Thursday, October 31, 2013

Halloween - May the Honeymoon of your Bites Continue!

I remember attending my first RWA Convention in New York several years ago. I sat in on a JR Ward panel discussion about writing Alpha heroes. Her comment was something like this:

Is there anything so exciting, so masculine as a big, dark alpha male vampire?

I sat there blinking, my heart pounding as I realized the answer to that was, "No."

So this is Halloween. Last day of the month of October, legendary amongst Pagans and Christians alike. Shrouded in mystery, myth and whatever else we want to throw in there - the possibility of danger and the excitement of a new adventure, I'm re-printing the chapter I just love from Honeymoon Bite where the Hero, Marcus Monteleone, meets his long searched for fated female, Anne. What Anne doesn't know is that Marcus is the one who turned her, after he found her left for dead. Since he'd spent 300 years searching for his one fated female, he couldn't just let the life drain from her. And he has been ordered by the Vampire Council to wait 30 days before he can re-contact her. So, she has no clue who he really is, or how her life is about to change forever, in ways she could never imagine.

For those of you from Sonoma County, I wrote this scene in a purple velvet chair in the corner of the Bennett Valley Starbuck's. I can still remember that day.

Enjoy this little tidbit. Love my stepchild of a book that gets no love. At least on Halloween, spend some time with my injured Alpha male vampire and his soon-to-be bride:


“Does your husband know about your appetites?” From behind Anne came a gravelly male voice that sent shivers down her spine. The screams of the Starbuck’s espresso machine made her wonder if she’d really heard the voice. But the male scent of him was impossible to miss. The hairs at her neck stood at attention, telegraphing urgency. The urgent sensation extended well beyond her waistline. Time stood still before she could bring herself to turn around and fall under the warm gaze from this tall dark male that covered her.
Not man. Male.
He held her gaze as she stood, transfixed, unable to move or to speak. That was the way it felt. Being held. “I’m sorry?” she blurted out finally.
“Don’t be sorry, my dear. It’s a simple question.” The ends of his lips curled up at the corners. When he inhaled, his chest extended, and he appeared several inches taller. Then he exhaled and she was covered with the same musky scent, incapacitating her, wrapping around her like a warm shroud. It was familiar.
She heard mournful viola music drip with slides and rifts that pulled on her heartstrings. She felt dizzy. Did she hear him murmur a groan? Or maybe it was a small earthquake? Probably an ordinary person wouldn’t hear or feel it. But she did.
Anne was on alert; this male took liberties with her feelings.
What a crazy thought. Ridiculous.
He leaned forward, grazing just the edge of her forearm with his warm hand. An electric spark pricked her. He leaned against the counter and looked at the barista, not her. “I’ll pay for the lady’s drink.”
She noticed the strong pulse at his neck. Healthy. Smells wonderful.
“And what would you like, sir?” The young barista was pert. Anne didn’t like her perfect white teeth. That and the fact the girl’s shirt was made for a ten-year-old, showcasing her pierced bellybutton.
“I have all I need.” The rumbling words sparked shivers again down Anne’s spine. He said it just next to her ear, barely touching the small of her back . . . He was facing the barista, but deep inside Anne knew the words were meant for her ears only.
“You didn’t have to do that.” Anne suddenly found the urge to speak.
“My pleasure.” He removed his hand and gave a slight bow.
A bow? No one had ever done that before. Anne had just fed. She wasn’t hungry enough to play the game this afternoon, having gorged herself on a salesman who liked to eat garlic fries. His blood was thick with fat globules she could almost see as well as taste. But it went down smooth.
So maybe she would play along. This stranger might be a good candidate for a snack tomorrow. She had never fed twice in one day. She wondered what being too full would feel like in her current state. It would probably make her horny. Well then, maybe she should reconsider. She should do a wet feeding. That way she wouldn’t have to be too careful, could gorge herself on him. He’d be wonderful to look at in the shower, and his hands might do something unexpected to her. Something memorable in a string of unmemorable feedings.
His hand gently touched the small of her back again, and she allowed herself to be ushered to a corner table, flanked by two purple velvet overstuffed chairs. They sat, facing at right angles to each other. The counter girl called out Anne’s drink. He was up and walking over to pick it up for her before she had a chance to react.
She watched him cross the coffeehouse like a thirsty traveler eyeing a pitcher of water. He was probably six foot six. His dark hair was pulled back in a short ponytail. His black leather bomber jacket showed his nice ass and those long lanky legs that went all the way to Heaven. Even for his size, he appeared graceful. Unassuming. Confident. And the nicest looking male from behind that she had ever seen.
And then he turned, holding the little white paper cup with two fingers, the other ones splayed out, large as antlers. She could see how long his fingers were, how substantial. She envisioned what those hands could do to her. But as sexy as he was, he also made her mouth water to feed.
His prominent jaw line sported blue-black stubble. His strong pulse would be no problem at all, but she would have to bite a little harder to crack the skin. Maybe he would let her take him slowly. Then she could kiss other parts of him in between while his heart pumped more of the blood she craved. His lips were bright red and full. She would enjoy sucking them, licking them. Perhaps biting them.
His eyes found their way to hers, and when she met his gaze, she became self-conscious of her thoughts, as if somehow he could read her mind. Anne told herself it was her craving for blood that caused the almost sexual attraction for this male. After she fed, surely she wouldn’t feel this way, she thought.
He delicately deposited the white cup in her hands. One finger touched and almost rubbed against hers. She thought she was imagining the touch, of course. Between her legs, a warm pool had formed. It was a curious place to feel hunger, a hunger of another kind. She blushed at her erotic thoughts.
“You like cappuccino?” He seemed intrigued by the idea. Dancing eyes, all over her upper torso, his breathing steady but deepening.
“Yes. I need the caffeine in the afternoon.”
That little hitch in his throat, almost like a moan of surprise. “And here I thought your cheeks were flushed and ripe from a good meal.” Those black eyes peered right to her soul. Almost as an afterthought, he smiled, and the dark became brown, ringed with a coppery color that drew her in.
I’ll play your game.

“Yes. After a big meal, I get tired sometimes.”
He nodded. “I remember that.”
Anne looked out the window. This was beginning to feel dangerous. She grabbed her drink and stood. He stopped her by placing one hand on her wrist. His action was soft, but deliberate. This male won’t be denied.
“Please, sit just a little longer. Then I’ll let you go home to your husband.”
“Go? You’ll let me go? What kind of talk is that? I think . . .” She began to rise again, but his firm grip on her forearm stopped her.
“Hear me out just a bit.” He did appear to be begging. Could it be she saw a flash of pain there? No way.
“How do you know I’m married?” she snapped out, letting her impatience show.
“You wear a wedding ring.” He fingered her ring slowly, sensually. She let him touch her, perhaps a bit too long. She was going to correct his misconception but decided to leave him thinking she was protected by another man. Safer that way.
But was she looking for safe?
There was an obvious physical attraction between them. She had not felt this before, not since before she was made.
“Do I know you?” she asked, ignoring the comment about her marriage.
“No. Ask it another way.” The huskiness of his voice made her ears buzz, like he was brushing his lips across them, like they were in bed whispering unmentionable things to each other.
“Do you know me?” Her eyebrows rose at the ridiculous suggestion that seemed to be planted in her brain from somewhere else.
He very lightly nodded, his obsidian eyes flashing. “Oh, yes. I have waited a long, long time for you.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m outta here.” Anne jumped up, her coffee in her hand. She slung her purse over her right shoulder and stormed off. He followed her outside, keeping pace like they were walking in unison. She stopped suddenly.
“Look. Whoever you are, I will call the police if you don’t leave me alone.”
“And tell them what?”
“Tell them there is a very strange male following me, bothering me.”
He groaned again. The ground beneath her feet rumbled when he did that. “I like that you say male.”
She backed up, raising her palms up and out in his direction. “Please, please leave me alone.”
“Agree to meet me here tomorrow at this time and I won’t follow you.” He smiled. “I promise.” He held his hand over his heart. Anne felt a small tug at her own, as well as an ache down below.
“Alright,” she said, willing herself to say no when her body wanted to say yes. She’d wrestle with her decision if she could just get away from him right now. This coffee house would have to be forever off her list. “Tomorrow at four. But I will call the cops if you don’t stop this, this, way you are being—”
He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her close his chest. She struggled, but he held her tighter the more she wiggled, and yet she enjoyed the physical play between them. No matter how hard she fought, he would win. She softened and heard his sharp inhale. The spice on his cheeks was a familiar scent to her and, relaxed her just enough so she wouldn’t collapse entirely being so close to him. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, “Go for now, little one. But as for leaving you alone, there isn’t a chance in Hell that will ever happen. See you tomorrow.”
And then he was gone. Just gone. Nowhere to be found. She turned around and around and there was no trace of him. No car leaving the parking lot. No door being opened. Just the normal day all around her.
She was hungry and scared. She liked feeling both emotions equally.
She knew it was going to be forever until four o’clock tomorrow.
A feeding would take up the next hour. Only twenty-three more to go.

Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Welcome Charlene Wilson: The Transformation of Anna



Thrilled today to welcome my good friend and fellow Ravencraft Romance Realm sister, Charlene Wilson. Don't forget to enter the drawing at the end of this post. Welcome, Charlene!

Thank you for having me on your blog, Sharon. It's always a pleasure to be here. *smile*

Through the rush to meet deadlines, get kids to band and flag line practice, organization meetings, and church (along with the daily Mom and wife and Grandma caregiver things I just have to get done), I find escape in the sheer pleasure of turning the pages of a book and losing myself in the lives of fictional characters. Most especially, the romantic characters! They're able to wisp me a mountain top for an early brunch, or make my heart triple beat as I experience love through their eyes and emotions. I forget the world. Forget that long drive to Forest City for the competitions. Forget to make dinner. (Oh, did I say that out loud?)

I'll be honest, it's one of the reasons I became a writer of science fiction/fantasy, to delve into a totally different world than my own so I could leave it all behind if even for a moment while stuck in traffic or on the Tram. Stories are magic and writing, the spell book.

In my revised version of the first two books of my Cornerstone Deep series, The Transformation of Anna and Echoes, spells and magic couldn't be more real. Cole learns this in a very hard way as he follows a duty and then finds out it'd gone too far without realizing it. This catapults the Cornerstone Deep series into a race to make things right. And along their way, they discover many things that are hard learned. But one thing stays strong, Cole's love for Mianna.

These are perfect chilly night cuddle up night-time reads! And The Transformation of Anna is on sale now at Smashwords at 50% off when you use the coupon code LD93R.



The Transformation of Anna
Blurb
For centuries, Cole Shilo has harvested the homeless, wiped their memories, and delivered them as servants to the nobles of Cornerstone Deep.  When Cole is sent to harvest a second-class woman who has broken curfew, he expects no different.  But Anna Sinclair's soul calls out to him.  Soul mates aren't possible on Cornerstone Deep…
Are they?

“My life is a mirage of endless time. But you engulf me, rivet my mind, encompass my soul.”

 What they're saying:

“The Transformation of Anna is first-rate fantasy, with a healthy dose of romance added in. Wilson has created a plausible, multi-dimensional world complete with gods, mythologies, and engaging characters. The world Wilson has created in The Transformation of Anna is complex, but infinitely and easily accessible to the reader. It's quite an amazing and impressive work with lots of action and adventure, heroic characters, and an elegant and satisfying romance.”--Jack Mangus, Readers' Favorite

"The Transformation of Anna by Charlene A. Wilson is a beautifully stunning and deeply touching story of the darkest of treachery, the rebirth of lost love, and the discovery of hidden secrets. Being left absolutely breathless and deeply astonished after reading such an extraordinary story is a new experience for me. I am anything but disappointed in this superbly enchanting and endearingly exhilarating tale of deeply true and lasting love. My heart was captured and lost to this spellbinding journey!"--Amber McCallister, The Wonderings of One Person.

 Buy links:
Author site (signed paperback) - http://charleneawilson.com/books/order/ 
EXCERPT
 Cole unstopped the slender vial and gently lifted Anna's head to administer the potion. As he carefully tipped the container to her lips, tremors traveled down his forearms. His hands quaked. The amber liquid jumped to the brim and he quickly tilted it upright. Gods, Cole, control yourself. She needs every drop.
A soft palm rested on his wrist and Cole's gaze shot to Elaina's. When had she returned and how did he not pick up on the strong compassion emitting from her when she had? Her blue eyes looked deep into his, understanding with a touch of sadness. “Let me do that, Cole. You've been through enough.”
He wasn't sure if the tremors were from anticipating a fortunate outcome or from sheer anxiety over the whole ordeal, but he accepted her tender attention as a blessing. Vincent's intervention with her was evident. He watched as she patiently poured small measures into Anna's mouth.
Elaina turned to Cole and lifted the emptied container. “Well, that's it. She got it all.”
He sighed. “Thank you.”
“Anything, Cole.” She smiled and set the vial on the bed stand. “What about you? Can I get you a drink? It might calm you some.”
Nodding, he offered a small smile.
“Good, then. I'll be right back.”
As she closed the door behind her, Cole eased himself onto the bed. “Don't give up, Anna.” His faint words were swallowed by the silence of the room. “I'll fix this and see to it nothing ever happens to you again.” Brushing his fingertips over her hair, he solemnly whispered a plea. “Don't leave me.”
Her soft locks sent countless memories rushing through his mind--her smile, cheeky comments, blue eyes dancing as if life itself was a game. Her Arylinite spirit embraced every moment of love, able to see beneath fa├žades that others deemed as truth. He sighed, knowing that side of her may have been unique to that lifetime--a result of her specialized upbringing in the Arylin colony of the northern territory.
He tilted his head and gazed over her still face. Her features were remarkably similar to Mianna's. The gentle slope of her nose, the way she chose to wear her dark hair long, and he couldn't deny her blue eyes when she'd looked at him. He cupped her cheek with his hand, gently stroking her lips with his thumb. They curved from a bow-tie center into a natural smile. So soft. Inviting. He leaned to her and lightly kissed them, then leaned his cheek to hers.
“Talk to me, Anna.” His breath was a plea. As much as he knew no answer would come, his heart called to her with his deepest wish.
He brushed his fingers down her neck to her chest, tenderly caressing her pale skin at the neckline of her gown. A strained pause caught his throat as he lightly followed her breast to her ribcage. “What's in your heart?”
The tiny circles he drew on the thin fabric fed his longing for her touch. Supple creases followed his motion. To have her arms around him, the love they brought, had given him unmitigated comfort in a past life. It could be so again.
“My life was yours.” He kissed the circles he created. “Every moment, I found joy in you.”
He looked at her closed eyes. “Please, don't leave me. Please promise you'll be mine again.”
No emotion showed upon the visage of his love, but distant echoes of vows lighted his soul.
“Open to me.” He wondered if his whispered thought could possibly reach her unconscious mind. “Speak to me with your soul.”
Her lips parted and a chill flew through him. He waited, listened intently. Weak sensations touched his senses. “Anna,” he said aloud, hope rising. He cupped his palm to her cheek again. “Fight for it. Call to me.”
Anna remained silent.
Cole's heart ached. Yet, that small reaction spurred his resolve. He framed her face as he lowered to take her lips with his. “I'll help you.”
The scent of licorice and cream fell from his lips as he called on his Breath of Zephyr. His soul's voice owned his words. “My life is a mirage of endless time. But you engulf me, rivet my mind, encompass my soul.”
She inhaled his sensual gift and gasped for deeper intake.
Yes. Hope impossibly filled him. His muscles tightened with expectation. His heart pounded against his chest. “Call to me!”


Echoes
Cornerstone Deep book two
To be released November 10th, 2013
 Nothing is sacred to Cole when it comes to keeping his love - not even covenants made with gods, and when Lord Dressen's obsession to have Anna soars, Cole pulls out all the stops.  But, through all his efforts, lofty or damned, the truth remains. 
Will echoes of another life cause him to fail?

“Every breath you take is a song to my soul.”

  
What they're saying:
Echoes is the second installment in Wilson's Cornerstone Deep series, and was just as much a pleasure to read as the first. The timeless love story is brought to life in a new and creative way that pulls at your heartstrings and keeps you reading….”--Annette, Gothic Mom Reviews

“A touching and magickal romance story, Echoes picks right up where The Transformation of Anna left off. Charlene pens her characters well written and brings them to life in this fast paced, totally hard to put down sequel. Recommended for all romance and paranormal romance fans.”--My Cozy Corner
  
AUTHOR INFORMATION

Charlene A. Wilson is an author of tales that take you to other dimensions. She weaves magic, lasting love, and intrigue to immerse you into the lives of her characters.
She began writing in her early teens when her vivid dreams stayed with her long after she had them. The characters and worlds were so amazing she brought them to life through her books.
Charlene resides in a small community in Arkansas, USA, with her two beautiful daughters, husband, and a very chatty cockatiel named Todder.

Author Links

For media interviews, visit CharleneAWilson.com



~ Giveaway ~

We're holding a tour-wide giveaway with lots of ways to gain entries!

Good Luck!




Monday, October 21, 2013

Zombie Erotoclypse In the House


I'm thrilled to be hosting Tamsin Flowers on my blog today. She and I were both contributing authors in the High Octane Heroes anthology earlier this summer. We had a ton of fun, and became online friends. So, without further delay, please welcome Tamsin Flowers!


For those of you who haven't come across me before, my name is Tamsin Flowers and I've been writing erotica for a couple of years - and hopefully you'll be hearing more of me in the future!

Anyway, I'm thrilled to be here on Sharon's blog to share an excerpt with you from Zombie Erotoclypse.

Zombie what?

Zombie Erotoclypse is my new collection of short stories - all zombie erotica, great fun and a little bit steamy. And the excerpt I've brought along today is from the final story in the book, Bar the Door.

Bar the Door is probably the most serious - and the most romantic - of all the five stories and I have to admit it's a bit of tear-jerker.  Can you imagine how you'd feel if your other half came home and showed you that he'd been bitten by a zombie? This is what happens to Emma and Galen and they know they have just a few short hours left before the unspeakable happens…

Here's the excerpt:


Bar the Door
No matter how many times you dream of the worst possible disaster befalling you, when it actually happens it's ten thousand times more terrible than anything you could imagine.  Think about that for a moment and then try to imagine the split second that's so terrifying it goes beyond anything you could have dreamt.
That's what it was like.  That day.  That moment.
Galen knocked on the door in the secret pattern, I drew back the bolts and first thing I saw was blood.  On his shoulder, all the way down his arm, soaking the sleeve of his shirt with a dark, sticky stain.  I smelt it too, sweet and metallic, somehow animal.
Terror swept through me and I dropped to my knees.  It was the moment I'd been dreading so long and it hit me like a punch in the gut.  I couldn't breathe and my head started spinning.
I should have slammed the door in his face.  I know that now.  But I knew it then and I didn't do it.  We'd been living like this for so many months I'd lost count.  And every day, before either one of us went out to scavenge food, we repeated the mantra: if a zombie attacks, don't come back/bar the door to the biters and the bitten.  Galen was wrong to come home to me once he'd been mauled and I was wrong to let him in.  But I'm glad I did.  Whatever the future holds as a result of our actions that day, I'm glad Galen just didn't vanish without a trace into the zombie hoards.  Because that's what would have happened if he hadn't come back to me.
Galen pushed past me into the apartment.
"Get the fucking door shut," he said, his voice a dry rasp.
He staggered to the couch while I fought with reality.  It took the sound of a zombie blood howl on the porch to bring me round.  I leapt to my feet and slammed the door, throwing the bolts with practiced speed.   Then I peered out through the metal grid covering the only small window left at the front of the house.  There were three of them, mature and fetid zombies, lumbering across our porch and I immediately heard one of them scraping against the door.  I reached for the rifle.
"Leave them," said Galen.  "They'll go away when they realize they can't get in.  Don't waste bullets on them. You can't afford to throw any away now."
'Now.'  I knew what he was referring to—and 'you'. An icy cold hand clasped around my heart.  I went over to where he lay sprawled on the couch.  There was a lump in my throat when I tried to speak.
"What…?"
"…happened?  I got careless, Emma.  I fucking got complacent."
And then my big, strong, adorable Galen started to cry.  It was something I'd never seen him do and it cut me up.  Even more than seeing the blood on his shoulder that was his death knell.
****

Thank goodness zombies are only fictional (I think…) And if you want more it's only 99c or 77p for all five stories!

Author bio: Tamsin Flowers
Tamsin Flowers loves to write light-hearted erotica, often with a twist in the tail/tale and a sense of fun.  In the words of one reviewer, 'Ms Flowers has a way of describing sexual tension that forces itself upon your own body.' Her stories have appeared in a wide variety of anthologies and she is now graduating to novellas with the intention to pen her magnum opus in the very near future.  In the meantime, like most erotica writers, she finds herself working on at least ten stories at once: while she figures out whose leg belongs in which story, you can find out more about her at Tamsin's Superotica or Tamsin Flowers. Follow her on Twitter @TamsinFlowers or on Facebook Tamsin Flowers.

Love it. Love it. Love it. Thank you sooooo much for joining us today. I'm excited for this new release and I just know it will do very well. Running over right now to add another book to my Kindle. Hope some of you will do the same.

What about you? Do you read zombie romance? Zombie Erotoclypse? That's a mouthful for sure. Hope you enjoy Tamsin's creative talents and her great sense of humor.

Sharon Hamilton
Life is one fool thing after another.
Love is two fool things after each other.