Excerpt month: SEDUCED BY SHADOWS

Posted by: Jessa Slade

Currently working on: Kicking Book 1 out of the nest. Fly, little Book 1, fly!
Mood: Giddy

October is the release (finally!) of my first book, SEDUCED BY SHADOWS, Book 1 in a new urban fantasy romance series, The Marked Souls, from Signet Eclipse.

Maybe a good way to introduce you to the story is to give you the scene where the hero and heroine meet for the first time. Can you see the spark that will lead to them falling in love? (Hopefully that's the moment you'll fall in love too!)
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With the traffic of Upper Wacker behind her, Sera started over the bridge, ducking her head against the wind hissing across the black water.

A quarter of the way across, she noticed the man alone in the middle of the bridge.

If she hadn’t been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she would have seen him earlier. The matte black trench coat silhouetted his height against the slash of silvery night sky. He stood braced against the wind tugging at the hem of his coat.

Born and raised in the city, she had a healthy respect for and no unreasonable fear of downtown dangers. She worked—until recently, of course—in a job with late hours in sometimes sketchy neighborhoods and had had her car broken into only twice. Even with a cane that marked her as easy pickings, she knew her trigger finger on the can of mace was limber enough.

Still, something about the man slowed her steps and ramped up her pulse.

She couldn’t cross the street. She had less faith in traffic’s ability to avoid her than in her own ability to avoid trouble. And running only invited chasing.

She unzipped the side pocket of her bag where she kept the mace. Hell, if he had a mugging in mind, she could toss out the prescription bottle, and any self-respecting junkie would follow it into the river.

Despite her inner bravado, her limping steps ground to a halt.

He stood with his face half turned to the sky, heedless of the wind that couldn’t ruffle his close-cropped hair. Sera expected dark shades and a lot of bling, but when he finally glanced down at her, the only spark came from the violet reflections glancing off his eyes.

Not that there were any purple lights around them—just maybe some chance fusion of red brake lights and the blue-tinged streetlamps. . . .

If she was mugged, she didn’t want her description to the police to gush about the hypnotic violet lights in his dark eyes. She’d have to remember the hard edge of his jaw and the width of shoulders below the mandarin collar of his coat, which tapered to lean hips.

She jerked her gaze back to his.

He frowned in a thoughtful, not-menacing way, at least no more menacing than was necessitated by the austere cast to his features. “This, I did not expect.”

She’d be able to ID him by his voice, if nothing else—dark and rough, with a hint of mostly forgotten Southern sweetness, like pralines carelessly heated past caramelizing to burned ruination.

He drew himself up, and she thought darting into traffic might not be completely unreasonable.

“If I told you something bad was right here, right now,” he asked, “would you listen to me?”

Sera thrust her hand into her bag. “I’d tell it to back off.” The mace canister felt sleek and cold and ridiculously tiny when she held it out in front of her.

The man tilted his head. “It won’t be stopped that way. Only you can deny it.”

“Consider yourself denied.”

Violet flashed again in his deep-set eyes. “I am not the threat.”

“See, that’s what all the homicidal schizophrenics say.”

Amusement curved his full lips in a way that made her finger tighten on the trigger.

Danger, danger.
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You can read all of Chapter 1 at my website.

Excerpt Month - IMMORTAL OUTLAW

Immortal Outlaw

When the sun goes down, the beast comes out.

For centuries he’s hidden in the woods. Now a maid has come to lead him out...

It’s been four centuries since Steinarr the Proud was cursed by a wicked sorceress—along with the rest of his Viking crew—to live for eternity as half man, half beast. By day Steinarr is like any other man—by night he is a lion. He has taken refuge in the woods of Nottinghamshire, England, and there he encounters two young travelers, Robin and Marian.

Painfully aware of the danger he presents when the moon rises, Steinarr initially refuses to help them search for the key to Robin's inheritance. Then a kiss from Marian awakens his desire. Driven to protect the maid he so desperately wants to possess, Steinarr joins their quest…while the sorceress Cwen gathers her dark magic to destroy them.

As a legend spreads of an outlaw in the woods, their band is joined by others. But it is Steinarr who has the most to gain and the most to lose—if he is ever to be free of the curse and free to love as a man…

Please enjoy this brief excerpt from Chapter 2 of Immortal Outlaw:

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It was amazing every beast in the forest wasn’t ringing their camp, thought Steinarr as he rode back the next morning. The aroma of toasting bread and cheese permeated the still air, and if he could smell it as a man, every creature within a league certainly had the scent. And it did smell wondrous good. By the time he reached the cave, his mouth was watering so much, he could barely order young Robin to finish loading up the rouncey.

“And good morning to you, too, my lord,” said Marian, handing him some bread and cheese without waiting for him to ask. She stood watching, bemused, as he gobbled it down and took a second piece. As the sharpness of his hunger eased, he looked around. “Are you two ready to go?”

“We will be, by the time you finish.” She grabbed the pail and dumped water over the dying fire. A cloud of steam boiled up, forcing Steinarr to step back. As it cleared, he saw her heading into the woods.

“Where are you going?” he called.

“The bushes, my lord, now that it is light. Unless you suggest I avoid them all day as well?” She glanced over her shoulder, giving him a bland gaze that made the blood rise in his neck. “Though God’s truth, I hope you do not, because I fear I could not manage it.”

She sailed off before he could form an answer, and behind him, the boy chuckled. “See? She does have a way of making a man realize he has no wits at all.”

A man? This puppy fancied himself a man? Keeping his opinions of Robin and his cousin to himself with difficulty, Steinarr set about saddling the stallion, carefully lining up the thickest parts of the pad to protect the raw place on the animal’s withers. Robin finished loading the rouncey and moved on to the mare, and by the time Marian reappeared, all three horses were ready. She grabbed her bundle and put its tie-rope over her shoulder as Robin swung up on the mare. He reached down to help her. “Up you come, Maud.”

She gave him a look that would curdle milk. “I think, Robin, that I will have better luck if you move her next to the boulder.”

“No need.” Steinarr stepped around the stallion, laced his fingers together, and stooped down. “Here.”

“Thank you, my lord.” As she raised her foot, her bundle slipped, pulling her off balance. She reached out to steady herself.

The sudden contact made Steinarr glance up. She was right there, so close he could feel her breath on his face, her hand gripping his shoulder as though she were comforting him. And, oh, how he needed the kind of comfort she could offer. Needed softness and smooth skin and the warmth of another human body. Needed a woman. This woman. Now. Her eyes, level with his because of the way he was bent, widened, and suddenly he was floating in their green depths, cool as a woodland pool on a summer’s day. All he had to do was drown himself in that pool, in her, and it would all be washed away, all the empty years. As if in a dream, he swayed toward her.

Somewhere far above, Robin cleared his throat. Marian blinked and jerked her hand away, and the connection between them snapped like spider silk. A sudden loneliness welled up at the loss, so thick it made Steinarr’s chest ache. He swallowed it back and worked to make his voice sound normal. “Let us try that again.”

She nodded, and he handed her up onto the mare without further trouble, though a pang of unreasoned envy twisted through him as she wrapped her arms around the boy’s waist. Steinarr let one hand linger on her foot, using that last fragment of contact, of warmth, to steady himself as he turned his attention to Robin, “I intend to move quickly. Keep up.”

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See the Video and read more of Immortal Outlaw at lisahendrix.com

Compromising Positions is one of the 5 giveaways today! Check it out.

Writeminded

Excerpt Month: Cards Never Lie

Cards Never Lie

CHAPTER ONE

Melanie Vanderpool stroked her fingers across the tarot cards stacked before her.

Madame Lois nodded, her rainbow-colored earrings tinkling with the motion. “Offer your question to the cards, my dear.”

Melanie forced herself to stop fidgeting in the metal fold-up chair. This little store alcove tucked away on funky Roosevelt Avenue was a great place to start her new wild life, right? Okay, cards, come on, show me this soul mate Mom always promised was coming my way.

She removed her fingers from the cards. Across from her, Madame Lois took a deep, theatrical breath and pulled off the top six cards. She spread them into a circle facing her on the hot pink silk scarf covering a fold-up card table and studied the spread for a very long moment, saying nothing.

“What is it?” Melanie attempted to view the cards upside down. Her voice rose in a squeak as she noticed a card with a large horned figure and smaller, chained and horned figures below. “The devil? What does that mean?” She wanted the wild side, not the dark side!

The psychic took another deep breath, this one not so theatrical. “The Devil is your soul mate.”

Melanie sat back in her chair, clutching the seat with suddenly cold hands. “Ha ha. Very funny. How do I get my money back?”

2008 Print Release - Cards Never Lie by Heather Hiestand

Excerpt Month :: Par For The Course

Giving him just enough rope…to tie her up in knots.

PAR FOR THE COURSE

© 2008 Jenna Bayley-Burke

There’s something wildly enchanting about the columnist who arrives at Ben Cannon’s golf resort. He’s felt this magnetic pull only once before, for a bespectacled brunette back in college. That woman was nothing like this platinum blonde from New York—confident, poised…and hitting on him like crazy. Is she really interested in him, or merely seeking fodder for her Dating Diva column?

Just one wrong move from Ben, one more disappointment, and Jillian will finally be able to stop obsessing about her college crush, leave town, and get on with her life. Except the more rope she gives him to hang himself, the more he ties her up in knots. Every move he makes is the right one, both in bed and out of it.

Shaken to her college-nerd core, Jillian begins to wonder if giving him a taste of love-’em-and-leave-’em is what she wants after all.

Warning: Fore! This title contains explicit sex, and a love story hazardous to your hankie supply. Oh, and exploding toads.

Enjoy the following excerpt for Par for the Course:

“I’m not doing very well, am I?” Jillian huffed in frustration and stared at the scenery. No wonder people paid to walk around the grounds all day. Too bad they had to keep whacking a little ball all over the place.

“Sometimes people have beginner’s luck and get hooked forever.” Ben walked up to her. Between the beauty of the course and the gorgeous man before her, how could she possibly concentrate on learning to play some stupid game with too many rules? “Other times it grows on you. You can’t get intimidated and give up.”

“Don’t you think I’d learn faster with a ball?”

“You don’t get a ball until I’m sure you can hit it. Once you understand the set-up and swing, you’ll be able to hit great shots. No one is a good golfer on the first day.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Jilly stared down at the club in her hands and imagined the clock face, exactly like he’d told her. Repeatedly. Left thumb at one o’clock, club in her fingers not her palm. Right hand over left, right thumb at eleven o’clock. The hand-over-hand position wouldn’t be blatantly sexual to anyone else. A normal person who could keep their mind on trying to learn, and not trying to imagine what Ben Cannon hid in his pants.

“Much better.” Ben’s deep voice rolled through her, her nerves vibrating from head to toes. He’d moved closer, but she didn’t trust herself to check where. “Stay relaxed, you’re tensing up again.”

Easier said than done when your fantasy man is within kissing distance. Taking a deep breath, Jillian moved her feet shoulder-width apart. She tried to soften her knees, keeping her body weight distributed evenly. She remembered every word he’d said all day, why couldn’t her body just obey?

“Don’t grip the club too tight. Stay relaxed.” All at once he was behind her, around her. Jillian froze the moment in her mind as his hands covered hers, making her oh so grateful she hadn’t dug the pink glove out of her bag. Jillian’s blood swirled, circling to where his fingers covered her hands. Her body reacted instinctively to his hold. Maybe if she—

“Stick your butt out, tilt your pelvis forward.”

If only his mind were in the gutter with hers. Jillian bit back a groan and did as she was told.

“Let your arms hang straight, relaxed, natural.”

She felt herself relaxing into him, but she didn’t care. It felt natural, and since that’s what he was going for, she didn’t want to disappoint him. His body tensed against hers, straightening and backing away. She froze in position. Had he read her mind?

“Let’s try that swing again. Start small, remember L to L.” Jillian cleared her head and tried to follow instruction as best she could.

“The shaft and your left arm make an L on the back swing, that’s it. And you make a backward L on the follow-through. Good.”

Her body relaxed into the momentum of the action, but Jilly dared not disengage her brain. She’d done that around him once, one too many times.

“Keep your feet planted, Jillian. Keep going, back and forth, until it feels natural. That’s it.”

She tried to concentrate on the motion, biting back the giggle threatening to erupt. Back and forth, until it feels natural. Did he know he sounded like a sex instruction manual?

“Back and forth. Feel your body react to the motion.”

She would love to do just that. Her body primed itself, reacting to his words. Jilly willed herself to focus on swinging the damned club, not picturing Ben Cannon wielding his.

“The ball simply gets in the way of the club. The motion is what’s important.”

Jilly thudded her club against the ground as hard as she could. “I need to hit something. Now.”

...want more...

Samhain Website excerpt
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Beginnings: The Edge of Honor

AUTHOR: Minnette Meador
MOOD: Frantic but getting better
WORKING ON: Keenan's Dilemma

I think this is still my favorite openings of all my novels. From The Edge of Honor. Enjoy! Minnette :o)

THE EDGE OF HONOR
historical romance
by Minnette Meador

CHAPTER ONE
The ex-centurion knew if the Romans caught him, he was dead. Marius felt the horse strain under his thighs. The animal’s head split the air in front of them. Wind roared, mingling with the pounding of Marius’ heart and the jolting rumble of hooves against the forest floor. Blood flowed from a throbbing wound on his shoulder and spattered behind him, staining the horse’s rump. He tightened his grip on the reins, bowing his head low over the animal’s neck. The smell of horseflesh was stringent in his nose.

A grim thought flashed through his mind. He may never hold Delia again. Marius’ throat tightened. He dug his heels into Brutus and forced him to move faster. He would make it up to the horse later, if he survived.

The forest blurred around him. Brown, green, branches growing like twisted mirages charging at him out of the foggy morning. He dodged them, sometimes successfully–sometimes not. His head and good shoulder ached where they sliced him. The movement of the horse’s massive leg muscles deadened his thighs, making it difficult to manipulate the beast. Despite the speed, Brutus knew his master well and needed little guidance. Marius missed the Roman armor he had worn for twenty-five years, but the Celtic clothes gave him more freedom to manage the animal. He was slowly adjusting to being a citizen—very slowly.

Risking another glimpse over his shoulder, Marius saw nothing but the trees receding. The sound of jangling Roman horse tack, the shouts of Latin curses, and the frustrated bellows of General Suetonius had also faded. If he was lucky, the soldiers followed him into the woods, giving the refugees a chance to escape the blades or manacles of the governor’s revenge. A wave of satisfaction sent a bemused smile across his face knowing they had once again out maneuvered the general. Except for the unexpected pila that grazed his arm, he had done well. If they did not catch him, he would count this a success.

When it was safe, Marius stopped and examined the wound, wincing when the gap opened a little wider beneath his fingers. It would need a surgeon’s needle to close it properly. Delia was going to be furious. He could almost hear her voice; Not ONLY have your ruined the shirt I made for you, but they could have killed you. You have to be more careful! I will not raise this child on my own. Do you understand me?

Even seven months pregnant, Delia was still a fortune of fire, a passion of untamed spirit. Marius sighed. This would not improve her mood and another fight was inevitable. He sometimes forgot Delia was a Briton queen and leader of the Corieltauvi tribe. This always made their relationship interesting.

“You are going to have to be faster than that, liberatio.”

Marius drew his sword, forcing Brutus to rear onto his back legs when the voice bounced against the trees to his right. The armored figure emerged from the forest with seven Roman soldiers at his back. Marius swore.

Excerpt Month: MY FAVORITE OPENING

AUTHOR: DELLE JACOBS
MOOD: Upbeat and Energetic
WORKING ON (Playing with): A new novella outline, Captain Jack is Back (a highly sensual humorous paranormal Regency (How's that for crossing genre lines?)

This month we're trying something different on our blog: Excerpts from our books.

We're still working on the design and format, so since I'm the first one up I thought I'd just pick a topic. The most suitable one for opening up a new topic is Favorite Openers. I have several favorites but most of them are a it too long for this purpose. So I thought of LADY WICKED because I like the way this little piece ends.

***

LADY WICKED
March 1817, Derbyshire, England

He'd have to marry the richest heiress in England if he meant to salvage this crumbling pile of rocks.

Turning about in the flagstone courtyard of the long-deserted hall, Thomas Loudon Steynes, Viscount Savoury, surveyed the wreckage of time and realized how badly he had deluded himself. He was not usually a man to laugh aloud, but, standing among ruins as worthless as his corrupt soul and impoverished pocket, this time he did. God would not create an heiress foolish enough to accept the Savoury heir and his decrepit inheritance.

His intention to make himself over into a country gentleman was equally as hopeless. But Savoury had run out of options. So, sneering at himself, he swung into the saddle of his grey gelding and rode out through the gatehouse to accomplish the impossible anyway. What else, after all, did he have to do with his life?

Descending off the rise, Savoury crossed the stone bridge into the blanket of chilly fog and followed a puddled lane toward Lower Steyner. As he neared the village, the sound of voices, like a child's counting rhyme, floated through the still air. He stiffened in his saddle, his ears straining at the strange sound.

"Lady Wicked, Lady Wicked. . ." The singsong words drifted, broken, through the fog. How odd. He must be hearing it wrong.

Ahead, around the curve of the road. A chant. No, it was a taunt, for cruelty punctuated the words. "Wicked, wicked, Lady Wicked. . ."

The sound dissolved to a muddle again.

Savoury nudged Orion to pick up the pace. Rounding the bend approaching the village, he spotted a group of boys hopping about like marionettes, jeering a woman in a green pelisse, who walked toward the village, her bonneted head held high.

The hairs on Savoury's neck bristled. Peasants did not wear pelisses. But surely they did not dare harass a gentlewoman. He rode closer. So intent were the urchins in their game of mocking, the clopping of Orion's hooves went unnoticed.

The lady kept walking, her body, posture, even her large straw bonnet, pointed toward the lane before her.

"You're so wicked, Lady Wicked. . ."

One gangly boy scooped up a lump of mud. She ducked as he pitched, but the clod caught her in the chest. Her market basket fell and she bent to retrieve it. Screeching gleefully, two smaller boys joined in, pelting her with clods and sticks.

Devil it! Savoury spurred his horse, shouting as he rode down on the ragged little mob. The rascals squealed and scattered, heels flying. A smaller boy wavered between fighting and fleeing. With a wild swing, he lobbed his rock, then bolted. As the rock struck her head, the woman cried out, staggered back, then crumpled to the lane like a discarded nightshirt. She lay still, her bonnet twisted over her face. Dark hair tumbled and splayed over shoulders and dirt.

"Little demons!" Savoury shouted. His heart pounding, he leapt down from Orion, ran the last few steps and dropped to his knees beside the limp figure.

"I have you, ma'am," he said, forcing calm into his voice as he sheltered her in his arms. "Don't be afraid. They're gone."

Savoury pushed back her ruined bonnet. Her hand trembled, then her arm. Whimpering, she turned her head, black lashes fluttering. The cloud of dark hair fell away, unveiling pallid skin. He jerked back, almost dropping her. "Lady Wyckham!"

Green eyes blinked suddenly wide, as if he had shoved hartshorn beneath her nose.
Bedamned if he hadn't rescued his own nemesis.

***

This story is not currently available, but I promise to rectify that problem very soon. In the meantime, bot APHRODITE'S BREW and SINS OF THE HEART are available through Samhain, Amazon, and I believe Powell's will have them at the booksigning in September.