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Friday, 31 October 2014

A Very Sexy Halloween Final Day


Wow, huge thanks to all the authors who took part and all you readers for stopping by. Make sure you enter the two rafflecopters below and here are three great excerpts to finish off the week. 

Have you been counting the bats that have been hidden on all our Halloween blog posts? Leave a comment with the number of bats and you could win some signed paperbacks and swag! Find the links to the previous posts at the bottom.



John watched the alpha step between his feet.  The wolf’s ancient gaze captured him with an almost physical strength.  His pulse quickened.  His heart rate doubled.  His breath came in sharp small hitches.  The beast shifted its hind end and lifted its leg.
What the hell?
John squinted and braced for the stream of piss to follow.  No spray occurred.  His gaze moved down the wolf’s belly.  No balls.  This beast was a she-wolf.  The creature dropped her leg.
Was her conspicuous lack of balls the point?  Was this pack’s leader female?  Could that even happen?  Since this was his nightmare or head injury or hallucination, anything seemed possible.
He scanned the other wolves.  Their colorful eyes remained riveted on their leader while they each held one of his appendages clamped in their mouths.
The great black wolf realigned at his center.  She lowered her head toward his crotch and growled.  The husky, guttural noise did not inspire fear.  The sound inspired desire.  His cock jerked to life.  His track pants tented with a semi-erection.
Closeted freak much?
In one swift motion, the she-wolf clasped the elastic waist band of his track pants.  She backed away, working the fabric down his thighs.
He lay slack jawed, staring at his exposed black boxers.  Alrighty, this dream had shifted quickly into kinky.
The twin wolves at his feet released his ankles.  He sensed no hostility in their bright green eyes.  One tilted its head with almost comical inquisitiveness.
The alpha goosed his balls.
“Hey!”  His knee-jerk cry cut through the night air.
The wolf’s nose ran along his inner thighs.  It’s twitching tickled.
“What the hell?”  John squirmed.
She placed a paw on his pelvis, holding him in place.  His fingertips pressed into the dirt.  The waist band of his boxers lifted.  He stared unblinking while the alpha’s dainty teeth peeled down his underwear.  Core muscles rigid, he sucked in air.  Every muscle in his body tensed.  His cock stood free, hard and exposed.
His underwear and pants were stripped off.  Socks and shoes too.  He lay naked from the waist down, his most important parts exposed and vulnerable.  Damn, he’d gotten things all wrong.  This pack’s agenda wasn’t sustenance.  Their itinerary bent toward a perverse sexual encounter.  Was he the main attraction of an interspecies gang banging?
He stared at the moon, focusing on something other than the surrounding insanity.  A shooting star arched across the horizon.  He closed his eyes and wished to wake up safe and sound in his apartment.
A cool breeze swept across his cock, withering his erection.  He opened his eyes onto the blank expression of the moon.
So much for wishes.




Victor’s fingers danced over the keys of his grand piano, caressing each note of the piece he had first heard back when it was newly written. He had fallen in love with classical music when it was still considered contemporary, and he never tired of playing the compositions on his piano. The violin he had purchased from Stradivari himself sat in the corner of the parlor, a reminder that he hadn’t practiced in weeks.

He lifted his gaze to the ceiling as he paused and the strains of Beethoven’s “Moonlight” sonata drifted into the near silence of the house. A moment ago, two hearts had added their rhythms to his music: one average speed, the other beating progressively slower. Now, only one heart still tapped out its sixty beats per minute. The other had stopped.

“The transition is complete,” Victor murmured and played the opening measures of Chopin’s “Funeral March.”

A smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and he switched to the more cheerful “Turkish March” by Mozart.

Soon you will awaken, love. Then we can talk.

He finished the piece and lowered the cover over the keys. She hadn’t awakened yet, that much he knew, but now that she had changed completely, it wasn’t as easy to get into her mind. Until she learned he could read her mind and control her to a certain extent, he would still have the advantage. But once she realized what he could do and figured out how to block him, things would get more interesting.

With a smile of satisfaction, he moved toward the stairs. He looked forward to the challenge of having another vampire around. The fact that this one was a beautiful woman with an intoxicating scent just added to his anticipation. His only real concern was how long she would hate him for changing her. Hopefully, not as long as some. There were two women in Romania who still wanted to see a wooden stake in his heart for changing them nearly two hundred years ago. William Congreve had been a wise man when he wrote the immortal words, “Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”

Only time would tell if Claudia could forgive him.

Victor arrived outside the guest room and slowly opened the door. Soft lamplight filled the large room furnished with a heavy, dark wood, nineteenth-century bedroom suite. The four-poster bed dominated the wall across from the door, and he silently approached it, his gaze on the woman resting beneath the covers. She no longer breathed, there was no need, unless she wished to speak, smell something, or appear mortal.

He stopped beside her and stroked her hair, hoping at long last he had a companion who wouldn’t die and leave him alone.


ARe | B&N



When the night grew too cold for comfort, they moved indoors, stripped out of what remained of their clothes, and got into his bed. He spooned her, holding her close so close she could feel his erection in the small of her back, the warmth of his skin against hers, the moist heat of his breath near her ear.

“Roll over. Onto your back.”

She did as he asked, suddenly afraid, but some deep-down part of her wanted him to; wanted him to take part of her into his body just as she’d taken part of his into hers. As he came over her, she saw his eyes. They were yellow, like a wolf’s. Tense and brilliant, fierce, not loving. She wanted to look away, but her will was gone. She could feel those eyes pulling her in, down and down into their depths. She was drowning, but it was a peaceful, euphoric feeling. His woodsy scent filled her nostrils, making her lightheaded and strangely detached. It was as if she watched it happening to someone else.

She shivered, dimly aware of his knees pressing between hers and his hands on her breasts, squeezing gently, teasing her nipples, sending sweet tremors all the way down to her sex. She shivered as he came over her and touched her lips with his—petal-soft—before moving to her ear.

He nibbled her lobe. “Are you sure?”


“Yes.”
Returning to her mouth, he nipped her lower lip before moving to her throat. She clenched, bracing herself for the bite, but he only nuzzled and licked the thick cord of muscle. He then kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, and the indentation at the base of her throat. Finally, he proceeded to her left breast, where he circled the aureole with his tongue before closing his lips around the nipple. As he sucked it, thrills twitched deep in her abdomen.

When he bit down, she came back to herself with a jolt, cursing and bucking under him.  Excruciating pain echoed through her body. As he sucked, the pain gave way to euphoria. Then began a pleasurable sensation, like electrical pulses surging to points of ecstatic brilliance, making her insides quiver and melt. It went on for what seemed a long while, and then he let go, rose over her, and came into her with a smooth, deep thrust. The feeling of their merger overwhelmed her, threatened to consume her. It was too much, too intense, too amazing. She clung to him, afraid of what was happening to her. He wasn’t just inside her, he was part of her, fused with her. For the first time in her life, she felt truly alive.
The orgasm broke over her like a tidal wave. She came around him in shuddering sequences, again and again, her body spent, but unable to refuse the pleasure. By the time he finished, she felt both ecstatic and utterly depleted.


Don't forget to let us know how many bats you've seen flying around this week and leave your email to win. If you need to double check, check out all our posts this week.


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Thursday, 30 October 2014

A Very Sexy Halloween Day Five


We're nearing the end of our Halloween event. Have you entered the rafflecopter at the bottom? And have you been watching for bats? Add them up to enter the final giveaway tomorrow. You may need to look back through this week's posts.




Soren moved toward the woman and she stumbled as she tried to step back, looking for an escape. The wall of the building was already against her back. Still he advanced.
Standing inches from her, he grazed her cheek with his fingers then plunged them into her hair and swept the sopping mess back. She gasped softly, a nervous intake of breath.
“Please, don’t.” Her voice quavered.
“Say it again,” he demanded roughly, though his touch was gentle.
“Please,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, and he dropped his head and nuzzled her neck. Her voice enthralled him so, had drawn him closer.
She whimpered, the vibrations touching his lips, and he tightened his grasp on her, trying to somehow remain focused. He needed to go slowly, but it had been too long. The sensation of her lush form against him was too right, the soft scent of her flesh too potent.
Control fled, and he bit her. Her body jerked once, then went rigid against him. Happily drowning in the sweet and tempting scent that had driven him over the edge, he barely noticed. Rose? Lavender? He didn’t know flowers, and didn’t care to learn them, but he would never again breathe that scent without thinking of her.
Nourishing, sweet and hot, her lifeblood sent blissful shivers coursing through his body. Feeding was always a delicious experience, though he’d never experienced anything like this. The rain continued to fall on them, the cool drops sliding down her neck to the very spot where they were joined. Soren drank in the water, the taste of her skin infused in every raindrop. So intoxicating, so sensual. He couldn’t help but wrap his other arm around her waist and bring her closer. He was no longer holding her still, but simply holding her.
His heartbeat raced. The simple act of feeding was enough to send him out of his mind with satisfaction, but the soul wrenching pleasure of her clutching his shoulders had him gasping for breath.
The world faded away. No rain or alley, no feeding existed. He only wanted to bask in the way her fingers moved, tightening then releasing, like she needed him. Wanted him. But too soon her fingers slipped from his shirt, fell slowly down his arms, and hung at her sides.
She went limp in his arms. Something was wrong.



The earth had been conquered by darkness and the dead didn’t remain so for long. The streets had been paved with destruction and the stubborn searched for the light because they had hope. They searched for the light because they must; because giving in to death wouldn’t relieve the gnawing ache of hunger for something more. There were whispers of a place where the Deads gathered at the water’s edge in the mountains of old. A place where peace could still be found in simple acts of valor and happiness, done by the lucky and the determined. The world hadn’t come to an end, just an end as man knew it. But there had to be a balance for the chaos. There had to be asylum from the damned.

The words were written on a mirror in an old, abandoned gas station bathroom in what Laney Landry fervently hoped was bright red lipstick. The last sentence was hurried and scribbled, the letters fusing together to snake into one monstrous word, like the writer had run out of time. Run out of life. At least that was what the pile of bones to the right of the sink suggested. They were picked so clean they didn’t even have an odor. She read it again and loss clenched inside of her. It was the first page of a book and it had been so desperately long since she had read one. Since she had read anything with an ounce of hope in the spaces between the lines.
A shadow covered the dusty evening light that filtered through the ceiling length frosted window beside the bathroom stalls. A lone figure shuffled slowly across the span of it. The man looked huge, but maybe it was just the shadow playing tricks on her. Not one of her team.
She cursed softly and grabbed her backpack. Where there was one, there would soon be others and she’d be damned if she was dying in some Quickie Mart bathroom out in the middle of nowhere. She sprinted for the door but hesitated as she opened it. The words were stark against the dirty mirror and they stirred in her…something. It had been awhile.
“Jarren,” she hissed to her older brother. He and the others rifled through the storage room in search of supplies that had long been picked dry, like the bones in the bathroom. “Time to go. We’ve got Deads, at least one, on the west side of the building.”
“Let’s move,” he whispered, and Mitchell and Guist headed for the door without hesitation. She got stuck behind Mitchell on the way out, which wasn’t all bad. His backside was lovely, but she wouldn’t tell him that in a million years. It would inflate his barely-controlled ego to the size of the gas station in two cocks of a pistol. She allowed a private smile. Best to look and not touch with that one.



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Wednesday, 29 October 2014

A Very Sexy Halloween Day Four


Welcome to day four of our Halloween event. If you haven't entered yet, be sure to enter the rafflecopter and check out these great excerpts to get you in the mood. Have you seen some bats floating around this week? Keep an eye out, you'll need to count them up for the end of the week.



“Remy,” she said his name. Where did she know that name from? It wasn’t common. Think, Leah, think. Then it hit her—hard.
    She remembered exactly who Remy Moreland was.
    He was in the newspaper years earlier. Her mother had shown her a copy. Remy Moreland was involved in a fatal street race. His Porsche had been split in two, killing him and a young woman in another car.
    Remy Moreland was dead.
    But if he was dead, what was he doing here, alive, and with her?
    Sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her vision clouded. This was someone’s idea of an evil, evil joke. She had to get out. She had to find her way home.
    Standing, she grabbed the edge of the deck for support. “I have to get out of here,” she mumbled and stumbled her way around the desk.
    He grabbed her around the waist. “You can’t go back out there. It’s dangerous.”
    She sunk her open palms against his chest and struggled to get out of his grip. “Get off of me, you malevolent freak! You’re dead! You’ve been dead for years!” she blurted.
    Immediately, he let go and jumped back from her as if he had been stung.
    “What are you talking about? He demanded.
    She backed away, ready to make a run for the front door. But the confused mix of anger and disbelief in his contorted expression stopped her.
    How could he not know he was dead?
    “It was years ago, Remy. You had an accident. It was in the newspaper.”
   He tilted his head, his blue eyes huge.  “Do I look dead to you?”
    Well, he was pale, his blue eyes ethereal. She hesitated, and then spoke. “Now that you mention it…”
    “You bitch!” he snapped.
    The force of his voice caused her to flinch and she raised her fingers to her throbbing temples. All she wanted at that moment was to get out of this man’s sight and find her way home.
    “I’m not dead,” he stated ominously.
    “Okay, you’re not dead,” she conceded as she rubbed circles on her temples.
    He took a step closer. “As a matter of fact, right now I am languishing across town in a nursing home. I eat through a tube in my belly and piss into a catheter bag. I remain nothing but an emaciated, contorted version of the man I once was.”
    She closed her eyes. This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening. None of this was real.
    When she opened her eyes, he was in front of her, a macabre grin creasing his handsome features. He lifted a brow. “So, what did you do?”
    “Do? What are you talking about?”
   “To get here. You know my situation, so what’s yours?”
    He wasn’t making any sense. She turned away from him, left the office and began to walk the long hallway to the front door, but he followed her closely.
    “Let me guess,” he provoked.  “You look like a murder-suicide kind of girl. You’re not wearing a wedding ring, so I’m assuming you shot your boyfriend in the head and then offed yourself in some spectacular way—like jumping off a balcony and splattering on the ground. How could you have known you would wind up here?” he chuckled unpleasantly.
    She stopped cold. How could he say such a horrible thing? She turned back to him only to find him mere inches from her. “You’re horrible. You don’t even know me, but you’ve resorted to participating in some sort of evil joke on me. I just want to go home…or wake up.”
    “Your life as you know it is over, Leah.”
    “What are saying, Remy? That I’m dead?”
    “You’re not dead…not quite. This is limbo…purgatory…the first circle of Hell. The most wretched place on earth where you are sent to atone for your sins.”



A noise from over by the ladder startled Emily, making her jump and almost jab herself in the eye with the end of the brush she was using. Turning, she saw that the photograph she’d righted earlier after its little mishap was once more lying down. She’d obviously not fixed the stand properly. Downing tools, Emily stomped across the room, cross at the seemingly endless interruptions, and grabbed the photograph. She checked the stand to make sure it held firm, then wagged a finger at the man in the image.
“Just you behave. I’ve got too much work to do to put up with your shenanigans, if you don’t mind.”
She didn’t know she’d spoken out loud and giggled at the realization, stopping abruptly when it hit home just how peculiarly she was behaving. This place was making her crazy, she decided, which could be catastrophic considering she hadn’t even finished one shelf of books yet, and she had considerably more to do. If this weirdness carried on, she’d be a wreck by the time the job was done.
Shaking her head again, Emily walked back to the desk and sat down. She resolved to knuckle down, get the first shelf completed and call it a night. Hopefully a decent amount of sleep and a session with her vibrator would make her feel more herself and mean she could put this idiotic behavior behind her and return to Westbury tomorrow with her sensible, hard-working head firmly screwed on. She hoped so, anyway, because this simply wouldn’t do.
Emily was able to finish cleaning the first lot of books without any further interruptions. She heaved a sigh of relief and swapped her book cleaning tools for her shelf cleaning tools. All she had to do was clean the empty shelf, replace the books, put the library back to how it had been when she’d started and be on her way. Tomorrow was another day, she mused, and she was determined it was going to be much more productive than this one.
She’d just put her feet back onto the floor after her third trip up the ladder when she felt something touch her right leg, down by her ankle. She wore trousers, so if it had been some kind of insect it was doubtful she’d have felt it. Besides, it was moving up and down, as though stroking her. Still looking forward at the ladder and grasping its handrails, Emily was frozen in place. She couldn’t move, speak, scream or even bring herself to look around.
She’d never been so scared in her life. The stroking sensation crept higher and higher until it reached her hip. Finally, something in Emily snapped and she screamed at the top of her lungs, lurched away from the ladder and ran out of the library.


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Tuesday, 28 October 2014

A Very Sexy Halloween Day Three


Welcome to day three of our Halloween event. Be sure to enter the rafflecopter at the bottom and have you been looking out for bats? We need you to keep an eye on those cheeky creatures to win an additional prize!




“The cellar?” I gaped at Neal when he shot the bolt and hauled open the thick wooden door. A staircase led down into increasing gloom and blackness. “No way. There’s nothing down there but dust, a shitload of cobwebs, spiders, and that goddamn incinerator I hate so much.”
As apprentices, Neal and I were required to take the bloody sheets and clothing generated over our weekend of lust and dump them into the fiery maw of the ancient incinerator. It squatted like a malevolent idol in a corner of the room at the bottom of the stairs. A more horrible place for sex I couldn’t imagine, unless it was the inside of a full trash bin.
“That’s just the room at the bottom of the stairs.” Neal paused halfway down the staircase to grin back at me. “There’s that wicked stone corridor I’ve never been able to entice you to explore before. Tonight’s the night.”
“Bullshit.” I hesitated at the top of the stairs, clutching the railing after letting go of his hand. “Let’s go to my room, Neal. This is like the beginning of a slasher flick.”
“That’s the point,” Neal said, laughing. “We’re vampires, Claire. We’re the monsters. What the hell can happen to us? A spider bites us? Who cares? Think of the ambience.”
“Ambience is supposed to mean something gorgeous or exotic, not doom, gloom, and torture chamber.” I considered going back to the media room on my own. Only, I’d waited weeks to feel him slide inside me, but there was no way he was doing it to me against the slimy stone wall of an ancient cellar.
“This is spicy. Forbidden. Dark. Secretive,” Neal coaxed, as if those were enticing things. “We’ll always remember our first time, won’t we?”
I didn’t want to concede he might have a point. As immortals, Neal and I would likely have thousands of trysts over the years. Soon, our first one would sink into the oblivion of time. Unless we made it somehow memorable. But a dust-choked stone cellar? With spider webs?
“Parker told me never to go past the incinerator. He says the corridors are like a maze. What if we get lost and can’t find our way out? It’s dark. There’s no electric light past this point.”
I was grabbing at straws, considering vampires could see perfectly well in the dark. Even though I could see through darkness, it still spooked me. Anything could lurk in the shadows. I preferred the crisp clarity of electric lights.
Neal fished in his pocket and extracted a lighter. He flicked it to life, and shadows leaped across his grinning, happy face.
“You told me you and Andre watch horror movies every Friday night, you little liar. What are you afraid of?”
“It’s one thing to watch a scary movie in your own living room, snuggled against your lover. It’s quite another to waltz onto the set and be a living part of it. And this is no movie either.” I remained on the top step as he skipped down the last few and landed in the dust at the bottom.
“You chicken-shit coward,” he said, still laughing. “I dare you.”
“What are we? Twelve?” I stomped down three of the stairs, rolling my eyes. “This really is like the start of a horror movie. You dare the blonde girl with the big tits to come into the spooky corridor, and then there’s some heavy petting before—whomp—somebody’s head gets cut off by an axe-wielding maniac.”
“Nobody’s going to chop off your head,” Neal assured me.
“No, because I’m ducking so they get you,” I muttered.






“You’ll always belong to me.”
Arbor’s eyes flew open as the harsh whisper cut through the air. Even with her eyes open, she couldn’t see and her lungs still weren’t working. Panic sent her scrambling from the bed. The second her feet hit the floor, light and sound rushed back to her, filling the void with such vehemence, Arbor’s stomach churned. The sudden assault on her system was too much. Even as her mind accepted the shift, the walls of her apartment refused to obey. They shook with such violence, several pictures came crashing to the floor. Her ragged breaths filled the air, seeming overly loud in the absence of all other sounds. She covered her ears against them and everything stilled.
A cold breeze skittered over her skin, leaving her chilled. She watched in horror as the green sprigs covering her white wallpaper grew in size, stretching outward as the wall bulged. They appeared rubberized rather than solid. The shape of a large man formed for a moment before the wall snapped back into place and he disappeared. Her feet moved in its direction. She was powerless to stop it from happening. There was something just out sight—waiting.
A noise, reminding Arbor of hundreds of people whispering simultaneously, came from inside the wall. There were too many of them at the same time. She couldn’t understand what they were saying. When she was close enough to inspect the surface, it still looked solid enough. She poked it. Nothing. It didn’t give at all. She tapped her knuckles against it. The final picture shot from the wall, shattering with such force, slivers of glass bounced off the floor and bit into her skin. One piece lodged in her wrist.
Arbor didn’t have time to react. The solid surface bulged once more, and the whisper returned. The pitch increased until coming together as one clear voice and sounding demonic. “You belong to me. You will always be mine.”
The room spun. Darkness hovered at the edges of her vision. The world tilted. Thankfully, the floor was there to catch her as everything went black.


ARe | B&N

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