If you missed yesterday's big FREE event--or even if you didn't--there's still time to save on next year's reading. The Stocking Your E-Reader sale runs from now until the 30th with dozens of free or nearly free (.99 cents) books.
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Half an hour later, Heather stared at Drew in amazement. “What do you mean it’s your first time decorating a Christmas tree? You don’t mean, like, ever do you?”
Drew’s lips curved into the teasing grin he seemed to reserve just for her—the one she was quickly becoming addicted to. “I believe that is generally what the term ‘first time’ indicates.”
She passed him another ornament—a shimmery Mercury Glass ball—still shaking her head in disbelief. “How is that possible?”
Drew shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” he replied, peering at the fragile sphere as though the answers could be found within its shiny, gold-and-silver-flecked depths. “The opportunity simply never arose.”
“Not even when you were human?”
“Nooo. Especially not then.”
Heather’s eyebrows rose at the unexpected hint of bitterness in Drew’s voice. She was about to inquire further, when Marc appeared, accompanied by one of the mystery guests she’d noticed earlier, and clasped a hand on Drew’s shoulder.
“Hey, man, good to see you. What’s up? I wasn’t expecting you tonight, was I?”
“Uh, no,” Drew answered. “I was just, um…”
“I invited him,” Heather said, bristling at what appeared to be a suspicious glint in Marc’s one good eye. His tone was off as well, making him sound ever so slightly possessive. What the hell, Marc? “And, speaking of things that no one expected, I wasn’t expecting there to be a Christmas party here tonight either.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Marc glanced around, seemingly bemused. “I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart. I think it was a spur of the moment kind of thing.”
“Well, we need to have another one—on Christmas Eve. Like the one we had last year, remember? Family only.”
“Marc nodded “All right. That sounds nice. Let’s do that.” Then he turned back to Drew. “So, did you need me for something, or…?”
“Yes,” Drew replied, visibly squaring his shoulders, as though he were expecting a fight. “If you’re not too busy, I’d like to have a word with you.”
“Sure thing.” Marc nodded toward the man beside him and added, “Aiken and I were just going upstairs to have a drink in my office. Why don’t you come with?”
“Now?” Heather blurted in dismay. “But we’re not finished!”
Her disappointment was only partially mollified when Drew flashed that smile at her again. “Thank you so much for sharing your tree with me. It’s not often I receive the gift of a new experience. I’ll treasure it.”
“You’re welcome,” Heather said with a sigh. “Come back when you’re done, if you want. I’ll save you an ornament.”
“We’ll see,” he answered, which she figured was code for not a fucking chance; especially given the look in his eyes—like he was saying goodbye.
An instant later, the ornament she’d been holding was plucked from her hands. “Hey!” She turned to scowl at Nighthawk as he attached it to a branch far above her head. “I was saving that for later!”
“You don’t save ornaments,” Nighthawk scoffed. “That’d be silly. Anyway, where you been all night? I coulda used your help earlier when we were setting things up. And what’re you doing coming here with that housie?” Which was laughable—as if they both didn’t belong to a House now, too. But it was hardly the first stupid thing Hawk had said tonight.
“That’s none of your business,” she replied. “Oh, and, by the way, this is not a submarine.”
Hawk looked confused. “What?”
“You know—that thing you said earlier about the door being open? This isn’t a submarine.”
“I know. Isn’t that what I said? The door was open and obviously you can’t do that on a submarine.”
“Right. Which is why that makes no sense. What you meant to say is that this isn’t a barn.”
Hawk shrugged dismissively. “Okay, sure. Whatever. Have it your way. It might as well be though.”
“Might as well be…what? A barn?”
“Yeah. I mean, granted it’s missing hay, and pitchforks, livestock, all that country shit. But it’s as big as a barn, right? So…”
“I don’t know why I even try,” she muttered, just as Jason, another of the vampires who’d been hanging around the warehouse lately—not one of theirs, but less annoying than most—gave a smothered laugh.
Hawk rounded on him. “What are you laughing about? I bet you’ve never even seen a barn.”
Jason’s eyebrows rose. “Farm boy, remember? I’m country born and raised, son. So, yeah, I have. I even helped raise a few, back in the day. And she’s right—or closer to it. Because what you really wanted to say was, ‘were you born in a barn?’”
“Why would I wanna say that?” Hawk demanded. “It wasn’t a Christmas reference. And, anyway, that would be born in a stable, right?”
“What? No. That’s not— I didn’t— It wasn’t…” Jason stammered to a halt, clearly confused by the turn the conversation had taken. “Are you serious? Or are you putting me on?”
Just then, a commotion broke out at the other end of the warehouse and claimed Hawk’s attention. “No, no, NO!” he shouted as he stormed off into the fray. “Not like that. What the hell are you doing?”
Jason watched him go with a bemused expression, then asked, “Is he always like this?”
“Pretty much,” Heather replied. Then, feeling as though she was being disloyal—because, for all his faults, Hawk was family—she added. “He means well.”
“Uh-huh. Which is just about the worst thing you can say about anyone.”
“What?”
“Nothing.” Jason held out an ornament—a frosted globe with a lacy design etched into its surface. “Here, did you want this for when Drew comes back?”
“Thanks,” Heather said, taking the ball with a small sigh. “But I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“No? Well, you might be right. But he looked like he was enjoying himself, so if he doesn’t come back, you can count on there being a good reason for it. Because I’ve known Drew for a good while now, and one thing he’s never struck me as being is foolish.”
Countdown for Light Up the Night
Every once in awhile I write a scene that just makes me smile. This is one of those scenes. It takes place two-thirds of the way through next month's release, Light Up the Night. The two characters, Heather and Drew, are vampires. He's pretty old, she's very young. And although they've both been falling desperately in love with each other, there are REASONS why he believes they can never be together--reasons which (of course) she doesn't know about yet, because otherwise where would the story be?
Just prior to this scene Heather has been injured. Drew (who runs a vampire nightclub) has been given the job of caring for her and protecting her while her sire, Marc, hunts down the people who hurt her.
This excerpt has been edited slightly to remove spoilers.
Excerpt:
The next few hours passed uneventfully. Heather progressed from hobbling around the little bedroom to hobbling up and down the stairs, and then, finally, after she’d successfully traversed the long hallway several times under her own power, Drew pronounced himself satisfied with her improvement, and willing to remove the splint.
They ate together at the bar, talking about nothing of any consequence—mostly gossip about people they both knew. Which, for the most part, meant that Drew talked and Heather listened. She was impressed by his vast wealth of knowledge. He seemed to know everything about everyone.
“Well, I decided, quite a long time ago, that knowledge really was power,” Drew told her, when she asked about it. “Having had my fill of feeling powerless, I made it my business to amass as much information as I possibly could.”
“And did that help?” she couldn’t resist teasing.
“For the most part,” he replied, with complete seriousness. “Although, I have to admit, there have been a few things I’ve learned that I rather wish I hadn’t.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know; secrets worth killing for. That sort of thing.”
He said it lightly, but there was a certain grimness in his expression that gave Heather pause. “Really?”
He flashed her a smile that did nothing to reassure her. “You know what they say about secrets, don’t you? That the only way two people can keep one is if one of the two is dead?”
“So, can I ask you something?” Heather inquired, a short while later while she was once again exercising her leg. She’d been trying all night to work up the courage to ask Drew about his feelings for her—or to confess her own. Trying and failing. Repeatedly. And then, after she’d complained about being too bored to spend even another minute climbing stairs or navigating hallways, Drew had suggested they put on some music and dance.
“But I don’t know how,” she’d been forced to confess. Her initial excitement had turned to crushing disappointment when it turned out that the dance he’d had in mind was a waltz.
Oh God, it’s hopeless. I should just give up.
He couldn’t possibly have hit on a worse idea, she’d thought, heart sinking with the realization that they had absolutely nothing in common. He couldn’t have made the differences between them seem any more obvious if he’d tried.
“I’ll teach you,” he promised, explaining that all she had to do was follow his lead. It would be fun, he insisted; not too fast, not too strenuous; plus his arms would be there to support her, should she need it. “And, after all, you gifted me with a new experience the other night. It’s only right that I get the chance to reciprocate.”
“That’s true,” she said, brightening at the thought. A vision of what their future could be like appeared in her mind’s eye; an endless round of sharing new experiences with each other. So what, if they had nothing in common? They could change that! Everyone had to start somewhere. “All right. You’re on. Let’s do it!”
So, he put on some music; and she was shocked to find out that The Christmas Waltz really was a waltz—who knew? And he broke out all the club’s effects: lights that were keyed to the music and that cycled through all the colors of the spectrum; an antique disco ball that he swore had been there since the seventies; even a fog machine—installed for some now-forgotten party and never removed—until she felt like she was standing inside a gigantic Christmas snow globe. He taught her the steps, very basic ones so she wouldn’t get hurt stumbling over her own feet, then made her laugh by throwing in a showy little move whenever she was least expecting one.
And they danced. Whirling around on the empty, glittering dance floor; just the two of them in their own enchanted kingdom. His hand on her back was a warm brand that somehow made her felt cherished and cared for. His arm beneath her fingertips promised strength and safety and support—a frame, not a cage. But it was his hand in hers that really sealed the deal. It was the Goldilocks of hand clasps. Not too hard, not too soft. Not too damp. Just right.
We could be partners, she thought as she returned the pressure, as their hands met, palm to palm—like equals; each one secure in their own strength, with no need to be concerned with matters of age, or gender, or ability. We could be lovers. We could be everything to one another. And all she had to do was find the courage to ask…
Heart pounding, she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze—seeing all the tenderness she could ever crave right there in his eyes, along with that hint of sadness she so desperately wanted to remove. This is a face I could look at every day. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth and said, “So can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Drew immediately replied, as he lifted his hand to guide her through a gentle turn. “Ask whatever you like. Just as long it’s not to divulge dangerous secrets, because that I won’t do.”
Her love will light up his night. If they can both survive that long.
Heather is having the worst Christmas ever! Or, at least, the worst Christmas since she was forced to become a vampire. Her sire's distracted, her nestmates have forgotten her, weirdos have taken over the lair. The only bright spot in her life right now is Drew--who didn't even used to like her! She knows he's fond of her now, but that's not good enough. She wants more. She wants everything. She wants him. And she's not giving up.
Drew Geiger gave up on love a long time ago. Such tender emotions have no place in a vampire's heart. But, somehow, the girl he once described as a "feral kitten" has got her claws in him, and she's not letting go. That would be fine, if only someone didn't want her dead--and if her sire didn't recall that it was Drew who once suggested that maybe she'd be better off that way.
Releases December 13th. Available for preorder now.https://books2read.com/u/m0En1l
5 Days! An isolated cabin, a winter storm, a hungry cougar—what could possibly go wrong? In a word: everything. books2read.com/letsgetnaughty/
Continued from Yesterday's Post...
Mike shoots me a quick, scorching glance, then crosses to the mantel. “I’m telling you again, these stocking holders are much too flimsy. They’re probably okay for empty stockings, but they’re just not weighty enough to support anything heavier.”
“All the more reason to take out a gift, then, and lighten the load.” It’s true that the humping reindeer stocking holders looked much more substantial online. I assumed they’d be brass, but I think they’re actually aluminum. If they’re metal at all. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Mike picks a package and comes to sit beside me on the rug. I became very familiar with all the toys because I unboxed and washed each one before wrapping them, so I know immediately which he chose. Given his concern about the weight of the stockings, I’m not surprised. It’s the biggest and heaviest of them all.
“Wow.” Mike stares admiringly at the blown glass candy cane dildo he’s just unwrapped. “This is gorgeous.”
I nod agreement. It’s multifunctional, too. It can be displayed as art or used as a paperweight. But, just to make sure Mike understands its true purpose, I’ve included travel-sized packets of lube.
“Shouldn’t this have been in your stocking?” he teases. “Seems like it’s for you more than me.”
“No, it’s not,” I protest. Although… Shit. He might have a point.
“Let’s find out.” Mike slides the dildo onto the coffee table, close to the container of adult toy and body wipes that I’d put out earlier, then says, “I think it’s time you lose the sweater.”
That works for me, as well.
I whip the sweater over my head and off. My nipples harden instantly when exposed to the cool air. Meanwhile, Mike takes a moment to straighten up, clearing away the wine glasses and pizza box. When he resumes his seat on the rug, I immediately spy the length of ribbon he’s holding. I know what’s coming next.
Mike extends a hand and says, “Give me your wrists.”
I hesitate for an instant, then reluctantly comply. There was a scene like this in the movie. But that wasn’t real. And the ribbon we used was stretchy and soft, nothing like the wired-backed ribbon Mike has now. I hope he can’t hear how hard my heart is pounding. We’ve played with restraints before, but not like this.
He takes his time, wrapping my wrists like a very secure present—complete with a festive bow. It’s pretty but, “I feel like I should have a safe word.”
I try to sound casual, just kidding around. And I think, I’ve succeeded when he teases back, “Don’t you trust me?” But then his smile fades. “I mean, yes. Of course. What is it?”
My mind is blank. I have no idea.
“Red?” Mike suggests.
“It’s Christmas. Everything’s red.”
“Orange? Blue?”
“Pineapple.” The second most commonly used safe word in the world, apparently.
Mike smirks. “Good thing we’ve finished eating.” Then he blinks and adds, “I meant because of the pizza.”
“Right. Me, too.”
He helps me lie back—tricky without hands, no matter how many core workouts you do per week—stretches my arms up above my head, presses my wrists to the floor. I can’t suppress the tremor that rockets through me, from clenched fists to curled toes. So, I exaggerate the movement, turn it into a tease. And feel a surge of empowerment as his gaze automatically clocks the motion, as his pupils dilate.
Still in control, I think in relief. Still calling the shots.
“Okay?” Mike asks, gaze returning to my face.
I nod, smiling faintly, not trusting my voice. He leans in and kisses me. His free hand curves around my breast, thumb brushing across my nipple. It’s sweet, familiar. Safe. For a moment, I forget about the firm hand at my wrists, the unbreakable bonds encircling them. Mike’s lips coast down my neck, up the swell of my breast. Now he’s teasing both nipples. And I’m writhing on the rug, whimpering for more.
I feel flushed and bleary-eyed by the time Mike lifts his head, and it’s comforting to see that he looks about the same.
He gives my bound hands one last squeeze, says, “Leave them there,” then moves between my legs. He smiles at me as he spreads my legs wide, holding them open with gentle hands on my thighs. “Like I said: I’m done with the pizza, not done eating.”
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Saturday, October 29, 2022
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Cancel your plans and spend this holiday season with 36 romance authors who have teamed up to bring you a delicious holiday treat.
This collection will have it all: fake relationships, second chances, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, workplace romance, age gap, CEO’s, bikers, and falling for the best friend’s brother.
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Caitlin never thought running away from her past would bring her tumbling head over heels into her future.
A rare survivor of a werewolf attack, she spends an unforgettable week with the town's Doctor and his nurse while she heals from her wounds.
Doc Nick is the local pack's Alpha. Axel is Nick's beta, his protege, his housemate, and his best friend. Their lives have intertwined in what seems like destiny's future for the last ten years. When the two fall hard for the new little hellcat in town, will letting her go be the one thing they can't live with?
The blood test results are in and a surprise is in store for Caitlin that may just throw her plans right out the window. Can she overcome the changes to her planned future, or will her world be rocked on its axis in a way she could never dream of?
