Monday, December 29, 2014

A Beautifully Witchy Holiday Romance- Frosty Relations by Tara Quan


Attorney Jack Frost never understood why holidays did weird things to people. His secretary went on vacation, his best friend ditched their annual Aspen trip, and the law firm’s stubborn human resources assistant refuses his clerical support request. What’s a warlock to do on Christmas Eve but go on a 1-Night Stand? But when an oddly familiar empath shows up as his date, this ice mage has a hard time denying the magic of the winter solstice.

Faced with an anemic employment market and financial woes, college graduate and former witch Mina Mao lands an HR assistant job at Frost and Sons. Having spent her day saving Christmas from Frost Junior’s Grinch-like behavior, she accepts the gift of Madame Eve’s service and heads over to the Castillo Capital. When her date turns out to be her childhood crush and workplace nemesis, she braces herself for the sexiest icy ride of her life.


“So the guy seriously had a boner? That’s so messed up.”

Mina rolled her eyes at their joint reflection. “I know, right? And since I’m an empath, I could sense him getting, you know, all hot and bothered. Whoever he was fantasizing about, she turned him on big time. I don’t know how he could think about sex when he’s on the verge of exploding from too much unused magic.”

Sweets snorted. “Men—warlocks or human—they care about one thing.” She picked up a handful of Mina’s hair. “Ready?”

Mina swallowed. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Using the scissors, Sweets pointed at the set of combs and razors peeking out from a battered leather sleeve. “Can’t you feel the mojo rolling off my grandmother’s enchanted tools? These babies are idiot proof.”

Since not even her cousin could squeeze her in after 3:00 p.m. on Christmas Eve, Mina’s options had been limited enough to make her take a gamble. “But you have done this before?”

Patting her shoulder, Sweets bent at the waist and squinted one eye. “I cut Shelley’s hair all the time. She hates leaving the house, remember? Okay, yours is too long. You need to stand so I don’t get a backache.”

This idea seemed worse by the minute. Rising to her feet, Mina made a pinching motion with her index finger and thumb. “All I need is for you to take off the ends—nothing fancy.”

Her friend’s mock salute didn't bolster Mina’s confidence. “Your hair is safe with me. Your head is another story.”

Mina closed her eyes. “Very funny. Do it already, will you? The anticipation is killing me.”

She heard a snip, followed by “Oh, wow.”

Her lids snapped up. “What do you mean, ‘Oh, wow’?”

She saw the answer for herself. Scissors and razors slashed around unguided in the air, slicing off huge chunks of her tresses in the process. Her friend stood several steps away, staring at the spectacle as if seeing the phenomenon for the first time. Since moving risked impact with pointy magical objects, Mina glared at the culprit’s reflection in the mirror. “I thought you said you’d done this before.”

Sweets’s expression lacked any hint of guilt. “Okay, I lied. Shelley’s grandmother is the actual owner of these puppies, and she always uses them on herself in the bathroom. Since her hair turns out fine, I figured they’d work on you, too.”

Her hands fisting, Mina hissed, “How do you turn the darn things off?”


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Author Bio/Special Note:

~A Letter From Tara Quan~

    Dear Reader,

    Thank you for picking up the second book in my paranormal series, A Witch’s Night Out. I've always been a huge fan of witches and their feline friends, and I've had loads of fun creating my own. I keep my stories lighthearted, the angst to a minimum, and the sex just hot enough to make your face grow warm. In all my romances, I aim for a few laughs, a handful of clever twists, and a scorching happily ever after.

    After Jack Frost appeared in Flirting with Fire as the hero’s best friend, I couldn't wait to tell his story. This warlock is the quintessential bad boy, whose abrasive personality and command over ice masks a soft spot for his firm’s human resources assistant, cat familiar and empath Mina Mao. To get these two clueless lovers together, Madame Eve works her magic so this modern day prince can sweep his witch off her feet in his white Lamborghini on Christmas Eve.

    If I managed to keep a smile on your face for the past few hours, then my goal as a writer is met. I love hearing from readers, so feel free to drop me a line at You can find out more about my other books and various social media haunts at

    Tara Quan

Saturday, December 27, 2014

His Perfect Woman Is A Firestarter. Magick Ignited by Eliza Gayle


Cash Scott has drifted for years, abusing his magick and playing the bad boy. Now as his time as a free witch is coming to an end, he plans a last ditch effort to save his brothers. What he finds instead is himself on a collision course with Selene, a hot little firestarter with a death wish, unable to control her power or escape her past.

The perfect woman.

Selene’s accidental contact with a dark force she can’t define, throws her into a situation unlike any she has seen before. But the last thing she needs right now is an all-consuming attraction to a man she can’t trust. Determined to make her escape any way that she can, she find herself in lust and on the run with another man who doesn’t seem surprised by her ability.

Together they must fight against a centuries old curse, a vicious hit man and a bounty hunter witch determined to capture them all. Will a little magic be enough to bind their fiery love or be just enough to destroy them?

Note: Previously published as The Burning. This book has now been revised and edited for re-release.


“Hey, Selene. What’s wrong?” His urgent question startled her from her thoughts as she realized she hadn’t been paying attention to her emotions. Her arms had grown brighter and she was getting pretty hot. “Whatever you’re doing stop it. You’re burning me.”

Not wanting to wait any longer, she pulled the bike off the road onto the dirt and grass just behind a tree. A good a spot as any to rest, right next to the highway but out of sight of passersby.

Before she came to a stop Cash bounced off the bike, ripping off his helmet. “Damn, woman, what the hell are you doing?” He ripped open his shirt to reveal reddened skin on his lower abdomen. Right where he’d been pressed up against her on the bike.

“Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…”

“You didn’t feel the heat burning the hell out of me? Are you kidding? Look at me.”

She looked at him all right. Smooth, muscular chest with just a fine sprinkling of dark hair that narrowed into a trail that disappeared below the waistband of his pants. She licked her lips at the thought of the flesh hidden there. Most of the ride she had felt the hard imprint of his cock pressing between the cheeks of her ass, driving her mad. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to wiggle back against him.

It had been a while since she’d been with a man, and even longer since it had been good. Maybe that’s why a prime specimen such as him had her on an erotic edge, fighting the fall.

“Can’t you control your power? And why are you looking at me like that? Don’t do that.” He took several steps closer as he spoke. The sharp sounds of sticks and leaves crunched under his boots. “You keep looking at me like that and I will take what I want.”

Her mouth went dry as he moved toward her almost in a surreal slow motion. The air between them alternately heated and cooled. Heat from her and a cool breeze from him? How was that possible?

Despite the cool air her flesh heated further, her body tight in her own skin. She needed to run away as much as she craved his touch. She shouldn’t be thinking about him this way.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He’d seen her loss of control earlier and he seemed rather nonchalant about it. Like he knew what to expect. Who was—no, what was he? There was something different about him from the other men who’d come after her. Selene found it impossible to hold onto those thoughts with his tall, half-naked self moving closer and closer. Her hardened nipples brushed against her clothes, rubbing the sensitive skin. Her body throbbed and ached for his touch. In the light of her warmth his amber eyes glowed with a lust to match her own, her last thought before he crushed her to him, taking her mouth with a powerfully demanding kiss. Lips, teeth, and tongue all worked in frantic movements, searching for more.

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck to cup her head, crushing her lips harder against his own. Her own hands did some roaming of their own. Specifically all over his warm, bare chest, savoring the tight muscles flexing as he moved against her. She couldn’t help herself, she didn’t want it to stop. Parting her mouth slightly, she allowed him the entrance he sought, his tongue smoothing over her lips. When his tongue touched the tip of hers, his taste and essence exploded within her. Not just her mouth, but her whole body. His flavor, a unique wild musk, tasted of wild nights, a cool night breeze, and heat. Oh hell, lots and lots of heat.

Desperate for more, and willing to get it any way that she could, she jumped up into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. His free hand caught her ass, pulling her tighter against him. Flesh—she wanted more flesh. She pushed at his shirt and jacket, baring his lean shoulders to her touch. Pressing her lips against his shoulder, she rained a trail of kisses up his neck, alternating with gentle bites. Damn, she wanted to sink her teeth in him as he buried his thick, hard cock in her wanting pussy.

She wrenched her mouth away from his. “What the hell are we doing?” Her breath came in short, shallow pants.

“Don’t ruin the moment by trying to analyze it, Selene.” He gripped her bottom lip gently between his teeth, nibbling and stroking with his tongue. Releasing his hand on her ass, he stroked up her torso, close to her leather encased breasts. “You have on entirely too much clothes, you know that.”

She laughed. “I couldn’t agree more." 


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Tuesday, December 23, 2014

What Harm Can Come From Rubbing An Old Oil Lamp? To Rub, Honor and Obey by Melinda Barron.


Moreen McGee is a perfect example of how poor decisions made in youthful rebellion can haunt someone for life. Now on probation for ten years, she serves her court-ordered community service at a center for troubled teens, in the hopes of stopping other kids from taking the wrong path.

But when one of her young charges pickpockets a wallet from her high school nemesis, Aliya Baban, Moreen decides to put the illicit skills she learned as a teenager to good use... by breaking into Aliya's apartment to return the stolen wallet, thus keeping the kid who stole it out of trouble and out of jail.

However, once she's in the opulent Manhattan flat, Moreen can't resist the urge to take one small token from the woman she still blames for her own downfall-an old, neglected oil lamp that she's sure Aliya will never miss.

Moreen accidently summons a gorgeous demon-turned-pleasure djinni named Paran... and he's not too thrilled with the theft of his property. Moreen has rubbed his lamp, the contract is sealed. For the next thirty days, she belongs to him. And Paran intends to use this time to help his little felon learn some important lessons, including the true meaning of the words honor and obey.


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Monday, December 22, 2014

Heart-Mate, Mine! A Christmas Shapeshifter Romance by N.J. Nielsen

Two lives—One destiny. When fate decides two people belong together, nothing can stand in its way. Liam Kantry and Carlo Bruenelli find themselves caught up in the madness of Christmas and taking care of a child as they discover the meaning of being true heart-mates.

Moon Runners 1: Heart-mate, Mine!


Liam Kantry wants to be with the man he has loved his whole life, yet incessant gossip and innuendos have labelled him the pack whore—a point he has never disputed. Now the rumours have come back to bite him in the arse.

Carlo Bruenelli is waiting for his heart-mate; he's one of the pack who truly believes they really do exist. In his heart he wants it to be his best friend, only problem is he knows Liam doesn't believe in heart-mates. What will it take to change Liam's mind? And should he even try?

Christmas is drawing near, and between snowball fights and the inter-pack gathering, Liam and Carlo find themselves caught up in the excitement and obsessing over what their future holds. Especially when a small child forms a bond with them. They learn there is more out there than they ever dreamt was possible.

Can Liam and Carlo work around the newness of their own mating to protect someone who needs it most?

CONTENT ADVISORY: This work is a significantly expanded (almost tripled in length), re-edited re-release title.


Everyone had a fear, and Carlo's was probably no different to anyone else's. His fear involved running into the love of his life, Liam Kantry, and being ignored completely. Liam often starred in Carlo's nightly dreams of who his heart-mate should look like, yet sadly Liam only ever looked at him like an annoying, dorky, younger brother--a brother you didn't want hanging around all the time. Usually, it was hard to avoid him since they belonged to the same pack. Thoughts like these had been plaguing him for the last month or so leading up to this special week.

The Moon Runner Pack had been chosen to host the inter-pack meet-and-greet on their lands where guests from other packs would be coming in hope of finding a mate. Most people didn't believe in heart-mates. Carlo was truly one of the few in the pack who actually believed heart-mates existed. 

Somewhere out there's the perfect person looking for me. A tingle of excitement surged through him at the mere possibility of it being true. I'm twenty-one. I'm finally old enough to attend the party. Let's hope he's here and just as eager to meet me. Wish it could be Liam, but wouldn't we have known by now if we were? Hopefully Christmas Day I'll have pushed aside my crush on Liam Kantry and I'll know whether or not my heart-mate is out there searching for me as well—that is, if he even comes to the gathering. My luck, he won't even bother turning up.

Man, he hoped he was wrong and his heart-mate existed in the here and now, waiting to meet him as well. Never once had he doubted that his future mate would be a male. Fate wouldn't be so cruel to pair him with a woman he could never really love. Being mated to a female wouldn't be fair to either of them. If it came down to his mate being someone who wasn't male, he'd simply explain everything to her and let her find someone else she could be happy with. Carlo had even heard that this year there were packs coming to attend from even farther afield than usual. This gathering also became the time new alliances were made between packs, where packs could ask another for help in any way. Bloodshed was frowned upon at these gatherings, but sometimes it became unavoidable—or so he'd been told.

The alpha had asked him, because it was his first time, to become involved this year by being seen at the meeting hall, not hiding away from the pack like he usually did. Apparently all members of the pack who had come of age and were eligible to attend were asked to help out. So here he was now, wet as all get-go—because he'd only moments before slipped and landed in a puddle as he tried to dodge a car on the street outside the hall. Dripping wet, he grumbled as he walked through the falling snow toward the last place he wanted to be—the pack town hall. Carlo hoped to avoid everything until the starting ceremony itself, but Darian and the alpha had nixed that thought early on. The plain truth was he didn't want to have to be anywhere he'd have to bear witness to Liam flirting with other people. Carlo was a coward, and he knew it. He wasn't disputing the fact at all. As he neared the building, the noise coming from within sounded muted, but still loud in a raucous kind of way.

Carlo waved to a couple leaving the crowded room as he entered. He didn't know them, but he thought it would be a polite and friendly gesture to the wolves who'd be arriving to stay with the Moon Runner pack over the next few days. He didn't even complain much when Sally Anne Meyers, the alpha's younger sister, made him strip out of his outer layers before she allowed him to step foot inside the door.

She'd joked, "If you were smarter, you'd strip in time to the music and make yourself a little money on the side." Her laughter sounded light, and Carlo knew she wasn't being mean. Being twenty-one herself, she probably also found herself being forced to be sociable. Unlike him, Sally Anne actually liked being the centre of attention, especially if it garnered the interest of a certain pack member. According to Marcus, the pack gossip, Sally Anne had set her sights on Wade Michelson this year. She'd chosen him as her mate and she'd do anything to get what she wanted.

"The only problem is they'd make me pay the money back with interest once they saw me naked," he replied, snickering before he handed her the wet clothes.

"Go sit by the fire and I'll call your mum to bring you some dry clothes. We wouldn't want all your lovely bits and pieces to fall off, now would we?"

What the fuck? Is she flirting with me? "Are you trying to get my arse beat? If you keep that talk up, you'll make Wade crazy jealous and he'll come after me."

"Hah! That big galoot wouldn't know which end faced up if someone didn't tell him." There seemed to be no heat in her words.

"I thought you were determined to be his mate?" Carlo asked, curious as he saw the glint of something in her eye.

She waved him away. "He's mine. He just doesn't know it yet. His days of sleeping around are over." She sniffed haughtily then burst out laughing. "Go on. Go warm up and I'll get you some dry clothes. I saw Liam in here earlier--not sure if he's still here though."

He gave her one last smile before he did as told. "Thank you." He wasn't sure if he thanked her for calling his mum or for letting him know Liam Kantry sat in the hall talking with friends.

The sounds of carols playing through the speakers, combined with happy laughter ringing out were enough to get even the most miserable person into the Christmas spirit. The interior walls had been transformed from their usual drab wooden bareness to having an array of colours splashed across them. The effect was kind of stunning. Whoever had decorated this year had taste.

With all the festivities going on around him, Carlo couldn't have stopped smiling even if he'd wanted to. He actually loved this time of year--always had. The fact remained he loved everything about Christmas, from the addictive aroma of the baked goods to the scent of the pine trees filling the air, but most of all he loved the feeling of family and everyone being together.

His love of everything Christmas started the year his father gave him his very own sled. That year he'd met Liam Kantry for the first time. He'd also met Liam's brothers Marcus and Theo. They'd taken turns sharing his sled while riding down the hills out on the back of the pack lands. The day seemed to rush by, none of them coming in until August Kantry, the boys' father, had come looking for them. On the way home, he'd given them all a lecture on what were safe and unsafe times to stay out playing when their parents were sitting at home and waiting for them.

Christmas was just around the corner and his family was getting ready to celebrate in style. His mother was known by many as a baking fiend when it came to roasts, but no one in the pack came even close to beating Mary Kantry when it came to baking Christmas goodies. She had become a legend among the pack, especially for her Christmas bread. Hell, even just the thought of it had Carlo's mouth watering. His thoughts came back to the present when he heard an all too familiar voice. Oh great, so Liam really is still here—yippee... not!

Author Bio

NJ needs to write like she needs to breathe. It’s an addiction that she never intends to find a cure for. When you don’t find NJ arguing with Vlad, her muse or writing about the wonderful men in her stories, you’ll find her reading work by other authors she greatly admires. 

NJ lives in the SE of Qld, Australia with her family who all encourage her writing career even if she does occasionally call them by her character’s names. NJ thinks that anyone taking the time to read her stuff is totally awesome.

Find N.J. Here

Sunday, December 21, 2014

Waters of Fate, Book 2 of The Fey Series by Jessica Jarman.

What’s a Princess to do when the man Fate has chosen for her denies her?


As a Princess of Fey, Neiva has led a privileged life. When she sees her mate in the Waters of Fate, she is shocked at who Fate has paired her with. When he refuses her again and again, her shock quickly turns to anger.

Rhys has been friends with the King of Fey for centuries. Surely, Fate would not be so cruel as to mate him with his friend’s daughter? Never mind that he hears the Song of Souls when she is near—she has mistaken the situation, and he must let her down gently.

After yet another denial from Rhys, Neiva decides it’s time to move on. She leaves the Fey Realm and goes to the human world—the world of her mother—determined to find some semblance of happiness. Rhys is given the duty of watching over her while she is there—a task that drives him mad with desire and frustration. But danger has followed Neiva there. Now she is not only in danger of losing her heart, but also her life.

Publisher's Note: This is an extensively revised and updated version of a previously released title.


Neiva, Princess of Fey, wandered through the gardens surrounding the royal residence. She hadn't a clue where her friends had gone. Off flirting with boys, no doubt. She rolled her eyes. Goddess, they were so daft at times. She couldn't understand why anyone would act so silly just to impress boys. And really, did it impress them? If it did, boys were even dafter than girls.

She hummed as she walked. It felt great to be away from lessons and tutors for a while. Sometimes, she simply wanted to be alone. That was a rare occurrence. Though Dad said it would only get worse, and she should enjoy this “carefree time." Neiva snorted. What did he know? He hadn't been fourteen in centuries.

A rustling to her left caught her attention, and she stopped. The hedges parted to reveal a path. She tilted her head, trying to see where it led. She’d never noticed it before. Curious, she started down the narrow trail. It wound farther and farther away from the formal gardens. A part of Neiva’s mind told her to turn back—her father would be furious if he knew she was in unfamiliar areas without protection—but she continued on. Something was drawing her. She didn't know what, but she couldn't sense anything bad or harmful.

The overgrown path opened up to a small glade. In the center, a pool of water stood surrounded by a rough stone wall. Neiva approached and peered into the water. It was crystal clear; she could see the flat stone lining the bottom. Tentatively, she dipped a finger. The cool liquid began to swirl at her touch.

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

Neiva jolted and spun toward the voice.

“I’m sorry I startled you.”

A young woman stood barely a foot away. How had she approached without Neiva’s notice? Even if she had flashed into the small clearing, Neiva would have felt the disturbance on the air.

“Good afternoon,” she answered. “I don’t know you. How is it you know who I am?”

“Everyone knows the Princess of Fey.”

Neiva felt her cheeks heat, embarrassed at the obvious answer.

“I’m Mara. You look lost, Princess. Is there something I can assist with?”

She squinted slightly as she studied the woman. Why did she have to wander away? Now she was alone, in an unfamiliar place with an unfamiliar person. This was the type of situation her father lectured about constantly. Though the woman appeared harmless.

“I’m not lost,” she insisted. “The pool called to…” She stopped herself from finishing the sentence. People thinking she was crazed was not a good thing.

Mara smiled. “It called to you. Of course. That is the way it often is. Have you looked within?”

Neiva frowned. “At what? It’s just water.”

“Look again, dear one,” Mara encouraged.

Uneasiness caused Neiva’s stomach to clench. “Why? What am I looking for? What is this place?”

Mara laughed, and Neiva closed her eyes at the beautiful sound. It traveled on the wind and wound around her, like a living thing. It soothed her, calmed the tightness inside her.

“So distrustful. Wonderful! Your parents have done a fine job. Have you heard of the Waters of Fate?”

“Of course.” Neiva rolled her eyes. Everyone knew about the Waters. “They tell you whether you have a true mate. Sometimes, they’ll only show enough for you to know you have one, and sometimes, they’ll actually reveal who it is.” She glanced at the pool. “These are the Waters?”

“They are indeed. Have you looked within?” she repeated.

“All I saw was water.” Neiva was mortified as tears welled up. “I guess I don’t have a true mate in this life.”

“Perhaps you should look again,” Mara suggested. “You only had a moment before.”

Neiva turned and stepped to the pool. Bracing her palms on the rough stones, she leaned forward and peered into the Waters. After a moment, the water darkened and swirled. Soon, it was churning—a small, contained storm—splashing up on the wall, bathing her hands in coolness.

“Keep watching,” Mara murmured.

In the middle of the chaotic water, images began to form. Neiva could make out the forms of a man and woman. They were embracing. But, Goddess, it was so blurred. She leaned farther. The image sharpened. Her heart stuttered as she recognized herself—or rather an older version of herself. She shifted her gaze, and her heart stopped altogether.

“It can’t be. He’s my mate?” She straightened and turned to look at Mara. “How? How can it be him? My father will never allow it.”

“Never question Fate, Princess. She has paired the two of you together. You are halves of the same soul. Even the King cannot deny or change that.”

Neiva looked into the Waters again, where the man and woman still shimmered on the surface. They looked so happy. Warmth blossomed in her stomach and spread through her body.

“How will I tell him? Blessed Lady Above, how will I tell Dad?”

Again, Mara’s laugh slid around her, comforting her. “You’ll have no need to tell your mate. He’ll know when the time is right. As for the King, you and your mate will find the right moment to inform him. How fortunate you are, Princess. Not everyone finds their other half in this life. He is a good, strong man.”

Neiva knew that to be true, but her head spun over the revelation. “Maybe it’s a mistake…” Her mouth dropped open.

The woman was gone. The glade was empty, save Neiva. She glanced back down. The Waters were clear once again.

She sighed. One thing was certain. She was telling no one about this. They’d think she was insane. She started down the path to the gardens on trembling legs.

Goddess, she had a true mate…


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Saturday, December 20, 2014

Candle Magic; A New Fantasy Erotic Romance by Elodie Parks

Thank you for featuring ‘Candle Magic’ on your blog today. Thank you so much to all my readers. I write from my heart so you have a piece of it. Happy Holidays.


When Simi finds a pretty old candlestick among the discarded props in the company storeroom, she never imagines it will grant her dearest wish. There’s something mysterious about the carved candlestick, but Simi is drawn to it. 

She’s saved a red candle from a box she bought years ago in an antique shop, and intends to use the candlestick to hold the last candle and make her solitary Christmas lunch more festive. It’s Christmas Eve, there’s sleet in the wind, Simi slips, but Jason catches her. 

Who is Jason? Where has he suddenly appeared from in the night?

Simi looks into the eyes of this gorgeous man and sparks fly …

Contemporary, erotic fantasy romance from Siren Publishing and Elodie Parkes

Adult Excerpt

The mist parted. The sight of a man walking toward her captured her in a spell. Simi stared at him, unable to move.

He flowed slowly toward her, and then he was there in front of her, extending his arms to hold her. His cornflower blue eyes, fringed with dark lashes, filled with emotion. He smiled at Simi and she registered how handsome he was, how completely gorgeous he was, before magically she was in his arms. He held her close.

Gratitude surged through her. Her heart opened to soak up the love he gave her. His face close, Simi yearned for his lips on hers, and then—he kissed her. It charged her whole body with such a surge of raw sexual energy her pussy drenched her inner thighs. She drifted in a heavy fog of his kiss-induced lust.

The softness of his lips changed from a gentle, loving merging to a hungry searching as her tongue met his.

Naked in his arms, Simi pressed against his hard body, her clothes strangely gone. Yet she accepted that as ordinary when his hands swept over her skin and grabbed her ass to lift her against his body. Her stomach contacted the hard column of his erect cock, and she sighed into his mouth.



FIND the book:

Candle Magic December 23 release from Siren Publishing is on pre-sale special discount, Pre-Order 'Candle Magic' Contemporary erotic , fantasy romance

offered at a 10% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, December 30th 

ADD to your TBR:

Check Elodie’s blog for other distributor buy links

Follow Elodie on Twitter on Facebook see her Amazon page and Google+

About Elodie:
Elodie Parkes is a British author writing romance, erotic, contemporary, and often with a twist of mystery, paranormal or suspense. Her books are always steamy, cool stories and hot love scenes.
Elodie lives in Canterbury with her two dogs. She works in an antique shop by day and writes at night, loving the cloak of silent darkness that descends on the rural countryside around her home.
She has also released titles as an individual indie author.

Find Elodie online: Blog  Tumblr  Facebook  Twitter 

Friday, December 19, 2014

Two Vampires. One An Outcast And The Other A Leader Of The Council; Drawn Together in 'Rogue' by Eden Bradley

The penalty for his crimes is pain…and pleasure.


Madrid, 2069

He is Rogue.

He has known no other life, no other name. Turned at the tender age of nineteen on the dark streets of London, he wanders Europe, angry and rebellious, haunted by the crime that has followed him for over a century. Always alone.

He is Ramsey.

Member of the Vampire Council, all he has are his memories of dazzling grief and unrelenting pain—his only respite is blood and sex. Until a young rogue vampire poaches in his territory…

Inexorably drawn to each other, the head of Madrid’s Midnight Playground and the rebel from nowhere will find passion in each other’s arms—and discover a dangerous secret that could irrevocably change both their worlds.

Note: This book has been previously published and has been revised from its original release.


Madrid, 2069

He prowled like a shadow around the perimeter of the compound that had once been Retiro Park. He was used to being a shadow. Invisible. Without a name other than the one he had given himself after his Turning. Rogue.



Vampire—yes. But he didn't subscribe to their ways. Their rules. Except for the edict to never take an unwilling victim.

Only once…

No. Don’t think of it. Don’t remember.

But the images came flooding into his mind like a movie he couldn't turn away from, burned into a hundred years of memory.

Her hair like red silk in his hands, and he so newly reborn he couldn't yet read through his enhanced senses to smell the drugs in her blood. All he’d smelled was blood. All he’d tasted was his driving need and the flavor of life in his mouth.

She was beautiful, like a flame in the foggy London night. A lovely face. He’d been as drawn to that as much as he was by the heady scent of human flesh. He hadn't noticed until it was over that her skin held the sick pall of an addict—a morphie they called them now, although he had some vague memory that they were once called junkies. He hadn't noticed until the breath was gone from her body that her red hair was matted, the skin on her arms torn where she’d scratched at it. He hadn't seen any of it until the girl was dead in his arms, her blood still tangy and warm on his tongue.

He’d waited for days afterward in a dank, abandoned apartment building in King’s Cross, consumed by the thirst but unable to believe he wanted to drink human blood. He’d fought it. But there had been nothing to hold him back. No one to teach him. His attack on the red-headed girl had been savage, inexcusably vicious and cruel. Neither one of them had understood what was happening. And in taking her blood he had read her—even through the haze of blood lust—and everything he’d seen had been fear and pain and grief.


It was only later, when he was nearly dying of the thirst, that some wandering group of vampires had come upon him trying to hunt in the alleys of London and had shown him how to feed properly.

He shook his head, tried to shake the memories away. Focused once more on the night around him, the pungent scent of blood discernible from behind the high wall. The tops of the cypress trees making a stark black silhouette against the sky. The moon hanging above like a lantern against the sheet of stars.

The blood.

Deer blood—one of them injured.

He’d heard the vampires who ran Madrid’s Midnight Playground club, housed here in the park in the enormous greenhouse-like structure that was called the Palacio de Crista–the Crystal Palace—kept a herd of deer on the grounds. That their immortal guests were invited to hunt them down and drink their blood for sport.

He was not invited. But he would hunt tonight.

He was never invited, although he could have been easily enough. As a vampire he could walk through the front doors of any of Europe’s Midnight Playground clubs, which were there to serve the needs and desires of the world’s vampires, whether to satisfy their thirst for blood or for sex. But he far preferred his rogue existence, with no Vampire Council to govern his actions. He was too used to being a loner. He gloried in it now—and in these challenges he set himself, the thrill of breaking through their invisible net of invincibility.

It had been almost too easy sneaking into the clubs in Paris, in Berlin, Rome and London. Acting as if he belonged there and seducing the exquisite humans who flocked to the Midnight Playground clubs, offering their bodies and their blood. They had nothing to lose in a world which had little to offer mortals but poverty and pain. And the vampires were intriguing to mortals. They were all too eager to offer him their blood. He’d never taken more than the Little Drink, just enough to let them know—those vampires who ran the clubs—that a thief ran in their midst.

But tonight he would run with their deer.

He attuned his hearing, searching for any sign of activity behind the wall. He heard only the crickets chirping, the occasional snap of a twig as some creature walked among the trees—all sounds of a forest at night. Not that he couldn't have hunted during the day. Daylight was not the enemy of the vampires, as the old stories told it. That had been one shock to the world. He simply preferred the night. There was some sort of poetry to it. He paused to listen once more. No humans. No vampires that he could detect. Of course, a being who was older than his mere single century could mask themselves from him. But that was part of the game, wasn't it?

He laid a hand on the towering concrete wall, felt the lingering warmth of the day against his palm, his fingertips picking up every tiny crevice in its surface. He closed his eyes and listened.

Being at the farthest point from the palace itself, he could hear voices only if he concentrated very closely. But it was the park that interested him. It appeared to be clear.

He took a few steps back, gathered himself and sprang to the top of the wall, landing in a crouch between two of the security cameras mounted at regular intervals. He turned and smiled, let the smile spread into a triumphant grin before knocking the cameras out with a sweep of his hand. He paused, searching the grass and the trees, looking for the scent that had drawn him.

The deer were maybe a hundred yards in, hidden among the trees. He wouldn't go for the injured animal—that would be far too easy. But the rest… His hands itched to feel their downy pelts. His legs itched for the chase. His entire being itched to feel their innocent struggle beneath his hands.

He drew in a breath and leapt.

He was running before the animals caught his scent—he could sense their wariness. He made it to the stand of trees and ducked in. As he moved closer he could feel them, hear the beating of their hearts. Maybe two dozen of them. It would be a fine chase.

Rogue slowed when he saw the herd between the trees, their ears twitching. When they bolted, he dashed after them.

The run itself was glorious. The hunt would be even sweeter for it. His legs pumping effortlessly, he felled the first deer, inhaling the earthy scent of grass and fur before sinking his teeth into its neck and drinking it nearly dry.

The blood still warm and thick on his lips, he stood and ran again, skirting the edge of the herd, enjoying the stretch of his legs as he darted between the trunks of the giant cypresses. He ran faster, spotting his target up ahead, antlers glinting in the moonlight—a prize buck, the fastest of the herd. He sprang on him with a wild cry, taking the buck down to the ground, enjoying the strength of the beast’s struggle for a moment, then leaning in, he tore at its throat. Blood sweet and primal, so different from a human’s, yet he loved it anyway. He stood with the animal limp in his arms, cradling it as he drained it, then let the carcass fall to the ground—and fell like a stone as he was captured.

Arms clamped around his body, pinning his to his sides, pinning him to the ground.

He inhaled. Vampire. Like ancient stone and earth. Impossibly strong.

He struggled, but it was useless. He kept at it anyway.

“Quiet down now,” came the voice in English with a distinct British accent. “You know damn well you’re not going anywhere.”

He was pulled to his feet by the old vampire, a male of pale, ethereal beauty. If they’d been human he would have easily taken this man down, but they were no longer men, either of them. Another vampire was with him, a female with long black hair in a braid down her back. Lovely, of course, as they all were.

“What’s your name, little beauty?” Rogue asked, giving her a wink.

The male holding him wrapped a fist in his long hair and yanked hard. “Being caught poaching on the Midnight Playground lands without invitation is nothing to scoff at, rogue. There will be consequences.” He gave another sharp yank. “You’d do well to mind your manners.”

“I’d do even better to fuck her. Or you.”

The female laughed. “Ramsey is going to love this one,” she said in a soft Castilian accent.


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