Sunday, July 29, 2012

Zombie Love.

Yes, Zombies need love, too. Just ask author Suzan Harden.


While investigating the kidnapping of a popular TV actress, tabloid reporter Samantha Ridgeway has stumbled across the story of a life-time—vampires and other mythical creatures are real. On the run from mad scientists who’ve already killed her and brought her back to life, Sam finds an ally in vampire enforcer Duncan St. James.

I whirled back to face him. “What the hell were you doing in my apartment?” I liked my privacy, and I really didn’t appreciate everyone traipsing through my place like it was Wal-Mart.

“Deducing why you were following me.”

“I told you why Thursday night. I’m writing a follow-up on your rescue—”

“—of Ms. Alton from the Sunshine Believers.” Duncan pursed his lips. I couldn’t take my eyes from them. Tingles ran up and down my spine at the memory of his kiss when I yanked him between the carnival tents earlier this evening. “At the time, I had no reason to believe you. And as I pointed out Thursday night by the river, you were stalking me.”

I dragged my attention away from his lips. “Oh, really? And that gives you carte blanche to commit B&E?”

He shrugged. “While Tiffany believed you were harmless, I was not as confident you were not employed by Mallory.”

“For crying out loud! Why does everyone think I’m working for someone else? Doesn’t it occur to you people umf—” His mouth covered mine with a possessiveness that literally took my breath away. The blankets fell to the floor, and my fingers wound through his hair.

All of my indignation disappeared in the onslaught of his kiss. His hands wrapped around my waist to pull me even closer, his body against mine overloading my senses. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from the last few days. Maybe it was something else. I wasn’t sure what, but I didn’t want the kiss to end.

Tongues and lips tangled and explored. Extra-sharp teeth nipped my lower lip, not hard enough to break the delicate skin, but a thrill of dangerous pleasure rippled through me at the risk. The rich scent of sandalwood rose, enveloping me in its embrace as its master roamed over the sensitized skin under my t-shirt.

 Zombie Love by Suzan Harden 

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Saturday, July 28, 2012

Scent of Lavender by Teri Thackston

Lily looked down at their joined hands. The mound of flesh below his thumb pressed against hers. Suction formed between them, tugging her lifeline closer to his. Heat sluiced through her as he led her down the hall and through the studio door.

Inside the studio, moonlight eased through uncurtained windows. A lavender scent cooled the room. Air shimmered in an intimate rhythm that mirrored the pulse throbbing in the deep, secret places of her body. Desire coursed through her, swelling and heating until she feared it would consume her. She couldn’t help herself any longer.

Turning, aligning her body with his, she slipped her fingers through his hair, pulled down his head and kissed him.

The kiss was hard and hot, a primal taking that was urgent in the face of some threat she felt but couldn’t name. His hands came up, slipped under her shirt, moved over flesh that ached for the comfort that only his touch could offer. Longed for the sanctuary that only his arms could provide. Burned for the release that he alone could wrest from the depths of her soul.

Pleasure and need shuddered through her. This was where she belonged. In his arms, surrounded by velvet moonlight. In this room, lit by satin starlight. Together. Safe.

Something tickled her mind but she brushed it away with a thought. Nothing must come between them. Nothing must keep them apart. Nothing and no one…

His arms went around her. A sigh whispered through the air, easing inside her as she inhaled. His breath, she thought, flavored with beer and need and sweet, sweet lavender. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, exhaling her own need, feeling him draw it in. Someone sighed again, in rhythm with her own breath.

But it wasn’t him.

Don’t stop, a voice whispered inside her head. Don’t let him go this time.

This time…

Scent of Lavender by Teri Thackston
Available at Ellora’s Cave,  Amazon , Barnes and Noble and other fine etailers.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

Can't Fight the Feeling by Faye Hughes

Fate brought them together . . .

Six years ago, while working on his doctoral thesis on literary genius E. J. Tremayne, Justin Stone had fallen hard for the deceased author's daughter, Morgan. After a whirlwind courtship, filled with poetry and passion, they'd eloped . . . only to fly to Costa Rica nearly a year later for a quickie divorce. When Justin finds Morgan sitting on the desk in his office at the Hamilton-Davis University in Santa Barbara — looking more beautiful than he'd remembered — all of the old emotions come tumbling back. Justin still wants her, but he knows giving in to his feelings this time could destroy them both.  And then Morgan drops a bombshell — their quickie divorce didn't exactly take, and they're still married.

Or they will be for the next ten days until her attorney can file the right paperwork.

. . . And then Fate gave them a second chance at happiness.

Morgan feels the same magic, the same attraction when she sees Justin again. She wants him back, and she intends to do everything she can in the next ten days to make him see things her way. First, she convinces him to let her stay in his spare bedroom. Then his department chair — who just happens to be one of her father's old friends — asks her to work with Justin on a symposium he's heading on her father's work.  And her plan works — she and Justin can't seem to keep their hands off each other. But then Morgan discovers that somebody's forged one of her father's manuscripts, which sidelines their rekindled romance . . . maybe even forever.

 ***Please Note:  This is an updated and expanded edition of the Bantam Loveswept classic romance originally published in 1996.***

The First Kiss:

Morgan is in Justin's office at the university, where they are supposed to be discussing her involvement in the symposium on American authors.  Morgan has other plans, however . . .



Her fingers stroked his back. He shuddered.

"Thanks for letting me do this," she said softly, coming alongside him. "I know you weren't exactly thrilled last night when Cappy suggested I help you with the symposium, and I appreciate your giving in. You have no idea how much this means to me."

He stared into her face. He knew just how her skin would feel if he ran his thumb down her cheek. Soft and dewy-fresh. He began to ache from the want of her.

"Well, Leonard was right," he said slowly, his voice rough around the edges. "Including you in the symposium was a great idea. Still is. My only concern was whether we could work together or not."

"What do you mean?" She touched his arm.

He flinched as though she'd struck him.

"Why, Justin Stone, you're as nervous as a cat in a house full of hounds. Whatever is the matter with you?"

"You," he rasped out. His gaze bore into her. "Hell, ever since you got here you've been reminding me of how good it felt to hold you, so that every time I get close to you, I just want to reach out and . . ."

He took a slow, ragged breath and closed his eyes. "Morgan, you've been making me feel things I haven't felt in years," he said, opening his eyes again. "I can't think about anything but touching you. Stroking you until you purr. I swear to God I don't know if I can control myself sometimes. I want to push you down on the floor and take you. Right here and now. Pound myself in you until there's no more me left. And no more you."

She stared up at him. A flush crept into her cheeks. Her lips parted. "So, who's stopping you?" she asked huskily.

He groaned and reached out for her. She slid into his arms. Their lips came together in a kiss that filled some empty spot deep within his soul. He forced his tongue in her mouth and probed its secrets. She tasted of the coffee they'd drunk earlier that morning. Sweet. Invigorating. He couldn't get enough of her. '

His hands moved down the soft wool of her suit to the curve of her hips. He pulled her closer, wanting her to feel his arousal, wanting to grind her into him until she moaned with pleasure.

"Oh, Justin." She moaned. "I've missed you."

And he'd missed her.

He just hadn’t known how much until that moment.

He pulled up her skirt, needing to feel her bare skin, her soft, silky skin. His glided his hands up her thighs to the lacy garter holding her stockings in place. Dear God, what was she wearing? he wondered. His hands slipped over her rounded buttocks, feeling the silky fabric rustle beneath his fingers. He felt as if he were coming undone.

From a distance he heard what sounded like a rap on his office door. He ignored it, preferring instead to kiss her again. She rubbed herself against him like a cat demanding to be stroked. He pulled her closer, urging her hips against his. The knocking grew louder.

He groaned. Go away, he thought. Or maybe he said it out loud. He couldn't be sure. But moments later he heard Sonia Garcia's voice and that of a man, and Justin knew they had to stop.

He reluctantly pushed Morgan away as his office door swung open. Her skirt slid back into place.

Sonia's voice cut through the haze in his brain with the ease of a hot knife though melting butter.

"Adam Smiley, you're a real jerk! Can't you see they want to be alone?"

Can't Fight the Feeling by Faye Hughes; available at:
Barnes and Noble

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Murder, Mayhem and Mama...and a Little Kiss

Christie Craig has dropped by to share part of one of her wonderful humorous romantic suspense novels, Murder, Mayhem and Mama. Not only are we getting a taste of a kiss from the book, but Christie is offering a $10.00 Amazon gift certificate to one lucky commenter. Leave a comment any time between Sunday July 15 and Friday July 20 (at 8:00 pm CDT). We'll draw the winner's name at that time. Make sure you check back after that time that night to find out if you won!

And now, here's a blurb for Murder, Mayhem and Mama by Christie Craig, followed by that special first kiss:

            Being a mama is hard.  But the job's even tougher when you're dead.

Cali McKay's mama isn't ready to pass over to the "other side" yet.  Her
unlucky-in-love daughter needs her now more than ever.  Before Mama can
chain-smoke her way to heaven, she's gotta make sure Cali's ex deadbeat
boyfriend doesn't get her daughter killed.

Grief Sucks.  Love Heals.

Cali lost her mom to cancer.  Detective Brit Lowell, lost his partner to
murder. Now he's in the mood to take down some dirtbags and Cali's ex just
happens to be a dirtbag leaving a trail of dead bodies behind him.   Can
Brit trust this beautiful woman to help take down her ex?  Can Cali look
past this sexy cop's hard exterior to trust him with her heart?  Can life
get any crazier when Mama starts meddling from the grave? Only one thing is
for sure--none of it will matter, unless they catch a killer before the
killer catches them.


Cali pulled into the hotel parking lot and practiced her send-off speech one more time.  “I’m really tired, and all I want to do is go to bed and sleep, so if you don’t mind, I’m just going to skip dinner.  Besides, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.  Like that hot little babe you brought to my school today.  Remember, the one who has bigger tits and longer legs than I do?”

            She startled when he opened her car door. 

            “You talk to yourself very often?”

            “Only on Fridays,” she quipped to hide her nervousness and got out.  A cool breeze brushed past them.  She pulled her thin cardigan closed, recalled her speech, and decided to leave out the bigger tits and legs part.  “I...”  She stuttered to a halt when he reached out and released her banana clip, letting her hair fall.  “What are you doing?”  

            His sexy grin came on strong.  “If you can talk to yourself on Fridays, you should be able to let your hair down.”  He tossed her banana clip in her front seat, pulled her to the side, and shut the car door.  “Where do you want to take me for dinner?” 

            She ran a hand through her hair.  Then she remembered her talk to send him packing. “You don’t have to stay.”  Her breath caught when he pressed a finger over her lips.

            “I want to.”  He stared at her mouth.  “I want…”

“You probably have plans,” she said against his finger, and when she looked up at him she got the idea that he was considering kissing her.  She stepped back, but butted against her car. 

            He pressed closer.  “I do have plans.  I’m having dinner with you.”  His gaze went to her mouth again.  “Do you have any idea how badly I want to kiss you right now?”

            Her breath caught.  “No, but. . .”  She remembered the woman he’d had with him today.  “I don’t think you should do that.” 

            “Why not?”   He moved in.  His lips were so close she could feel the moisture from his breath.

            “Because. . .”  She forgot why it wasn’t a good idea.

            He moved closer, his head lowered just a bit.  His lips brushed ever so lightly against hers.

            “Because. . .”  There had been a reason why he shouldn’t kiss her.  She’d known it, but it was gone.

            “Too late now.”  His lips melted against hers.

            She forgot about telling him to stop—forgot everything.  The only thing she knew was that he tasted so good—felt so good.  The ache she felt in her heart for the last week, even the ache she’d felt since she’d heard her mom had cancer, lifted like fog.  An odd thought ran though her mind.  This was what it felt to be alive.  A part of her had died with her mother, and had been dying since she learned of her mother’s cancer. 

            When his tongue slipped between her lips, she opened her mouth, invited him inside.  His hand moved through her hair to cup the back of her head.  He tilted her head slightly to the side to deepen the kiss.  She leaned into him, let her tongue move into his mouth.  Her breasts slid across his chest.  His other hand moved between her and the car.  His palm glided under her cardigan, under her pink sweater, and his palm moved over the bare skin of her lower back. 

            “Get a room,” someone yelled from a passing car.

            They jerked apart.  She covered her mouth with her hand.  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she said behind her fingers.

            She darted off toward her room—part of her hoping he would leave, another part hoping he wouldn’t.  His footsteps echoed along with hers.  When she opened her door, she turned to give him the speech.

            “I’m tired.”  She couldn’t remember what came next in the speech.  Oh, yeah, he should leave.  She opened her mouth but— 

            “Me, too.”  He nudged her inside and shut the door.

            They stood there, staring at each other.  She noticed his breathing sounded as labored at hers.  Hands clenched, she glanced at the bed.  His taste still lingered on her tongue, the feel of his body against hers echoed in her memory like a sweet dream, or a poem too good to be forgotten.  She glanced up and caught him studying the bed. 

            Her breath caught; the memory of his kiss vibrated through her.  She turned and stared at the wall and then she swung around.  “I’m not having sex with you.”

Don't forget to comment and then check back on Friday July 20 about 8:15 pm to find out if you won the Amazon gift certificate from Christie Craig!

Saturday, July 14, 2012

Wait Until Moonrise by Teri Thackston

In paranormal romance, the kisses are just as real as in any other writing genre. Here is the first kiss between Nicholas and Bria in my paranormal romance Wait Until Moonrise.

She touched his arm, and his control shattered. Whipping around, he grabbed her shoulders. Her eyes went wide as he pushed her against the wall, crushing her with his body.

“Is this what you want?” he demanded. “To see me lose control as that poor bastard fiancĂ© of yours did? Remember that I, too, suffer under Saffira’s curse.”

Unexpectedly, he felt her relax between him and the cold wall. His own tension coiled tighter as her supple form curved to his rigid one.

“I don’t believe you want to hurt me,” she whispered. “I don’t believe you can.”

Her lips were so close to his, he could taste the flavor of her breath. It swirled through his head like smoke, coiled down into his gut, intensifying the craving that he could scarcely control. Only with her did he feel human. Only with her was he free even within his own mind.

And yet he could not let her take this step out of guilt. To allow that would be an affront to them both.

“You said the same about the American.”

Her gaze touched his lips. “He wasn’t himself.”

“But I am me.”

“I know.” She slipped her arms around his waist and lifted her lips to his.

Nicholas would gladly have died then. The love he tasted on her sweet lips eased his tortured soul with the flavor of nectar. Heaven-sent, she was, and he knew she’d never kissed Terrell or any other man in this way. Her fingers were still against his back, her body barely touching his. Only her lips moved, and they did so barely parted, innocent and soft, as if she had no inkling of their sensuous power. Resistance faltering beneath her innocent onslaught, he eased his cruel grip, and his hands slipped between her and the stone wall. Holding her close, he deepened the kiss, easing her lips apart, tasting fully of what she so sweetly offered…what he so desperately craved.

Wait Until Moonrise by Teri Thackston is available at