my body should obscure it. I’ll just make sure.

A warm, soft feeling enveloped them, enclosing her in an unseen envelope, like atmospheric pressure around a plane. “What did you do?”

Fuzzed. Put a mental shield around us, so people see what they expect to see, not what’s really here. How do you think we kept ourselves secret for so long?

New York looked different from the air but it was still the city Megan had fallen in love with the minute she stepped off the shuttle bus from the airport. Today was a cold, fresh spring day with a crisp blue sky, one of the best.

Where are you taking me?

To a parking garage. Then home.

My home?

Mine.

He descended so smoothly she hardly noticed until the flat, car-strewn rooftop loomed up under his great clawed feet. He extended them and landed as gently as an experienced pilot. Smoother.

She stayed on his back. The roof appeared to waver, and only then did vertigo hit. Closing her eyes, Megan willed her stomach to behave until she felt the movement cease.

You can get off me now.

Megan opened her eyes and found the ground a mere three feet away. After grabbing the jacket, bag and folder, she extended her legs down one side of the scaly body and slid down to the blessedly solid ground. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, sheer relief pouring through her.

“You did well.”

The deep, masculine voice sounded just like the one in her head. And a little like the one that cried out to her in her dreams. Shivering a little, she opened her eyes and confronted a tall, strong man. A tall, strong, completely nude man with a ripped body.

Although she tried really hard not to look down for, oh, perhaps a whole second, she couldn’t resist any longer than that. Her gaze traveled down the broad chest, liberally sprinkled with curly black hair, the join-the-dots line from navel down to—oh yes.

Long, strong and semi-erect. Semi-erect? Startled, she jerked her attention up to his face, blinking.

He gave her a devastatingly wicked smile and took the two steps that separated them. “I can’t lie to you when I’m naked, can I?”

“What, the violence turns you on? Or is it the transformation?” she managed, weak but still fighting. She badly wanted to go to him and just be held, be told it was all right, this was all a dream. But it wasn’t.

“No, it was the lush brunette who’s just spent the last twenty minutes snuggled against my back.” He smiled wryly, a warm, genuine smile, so very different from the ones Dr. Jones had flashed at her a short time before. “I felt your body against my back, the way your breasts pressed against me and your crotch pushed me. That’ll do it every time.”

“You don’t even know my name. It’s Megan. Megan Armstrong.”

“Well, Megan Armstrong, let me claim my reward for rescuing you.”

Before she could step back, his arms went around her, pressing her close, and his mouth settled on hers.

Oh but he tasted delicious. Of warmth and strength and pure, rampant male. She relaxed and let him support her weight. She hadn’t allowed herself any weaknesses for years but at the end of her rope, it felt so good to be held. This man took what he wanted and what he wanted, she gave.

Red Alert from Ellora's Cave
Dragons save the World!
Order Page: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-7065-red-alert.aspx
ISBN: 9781419920639

Newsletter, March 2009

2009-03-05T00:39:00.000Z

Newsletter, March 2009

News
The snow has gone, and spring is tentatively pushing new shoots out of the ground. Today, on March the first, we have a bright, slightly chilly day. Perfect for spring.
I know I'm in a minority, but I love winter, love it when it gets darker early, so I can close the curtains and put the fire on. Having a cat to happily curl up in front of that fire helps. Nothing as cosy as a fire and a cat dozing on the mat in front of it. Of course, if you have a carpet with a lot of cream in it and a black cat, there are drawbacks, but I can cope!

News this month is all ongoing. I'm about to start the third STORM book and looking forward to the release of the first one. Moving Talents on just that little bit has given me a whole new set of conflicts to cope with. Many authors have written of the world that has vampires and shape-shifters in it, but they are already established, and they're more fantasies. But what of the transition, the time when mortals are made to realise that they're not the only kind of human on the planet? I'm doing the Red sequence at the moment, the search for one of the people who exploited Talents in the old days, but I want to go on to different sequences, where the changing world is explored, with all its ramifications and possibilities.

I've also seen the release of what was originally planned as the last Secrets book, Tantalizing Secrets. Part of the historical side of my work, I've had thoughts about the other characters, like Antonia, and even Elizabeth Wisheart, and I've had ideas. So it looks as if Tantalizing won't be the last in the series! I'd love your opinions on that. Who would you like to hear more about? Or do you think I should stop it, and just get on with writing the Richard and Rose series?

I have two more books planned for Richard and Rose, but there are two more that have never seen the light of day. I've now revised and sent in all the previously published books, and two have come out. Two more, this year, then the new ones. It's so different, writing a series about an established couple, and I found, as I revised and thought about the new plots, that they came back to me just as vividly as they always did. I'm so glad the first two in the series got such a good reception when Samhain brought them out, and I think Richard and Rose have found their home.

I'm getting geared up for Romantic Times now. I'm bringing a bunch of really pretty postcards, and some other bits and pieces with me, but I'm really looking forward to meeting my friends, publishers, writers and readers. If you're there, do search me out. I tend to go around in blinkers, heading for the next event, and I'm not a natural extrovert, but I'd love to meet you and put faces to the names I know and have known for years.
I will be tired. My health, as some of you know, isn't always good, but I'm doing my best to ensure that everything works for me at the end of April. I just had what the doctor called "a minor procedure" that turned into something a bit bigger, but we're past that now, and I go to have the stitches out tomorrow. After that, a bit of healthy eating and exercise and I should be ready for that long flight and a great break in Orlando! I shall probably sleep for a week when I get home, but it is so worth it. I'm arriving a few days beforehand so I can get over jetlag and acclimatize a bit, so if you're around, let me know!

Excerpt
So - this month's excerpt is from March's new release, Red Alert, the first STORM book. I'm very excited about this, the first book in what I plan as a series, with new characters and conflicts. But they're still Talents, still struggling against injustice and prejudice. And still burning up the sheets at night!

How about the first chapter from Red Alert?

When a dragon flies over Central Park, he jolts the world into awareness. Shape-shifters and vampires finally reveal their existence, and people show their fangs, wings and claws to their neighbors. But exposure doesn’t deter old enemies.
Megan meets Sandro at the lowest time of her life – when she thinks her crazy nightmares are symptoms of the tumor that is killing her. But the sexy dragon shape-shifter tells her the dreams are telepathic messages from his missing brother Ricardo. More than telepathy flares between them. Megan and Sandro burn up the night with sizzling passion, but Sandro won’t commit, and Megan wants more than a fling.
When Sandro rescues Megan from Ricardo’s captors she gives him the key to locate his brother, but he wants far more from the sexy archivist. He wants her body, all ways, all day, all night.
But this is his last case for the STORM agency and he knows he can’t promise Megan any kind of forever.

Tomorrow…

Megan stood when the nurse called her name, steeling herself for the ordeal ahead. The entrance doors to the unit opened with a click and cool air touched her cheek. She paused to look around, glad of any distraction.

A man entered the hospital ward. The breeze ruffled his dark hair and he turned back to close the door, unconsciously displaying the strength of his powerful body in the stacked muscle rippling the t-shirt under his worn leather jacket. Just how she liked her men, tall and strong.

Normally, that was. Today, all she could think about was sleep and getting some—soon. Even the results of today’s test gave way to that desperate need. She hadn’t slept the night through for weeks. She was about to hear that she was in for long bouts of painful treatment with a death sentence at the end—the fate she’d been dreading for weeks, but in her current state of exhaustion even that took second place to sleep. She dismissed the sexy stranger with a weary shrug and turned her attention to the nurse.

The nurse led her past a line of curtained cubicles into a private room. “The doctor will be with you in a moment,” she snapped before exiting briskly.

What was her problem? Megan couldn’t help her busy day. For her information, Megan’s day would be much worse and she hadn’t snapped at anybody. Yet.

The quiet in the room assaulted her senses after the bustle of the ward. Humanity, in all its shuffling, smelly reality lay out there but here Megan felt sequestered, almost as if the room was soundproofed. Anxiety tightened her throat and she looked around for a distraction. Worry wouldn’t help her now. She’d taken the tests, and once she had her results, she’d know what would happen next.

But here, in a room with a steel hospital bed, reality hit with sickening impact. They must have brought her here because they wanted her to stay, not just give her the results and tell her to come back later. That meant whatever was wrong with her was urgent, needing immediate treatment.

She said the words “Brain tumor” aloud a few times, trying to get used to the idea. It still sent a shudder through her every time.

Biting her lip, Megan glanced up at the TV bolted to the wall above her head. Pictures flashed across the screen, an internal hospital channel showing reminders to eat your five portions of vegetables a day, images of a well-manicured hand slicing carrots into sticks, then green peppers into appetizing slices. She watched the silent images then glanced away. Food was the last thing on her mind.

Usually a patient was stuck with the hospital information channel but not here. A remote lay on the windowsill. Megan picked it up, flicked off the mute and turned to the next channel. CNN News.

“Can New York take this new pressure on its infrastructure?” the commentator said. “How long will it be before there’s a collision in the sky and a bloody mess in the street?”

The camera switched to a view of a dragon in full flight. The creature must have a twenty-foot wingspan. Its great blue-green body gleamed in the weak spring sunshine, the hue shining iridescently as it beat its wings against the wind currents. So beautiful. So impossible, until yesterday.

Damn but she wished she could see one. The existence of people calling themselves Talents had blasted shock waves around the world. She’d seen the footage of the dragon in flight a dozen times since yesterday, when it was the central part of a documentary devoted to the subject. An amateur cameraman—if there such a thing in New York where everybody seemed to be selling their private photos to one agency or another—shot the dragon in flight over Central Park. Other corroborative film and evidence followed, with the strong suggestion that these “creatures” were urban terrorists and spies.

So far, Talents hadn’t spoken, although a spokesman said they would break their long silence later today. That kind of confirmed it. One solitary documentary couldn’t persuade the world but when they came out and said they existed and they’d prove it, that would send the networks into orgasms of delight.

If Megan hadn’t been dreaming about a particular dragon for the past couple of months, it might have come as more of a shock to her but she had her own concerns now, and they overshadowed everything else. The commentator continued. “A representative from STORM will be speaking to the public later today. The Society of Talented Officers Resisting Mistreatment has been with us for some time but until recently nobody knew the specific definition of Talents. It means dragons, vampires and other creatures who have lived among us for centuries. Little is yet known of these Talented beings although they have promised to reveal more in the interest of public awareness.”

Megan slumped bonelessly to the bed, remote in hand.

She blinked and sat up when the door opened and a short, bespectacled doctor strode in, followed closely by two assistants, or maybe they were students. One big, red-haired man whose muscles bulged in a white jacket two sizes too small for him and an even bigger African-American, his head shaved aggressively bald.

My, they make students big these days. A note of alarm sounded in her head. Something was wrong here, though in her current state she couldn’t begin to imagine what it was.

The doctor carried a brown folder that he handed off to one of his assistants without taking his attention away from her. “Miss Armstrong,” he said, his professional smile revealing gleaming white teeth. “I’m Dr. Jones.”

She didn’t like his smile. Unctuous, she’d call it. Smarmy described it even better. His hair looked as if he hadn’t spared the wet-look gel and his chiseled, handsome face didn’t dispel her initial repulsion. “I understand you’ve been having bad dreams, Miss Armstrong.”

“A bit more than that.” She glanced up at the TV and remembered she held the remote in her hand. She muted it. “Sorry.”

The doctor glanced at the screen . “Seeing if any more dragons have appeared?”

“I guess so.” She shrugged. “Seen any in the ER?”

“Not that I know about.” The doctor flashed her another smile, a wintry one this time. He placed his cool fingers on her temples. “Hmm. You feel a little warm.” He reached over her head for the in-ear thermometer. “We’ve had the results of your CT scan and we’re concerned about some abnormalities.”

Here it came. Megan braced herself.

“You have a shadow at the back of your brain, Miss Armstrong.” That explained the presence of the students. An interesting case, he would tell them. Very unusual, worth studying. They could cut her up afterward to examine what killed her. At least she wouldn’t be there to see the blood. She’d never liked blood.

Shock flooded her body, tightening her throat and limbs. She fought it down. She needed information, a clear picture of what was happening inside her body. She fought out the word while she still could. “C-Cancer?”

The doctor gave her a smile. God, she hated his smiles. She wanted to slap that smug grin off his face. “Not necessarily. Many of these abnormalities are benign. But it’s pressing against your brain and probably causing the sleep difficulties. You’re having nightmares, aren’t you?”

“Vivid ones. Always the same.”

“Tell me. There might be some clues there.”

Megan opened her mind to the memories, allowed herself to see the picture that haunted her every night. “But enough about them. Tell me about your dreams.”

“More dragons, I’m afraid.” She flashed him an uncertain smile. “My dreams are always the same. A dragon shape-shifter, or that’s what he says he is. He’s restrained, tied down to a bed in a room with no windows. It’s full of instruments. He’s been tortured. Once I saw him with his arm laid open, the blood throbbing through his veins. He told me not to worry, he’d mend. But they did horrible things to him. He said for me to get in touch with his brother but it’s a dream, so I knew that must be wrong.”

“What was his brother’s name?”

She hesitated, a warning note sounding in her head. Don’t tell them. The voice sounded velvety, rough. Her imagination. It had to be. Sleep deprivation did some weird things. “You think it could be a reflection of my life? Wishful thinking? Only it isn’t, is it?” She waved a hand at the TV screen. “I’ve been having these dreams for a long time, long before the news of STORM and the shape-shifters broke. Now I’m beginning to wonder. Is it real, or is it me? They’re normal except for one thing, so this Ricardo could be telling the truth. ”

Dr. Jones’s eyes opened wide and glanced at the African-American student. “Ricardo. That’s his name?”

She mentally chastised herself for letting it slip. “Yes. He says he’s a dragon but I never saw him change or shape-shift or whatever they call it. He says he can’t.”

Dr. Jones tsked. “They appear perfectly human until they change, then they become perfectly dragon, or whatever shape they have. It’s disgusting when you see them shape-shift.” He paused and glanced at one of the students, who moved a little further away from him to stand in front of the door. “Mutants, you could call them.”

She wouldn’t call them “mutants”. Different, yes but “mutant” made them sound perverted and she didn’t think they were. A new minority, sure but no more “mutant” than any other minority.

Didn’t this doctor know a little too much about creatures who’d only revealed themselves in public yesterday? Her spine prickled in warning. There was definitely something wrong here. She wanted out of this quiet little room. She blinked and glanced at the door, past the beefy student who blocked her way.

“What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing. I just got a weird feeling—you know, like somebody’s walked over my grave.”

Dr. Jones shot a glance over his shoulder and the student nearest the door, the red-haired one, left the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

Something crawled over her senses, making the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. This whole situation didn’t feel right. “Why is it so important? If there’s something in my brain causing these dreams, Ricardo doesn’t exist, does he?” She should be glad. If the swelling in her brain caused the dreams, a shape-shifting dragon called Ricardo Gianetti wasn’t lying on a table somewhere, tortured and suffering.

He exists.

She looked around for the source of the deep, night-dark voice, sure she didn’t imagine it this time. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“No.” Dr. Jones fixed her with a bland stare. “But I will now. We need you to stay in the hospital for a while. We’ll do another scan and operate as soon as possible, then we’ll know more.”

“What will you do?”

“We’ll schedule you for exploratory surgery, probably tomorrow.” He checked his watch. “It’s eleven a.m. now, which means we can operate any time from eleven tonight onward, after we’ve starved you and done the blood tests. I’ll make sure you’re on the list as a priority.” He looked back up at her, blue eyes assessing, professional smile firmly in place. “It’s too early to jump to conclusions, so try not to worry.”

“Like you try not to think about elephants, once somebody’s put the idea in your head?” What a stupid thing to say. Of course she’d worry. “And although I’m British, my work permits and health insurance are in order. In case you were wondering.” Most medics would, once they realized she wasn’t an American citizen but Dr. Jones hadn’t even asked. Nor had the nurse who’d brought her here.

The doctor’s smile didn’t waver, neither did it broaden or become more natural. That was about as fake a smile as she’d ever seen. “Get some rest and take your mind off things. Think about dragons.” With a jerk of his head he indicated the TV screen. It still flashed out pictures of that damn dragon flying across the screen.

“Would it be possible for me to make a phone call?” She’d switched her cell phone off, as instructed on her visit to the CT room. “Just to a friend to say where I am and ask him to bring some things in for me.”

For the first time since he’d entered the room, the African-American spoke. “We’d rather you didn’t use a cell phone. We’ll arrange for a phone to be brought to you.”

Her hackles rose a little more. Something was wrong here. All her instincts told her so. The doctor had been interested in her dream, which should be a symptom, a figment of her tumor-induced imagination and he knew more about shape-shifters than he could have picked up from one sensation-seeking documentary.

You want out?

That voice again, in her head. No one could hear it but her. She was looking right at Dr. Jones and no trace of awareness crossed his face. Who are you?

A Talent. I know Ricardo. Don’t listen to them. I can get you out of here.

He knew Ricardo? Ricardo wasn’t a figment of her tortured imagination? I don’t understand.

Choose. Now. Them or me?

Her skin, now prickling in goosebumps despite the stuffy heat in this room, told her the danger lay here, not with him. You.

Get out of the room. I’m just outside.

She slid off the bed, measuring the distance between her and the door. “Listen, the sleep clinic at the university only sent me here for a CT scan. How about I go back and show them the results and see what they think?”

“There’s no need for that. Time is of the essence here, Miss Armstrong. You should rest.”

The med student took a step toward her and she saw the syringe in his hand, its tip glinting wickedly in the weak sunlight filtering through the blinds.

Her goosebumps and prickling hairs became all-out terror. The two men who came in with Dr. Jones weren’t students at all. They were muscle.

A scuffle outside the door made Dr. Jones turn his head toward the sound. Megan took the opportunity and lashed out with her foot. It struck with a satisfyingly solid whump, right in his solar plexus.

Dr. Jones doubled up, gasping for air. Well the first step to getting out had been easy. But facing the “student” standing between her and the door, Megan knew he wouldn’t be such a pushover. He stood, feet planted wide apart, knees slightly bent in a position she recognized from her weekly karate class.

Fuck.

She had to hurry, before Jones regained his breath. When she kicked up toward the guy’s balls, intending the kick to be a feint for an upward hand jab, the bastard grabbed her ankle and threw her to the hard floor. The very hard floor. Her head hit the ground with a solidity Megan felt in every bone of her body, intensifying her ever-present headache, and she kicked back with her free foot, only to find it caught in the same meaty fist.

Pressure on the side of her pants alerted her to the syringe pressing into her flesh.

The door burst open, propelled by the heavy body of the red-haired “student”. He fell next to her, already unconscious, his big body completely relaxed. One massive arm dropped over her body, dislodging the needle’s trajectory.

A whirlwind followed the student, or what seemed like one to Megan. Dark, unruly hair was the only feature she was absolutely sure of topping a tall, powerful body with excellent reactions, because the intruder spun around on his heel, his arm already whipping out to take her attacker full across his face.

The open-handed slap knocked the African-American aside but he came back, one blow too superficial to cause any real damage. Just in time to receive the jackhammer punch under his chin that knocked his head back with a crunch that sounded fatal.

The student fell back against the room’s only chair, collapsing it with the sound of breaking wood and the fleshier crunch of breaking bone.

It was the man she’d glimpsed earlier entering the main ward. Closer up he was even more lethally sexy. Arousal, totally unexpected, purred through her veins. “There are more outside, so the only way we’re going to get out of here is through that window.” He swept the room with an appraising glance and picked up the metal bedside table as if it weighed nothing at all, ignoring the clatter as the drawer fell out. “Close your eyes if you’re scared of heights and hold on tight.”

Lifting the table over his head, he swung it at the window. The sound of shattering glass rewarded him and he stepped forward to knock out the remaining jagged shards and drag the wrecked blind aside.

Was that a hand or a claw? A claw, she realized, as fingernails lengthened into talons and blue-green scales clustered over his hand and arm.

She gasped in shock. “Holy fuck!”

He turned to face her, scales gathering on his neck, his voice throaty and raw. “Climb up and hold on. Or stay here and face them.”

Feet pounded up the hallway outside and at the same time, her rescuer completed his transformation into a man-sized dragon. Clothes ripped and tore, falling from his body and she felt a sense of irritation in her mind that came from him. Irritation?

Yeah, I liked that jacket. Grab the pieces and let’s go. Pick up your stuff too. Then put your arms around my neck. Or stay here and let them kill you.

His neck was much longer and greener than it had been a minute ago. When she heard the shout “In here!” from outside the room she knew this was decision time.

She grabbed her purse, pausing to sling it over her head so the strap crossed her body, and picked up the remains of the leather jacket, only remembering the folder containing her scan results at the last minute, then she obeyed him—it—and put her arms around his—its—neck.

When we’re through the window, I’m going full size. Be prepared to hang on ‘cuz we ain’t coming down for a while.

I must be mad.

If you are, I am too. Ready?

As I’ll ever be.

Her feet lifted off the ground just as she was beginning to wonder how the hell she could talk to somebody mind to mind. She closed her eyes and hung on.

Red Alert - coming on March 7th from Ellora's Cave
www.lynneconnolly.com/RedAlert.html

Where to find Lynne Connolly and her Books

My website
The hub of everything I do. It's updated regularly, with excerpts, short stories and other goodies:
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My newsletter and yahoo group.
Members get a monthly newsletter, where the news ALWAYS breaks first, and new excerpts are aired. There is also a free book, currently being serialised, but it will be available in the Files for new members, when we've finished.
To join, go here:
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UK Historical romance blog:
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http://lynneconnolly.blogspot.com/

The Mavens of the Pen blog:
http://mavensofthepen.blogspot.com/

I currently write for Samhain Publishing, Ellora's Cave and Loose-Id. So you can find me on their loops and on their websites.

I write columns for Sybil at The Good, The Bad and The Unread:
http://tinyurl.com/6j42ut

And my email is lynneconnollyuk@yahoo.co.uk

Lynne Connolly, author of Dark and Provocative Romance
http://www.lynneconnolly.com

February newsletter

2009-02-02T16:28:00.001Z

Newsletter, February 2009

News

February seems to have brought in the snow. Britain is shrouded in the stuff, we’re told the worst snowstorm for 18 years. But where I live, we’re sheltered by the Pennines, so it’s going already. And this time, the South got it worst. London is disrupted. Again. Definitely a month to stay in and keep warm!

Well first and foremost, I have an agent! I went down to London last month and met her at the British Library, a perfect place to meet an agent. We had a discussion and shook hands on the deal. A lovely lady, Isabel White, who is setting up her own agency after a number of years with Brie Burkeman. You can see her website here:

http://www.isabelwhite.co.uk/

She has a new paranormal, “A Talented Man,” which we’re working on right now, ready to submit to several publishers. So exciting, and scary too.

I’ve been frantically busy with new releases. I love that “Thunderfire” is out, bringing the Pure Wildfire series to a close, but it was a wrench to say goodbye to the band and their partners. It was my introduction to Ellora’s Cave, and I have to say that so far the experience has been overwhelmingly positive. I love being there, and I’m delighted they accepted a new story, “Red Alert,” which is, hopefully, the start of a new series, featuring the STORM agency.

But also this month, there’s a brand new Department 57 book, “Crystal Captive,” featuring one of the heroes that people have contacted me about, saying they want his story. Dominici Serafino, dragon shape-shifter, meets his match in “Crystal Captive,” and learns that sometimes he just has to let go.

Then, at the end of February, “Tantalizing Secrets” comes out at Samhain. This is the third Secrets story and features gorgeous Peter Worsley, whose life is turned inside out when he visits the bustling market town of Leicester. As it happens, Leicester is my home town, and the house where Arabella lives is based on Belgrave House, notorious in recent years as the scene of a haunting, but when I knew it, it was a perfectly recreated Georgian manor house.

The Secrets series was originally conceived as a trilogy, but I’ve received so many emails about one or two of the characters that I’m thinking of extending it, and writing about Antonia and one or two others. Where to find the time, that’s the problem!

So there are three excerpts for you this month, for the paranormal lovers and for the history lovers. Interesting to compare the two styles side by side. I’m told there is a difference, but I’ve never seen it, myself. Can you see the difference between the two styles?

Excerpts and blurb:

The first two excerpts contain matter that isn't suitable for the under 18's.

Hot sex and high living was all Chris Keys needed to complete his life as the thunderous heart of rock band Pure Wildfire. Now he wants something else. He wants Ashley Westfall.
Ashley has a secret—she doesn’t want to sing, she doesn’t want to go onstage, she doesn’t even want fame anymore. She wants a normal life with a normal man. Whatever that is. But when she finds the normal man, it’s not him but the sexy drummer for Pure Wildfire who captures her heart. And Chris is far from normal. He’s sex on legs and a shape-shifting firebird.
Unwittingly, Ashley thrusts Chris into lethal danger. Apart, they have no chance of defeating the the secret society that threatens them and the band with extinction. Together, they might have a chance.
Ashley has to find the strength to stop Chris sacrificing everything he loves for her sake. Before it’s too late.

She went through the door, not altogether unsurprised to find a big, luxurious bathroom on the other side. The shower stall could hold two, maybe three people comfortably and four if they wanted to move over. However, Chris was one big Texan and he might find it a squeeze. It might be the sort of squeeze he enjoyed if he let anybody else in here.
She stripped, knowing he’d seen her naked before but unaccountably shy. The rustle of clothing told her he was undressing too. Bare-chested, he walked to the shower and turned it on but reached under it to feel the temperature. He glanced at her over his shoulder. “This is supposed to be a luxury apartment but the heating system isn’t luxurious.”
Although the water might be cold, suddenly Ashley wasn’t. Flushing with unaccountable embarrassment, she crossed her arms over her breasts and then, realizing the gesture was silly, forced herself to lower her hands to her sides. She smiled but she felt the tremble at the corner of her lips.
He came to her and slid his arms around her waist. “It’s been a hard day for you, Ashley, hasn’t it?”
She nodded and allowed her forehead to rest on his broad chest. It felt so good.
“Come on, the water’s warm now. Don’t do anything, I’ll take care of you.”
He led her to the shower, currently exuding steam and herded her inside the ivory-tiled space. The click signaled the moment he closed the glass door. The fitments were brass, not deliberately old-fashioned but not aggressively modern, either. She liked them. He reached for a bottle and steered her under the main stream of water, although three heads currently spurted down on them.
“What are those?” she asked when she lowered her head so he could rub shampoo into her hair. Several openings adorned the walls, about a foot from the bottom of the shower.
He grinned at her. “Toys.”
He flipped a button on the panel just above the toiletry shelf and water sprayed from the lower openings, hitting her at the top of the thighs. He watched her, his fingers busy delivering a wonderful scalp massage. She opened her legs and he drew her forward until she gasped. The spray hit her pussy, massaging her clit and opening with delicious warmth. She groaned. “I’ve got to get one of these.”
His hands worked up the lather and then drew her back under the shower to rinse. She moaned when the shower spraying between her legs moved away from her clit and he chuckled. “Want to go back?”
“Does a cat love heat?”
She moved back and sighed in pleasure. “This feels so wrong, in such a good way.”
“Good.” He leaned over her to pick up another bottle and she managed to catch his nipple between her teeth. It was his turn to groan. “Very nice.”
She liked this gentle, playful side of Chris. Liked it a lot. He stayed where he was but the scent of lemons told her he’d opened the bottle and his hands moved lower on her body, rubbing the sweet-scented gel against her back and shoulders. “Mmm. So good.”
She licked and he rewarded her with a groan and a moaned, “Oh I like that.”
The tickling between her legs was becoming—not enough. She moved back, releasing his nipple, and admired her handiwork. It stood proud, reddened by her attentions, so she moved on to the other one in the interests of symmetry.
Chris pulled away but only to work the gel around her breasts. His touch, firmly cupping and rubbing, soothed and excited her at the same time. She lifted her head for his kiss.
He didn’t disappoint. When he bent to her, she felt heat radiating off him and moved closer to rub her body against his. He chuckled against her lips. “You feel like a cat.”

Thunderfire from Ellora's Cave
Shapeshifters rock!
Order Page: http://Thunderfire.notlong.com
ISBN: 9781419920219

Crystal Captive
Nicole is a gossip columnist. All she wants is a good story, but when she confronts Dominici Serafino at his luxury Italian villa, she get far more than that.
An afternoon of sizzling passion leads to danger, when they are kidnapped by an organization intent on revealing Dominici as a shape-shifting dragon. And he is, he really is that mythical creature, who sometimes shape-shifts during sex. It makes Nicole wet even to think about it.
Their captors want Dominici and Nicole to perform for the cameras. And that turns Nicole on like she never imagined before.
What's a dragon to do? Dominici is finding sex with the gorgeous journalist turning to something far more intense. He has to protect Nicole from their enemies, and he doesn't even know if he can trust her. In a position that gives him access to juicy stories from the world's most talked-about celebrities, he needs to keep their secrets and his own if he wants to survive.
He still wants her, any way, every day. For keeps.

He hooked his thumbs inside her bikini bottoms and tugged them down, following them to the floor and urging her to step out of them by nudging her ankles. He took a moment to caress the slender shape, bones prominent against lightly tanned skin. Any part of a woman could be sensitive, and he loved searching out the less obvious ones.
She shivered when he stroked her ankles, and he wished he had more time to explore. But if his cock could talk, it would be screaming at him. It always did. He’d just gotten better at forcing it to do what he wanted.
This time it was a damned close-run thing. He wanted this woman with an urgency that reminded him of the thirst after a fast.
Domenici had to bend to reach her. He tapped the inside of her leg, and she opened. He liked that. “Hands against the wall, sweetheart.”
She lifted her hands and braced them against the wall in front of her. He’d chosen this part of the bathroom because a section of mirrored tile faced them. He saw her face, the way she took her bottom lip between her teeth, the way her eyes, wide with apprehension, met his reflected there.
“I shouldn’t --”
“Neither should I.” His voice rumbled through his body, and he felt his fingers tremble as he slid them up her thighs into the paradise waiting for him at their apex. “Don’t think about it. Don’t spoil it. Whatever happens next, we have this.”
She made to turn her head, but he nudged her so she turned back to face the mirror. “Look at me that way.”
He bent his knees, took his cock in hand, and guided it to the wet, soft depths shadowed by her ass. He brought his other hand around the front, slid it into her cleft. He didn’t have to search hard to find her clit. It pulsed against his fingers. She was so ready.
So was he. He slid his cock against her and met sweet resistance. Enough to show her he was there, but her juices soaked him, dripped against his cock, already damp from his precum.
With a moan of surrender, he pushed inside.

Crystal Captive is out at Loose-Id Publishing, on 3rd February 2009

Tantalizing Secrets

Arabella Mason is too busy investigating her brother-in-law’s “accidental” death to entertain thoughts of love. She’ll go to any lengths to ease her sister’s grief, even accept the help of the distressingly attractive Viscount Bredon, Peter Worsley. Instead of answers, the trail of clues only leads to more questions. Who was her brother-in-law, really…and why does Peter, who poses as her brother in public, make mincemeat of her resistance in private?

A successful politician and confirmed bachelor, Peter has bedded the loveliest women in society. He never imagined he’d wind up in a Leicester backwater, helping a pretty widow investigate his brother’s untimely death. As his suspicions of foul play grow stronger, the danger rises—and so does his desire for Arabella. One kiss, and she snatches away all his resolve, leaving him wondering which he wants more…

To find his brother’s killer? Or keep Arabella safe—and make her his?

the coach lurched to a halt and they were flung forward. Peter flung out a hand to stop Arabella hurting herself, and was rewarded by a handful of fabric and a brief contact with one soft breast. He took her arm and hauled her back on to the seat as the carriage pulled to a halt.
Breathlessly she stared at him and they both heard a gruff voice. “Stand and deliver!”
“Good Lord!” The gleam of battle sparked in him. Cautiously he settled the pistol in his pocket so it came easily to hand.
The door of the carriage was wrenched open. A heavily muffled figure stood outside. “Out,” the man commanded.
Peter descended and held his hand out to help Arabella. To his surprise, she wasn’t looking in the least shocked. If he didn’t know her better, he would have thought she was angry.
Lounging against the open door of the carriage, Peter stared at the highwayman. Their assailant was so muffled up it was difficult to make out much about him, but Peter noted the man was no taller than he was, and wasn’t grossly overweight. He’d pulled a cocked hat low down on his forehead and a muffler up over the lower half of his face.
Peter thrust his hands in his pockets, touching the rounded end of the pistol. In the other pocket, he had a knife, usually carried for more mundane purposes but it might come in useful too, given the chance. He kept Arabella in view, prepared to push her to the ground. Some highwaymen wanted more than jewelry and cash; he wasn’t about to allow that.
Arabella lifted her chin and glared at the man. There was no doubt about it now—fire flashed from her dark eyes. She was angry. Peter hoped she wouldn’t do anything foolish. He wished he could see the coachman but that was impossible without turning.
Their aggressor swore, fluently and, much to Peter’s surprise dropped the hand holding the pistol to his side. “Jewelry. Money.”
Then Arabella did something that took Peter completely aback. She put her hands on her hips and thrust her face forward in the age-old position of the fishwife. It said a lot for Peter’s newfound attraction that he found her pose delightful. “And who do you think you are threatening? Get in the carriage this instant!”

Tantalizing Secrets is out at Samhain Publishing on February 24th, 2009