December is for wishes, whether it be gifts we desire or things we hope for in the next year. And sometimes, we are given things we newer knew to wish for.

Take Aaron, for example. He seems to have everything a person could want: he’s good-looking, a powerful witch, and his family is rich. He goes to wintry Fairview to look for a missing girl.

Then there’s Ilya. Ilya’s a bartender who likes his job. He’s also a banshee and mildly psychic, but he doesn’t tell people about that, because it makes him a target, desirable for his skill.

These two men run into each other, and while the reason for their meeting isn’t a happy one, they do get something out of it: each other. But not without a fight. Not without a risk.

Meet Aaron and Ilya this holiday season in The Night Bartender.

The Night Bartender (Fairview Chronicles 9)

Ilya stays safe by trusting no one, but Aaron, a wealthy witch, makes Ilya want to trust.

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3DjlWNU
Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3wLbmwQ
Apple: https://apple.co/3Di9UEK
Kobo: https://bit.ly/3qQMsLh
Changeling Press: https://bit.ly/3HwmLpj

Aaron has come to Fairview to find his ex’s teenage sister, who went missing in the city. As a witch both rich and powerful, Aaron follows a trail that leads him to a bar frequented by supernaturals and to a bartender who attracts Aaron’s attention — and not just because the bartender is keeping something from Aaron. When Aaron runs out of leads, he follows the mysterious and pretty bartender, and the next thing Aaron knows, he’s foiling an attempted abduction.

Ilya has built a quiet life in Fairview mixing drinks and flying under the radar. He is a banshee, and the psychic ability and mild telepathy that comes with that makes Ilya a sought-after commodity. That carefully constructed life Ilya built for himself breaks into a thousand pieces when a handsome witch starts asking questions and becomes Ilya’s rescuer mere hours after they meet.

The witch, Aaron, vows to protect Ilya and to keep his secret. Now Ilya has to decide whether he will give Aaron his trust and risk a lonely but safe life as a night bartender in a wintry city in which people disappear only to then turn up murdered.

Excerpt from The Night Bartender…

Copyright ©2021 Alexa Piper

Aaron buried his hands in his coat pockets and gave the bleak Fairview midday sky a hard look. Not that the sky gave much of a damn. It was late November, just after the Thanksgiving weekend, and for most of the morning, it had sleeted in a way Aaron had never before experienced in his life. It was like a hot shower, except the cold, freezing water got all the way through to your skin and passed the cold to every inch of your body.

“Damn city just might be cursed with bad weather,” Aaron mumbled as he walked along a street in the Old Town, which should lead him to a bar friendly to the not-quite-human clientele if his online research skills hadn’t failed him. A deep black cloud caught his attention. It zapped across the horizon as if blown by a particularly vicious breeze. Aaron frowned before he picked up his pace. The sooner I’m done here, the sooner I can go back to Morrowvale where November doesn’t suck so bad your balls want to freeze off in surrender, he thought.

In all honesty, Fairview wasn’t a bad place. The city itself was nice enough. The parks and trees here littered the streets with the bones of leaves turning to sludge in the puddles left from the earlier sleet showers, and the people, while ignoring both other people and the suck-tastic weather, dressed a little nicer than the average Morrowvaler. Aaron had also never had Japanese food as good as he’d had an hour ago in a small, unassuming place he’d accidentally walked into, at least not outside Japan. That counted for something, at least in Aaron’s book.

Traffic was in what passed for a bit of a midday lull in Fairview. The honking had ebbed to a not-eardrum-shattering noise, and Aaron managed to cross the street without it feeling like he was gambling with his life.

The Ragdoll was a basement bar, and if Aaron hadn’t been looking for it, he probably would have missed the small neon sign that was either broken or just off this early in the day. A wrought-iron fence further hid the sign and the door, which lay at the bottom of a flight of stairs. This could be a private gambling den or the hideout of a bunch of Russian spies, Aaron thought.

He walked down the stairs and pulled the door open just as another sleet shower was getting ready to wash the streets and everyone walking outside with icy wetness. Aaron shivered as he crossed the threshold and blinked into the softly lit bar.

Last week’s Thanksgiving paper turkeys and fall-colored garlands were still up, though a busboy collected the decorations into a cardboard box labeled “Turkey Day” in black sharpie. There were no Russian spies and no gambling going on here.

Surprisingly, there were several patrons in the bar this early in the day. Aaron spotted a handful starting their day’s drinking early, but most nursed mugs of coffee or were digging into sandwiches which, admittedly, looked better than was right in a basement bar. Judging by their business suits, those were just office workers who knew where the good sandwiches were at. The music was pop, playing just loud enough to offer background noise without becoming obnoxious. This place, despite the outward appearance, looked hip, trendy even. Fucking Fairview. This city is as confusing as a clown at a dinner party, Aaron thought.

Aaron’s fingers closed around the talisman in his pocket. With his touch and the smallest pinch of magic, he felt the worked metal coin activate and the spellbound to it sizzle to life. Three people, including the strawberry-blonde girl behind the bar, whipped their heads around to look at him. So, this place really is supernatural friendly, Aaron thought. The talisman heated rapidly in his pocket. And Dora definitely was here before she disappeared.

That confirmed, he let go of the talisman and walked straight to the bartender. The other two patrons who’d noticed his magic had gone back to ignoring him like the good Fairviewers they were.

“Hi,” Aaron said, giving the strawberry blonde his best winning smile. “What’s good here?”

She shrugged. “Depends on whether it’s drink-o’clock in your world or not. If not, the pumpkin spice latte kills. If yes, you look like a Macallan kind of guy.”

Aaron grinned at her. “You’d be right about the whiskey, but I think I’ll go with the latte,” he told her.

He was doing his best with the charming vibes, which usually worked even if he turned it on women, but the bartender just nodded and went about preparing his coffee. Aaron watched her, more interested in the fact that she was making coffee at a bar decked out with an impressive assortment of liquor than anything else. The coffee machine was one of those intimidating ones that took up some primo counter real estate, and from the looks of it, it saw some use.

When she was done, she brought the latte over to him and puffed a dash of cinnamon over the foamy top right in front of him. The warm scent of the spice immediately made Aaron feel just a little more optimistic about everything. The mug was the cutesy kind with a grinning, red-nosed reindeer on the side.

“There you go,” she said with little enthusiasm, though not exactly unfriendly.

“Thanks, miss,” Aaron said. Before she could walk away again, he focused on her instead of the latte. “Could I ask you something?”

“I’m guessing I’m not your type, so go right ahead,” she said.

Aaron’s eyes widened, and it was the girl’s turn to chuckle. “Half-succubus,” she said in a whisper. “The gay-dar is practically built-in.”

He nodded, fighting the color rising to his cheeks. “Right. Makes sense.” Aaron cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you’ve seen this girl,” he said and pulled the photo Patrick had given him from his pocket. It showed Dora smiling, her blond hair shimmering in the sun.

The half-succubus took a look, then shook her head. “No, sorry. Friend of yours?”

“My ex’s sister, believe it or not,” Aaron said. “She went missing, and I tracked her first to Fairview, and now here.” Aaron had the cellphone gods to thank for that. It made using his magic almost unnecessary, although Aaron still liked to confirm the actual person had been to a place, not just their phone, hence his talisman.

About Alexa Piper

Alexa Piper writes steamy romance that ranges from light to dark, from straight to queer. She’s also a coffee addict. Alexa loves writing stories that make her readers laugh and fall in love with the characters in them.

Connect with Alexa: https://linktr.ee/AlexaPiper

Wow, it’s December already. I have no idea where this year has gone. But I can tell you I’m hard at work on Elemental Dragons. And I’m thrilled to share a sneak peek at a scene from book two, Wind’s Fury.

Haunted by her loss of control and the injuries she and her air dragon caused to another of her kind, Nina Buchanan knows there’s no more running from the rare gender mismatch that made her dragon, the other half of her soul, male to her female. She’ll do anything to make this right. Haunted by the death of his older brother, Reuel Damaris knows these dragons are like a disease. He’ll do anything to cure the human race of the terrible shifter affliction that took his brother and shattered his family. But when the battle lines are drawn, only together can they unravel the lies and calm the fury of a dragon.

This scene is when Nina shifts for the first time in front of Reuel. (How do you think you’d react if a dragon appeared right in front of you?) Enjoy!

He clenched his fists. Hell, he clenched his entire body.

A dragon.

That was a fucking dragon. And somehow, that dragon was also Nina.

No. Not possible.

Reuel pressed his fingers against his carotid. Hard. He still had a pulse. So not a heart attack. Unless he was actually lying on the ground, gasping his last, and this was some kind of death-knell hallucination.

The dragon landed in front of him. Right in fucking front of him. Close enough for him to see each individual scale, sharp-edged and sparkling in a thousand different shades of white. Close enough for him to smell the musk of the beast. For him to feel the heat rolling off the massive body. For him to see the endless depths of those faceted eyes.

Close enough for him to reach out and touch.

He clenched his fists again.

Damn it, he wasn’t ready to die. He had things to do. Things to prove to his father. Things to say to his mother. He had to make them see.

Fucking heart attack.

The dragon–he couldn’t call this thing sitting calmly, proudly in front of him Nina, no matter what he thought he’d seen, not even in a hallucination–lowered its massive head and snuffed at him. The heat and force of the beast’s exhale actually pushed him back a step.

He should turn around and walk away. Maybe hallucinate a super model with him on a nice, eighty-foot yacht in the middle of the Mediterranean. No, ditch the super model. How about a fishing pole and a cooler full of beer and nothing but the sound of the water against the hull and the wind in his face. Geez, didn’t he deserve some peace in the last few moments of his life?

And now he’d never get to know Nina better. Would she have liked to go fishing with him?

Or would a woman who could turn into a dragon just grab fish from the waters with her razor-sharp claws and eat them with those massive jaws?

Walk away.

He dipped his shoulder. Shifted his weight. He hadn’t asked for this craziness. Didn’t want it. But in that split second before he could turn, the dragon tilted its massive head and the stunning blue of Nina’s eyes caught him. Wrapped around him and held him motionless. Promised him heat and strength and a power he couldn’t comprehend.

And silently called to him, with more sorrow and pain than he’d ever felt in a lifetime of sorrow and pain.

He knew that pain. Understood to the depths of his bones the primal longing for acceptance he could see in those stunning eyes. In Nina’s eyes.

This wasn’t a hallucination.

Reuel swallowed hard. “Nina?”

He felt a thousand times a fool, whispering to this beast like it could understand him. Like Nina was actually somewhere in there.

But that massive head nodded, the tiniest fraction.

His breath left him in a giant whoosh. It physically hurt to inhale again, to take all the hot scent of dragon into his lungs. “You’re… Fuck, Nina. I can’t…” Shifting, he swiped a sweaty palm across his jaw. But the word dragon wouldn’t come out of the tightness constricting his throat.

The dragon’s head drooped. Had the beast just… sighed?

“I’m sorry,” Reuel said, not sure what he was apologizing for, but positive that was all he could manage.

Again the dragon nodded. And then the light around the beast… shifted. Shimmered. Danced.

He blinked as the brightness grew, but he couldn’t look away. Or maybe he wouldn’t look away.

This was magic.

He knew it suddenly, totally, like he knew his own name. Like he knew he was meant to be a scientist. Not an athlete. No matter what his father thought. Or said. Or did.

Or didn’t do.

This was magic, and that dragon was somehow Nina.

“Fuck me,” he muttered.

The warmth of the dragon’s breath wafted over him. And then the dragon wasn’t there anymore. Nina was.

For a half a heartbeat he thought she was naked.

About the Author

Grace Adams is a 2017 Golden Heart® finalist and award-winning author of paranormal romance who loves nothing more than a happy ending. Whatever the genre, regardless of the medium, as long as justice prevails, the good guys win, and people are falling in love, she’s in.

A lifelong reader of science fiction, fantasy, and of course romance, Grace also enjoys painting and drawing and is an avid skier. One of those rare Geeks who loves both Star Wars AND Star Trek, she’s got a closet full of costumes she created and firmly believes that she who dies with the most fabric (and books) (and shoes) wins.

Grace has a B.S. in Mathematics from Ursinus College and an M.A. in English from Wright State University.  She is a veteran of the USAF as a communications officer and currently works as an IT Controls Analyst. She shares her home with the best super cats ever, Thor and Loki.

UPDATE: The winner is…Colleen C!
*~*~*

I want to start by thanking Delilah for letting me come play in her space again today! It’s been a while, and I always enjoy visiting all of you here.

We just wrapped up my favorite holiday of the year here in the U.S. Thanksgiving is just the start of a long stretch of holidays, though. When I still worked in retail, that meant one of our busiest times of year, which made the holiday season a whole lot less fun with all of the extra hours we put in and some people who didn’t care if they were on a naughty list. I bet some of you have dealt with the same things in one way or another.

Holidays as adults are a lot different than when we were kids, aren’t they? All the work, not as much of the fun. Shopping, cooking, baking, wrapping, decorating, other obligations. Kids get to enjoy only the good stuff, the fun things. They rip into gifts with no thought about the huge pile of crumpled wrapping paper shoved into a corner. They get to eat the foods without any of the prep work, though when I was a kid, we did ‘help’ my mom with the baking, as kids do—getting in her way, spilling flour and sprinkles all over the kitchen, then getting out of the way when fresh cookies came out of the oven and leaving her to deal with the clean-up. Wouldn’t you sometimes like to do things that way now? Take part in all the fun bits, but none of the messy stuff?

I’m afraid I can’t really help with that, but thinking about holidays as a kid also makes me think of favorite things from those long ago holiday seasons. Like my grandma’s nut rolls—she always made extras to put in the freezer so she had something quick to pull out when company came throughout the year, and I loved getting a nice slice with butter on. I begged her for the recipe for a few years before she gave it to me, and it still makes me smile when I look at the index card with her neat handwriting and imprecise measurements and directions. My nut rolls are still not quite there yet, but I work on them every year. (I also cheat and make the dough in my bread machine now.) Or my other grandma’s sand tarts. She rolled that dough so thin, you could see light through it when the cookies were baked. I gave up on making those a long time ago—much too hard to get that dough that thin, then all the time spent with the cookie cutters and decorations, and such a mess to clean up afterward. My mom did that every year, too, and I can’t imagine doing it with a kitchen full of kids underfoot. But I really miss those cookies…just the right amount of sweet and perfectly crisp.

For our Thanksgiving dinners, I used to experiment with different kinds of stuffing each year, until I discovered how amazing stuffing is when made with sage and onion bread. That is a constant on our Thanksgiving dinner table now, along with a corn pudding and some variety of homemade cranberry sauce, plus the turkey of course. One thing that has been on our holiday table for years, though, is my grandma’s china. My Pop-pop gave it to me as a gift one year, and using it for holiday dinners makes me remember Thanksgiving dinners at their house when I was little, with immediate and extended family and friends around the table.

I think most of us have some favorite holiday recipe or family tradition that we try to continue even as adults, right? Something for our kids or even just ourselves. I’d love to hear about yours, and if you share by the end of Friday, December 3, 2021, I have an ebook copy of my most recent release, Protecting Medusa, up for grabs via a drawing on RandomResult.com. 

Protecting Medusa Blurb

Being the Medusa will put a real crimp in a woman’s social life. Lucky for Philomena Gregory, she gave up on men long before Athena’s curse landed on her head—she learned as a child men don’t stay, a lesson reinforced when she was a lovesick teenager. Not even the hot naked man in her bathroom will change her mind.

Ryder Ware has waited six years to meet Mena in person. She’s managed to avoid him every time he’s visited his son, her nephew. Flirting on the phone and via email is no substitute when a man is so intrigued. But now that Athena’s Harvesters have found her, Mena has no choice but to let him keep her safe—and close, very close.

Philomena may have to accept his protection, but, even if the chemistry between them is hotter than Hades, she won’t change her mind about a relationship, even after a little hot sex. Or even a lot of sex. Good thing Ryder’s a patient man. After years of waiting, what’s a few more weeks to convince the woman of his dreams he wants forever?

About the Author

Elizabeth Andrews has been a book lover since she was old enough to read. She read her copies of Little Women and the Little House series so many times, the books fell apart. As an adult, her book habit continues. Almost as long as she’s been reading great stories, she’s been attempting to write her own. Thanks to a fifth grade teacher who started the class on creative writing, she went from writing creative sentences to short stories and eventually full-length novels. Then, as a teenager, she found her mother’s stash of romance novels, and her future direction in writing was pretty well set in stone.

Along with her enormous book stash, Elizabeth lives with her husband of more than twenty-five years, and their two young adult sons live near enough to see frequently, though no one else in the family reads as much as she does. When she’s not at work or buried in books or writing, there is a garden outside full of herbs, flowers and vegetables that requires occasional attention, plus some neighborhood stray cats who like more frequent attention.

You can find out more at ElizabethAndrewsWrites.com

Even after 110 books published, I still get excited about the release of a new one. WOLF IN THE WOODS was released earlier this month. It’s the start of a new series, but it has roots in the past.

My Salvation Pack series was a labor of love—all 9 books. Luckily for me, it’s also been a reader favorite. For years, readers have asked if there would be more books. I honestly wasn’t sure, but I always felt as though the series wasn’t complete.

Thus was born Salvation Pack: The Next Generation. I’m so excited about this new 5-book series. Each book stands alone, so if you haven’t read the original series, you can still read and enjoy the book. If you’ve read the original series, you’ll see many familiar faces. I hope my readers love this new series as much as I do.

Take a peek inside WOLF IN THE WOODS.

Wolf in the Woods
Salvation Pack: The Next Generation, Book 1

Not wanting to be forced to mate to an eligible male in her pack who won’t take no for an answer, Addie Fuller is on the run.

Billy Gallagher might be human, but he understands werewolf culture all too well after being raised in the Salvation Pack.

When their paths cross, he helps her, even knowing it will likely mean his death. He’s no match for a full-blooded male wolf. A short, brutal fight, leaves him near death and Addie fighting to save his life.

He recovers, but he’s not the same man he was. The one thing he does know for sure—he and Addie are meant to be together. All he has to do is convince her of that and deal with the threat looming over them.

Excerpt from Wolf in the Woods…

So much blood.

He flinched at the pressure and gave a moan of pain but didn’t tell her to stop. He had to know just how bad the situation was. He licked his lips, his breathing labored. “Gear.” His fingers uncurled and pointed to the right.

She jumped up and raced in that direction, inhaling deeply to find his scent. His knapsack was partially hidden under a short pine tree. With shaky hands, she grabbed it and hurried back.

“I’ve got it.” Adrenaline pumped through her veins, allowing her to focus past her own pain. She ignored the gashes in her stomach. Her werewolf metabolism was already working to heal them. They weren’t as deep as they could have been. He wasn’t so fortunate. She opened the bag and dug out a long-sleeved flannel shirt. It would do for a makeshift bandage. She ripped the arms off and then folded the rest into a thick padding.

I don’t know how to do this. This was beyond anything in her experience. Werewolves healed naturally, for the most part, and she’d never been around anyone who’d been this seriously injured.

I have to clean the wound first. Fear was making her sweat. She swiped her forearm over her forehead.

You can do this. She didn’t have a choice. The alternative was to just let him die.

*~*~*

Want to read more? You can find WOLF IN THE WOODS here:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09K6TDQ3H/
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1111548
B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/wolf-in-the-woods-n-j-walters/1140407948
Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/us/en/ebook/wolf-in-the-woods-2
Evernight Publishing: https://www.evernightpublishing.com/wolf-in-the-woods-by-n-j-walters/

About the Author

N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.

Visit me at:
Website: https://www.njwalters.com
Blog: https://www.njwalters.blogspot.com
Newsletter Sign Up: https://eepurl.com/gdblg5
Facebook Author Page: https://www.facebook.com/N.J.WaltersAuthor
Twitter: https://twitter.com/njwaltersauthor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/NJWalters
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/njwalters
BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/n-j-walters

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!

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

I have a full-length novel coming out tonight after midnight! Dark Legacy is a story I wrote back in 2005-2006. I recently got my rights back to the story, so I re-edited it and gave it a brand new dark cover! And now,  it’s ready for release—tonight! If you have a Kindle Unlimited account, you can read it for FREE! A print version is already available!

If you love a dark, erotic paranormal, you might want to give this one a go. Just be warned—it’s very sexy and might have some triggering sex some might want to avoid. I love this story. I indulged my love of ancient mythology creating this world. I loved writing the entire series, and if you like it well enough, I might write more…

Here’s what it’s all about…

Dark Legacy

How could everything have changed for Natalie Lambert so radically, so quickly?

Escaping from a tragic past, the virginal beauty arrives in New Orleans and falls victim to a series of strange, unearthly attacks. Now, for the first time in her life, Natalie aches with sexual desire. Confused, frightened, out of control, she struggles desperately to understand a world that is transforming around her. But soon, she will be powerful and magnificent in ways she could never have imagined…

A ruggedly handsome Cajun policeman, Detective Rene Broussard has come to rescue Natalie in her time of greatest need. And when he inexplicably wakes in bed beside her—both burning with a lust impossible to deny—he doesn’t care that a dark and vengeful enemy has brought them to this moment. All that matters is the irresistible curve of her body, the heat of her passion…and the forbidden pleasures the night promises.

With one sharp, sensuous, biting kiss, he will be hers for life…and beyond.

Warning: This book includes triggering scenes of questionable consent and FFM scenes.

Pre-order your copy here!

Excerpt from Dark Legacy…

Natalie couldn’t sleep.

Not because she was afraid. For the first time in weeks, her stalker was the least of her worries.

Instead, her present danger lay in her own body’s betrayal.

Heat simmered beneath the surface of her skin—a flush of warmth that spread across her chest and belly. The air around her felt close and heavy despite the fan circling above the bed.

Her heart beat too quickly. Her breasts grew heavy. Her nipples peaked against the thin silk of her nightgown. Then blood rushed to the juncture of her thighs, plumping her slick folds.

She might be inexperienced, but Natalie recognized the signs of desire.

The cause of her misery paced restlessly around the house. The creaking hinges of the doors he checked and rechecked gave away his unrest. The muffled thud of footsteps as he walked around the living room below, and the slap of his bare feet on the wooden steps when he came up to patrol the hall pinpointed his location.

He passed outside her bedroom now, his shadow darkening the space beneath the door. Natalie ached to call out to him. Was Rene exercising extreme caution or suffering like she was?

Reaching beyond the moment, Natalie wondered, why him? Why now?

An instinct—some kernel of inborn knowledge—told her this new hunger was related to the current moon cycle. Just as the changes to her body began with the first sliver of pale light from the new moon, her need unfurled like a heron’s wings with the coming full moon.

This past month, she’d been steadily shedding the baby fat that plagued her adolescence although her appetite, especially for blood-enriched meats, had increased. Her first period ever had come and gone. Then sensual awareness dominated her waking and sleeping thoughts.

For days, she’d dreamed of an anonymous lover in her bed. The things he’d done to her had left her breathless and blushing. If she managed to sleep tonight, she knew she’d find Rene’s face, his jaw taut with desire, his shoulders bunched as he hovered above her, supplanting the hazy man of her dreams.

Why him? Although handsome, he wasn’t the first good-looking man she’d ever encountered. However, from the moment he’d pulled her from the park bench into his arms, her body had recognized his claim. He’d held her close, his thickly muscled torso sheltering her from further harm. His strength and distinctive scent, a spicy heated musk, had imprinted on her mind. If she closed her eyes, she was there once more, draped across his lap in the backseat of the sedan, awakening to desire for the first time.

Everything else—the horror of the attacks, the pain of her many little wounds—had faded away. She’d felt only his hard, muscled thighs beneath her bottom and the steely embrace that had crushed the air from her lungs while he’d struggled for control.

She wanted to know those sensations again—and so much more.

Frustration humming inside her, she tossed back the bedcovers and padded to the French doors, flinging them open. She stepped into a wind that whipped her hair away from her face and the nightgown tight against her body. Infrequent drops of rain pelted her uplifted cheeks, cooling her skin.

A click sounded from the door further down the balcony. Clad only in jeans, Rene stepped out.

He was pure temptation, from brawny chest to bare toes.

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he said, his voice a grumpy, sexy rumble. “You set off the silent alarm.”

With her heart thudding in her chest, she turned away. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, how ’bout not sleepin’ inside?”

His growling irritation made her smile. She felt the same way—bitchy, edgy, wonderfully horny.

She noted the tight set of his jaw, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, and felt an overwhelming urge to seduce him. And why shouldn’t she?

The way she figured it, her days were numbered. The menace dogging her steps would eventually catch up. Why not grab for all the joy she could find in what was left of her life?

She leaned back against the balustrade on her elbows, making sure the silky gown pulled tightly across her breasts.

His gaze lowered, lingering for a moment on her beaded nipples. “Cold?” he asked, his voice a graveled, yet silky slide.

“Not really.” She decided to make sure he wouldn’t misinterpret the invitation. She sauntered toward him, stopping inches away from his rigid body. This close, she breathed in his musky male scent. The breadth of his solid chest and his height overwhelmed her, made her feel small, vulnerable—and intensely feminine.

He sucked in a deep breath. “Look, chère, whatever you’re thinkin’—it’s not gonna happen.”

She cast him a challenging stare. “Because I’m not what you want?”

He shook his head. “Damn, you’ve got to know that’s not it,” he said, his voice raw. “This just isn’t the right time.”

She met his gaze, hoping she didn’t look too needy, but wanting him to know she could be his—if he’d just reach out. “What if there never is a right time?”

His hands fisted at his sides. “I’m not lettin’ anything happen to you.”

She lifted her chin. “You can guarantee that?”

He glanced beyond her to the midnight sky and stayed silent.

Stubborn man. He thought he could withstand this chemistry of hormones and waxing moonlight by sheer will. “Tell you what,” she said. “How about a kiss? And I’ll let it drop. It’ll be enough, I swear.” At his suspicious glare, she added, “Just a kiss.”

He blew out a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “Will you come inside then?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. She’d promise anything just to draw him nearer. If he felt even a fraction of her need, he wouldn’t be able to resist for long.

The muscles in his throat rippled, and he nodded. “All right. A kiss.”

Contest

For a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, tell me whether you love paranormal stories, and if so, what is your favorite paranormal creature!

UPDATE: The winner is…Colleen C!
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My love of historical fiction springs from the nexus of where imagination meets fact. Through her time-telescope book, Jubilee, poet author Margaret Walker hurls me back in time to the American Civil War as experienced by a slave family based on the life of her great-grandmother. James Michener does the same on the multicultural history of Colorado in Centennial. My erotic historicals don’t come anywhere near the scope of these sagas, yet in “The Patience of Unanswered Prayer” imagination meets fact as it does in Walker’s and Michener’s work.

As he brings my heroine Eleanor Taylor to safety, my hero Franklin Adams muses on family life that could have been his but for slavery. I created this life for him, i.e., the backstory of his ancestors in Africa from my research. The image above is from the New York Public Library’s Schomburg digital collection. It shows an African man feeding cattle. Michael Grauer, the McCasland Chair of Cowboy Culture and Curator of Cowboy Collections and Western Art at the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, in Oklahoma City is quoted as saying “cowboy traditions originated in Africa, where cattle herders would rope cattle on foot, and the likes of the Maasai people drove them toward better lands for grazing.”

My research for this story also found that while Blacks enjoyed more respect and freedom driving cattle in the West, they rarely rose to trail boss or foreman. Yet reading about Bose Ikard, one of the most famous Black Texas frontiersmen and trail drivers, I learned this former slave, who worked on several of the Goodnight-Loving cattle drives, was so trustworthy Charles Goodnight often put him in charge of the cash collected at the end of the trail. Thus, I created Franklin, also a former slave, with an ancestral knowledge of the best way to handle cattle and equally trusted like Ikard. My imagination met these two facts and created one of those rare exceptions: a Black trail boss.

Other famous Black Westerners could have been models for Franklin as well. One was former slave Nat Love, also known as Deadwood Dick, who worked for large cattle spreads in Texas and Arizona. He recounts his life in his autobiography, The Life and Adventures of Nat Love. Another could have been Bill Pickett who is credited with creating bulldogging. While these facts did not meet imagination in my present story, I can easily see how they might in future ones.

So for a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share in the comments some interesting piece of history that may have sparked your imagination.

“The Patience of Unanswered Prayer”
in Cowboys: A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology

A feisty businesswoman about to become the next victim of Post-Civil War revenge receives rescue from an unexpected source

Excerpt from “The Patience of Unanswered Prayer”…

She prayed Flyte would ungag her quickly, prayed her gut was right that he wasn’t party to whatever Radcliffe had planned.

Flyte pulled down the gag.

“He’s going to kill me,” she rasped, her mouth free of the loathsome muzzle. “You have to stop him.”

“Kill you?” Flyte blenched. “He’s done this for your safety.”

“Taking me the long way round to Darlington City in the dead of night is for my safety?”

“A mob was waiting to lynch you.”

“You know that’s not true. Radcliffe trumped up these charges against me to put me at his mercy.”

“Gordon Daniels brought the charges against you.”

“At Radcliffe’s urging. Daniels is ex-Confederate and can’t cotton any Black—man or woman—doing better than Whites.”

“Why would the sheriff do that? He’s an ex-Yankee who hates confederates like Daniels.”

“Radcliffe hates me more. He wants revenge on me for rebuffing his attentions.”

“I can’t believe—” Flyte paused, then looked thoughtful. A frown filled his face. “Yet…”

His hesitation gave her hope. Her gut tensed, and her heart beat until her chest hurt.

“You know full well taking me from jail is either foolishness or mischief.”

The cock of a gun hammer turned them both in the same direction.

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Michal Scott Amazon Author Page – https://amzn.to/2TSHzRn
Website: www.michalscott.webs.com