Not long after I published the Soul of the Witch trilogy, I received several emails asking about Jason and Amy, the married couple from Boston who went West to help his uncle manage the Harris Highland’s Ranch.

How did such diverse personalities meet? Their passion for each other was evident, but what was their story?

Then, while crafting Jason and Amy’s story in Pyromancer, two more characters made it abundantly clear they had a past to air as well.

Hence, two prequel novels for the Soul of the Witch trilogy (Prodigy and Pyromancer) and a third novel (Patriarch) to wrap up the six-book series is coming soon. But numbering two prequels became an issue. 0.25 and 0.5 were not an option, so I gave these tales an entirely new series name. Coven Moon.

Prodigy, Coven Moon, Book 1

Ayden saw Margaret’s face in his very first fire-vision. They came to believe their love to be inevitable, their destiny and passion as enduring as his visions, able to overcome any obstacle.

Or so they thought.

Excerpt from “Prodigy”

The sky darkened. The heavy, threatening clouds that had lined the western horizon on their way to the farm rolled across the sky, bringing with them the scent of rain. Dry cornrows rustled in the brisk breeze and made it impossible to hear piglets running in the field.

Or Ayden. I’d best turn back or chance a soaking.

Ahead of Margaret, two figures crossed her path. The first, a black sow, followed immediately by a pale woman in a flowing white gown. The woman paused, her gaze directed beyond Margaret, and slowly raised her hand to point down the row.

Margaret spun on her heel, chilled to the bone by the apparition, and bounced off the chest of a strange man. She struck him with such force she stumbled back, fell to the ground, and rubbed her nose.

The stranger laughed. His gaping mouth displayed missing and rotted teeth. The breeze lifted white hair and tossed it about his head like a crazed ghoul. “Look what I found.”

Not a ghoul.

Margaret scrambled backward, rolled to rise to her feet, but was knocked back down by a boot to her backside.

“And they said there weren’t no women here.”

She twisted to watch him and kicked his hand when he reached for the hem of her skirt. “Don’t touch me.”

“Mighty prissy.” He leaned forward and grabbed her boot when she kicked. “That ain’t nice. You must like it rough. I know I sure do.”

His chuckle turned into a surprised grunt as he was knocked back by a man who burst from the adjacent row.

“Ayden?” Margaret scrambled to her feet, eyeing the two men who wrestled on the ground.

“Go,” Ayden yelled at her. “Run.” The ghoulish man’s fist knocked Ayden’s head back.

She ran past where they fought, then stopped in the row to watch.

There must be something I can do.

Ayden fell back across the row.

Her assailant thrashed to his feet and picked up the long rifle Ayden had knocked from his hands. “This won’t be pretty, but I’m sure gonna like it.” He lifted the rifle butt to his shoulder and squinted down the barrel at Ayden.

Ayden gained his feet and lifted his hand toward the rifle barrel. “Don’t shoot,” he warned.

With a grin, the white-haired man squeezed the trigger. As the firing pin struck the cap, the gunpowder exploded backward, sending the breech plug and blast of the weapon into the attacker’s face. Smoke and fire followed the dead man to the ground.

Ayden closed his fingers into a fist, and the fire ceased. His gaze turned from the man on the ground to Margaret, and his eyes widened with astonished recognition.

“Run back to the farm.” He closed the distance between them. “There are two more of these men in the field.”

“What? How do you know?”

“They came to the farm after the moon gathering.” He gripped her upper arm and pushed her ahead of him. “Run, Margaret.”

She lifted her skirt and dashed through the corn. Freezing rain, driven by the wind, pelted her head. The row curved, limiting her vision, her heart thundered in her ears, then she was out of the corn. She stumbled to a stop and gazed around the empty yard.

The members at the Samhain celebration had retreated inside to escape the storm. No one would have heard her cry for help.

“Let’s get inside.” Ayden took her hand and led her toward the house. “Leader Brown needs to be told what’s happened.”

*~*~*

Buy Link: Amazon – https://amzn.to/3IJaQVC
($0.99 through the end of the year–Free in KU!)

Pyromancer, Coven Moon, Book 2

Indentured for twenty years, a hostage of magic in a foreign land, Ayden MacKenna returns home seeking more than vengeance and searches the flames for an inkling of what he may have lost.

Excerpt from “Pyromancer”

The flames in his stove burned brightly, and the chill in the room lessened. The tingling sensation of foretelling tightened his scalp. “Show me Margaret’s child.”

The shadows between the flames whirled and dipped as they flickered across the coals in time with a silent rhythm.

Then she stood before him in the fire, on a grand staircase.

Ayden groaned, and his soul chipped a tiny bit more. She looked like the memory of Margaret he had carried in his mind—in his heart—for so long.

The young woman’s fingers played nervously with the string ties of a beaded mask.

A blond-haired man stepped into the vision. He took her hand and bent to whisper in her hair.

Ayden slammed the door to the stove shut and covered his face as his shoulders shook.

Loss filled his heart, and he battled with hatred and resentment. They’d taken so damned much from him. For so long he had begged to see visions of home, tidings of the ones he’d been forced to leave behind, and now that he had—now that a face had formed in the fire, showing him the child that could have been his had he been allowed to stay, he could hardly bear it.

He pushed the tears from his lashes and shook his head.

The fire had given him two faces tonight. One he recognized—the blond lad that came in regularly to bed Molly. He rolled his eyes and lay back on his bed.

What had been the boy’s name?

Ah yes, Jason Harris.

*~*~*

Buy Link: Amazon – https://amzn.to/3EMnr81
(Free in KU!)

C. Marie Bowen Amazon Author Page – https://amzn.to/3rY52Su
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I am tagging on to Delilah’s “St. Nick” post. If you haven’t read it, you can find it here. https://www.delilahdevlin.com/blog/2021/12/05/st-nicks-night/. She wrote on her family’s Christmas traditions. Let me tell you about mine.

I found it in the midst of utter chaos. I was chasing down the perfect gifts for loved ones, planning a party, and juggling visiting family with different schedules, dietary needs, and pets. Facebook was my escape from reality. It was my coping mechanism—don’t judge. There was a picture depicting Jolabokaflod. I looked at that photo of a blazing fire with an inviting chair under the snow-covered windows. A hot beverage next to a pile of books lay beside it.  I was immediately transported to Iceland. The house was quiet; the fire crackled; all my friends were curled up with books. I wanted that. Okay, I lived on the gulf coast, so snow and a roaring fire were not realistic, but I could give books on Christmas Eve. Setting up little reading nooks and an array of warm beverages were possibilities as well. I was now on a mission to adopt Jolabokaflod. It helped me rediscover my love of the holidays. Gone were the worries of making everything perfect and attending every party. What fun I had shopping for the perfect stories for my house full of guests.

Jolabokaflod is the Icelandic tradition of giving books on Christmas Eve then going off to read them with a non-alcoholic hot drink. It started after World War II, when paper was not rationed, and booksellers were trying to hawk their wares. They published a list of books and mailed it to everyone in November encouraging the giving of books for Christmas.

At my house, the big night arrived—Christmas Eve. The weather was warm.  I kicked on the air to frigid, so people could snuggle up with cozy blankets.  I had chosen to keep my guests in the dark about the evening’s event, so their faces were filled with anticipation as I handed out the beautifully wrapped gifts. I even learned how to make fancy bows, which is a huge feat since I am the least crafty person on Earth. Thank you, YouTube. My drinks trolley overflowed with cider, teas, coffee, and hot chocolate. I explained the tradition. Then everyone took turns revealing their books. There were oohs and ahhs and a few puzzled hmms. Friends selected beverages and dispersed to find the perfect reading spots. It was amazing. We were alone but together, kind of like a silent book club. After a couple of hours, we gathered back for a late supper of roasted lamb and flatkaka to keep with the Icelandic theme. The conversation flowed and ranged. Huge success. It was all that I had hoped for and more. Jolabokaflod is now my annual Christmas Eve event. The participants and books change, but the feeling of discovery and friendship thrive from year to year. Give it a try.

If you are looking for a book gift, I highly recommend Passionate Ink’s Falling Hard anthology (which is currently FREE in KU!). It contains seven steamy stories to warm your cold December nights. Michal Scott writes of Eve trying to escape an unwanted marriage in 1898 in Who Can Find a Virtuous Woman. Ryley Banks’ hot ginger TJ comes face to face with his teenage crush, Harley. Who doesn’t love a hot ginger? Find out what happens in Hard Cider Crush. Calia Wilde’s Burned Bones doesn’t disappoint with demons, dragons, and scorching sex. Learning that there is life after tragedy is the story of Roger Callahan. Ryan T. Osborn’s Claiming Papa is a daddy story that stays with the reader. Jordyn Kross’ Open Enrollment has you rooting for Dr. Chandra Russell from the first paragraph. What a steamy alien love story that has you hoping for a sequel. “When it comes to love and death, time is just another four-letter word.” Deni Dawson has a way with words. In her Between Love and Death, you find yourself thinking about houses and ghosts in a new way. A Facebook (can you tell it’s my story?) reconnect of first love leads to more than chaste kissing in The Homecoming.

All proceeds for Falling Hard go to Proliteracy.org!!

Want a sexy variation on Jolabokaflod? Pick up an erotic novel from your favorite author, pour your favorite beverage for a special person(s) of your choice, and take turns reading passages out loud. You don’t even have to wait until Christmas Eve!

Do you have a book tradition that you would like to share? I am always looking for new ways to celebrate with books or just celebrate!

Thank you, Delilah, for letting me share my favorite holiday tradition with your readers. Happy Holidays and Reading.

XOXO
Candy

To find out more about Candice LaBria, visit her website at www.CandiceLaBria.com or her socials at Bria_writes on Instagram and Twitter and Candice LaBria on Facebook.

House of Rae franchisee Marie Argenta is on the run after her estranged husband Ned inflicts unimaginable tortures. Leaving her Paris House to hide out in the U.S., she ends up at the San Francisco House to serve as temporary manager. The very first day, her gaze lands on the most arrogant man she has ever seen, Adrian Velasquez. He’s also the most compelling devastatingly attractive, over-the-top pleasure partner the universe could ever conjure, which makes her think twice about the rules forbidding employee relationships.

Adrian knows what he likes and this new House manager Marie ranks above and beyond anything he’s ever imagined. Too bad his life is already crammed too full of family troubles, work overload, and finishing his law degree to even consider stretching the rules with this irritating woman. But a touch here, a kiss there, might be too delicious to refuse and she’s, well, she wants him. He knows it.

What Marie and Adrian are soon to discover is that Ned knows where Marie has fled and plans to take her back no matter what.

West Coast life like you’ve never imagined! Take luxurious surroundings, drop in a few gorgeous men, and stir. Don’t forget there’s serious trouble ahead.

Get your copy! Amazon Free promotion Dec 7, 8, and 9 ONLY

Follow my blog for GIVEAWAYS of Book III and IV, coming up in a few days! https://lizzieashworth.com/

** Reviews Needed! ** Please take a moment and review this book!

Excerpt from Reprieve…

Adrian lounged in the hallway outside the ground floor conference room. If it were his call, he’d bring everyone to the room at once throwing out ideas and arguing over word choice. But it wasn’t his call and Marie obviously preferred to take advice from one person at a time. He stopped himself from further questioning her reasoning. He didn’t want to think about her reasoning, her, or her luscious body.

Damn it.

He’d found it unexpectedly difficult to craft language that surpassed hers. He’d actually wasted a lot of time thinking up clever ways to make her uncomfortable with over-the-top sexual innuendo. Which wasn’t the purpose of the task, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He wanted to provoke her, push her limits, test her control. Any opening and he would storm past her walls.

Ridiculous, he knew. Storming her walls was the last thing that should be on his mind. She set something loose in him, something he’d never encountered in all his thirty years. Not carefully calculating his hours, his days, his future as had been his pattern. Instead, this doppelganger lurking inside him plotted devious methods that would result in Marie’s eager nude body in his bed.

He shifted uncomfortably as his cock twitched.

The door opened and Savannah walked out, throwing him an amused glance. “Hey, sex boy. You’re next.”

He shook his head and grinned. “Tear it up, Savannah.”

He rolled his shoulder around the door frame, crossed his arms and looked down the long table to where Marie sat at the far end. Surrounded by papers she was organizing into stacks, she glanced up only momentarily before motioning to a nearby chair. Her hair had been fastened loosely on top of her head but a few strands had worked loose, drifting around her face and doing something outrageous with her beauty. A gauzy pink blouse floated around her shoulders and vanished into the shadow of her sumptuous décolletage. He was instantly hard as iron.

Did she know the image she presented, part sex goddess, part ice queen? He had no doubt of her intellect, whip smart and aggressive. He also had no doubt that she would be a wild cat in bed, a tempest of little moans and cries, all of which would ensure his undying servitude to her unending pleasure. Yes, in a perfect world, he would devote himself utterly to Marie, to fulfilling her every sexual need in long leisurely episodes of rampant lust.

His balls had drawn up tight.

As he pulled out the chair nearest her and sat carefully, her gaze followed the bulge straining his pants until his hips disappeared under the table. He watched her reaction, a careful flick of her tongue against her full bottom lip and a slight flush of pink across her cheeks. Goddamn it, that’s all he needed for his rowdy dick to threaten to leap out of his pants.

“Whatever this game is you are playing, monsieur, it will go nowhere,” she said in a husky voice. “Surely you know I cannot entangle myself with an employee.”

He cleared his throat, fighting against laughter. Triumphant laughter. So the cards were on the table.

“Of course,” he said in his most dignified voice. “But I don’t know what ‘game’ you mean. I’m here only to offer advice on the advertisement.”

Her long lashes blinked up and her aquamarine gaze intensified as she studied him, her brow creased. Oh, he could make that gaze darken and smooth that lovely brow all in the same moment. Just one moment to bare her lovely breasts, taste the dark pink nipples—she would call his name. He would draw those rosy tips hard against his tongue until she cried out.

Then he would move lower, teasing with little kisses and bites, until he reached the altar of her body, that delicious valley of moist ruddy flesh where he would live off her delectable nectar. His tongue, his mouth, and his fingers would perform ancient rites of homage until she flailed and cried out, desperate for his engorged cock.

He suppressed a groan, couldn’t help that his glance had drifted to those luscious mounds waiting for him under that flimsy pink blouse. Was it his imagination or could he actually make out the erect peaks of those perfect tits pressing their captivity, begging him?

She brought her papers into a neat stack and looked up. “When you manage to tear your eyes away from ma poitrine, perhaps we can hear your ideas? S’il vous plait?”

He dragged his gaze back to her face, unable to keep the guilty grin off his face. “Ma poitrine,” he drawled. “Is that what they call those lovelies in French?” He leaned forward, as much to punish the rigid length of his raging cock as to push the boundaries of her personal space. He knew he was acting like an ass, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. His outrageous alter ego was in full control.

“It’s a shame their beauty must be hidden from the world.”

“Pah, you are not here to seduce a client, Monsieur Velasquez.” She tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail on the papers. “What ideas do you have?”

If you love dark, uber-sexy stories, you should give this one a try! It’s a full-length novel and is FREE, for now, in Kindle Unlimited! It was previously published—a long time ago—so if you missed it back then, now’s the time to dive into the creatures of Ardeal! Very soon, I’ll be putting the pre-order up for the next book in the series, Dark Seduction, plus there are short stories related to the series you’ll be able to peruse!

Dark Legacy

Read an excerpt| Order your copy now!

What do you do when the characters that live inside your head stop talking to you? They were there yesterday, whispering their stories, their hopes, and dreams, having conversations with each other—and then poof! They’re gone. Where did they go? The silence was deafening.

Back at the start of the pandemic, I had big plans. The second book in my new series, Coven Moon, had just come back from the editor, and I was ready to dive into writing book one. (The voices don’t always proceed in an orderly fashion). Then quarantine—and silence.

I tried everything to coax those shy personalities back out, but those were the dark days of food delivery and ordering masks online. No matter what I did to persuade my voices to give me a hint, a laugh, a word, they remained mute. It wasn’t until Delilah’s open submission for Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology—well over a year of silence—that my friends began to return, and I got busy.

First up, Penelope’s Heart. Sam and Nell had waited patiently and are residents of the old west, after all. They felt their time was at hand. Although you won’t find them in Delilah’s anthology, for a limited time, you can download the beginning of Sam and Nell’s tale right here with The Kid in Black for free!

FREE! The Kid in Black

Nell Grant lost everything and watched her life burn to the ground. A fiery-hot need for revenge keeps her moving during the day. But at night, dreams of a passionate stranger fill her empty heart. Passions collide as Nell and Sam struggle to balance the scales between her thirst for vengeance and his sense of duty.

Get spicy romance – The Kid in Black for free!

These offers are only good for the first 50 recipients. Get your copy today!

Soul of the Witch

Next, I finished the first and second books in the new Coven Moon series, and both are available for preorder. These full-length novels tie into my Soul of the Witch original trilogy, with books 1 and 2 serving as prequels, and book 3, when completed, wrapping up both series. I’ll fill you in on the details about these two historical paranormal novels on my next visit. In the meantime, if you’re interested, check out my Soul of the Witch trilogy on Amazon.

LINK to Soul of the Witch on Amazon

Lastly, if you would be interested in receiving an advanced reader copy in exchange for an honest review for both new Coven Moon novels, the ARCs are going out in a couple of weeks. Send me an email via my website and let me know you want in, and I’ll add you to my ARC team. Add me now!

About Author C. Marie Bowen

Discover nail-biting suspense with paranormal romance author C. Marie Bowen. She weaves her supernatural characters into a collection of tales linked to her first award-winning novel, Passage. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband, Mr. B, and their two rescue pets, Abby and Rue.

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FREE for 24 hours only, Oct 14-15! Full-length novel.
Get your copy now!

Romance stories usually focus on fairly young characters. A younger woman can be somewhat inexperienced in sex, so it’s believable that the man she meets has a few things to teach her. He, on the other hand, is vulnerable in hidden ways to her joie de vivre and innocence, and so the standard trope unfolds.

But what if the characters aren’t young?

I admit that when I first considered that idea for this book, I immediately dismissed it. Yet the idea kept coming back, and I ended up compromising between a twenty-something female and a woman so deep into her fifties that readers (sadly) might find her romantic possibilities somewhat unbelievable.

It’s not that many readers aren’t over fifty. It’s just that romance novels are supposed to take us to a fantasy world where men are so powerful their shoulders fill a doorway and women are so lovely they utterly captivate the man at first glance. There must be room for magic.

In this story set thirty years into the future, the magic has been left hanging too long, a love affair put on hold while the hero turns his attention to a family emergency. Taken for granted a little too long, the heroine tries to cut her losses and forget him.

Denial

Martin Bernard has spent his life becoming one of the world’s wealthiest and most powerful men. But that’s not helping him now that his criminal son-in-law Ned Argenta has gone rogue, putting Martin’s empire on the block in order for Martin to ensure his daughter Marie’s safety. Weeks, months fly by as Martin tries to control this nightmare, leaving his lover Mohana in the sidelines. He just wants to get control of things and then he’ll make it up to her.

Mohana James isn’t waiting any longer. At her friend Giselle’s urging, she visits the Paris House of Rae to find some pleasure. The pleasure partner there doesn’t disappoint, but the entire experience stirs up her grief about Martin. Is he ever going to call? Should she forget him? If she does hear from him, is she going to slap him and walk away? She’s pretty sure that’s all he deserves. But her heart is breaking and she’s not sure she can forget him.

Get your copy now!

Excerpt from Denial…

November 3, 2063

Street café, Paris

“It’s what I have to do,” Mohana said, stabbing her omelet. “I have to.”

“Yes,” Giselle said. “I totally agree. I’m excited for you.” She dumped another spoonful of sugar into her tea and stirred. “But you don’t have to do it all at once, do you?”

Blinking against the bright hazy sky, Mo leaned back to watch people strolling past their table. Parsley sat patiently by her chair, his attention riveted on the regular appearance of other dogs. This sidewalk café had been a favorite since, well… She wasn’t going to think about the passage of time. It hurt too much. A slight breeze ruffled the tablecloth and sent tiny ripples across the surface of her tea. Traffic was light for a Saturday morning.

She’d worn a new dress today, one she’d bought only recently in one of Giselle’s on-demand shopping trips. It had almost been a dare to herself, selecting something in a soft cotton print with a low V-neck in a fitted bodice over a flowing calf-length skirt. The wind teased her cleavage, an insanely erotic sensation that left her uneasy. But whereas before she would have been reminded of Martin with such a sensation, now she also thought of Henri and the possibility that she might again darken the door at the House of Rae to see what other scrumptious men might be on order.

“I’m not doing it all at once,” she said, savoring the flavor of the mild cheese, garlic-sautéed chard, and green onions inside their comfortable warm envelope of tender egg. “I made a list. Disentangling myself from Martin means I have to stop accepting his money. I don’t think he even knows he’s still sending it.”

“Why stop?” Giselle said. “Take it, save it if you don’t want to spend it. He owes you.”

“Yes, well, I need to stand on my own two feet. And that means earning a living.” She ripped a chunk off the flakey croissant and popped it in her mouth, relishing its delicate texture. “If I can get this position at the national library, it will make me very happy to go to work every day. Can you imagine?”

Giselle brandished her butter knife. “I can’t think of a job better suited for you, but…”

Parsley whined, his tail whipping side to side. A shadow loomed over the table, and the two women looked up. Mo’s breath caught in her chest. She literally could not breathe.

“Martin!” she gasped.

“I thought that was you,” he said, his gaze roaming down her cleavage before returning to her face. “And Parsley, too. What a good boy!” He leaned down to pat the dog’s head before standing to devote his full attention to Mo. Deep laugh wrinkles creased in his cheeks as he smiled. “It’s wonderful to see you. How have you been?”

Of all the… Mo bit back outraged profanities and tried to calm her racing pulse. He looked so damn fine. Despite the months, years of tears and torment, she instantly wanted him.

“Lovely, and you?” she managed.

He laughed, that same warm baritone that had rumbled in his chest so many times before. “I’m in the middle of a crisis, but what else is new, right? Look, I really don’t have time to talk right now, but I saw you and couldn’t stop myself from saying hello. I promise to be in touch soon. We’ll get caught up.”

Giselle looked at her and lifted an eyebrow. Damn it, he was tan and healthy looking, as well built as she remembered, broad shoulders straining the seams of his tailored light blue sports shirt, sculpted biceps emerging from the short sleeves. The sinews of his forearms rippled underneath the soft furring of hair, reminding her of the times he lifted her to sit astride him.

So much for the idea that he hadn’t been in touch because he was sick or injured in some way. She bit back the litany of cutting remarks hovering on the tip of her tongue. Most men his age had developed a paunch, but Martin’s belly remained flat inside the waistband of his slacks. She ripped her gaze away before her eyes dropped further. But she knew.

She could always feel the force of his virility from across a crowded room.

A bit more gray than she remembered peppered his hair and beard, but the same chiseled features – strong jawline and square chin under that neatly trimmed beard, sensuous mouth and those eyes – made her pulse race madly in her neck. She could taste him, smell him, feel the heat of his skin under her palms as if no time had passed, as if she wasn’t three years older, still hopelessly in love.

“No rush,” she said, straightening in the chair and smoothing her napkin against her lap. “I know how busy you must be.”

He seemed startled by her remark, opened his mouth then closed it. She lifted her teacup, proud that her hand didn’t shake, and sipped calmly as if he were a mere acquaintance.

“Well, I – uh, soon, I promise.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. She broke eye contact and waited for him to move. Moments clicked past, each instant a torment of unsaid words and mounting fury. Then his shadow moved away. Parsley stretched and lay down, head resting disconsolately on his front paws.

“Christ,” Giselle said. “That was intense.”

“Damn it.”

“I thought you handled it perfectly.”

“Good. I was dying inside.”

“And screaming, too, right?”

Mo nodded, waiting for her heart to stop pounding against her ribs. “Why does he have to look so damn good? It’s not fair.”

“Well, you’re looking pretty great yourself this morning,” Giselle said with a huge smile. “I thought he was going to eat you up.”

“Really?”

“Couldn’t you see it? Hell, I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Tell me.”

Giselle leaned forward and lowered her voice. “All the signs – his face flushed, his nostrils flared. His er, um, was pressing his pants, like full on. Dear me, what a specimen. Didn’t you see? Honestly, I think he fought not to touch you, and that’s just a sign of how desirable you are. It’s no wonder Henri outdid himself. There are plenty of men out there who will want you, Mo. You don’t have to waste your life on Martin Bernard.”

Belatedly, Mohana wished Giselle had kept that bit about Martin’s arousal to herself.

Still later, Mo studied herself in her bathroom mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes seemed overly bright. Her pulse still hadn’t calmed and she felt alternatively hot and cold. How could she still react this way after all he’d done? Or, actually, not done. She couldn’t get him out of her mind, how his body had inclined toward her, how tiny lines crinkled at the corners of his intense green eyes. So charming, so damn handsome.

She’d never been able to define it, what he had, what seemed to be at the heart of Martin Bernard more than any man she’d ever met. Maleness. Potency. Energy radiated from him like a kind of gravity, pulling her in, wrapping her in his strength. For years, she had fallen deeper and deeper into that force, enchanted in the joy of their love.

Yet, somehow, she had failed. She’d agonized over it, night after night, month after month after he’d disappeared from her life. He had said she was beautiful, but what if he wanted someone younger, prettier? He had said he loved her, but that must have been a lie. He had said he wanted to marry her, spend the rest of his life with her. She’d even indulged in fantasies of their future together, maybe a child…

She gripped the sink. In the long days and nights of waiting, she had deluded herself, thinking he might be ill or disabled somehow, too proud to let her know. Alternately, she imagined he’d been trapped in some foreign country in one of his far-flung business deals. But here he was, walking the streets of Paris looking like a million dollars, full of himself.

And dismissive. He’d call soon. Ha!

BONUS! Reprieve

BONUS:  Nab another book in the House of Rae series also FREE at the same time!

Reprieve, Book II, is the first part of Martin’s story about his daughter Marie.

House of Rae franchisee Marie Argenta is on the run after her estranged husband Ned inflicts unimaginable tortures. Leaving her Paris House to hide out in the U.S., she ends up at the San Francisco House to serve as temporary manager. The very first day, her gaze lands on the most arrogant man she has ever seen, Adrian Velasquez. He’s also the most compelling devastatingly attractive, over-the-top pleasure partner the universe could ever conjure, which makes her think twice about the rules forbidding employee relationships.

Adrian knows what he likes and this new House manager Marie ranks above and beyond anything he’s ever imagined. Too bad his life is already crammed too full of family troubles, work overload, and finishing his law degree to even consider stretching the rules with this irritating woman. But a touch here, a kiss there, might be too delicious to refuse and she’s, well, she wants him. He knows it.

What Marie and Adrian are soon to discover is that Ned knows where Marie has fled and plans to take her back no matter what.

Get your copy here!

UPDATE: The winner is Debra Guyette!
*~*~*

A corn maze on one of the spookiest nights of the year sounds like fun, right?

But once you get inside those tall stalks there’s no breeze. The air gets thick and heavy, despite the fall weather. And be sure to watch your footing. Those big fat rain drops might turn that path your on into a slick mud slide. But that’s all okay, too, right? One hour to get out of this maze, and the last one out buys the beer for the rest of the night. All you have to do is NOT be the last one out.

But what if you don’t come out at all?

Hidden deep within this corn maze is a magical portal, and on the other side…? A realm full of creatures of myth and legend and campfire stories. If you’re lucky, you’ll make it through the forest and into the city.

Let me be the first to welcome you to Clayridge, with this informative, albeit, unnerving guide.

A mortal’s guide to surviving in Clayridge:

Clayridge: Generally a safe place, protected by a large stone wall, enchantments, and the Guard. Wander outside of this city and you could find yourself in peril quite quickly.

Witches: Generally helpful, good for purchasing spells and enchantments to keep you safe. They can also read your fortune via cards, runes, tea leaves or a palm reading, though they tend to think that sort of thing is for the tourists.

Werewolves: Don’t be in the forest after nightfall or these beasts will surly find you. They walk on two legs, transform at will (so long as the moon is in the sky), and enjoy hunting.

Vampires: Beware of these seductive creatures, they can lure you in with a Blood Lust spell and spend days, months, or even years keeping you as their pet and pleasure snack. Dangerous creatures. Be wary.

Sirens: Okay, so you may want to keep a safe distance from the fountain in the center of town. Those half-fish, half-woman creatures that live inside it will lull you in with their song. They’ve been known to break up marriages, ruin relationships, and cause all kinds of trouble. If you value your relationships heed the warning signs and avoid these hormone driven creatures. You’ll likely just become addicted.

Dwarfs: Small in stature, great skill at building weapons, toys, and pretty much anything. They make great drinking buddies too.

Harpies: If you see one of these half-bird, half-woman creatures, well, you’re likely already dead.

Demons: Their appearance depends on their sub-species. Winged, horned, black mist. Does it look dark, dangerous and deadly? Then it probably is. Also, they generally work for vamps, and are often up to no good.

Gargoyles: These guys are cool AF. Stone through the day, flesh and blood after dusk. Generally work as nighttime labourers around the town, particularly at the theater, but don’t be fooled, they possess wicked warrior skills.

Fairies: Cute. Helpful. Playful. Strong work ethic.

Pixies: About as fun as a nest full of hornets. You don’t want these pests in your home. They’re difficult to get rid of without the aid of Pixie Repellant. You can pick up a bottle at The Broomstick.

The Divide: A nasty town full of undesirable creatures. Vamps, demons and werewolves are commonly found here. For a steep price you can purchase your very own mortal, for whatever wicked purposes you might devise.

The Guard: Hellhounds make up the guard, serving as peacekeepers and law enforcers. They’ll protect the people of Clayridge with any means necessary. Huge hounds with matted black fur, ghostly tails and glowing eyes, they look scary AF, but that’s only because they are. Dangerous? Only if you’ve don’t something wrong.

Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets

Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets is available for pre-order. I hope you enjoy the following excerpt. I’ve also included a link to my newsletter. Subscribe now and you’ll be gifted a FREE short story, Arrested Valentine, which has an exclusive sneak peek for Love Spells, Full Moons, and Silver Bullets, that’s currently only available at the end of Arrested Valentine.

What the story is about…

What do you do when your ex’s werewolf boss wants to feast on the mortal you’ve sworn to protect?

Quinn was unaware of the love potion her meddling cat dumped into her tea, so when Ian Hannigan ends up injured on her property, she thinks she’s dealing with another mortal, not the man who can help mend her heart. Her life becomes a balancing act as she attempts to keep him safe, while hiding secrets better left buried with the dead.

In a realm filled with things that go bump in the night, Ian didn’t expect to find security and happiness in the arms of a green skinned witch, yet for the first time since his parents tragic car crash, he’s found some measure of peace. The rumors he hears in Clayridge aren’t pleasant, but Ian knows there’s more to Quinn than what people would have him believe. If he’s placed his trust in the wrong hands he’ll be paying with more than just his heart. He’ll pay with his life.

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Read an excerpt…

“You didn’t have to send your….” Alec paused, a grin in place as he seem to search for the right word, “…pet away. Is that what the mortal is, Quinn? A pet?” Before Quinn could jump to Ian’s defense, Alec kept going, every word stoking a fire in her. “You’ve never kept a mortal before. That’s not like you. Getting a little bored and lonely way out here by yourself?” He used his hands to brace himself on one of her Adirondack chairs, leaned closer, and whispered suggestively, “I could have helped you with that.”

Quinn blinked, then narrowed her eyes. He was baiting her. “Cut the bullshit. What do you want Alec?”

His shoulders slumped and he released an exaggerated sigh. “You Quinn. I’m here for you.”

“Aww,” she said with as much mockery as she could muster. “Let me just kick Ian out and you can come on in.”

“Your sarcasm is noted. Give me a chance Quinn. We could be great.”

“Could have been great. Past tense, Alec.” Turning to her fire, she dismissed his offer. “You’re the one who walked away.”

He was stealthy when he moved. His hands came to rest on her shoulders as his lips caressed her ear. “I still remember the way you feel, the look on your face when you come.”

The creaking of her front door told her that Alec’s overfamiliarity hadn’t gone unnoticed by their audience. Quinn spun away from him. “Well, you should forget it. What happened between us is over and there’s no going back.”

He was silent for a long moment. Behind him the door to the cabin closed again. Inside the curtain fluttered. She hoped they couldn’t hear the conversation. Maybe Lucifer had directed Ian to a different activity to keep him occupied.

Finally, Alec met her gaze. “I never stopped loving you.”

Seventy-five years ago a confession like that would have made her weak in the knees. Even in the height of their passion he’d never told her he loved her. She’d been the only one to utter those words, and then he’d crushed her silly infatuation. Grandma had warned her. The pack always came first.

With her grandmother’s voice in her ear, she straightened her spine and took a deep breath. “What do you want, Alec?”

She saw his jaw clench, in that same way it had whenever he had to do something he didn’t want to. But like a good little beta he followed orders. “Draven wants the mortal.”

Hands on her hips, she stood immobile. “No.”

“He’s willing to trade.”

Quinn huffed. “Oh, this ought to be good.”

“You give up your pet and I promise you’ll never be alone again.”

“Because you’ll stay with me?” She laughed. “Is that it? That’s Draven’s big trade? You for the mortal?”

That jaw, the one she’d once kissed and fawned over, clenched even harder. “Come on, Quinn! Think this through. You get what? One year with your mortal. Then he’s going back through that portal. Okay, maybe he stays. Best case scenario you get what? Sixty years before he’s worm food.”

Quinn swallowed. She didn’t want to think about that. Of course she’d out live him, but what about all the time they’d have together. They could both enjoy that.

“How long afterwards would you renege on your bargain? How long before Draven calls you back to the fold?” She crossed her arms over her chest, and stepped closer to the fire. “I’d rather die alone in this cabin than spend eternity with you.”

His jaw tightened so much that Quinn worried he’d break his teeth. Baring those pearly whites, he snarled, “Careful, Quinn, or you’ll end up a bitter old hag just like your grandma.”

“Get off my property!” She waved her hands, shooing him off the platform. “Get lost or the next time you transform you might just find yourself turning into a toad. A great big fat one with warts.”

Alec snickered, and stopped his backward momentum. “You always were a spitfire, Quinn.”

She was unprepared for his next move. With wolf-like reflexes he grabbed her arms and pulled her to him. Her chest hit his with such force her breath flew from her. His lips crashed against hers. In an instant she pushed him, shoving him with all her strength.

If not for his animal agility, he would have fallen on his ass, but instead he landed stealthy on his feet. “Think it over, Quinn. We were amazing once. We could be again.”

“I’m not turning him over to be slaughtered like some lamb.”

All traces of humor and anger fled his features. With severe sobriety, Alec’s gaze drilled into hers. “Seriously, Quinn, watch out. Draven is relentless in this. He will get your mortal. I don’t want to see you get hurt in the process.”

His concern was worrying, and as Quinn watched his retreating back she had to wonder just how far Draven would go in his attempts to get Ian. Her land was protected, and when he was with her she’d keep him safe. The town was secure enough, but still Alec’s visit was alarming.

Quinn doused the fire with a few shovelfuls of snow, before marching to her cabin.

Once inside she ripped off her boots and tossed her cloak on a peg. She stalked across the floor, tossed the rug aside and using a chant, unlocked the safe hidden in a compartment beneath the floorboards. She lifted out an old six shot, double barrel revolver, two pistols with double-stack magazines, and a sack filled with gold coins, setting it all on the floor before closing and securing the safe. Next she went to the cabinet near the door that housed her rifles. Unlocking it she pulled out a long barreled rifle. She set each one down on the counter top next to the mug of coffee that Ian had been sipping from when she’d walked in the door.

“You know how to shoot?”

Ian frowned. “You’re scaring me, Quinn.”

Lucifer leapt onto the counter. “Me too. What’s going on? I didn’t think that kiss was shotgun worthy.”

Straightening, Ian glared. “He kissed you?”

Quinn checked the chamber of the revolver, stalling as she thought through her answer. “He’s my ex, and he’s not the one I’m worried about. The kiss was not welcomed.” Her gaze was hard when she repeated. “Do you know how to shoot?”

“No.” He looked down at the guns. “Who are you worried about?”

She snorted. “Draven.”

Ian’s face paled. “The one who slashed me?”

Nodding, Quinn looked away. “He’s going to come after you, and we need to be ready.” She glanced at Luce. “Can you apologize to any customers that might come by today? Ian and I need to make a shopping trip.”

“We went to town last week,” Ian objected, with visible confusion.

“We’re not going to town.” She pocketed the sack of gold. “We’re going to see a dwarf about some silver bullets.”

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About the Author

Romance author Cameron Allie grew up in a small town north of Toronto. As a child she loved stories, and after reading her first romance novel at age fifteen, her dreams of writing became singularly focused on the love story. She is currently living in Ontario with her husband, their young daughters and with their cat, who is constantly trying to interrupt the writing process.

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