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As the dust settles from the destruction of the Bloodstone Heart, a small scroll that had been hidden in the hearth of the altar room for hundreds of years, reveals a prophecy that seems to be about the Larsen family. While the group tries to unravel the riddles of the prophecy they also start to notice they've acquired some interesting new powers from the Bloodstone itself, some of which are going to take some getting use to.
Darby and Devon head to Ireland to set up house and get ready for their impending nuptials when Darby is asked to help cure the Summer Queen of the Everworld or the delicate balance of power between the Seelie and Unseelie courts will topple throwing the planet into a deadly ice age. While at home, things take a turn for the worse when there's a tragic airplane crash, the Larsen vampires start dropping like flies, Bernard goes missing, and all the bad deeds dealt seem to point towards one person - the Dark Angel.
What's so important about the altar room? Why are people dying in the name of this prophecy? Will the Larsen's survive these new tragedies? These questions and other deep seated secrets will be revealed in this final installment of the Blood Series.
He popped a mint in his mouth and proceeded to the restaurant entrance. He was used to women checking him out, and he had to admit he liked the attention. When he and Devon were younger and in school, Devon often accused him of being awful cocky about his looks. He knew he could come off a little arrogant, but he never cared much how others perceived him. But tonight, he didn’t want to leave that impression on Jules. She made him work for this date, like no other woman had, and he was determined to win her over.
He spoke to the hostess, who he could see was trying to flirt with him. He smiled at her attempts, but kept a watchful eye on the door for Jules. Being handsome did have its advantages; he got his pick of tables and chose one in a corner where he and Jules could have a bit of privacy.
He ordered a bottle of Chianti while he waited. He was doted on by his waitress, Brandi (with an “i”), and the hostess kept peeking at him as the time ticked on. He checked his watch a couple of times. No sign of her yet and it was half past when they were scheduled to meet.
Has she stood me up? he wondered. He had been persistent at pushing her into this date; he wondered if maybe he had pushed too hard too soon. He thought though, he himself had sometimes gotten tied up at the gallery and been late sometimes as much as an hour. It could be that she simply lost track of the time. He would give her another half hour before he headed home.
The time moved much slower the second half hour and when the hour was up, he had drank most of the bottle of Chianti. Good thing alcohol didn’t affect vampires the same as humans, or he might not be able to drive, but it would take a huge amount of wine to intoxicate him. Feeling Jules would not show, he raised his hand to Brandi as she passed, letting her know he was ready for his bill. She brought it to him promptly and he paid and left.
He sat in his car for a while deciding what to do now that his plans had changed. He decided he wasn’t quite ready to give up on the evening. He made a quick call to Jules’s office to see if she was there, but no one answered. His last ditch effort was to see if she was home, so he drove the several miles to her house. Her car was in the driveway and the lights were on. She either forgot about their plans or had chickened out.
T. Lynne Tolles can be found most days, juggling one of two cat muses and a laptop, tripping over a Newfoundland puppy and washing a never-ending pile of laundry. When life doesn’t get in the way, she writes paranormal romances for new adults.
Her passion for witches, ghosts, and vampires together with a light-hearted wit are reflected in her loveable characters and the adventures of mystery they unravel to find their happily ever after.
“You little hellcat.” His tone was low; the words ground out
between his teeth. Chase’s hand encircled her arm, and he jerked her back to
him. “You almost blind me with that stuff, and now you expect me to replace
it?” He pulled Lacey even closer, until her breasts were crushed against his
unyielding, naked chest. His hands were like steel bands around the flesh of
her upper arms.
She caught her breath, her heart slamming in her chest. The
heat from Chase’s body seeped into hers, drawing an immediate response. Lacey felt
her nipples harden and tingle with excitement.
Something hot flowed through her aroused body, pooling
between her thighs. The palms of her hands flattened against his chest; the
lower half of her body arched into his as lust took control of her emotions.
Fear that Chase would realize what he was doing to her nearly crippled her.
“Let me go.” Oh God. Was that her weak, pitiful voice?
Without warning, Chase’s hand was at the back of her head,
his fingers threading through her loose hair and twisting it into a knot. A
soft cry escaped Lacey when she found her head jerked back. Lightning revealed
the raw passion etched on Chase’s chiseled face. The flaring nostrils, his
prominent cheekbones, and tightly drawn lips left no doubts that he was as
turned on as she was. The blaze in his eyes held Lacey’s gaze captive. Filled
with an unspoken promise of what was to come. She could barely take a breath
when he began to lower his face.
“I’ve been hard since the first time I laid eyes on you.”
She felt his warm breath against her face.
“No…” Lacey’s heart was about to pound out of her chest. She
should fight him, assert herself, and knee him in the groin. Something! She
didn’t want this, did she? She opened her mouth to protest when he thrust his
hips against her. Oh God!
“Yes!” His hoarse whisper held a hint of savageness to it,
and before Lacey could do any of the things she was thinking, Chase’s mouth
swooped down to steal her breath away with a scorching kiss.
She stiffened, but it didn’t last. He didn’t fight fair.
While one hand held her head so he could kiss her at will, the other glided
down Lacey’s back and over her bottom, squeezing a half-naked cheek while
grinding his hard-on into her. A sob rose in her throat when she realized she
was responding to his sexual attack and the forceful persuasion of his mouth.
“Chase,” she whispered when his mouth left hers to rain
kisses down her throat. She closed her eyes and moaned, growing weak in the
“No, don’t kiss you?” His lips brushed the curve of her jaw.
“No, don’t touch you?” His mouth moved on to tease the flesh of her neck. Lacey
trembled wildly. “No, don’t make love to you?”
Before Lacey realized his intention, he tugged at the
spaghetti strap of her camisole and pulled it down until her breast was bare. The
sound that escaped him left no doubt that he was close to the end of his limit.
He cupped her flesh and pulled it up at the same time, lowering his head until
his mouth was on her.
BLURB: A filmmaker wanting to honor her family’s legacy approaches a reclusive billionaire for help
Isabel Neri’s innocence captures the attention of a well-known Italian marble mogul, Marc Santoro, when she approaches him against her family’s wishes. Wanting to honor her disgraced grandfather, Isabel needs Marc’s permission to produce a film about the Carrara marble industry.
Faced with honoring an old family obligation, Marc allows Isabel to travel to Italy with him but seeks to limit her exposure to his family’s tragic past. Isabel discovers the untold story and challenges Marc to reveal the truth. She is forced to expose her own secret as their desire sparks out of control.
Isabel felt a moment of panic as she watched the driver make a swift exit. She carefully walked up the stone path that led to the front door, being careful not to catch her black Manolo Blahnik heels in the stones.
The front door swung open and Isabel felt the oxygen leave her body. She wasn’t prepared for seeing Marc Santoro in the flesh again. She could feel his gaze rake over her in appraisal, apparently sizing her up. He looked every inch the wealthy business owner: he was dressed in an expertly tailored gray shirt with slightly darker gray trousers that were pressed to exactness. He was even more striking than she remembered, and she reminded herself to just breathe and focus on her pitch.
It was his intensity that she responded to; he seemed to be absorbing everything about her. Isabel hid her expression as she acknowledged to herself that while he may appreciate her outward appearance, he wouldn’t appreciate her damaged body.
Would he remember meeting her before?
She forced herself to reach out and offer her hand. As his warm fingers enveloped hers, she felt a spark of attraction travel through her body. She immediately pulled back, but not before she saw his eyes darken.
He merely smiled at her reaction, saying, “So you are not just a figment of Alberto’s imagination.” Guiding her inside, he added, “I was beginning to doubt that the old man had any relatives interested in the marble trade.”
Isabel felt her spine stiffen. Was he questioning her family’s loyalty?
“My grandfather speaks very highly of you,” Isabel said as she took in the luxurious setting, trying to get her bearings.
His voice was cool and didn’t give her any clue if he welcomed her visit. “It isn’t often that Alberto Neri asks for a favor.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Susie Warren writes contemporary romance. Besides being an avid reader, she spends much of her free time crafting intense and complex stories about falling in love. When she is not writing, Susie works as an administrator in a small, independent school while caring for three teenagers and keeping tabs on her inventor husband. With the launching of her first book, The Forgotten Heiress, she has slowly begun to navigate the social media realm.
Susie loves to hear from readers and responds to each email and Facebook post. Please reach out to her via Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/pages/Susie-Warren/647556668647832 or Twitter @susiecwarren
For more information on her upcoming releases, new excerpts and other related postings, or to sign up for free promotions, please visit www.susiewarren.com
Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00N09UD32
Why do you write?
I write for the playfulness and sheer joy of escaping into a different world. As a writer, you have ultimate control and can let your imagination run wild.
I think there are many reasons not to write. It’s extraordinarily hard work and getting the story to appear on the page as it appears in your mind is impossible at times. There is so much to know that it is easy for a flaw to slip through. And readers are smart. They know the instant a story stalls or the writer’s voice intrudes.
But even with all of this, I can’t not write. There is something so satisfying about telling stories and having readers read them. I love to imagine an unknown reader downloading one of my books and sitting down on the sofa ready to begin an adventure.
Susie will be awarding a $50 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour, and a $25 Amazon gift card to a randomly drawn host.
I've had a good year in books and wanted to offer a little something more than my usual free ebook mentioned in my newsletter. I only wish I could offer it to everyone but at least one lucky name will be drawn for the prize. This event is for you folks who are following my blog, facebook, or have signed up for my newsletter. Good luck to all of you! The winner will be announced on 1/2/15. a Rafflecopter giveaway
I've discovered the joy of reading again. The problem is, lately I've been doing more reading than writing. I'm in deep folks. And my addiction is hot, raw and gritty biker books. Jenika Snow, Bella Jewel, Sam Crescent are just a few authors who are feeding my addiction. They are what inspired me to write my first biker book, which comes out in January, Wild Marauders MC.
Make sure you visit every blog because each one is giving away their own prize. Every year I give away one of my books to whoever wants one, information to claim it is below. This year it's
I read a book the other day and there are some things in it that I can't get out of my mind, and not for a good reason either. Though the writing was good, and the plot suspenseful and interesting enough to keep me reading, I made a decision not to read the rest of the books in the series. If there's one thing I know about writing any kind of romance, you don't kill off the hero. That's a big no no. In this book the heroine was killed off. What made it confusing was that I read the first book in the series, and the woman killed off was actually a secondary character. But in book two the story is a romance about her and a biker. Well, knowing that she's killed off, who wants to read that story? I have absolutely no interest. Then there was a rape scene. The heroine is kidnapped and sodomized, raped and then sliced up. The hero saves her but of course she's traumatized. During the weeks after while she's healing he gets a case of blue balls, so she gives him the go ahead to screw one of his ex-girlfriends because she knows he needs it. What? Within five minutes he's dragging a woman to his room and screwing her, while the heroine is in the next room knowing what he's doing. Later when she brings it up, his weak response is, "you told me to!" No! No! No! If he really cared about the heroine he wouldn't buckle under the pressure of being horny. That was a big turn-off for me because I feel once the hero and heroine are committed to each other they remain loyal and faithful. Unless of course they're into group sex or something they do as a couple. I know biker books are supposed to be raw and gritty and to give the author credit, she did warn at the beginning of the book that she holds nothing back.
The Alaskan wilderness is the backdrop for this story about two strangers who find themselves stranded in a cabin for the winter. Both are tortured souls struggling to go on in life, only to discover survival can be found in each other's arms.
“Luke?” His lack of response caused her to try again. “Luke?”
She saw a glimpse of naked arms and legs as he thrashed beneath the quilt. The cold apparently hadn’t affected him, but she was shivering so badly her teeth were rattling. Luke began to thrash about even more, and Charlie reached out to lightly touch his arm, gently shaking him.
He moved so fast that a scream of surprise escaped Charlie. She suddenly found herself grabbed and pulled down to the bed. Before she could catch her breath Luke rolled, pinning her beneath his naked weight. It was obvious he was still trapped in the dark nightmare that gripped him and didn’t know what he was doing.
“Luke!” Panic raced through Charlie as she realized her helplessness against his strength. “Lu—”
The rest of what she’d been about to say was cut off by the sudden pressure of his unyielding mouth on hers. His kiss was rough, demanding, and frightening in its intensity. She struggled briefly but she was no match for him. He easily forced Charlie more deeply into the bed in an attack that quickly escalated into something sensual and profoundly explosive. Lost in the moment, she ceased her struggling, and began to kiss Luke back with an ardor that bordered on recklessness.
Without thinking she opened her mouth beneath his and accepted his thrusting tongue against hers. Yet when Charlie felt his hands at the buttons on her shirt she stiffened, suddenly terrified. She didn’t want Luke like this, not if he was making love to a ghost. Her fingers flew to his in an effort to keep him from undoing the buttons. She twisted her head to break the kiss, but he followed her every move.
One by one the buttons gave way and then he parted her shirt, curling his callused hand around her naked breast. His firm touch was like fire licking Charlie’s skin, causing her to cry out against his mouth with pleasure. She arched wildly with response, in spite of trying to halt his progress. Her hands moved over his naked shoulders, first pushing him away, and then clutching him to her. She cried out in pleasure when his mouth abandoned hers to latch onto a hardened nipple.
Charlie writhed impatiently beneath him, lost in a vortex of spinning, dizzying emotions. She forgot about everything but the moment and arched her back in total abandon. It was surprising and frightening, how fast he turned her on.
His hand moved between her thighs, causing an explosion of sensation that consumed Charlie. The heat spiraling through her body pooled where his hand covered her. In the next instant his finger was flicking across the swelling bud of her arousal.
She had to find a way to resist but the feelings he roused were like none she’d experienced before. It wasn’t until she felt his hand move beneath her long johns and slip inside her panties that real panic set in. And desire.
But it was too late. His finger slipped inside her. Charlie bit down hard on her bottom lip, moaning with desire as her hunger was satisfied by that simple pleasure. She squeezed her eyes shut and moved her hips against his invading finger. As Luke finger fucked her, he paid special attention to her swollen clit.
Charlie’s breath caught when a second finger joined the first. His mouth left one breast for the other, before traveling up her chest to her throat, leaving a trail of hot little kisses. But it was what Luke was doing to the lower half of her body that caused Charlie to squirm wildly beneath him. He ground his cock against her thigh and she responded by thrusting faster against his fingers. They both made a sound at the same time. As the passion built and Charlie felt the hot rush of release surge through her body she knew it was just a matter of seconds before she climaxed. It was all happening too fast!
Her scream echoed through the cabin. Finally the sound of her voice seemed to reach Luke, causing him to react as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. He froze, the breath hissed through his teeth. He removed his cock from her thigh.
“No…God no,” he groaned, obviously misinterpreting her cry for one of fear.
Slowly he withdrew his fingers and relaxed his body, which tore a moan of deep disappointment from Charlie. She’d been so close to climaxing that the urge to put her fingers there and finish it was overwhelming. Luke rolled away from her and lay on his back, panting heavily for breath.
What could Luc Mercier, a gargoyle who's more than a century old, possibly have in common with modern introvert, Gillian Harris? Loneliness and isolation.
When meddlesome friends bring the two together, neither is prepared for the flurry of emotions nor revelations that overwhelm them. That is, until Gillian stumbles across the truth and struggles with how she let her guard down.
Learning to love again has never been harder.
Luc picked up a newspaper from the stand and tossed a two-dollar coin to the elderly man working the counter. He ascended the cavernous stairs of Bloor and Dufferin subway station, irritated by the lights flickering intensely. I should have just taken my car.
But if he did, Luc would have missed an opportunity to observe society other than from the café he frequented lately. A society he didn’t belong in, technically speaking, and had no business being a part of. Long gone were the muddy, off-beaten roads of provincial France. Long gone was the time when an over-flowing bodice was considered scandalous.
Now people thrived on exposing as much skin as possible. The modern day sentiment of what was attractive and acceptable embarrassed him to the core, from the mode of dress to the inappropriate use of language. Didn’t anyone know how to speak without using an expletive every other word? Where had humanity gone wrong? It was ghastly enough that children didn’t respect their elders, much less their parents.
Nevertheless, as much as this modern world perplexed him, nothing could deter him from at least enjoying his freedom, regardless of the limitations restricting his activities to the darkness of the night.
He did, however, miss the ambiance of candle light and the soft cries while seducing a woman, tormenting her with his wicked tongue. Exploring deviant, but heavenly, practices of binding and mixing pleasure with pain. Sweet promises falling from his lips while exploring every inch of her delicate and exquisite flesh.
These days, the few women he was able to enjoy weren’t interested in highly sensual liaisons. No. Today’s women thrived on being in control of seduction, whether they were proficient or not. There certainly wasn’t anything wrong with the scenario, but it wasn’t his taste. He preferred his women soft, like Genevieve…his sweet, sweet Genevieve.
No matter how many decades passed, the only woman he’d ever confided in, and planned to wed, crept into his mind many a time. Genevieve was an old soul, who found him and fell in love. Then, much like a Greek tragedy, their story ended woefully. The trust and courage it had taken to confess to Genevieve of the monstrosity he had become left him restless and, for once in his miserable existence, vulnerable. If not for her kindness, encouragement, and love, who knew what he would be doing and where.
This last week, though, he thought to explore the possibility of trying again. A particular woman, who frequented the café where he spent his early evenings drinking a brandy and reading The Daily Sun, had caught his particular interest. Her laughter aroused his curiosity in the few and far between moments when he contemplated actually living life. Her voice, whether chuckling or whispering to her friend, always made his body react in an animalistic way.
While they had never met, she seemed like someone he’d be interested in getting to know, at the very least, for a little while. Luc doubted very much he’d find another woman like the love of his life and often thought it would be better that way. How could he even begin to explain why he only ever spent time with her at night, and why he’d always be gone before the first sign of daybreak?
Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.
Layna is a member of the Romance Writers of America, and is a monthly contributor at 69 Shades of Smut. For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at: