Monday, October 31, 2011

What Happens After Dark by Jasmine Haynes

Happy Halloween!

What Happens After Dark comes out tomorrow, Nov 1, 2011! The second book in my sexy, emotional DeKnight trilogy, the series continues with the characters from Past Midnight, this time giving you Bree Mason’s tale (the accountant). What Happens After Dark is a dark story seething with emotion, about love, sex, life, death, illness, and tragedy. Yeah, yeah, I know the stereotype about accountants, but really, they aren’t all boring!! But they certainly aren’t all nice either!

As with all fiction books, this is make-believe; still, a writer can’t help but put bits and pieces from his or her own experience. That’s what makes every story different despite common themes, because we bring pieces of ourselves into everything we write. In this book, you’ll meet a character named Marbury, an awful man. Here’s where I blended fiction with personal. Marbury is patterned after a boss I had several years ago. The incident I remember most from my brief time working for my personal “Marbury” (who shall remain unnamed) concerned a raise. I felt I deserved one. Don’t we all!? So I practiced what I wanted to say, enumerating all the reasons why I deserved it. I, of course, thought they were all very valid. I was as polite as could be, too, when I sat in the chair opposite him and gave him my prepared speech. Oh my God! He went ballistic. He called me a prostitute and some other horrible names. It was quite traumatic. But despite his blustering, I stuck to my guns. And I did get that raise. I was proud of myself for remaining steady in the face of his tirade. It had an added benefit, too! That experience helped me create Denton Marbury in Bree’s story. I hope you hate him as much as I did, LOL!

Here’s a blurb on What Happens After Dark, A DeKnight Novel, Book 2.

By day she’s a mild-mannered accountant.
After dark, she’s a willing slave to his wildest fantasies.

Bree Mason longs to be a successful career woman, but secrets keep her chained to the past, afraid to take that next step. And at night, her frustrations are released by the domineering Luke Raven, who gives her what she asks for and more in a sensuous game of master and slave…

But to take control of her life, Bree will have to look within and face the demons of her past. Luke knows the ins and outs of Bree’s body, knows what makes her gasp and sigh and beg. But now he’s willing to push their relationship to the limit—to stand by her side in the light of day and take the greatest risk of all…for love.

I’ve given you all an http://www.skullybuzz.com/newsite/books/bookwhathappensafterdark.html of the prologue on my website. But I thought I’d do something different for today, an excerpt featuring the above-mentioned Denton Marbury! You won’t find this anywhere else but on my blog (or in the book itself!).

What Happens After Dark
A DeKnight Novel, Book 2


The outer office consisted of Clarice seated at a very big desk with her computer monitor, keyboard, and phone all within reach, and a host of office machines lining the walls, including a combination printer with scanner, fax, and copier, a color printer for presentations, and of course a coffeemaker and large refrigerator. Denton Marbury was a large man.

The high-speed printer was spitting out documents while Clarice talked on the phone’s headset and tapped on the keyboard. She’d fashioned her honey blonde hair into a ponytail on the crown of her head. At close to fifty, she seemed a bit old for ponytails, but she’d once confided to Bree that a tight ponytail was cheaper for stretching out the wrinkles than cosmetic surgery. And it seemed to work for her.

She held up a finger to keep Bree for a moment, her polish the most amazing neon orange that actually seemed to glow. Marbury was closeted in his office. Whenever Bree had an appointment with him, he always made her wait, sometimes only a few minutes, but always long enough to show his superiority.

But with his office door closed, escape might very well be hers. Bree merely waggled the manila envelope of documents, mouthed “I’ll leave them,” then slid the package onto the edge of Clarice’s desk.

She almost made it out the door.

“Bree.” The deafening voice raised her hackles. Even when Denton Marbury was trying to whisper, he boomed. The sound matched his body. He was six-foot-three and wide like an ex-football player who’d stopped pumping iron long ago. Because he was tall, she didn’t think of him as fat; she wasn’t even sure he was, there was just so much meat to him. He wore a light brown shirt, brown tie, and brown pants, and all the unrelenting brown seemed to amplify the bulge of his belly.

Okay, if she had an appointment, he kept her waiting. But if she was trying to sneak in, he had some unnatural radar to catch her. He always had to get his pound of flesh, so to speak. “Mr. Marbury, I have to run. Erin needs me right back.”

“Why, I just talked to Erin and she said your father’s ill and you’re working half days.” He smiled. He had the square jaw, fleshy lips, and perpetual five o’clock shadow of the Fred Flintstone cartoon character. He held up his watch. “My understanding was you were on your way home.” He didn’t offer sympathy or condolences. Not that she’d have known what to say if he had.

She certainly shouldn’t have lied, though. She shouldn’t have offered an excuse at all. But he always made her feel as if she owed him something. “I have to run another errand for Erin, then I’m on my way home.”

“What do you have to do for her?”

Most people would never even ask the question. If you were making an excuse, they’d let you get away with it. Because really, what skin off their nose was it? It wasn’t his business anyway. But Denton Marbury always pushed her. He was a total asshole, and if she wasn’t so pathetic, she’d tell him so.

“Denton, Roger says he needs to talk to you.”

Marbury didn’t bother to glance at Clarice as he snapped out, “Tell him I’m busy.”

Clarice was silent a beat, then clucked her tongue. “He heard that, and he says that if you’re too busy to talk to him, he’s too busy to write you a check.”

Bree wondered why she couldn’t think of something pithy and brilliant like that to tell him when he was bullying her.

Marbury growled. “Fine. I’ll be there in a second.” Then he turned back to Bree. “We need to schedule a time to go over the documents.”

Bree wanted to say that they were self-explanatory. At least for anyone who knew accounting and did DKG’s taxes, but with certain people, it was just better to avoid confrontations. “Fine,” she told him. “I’ll look at my calendar when I get to work tomorrow.”

“Be sure to call me,” he said. Not okay, give me a call when it’s convenient or that’ll be good. No, he had to say it like she was a bimbo who would forget or simply ignore him.

Wouldn’t she just love to ignore him. “I will.” But gosh, with all the stress she was under, she was sure she’d promptly forget.

Behind him, Clarice shooed her away with a get-while-the-getting’s-good hand gesture. Bree was well aware that Clarice had come to the rescue with that phone call.

Leaving, she felt like a frightened mouse scurrying away from the cat with the huge claws. She didn’t know why she let Denton Marbury intimidate her. He wasn’t even that smart or great at tax work. She’d had to call him lots of times about errors she found in the tax forms when she reviewed them. He always managed to make it sound as if her work papers were at fault. Not. But she could never tell Erin. She didn’t want to be caught in the middle. Besides, it was humiliating to have to ask Erin to fight her battles.

---

I hope you enjoyed this little excerpt of What Happens After Dark. Next week I’ll be returning to give you Chapter 9 of Beauty or the Bitch. So be sure to come back!

Here’s a complete list of The DeKnight Novels in order:

Past Midnight
May 2011

What Happens After Dark
Nov 2011

The Principal's Office
February 2012

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Please welcome Delilah Devlin!

Thanks so much for joining us, Delilah. It's a pleasure to have you!

Here's the latest skinny on Delilah's new book, Enslaved by a Viking. Read on to the end to hear about the prize Delilah is offering and how you can win it!

Twenty lusty Vikings, captured and enslaved for the pleasure of the women of a more advanced world—this novel has it all—passion, danger, the spectacle of the gladiators’ arena. Most of all, it’s the story of two people from two very different worlds who clash, then join together in a turbulent, romantic journey that spans a galaxy.

That’s how I’d describe my latest full-length novel. Why Vikings? Sure, they were rude, crude, and violent. What’s not to love? They were also extremely loyal to family and clan, which is at the center of this novel. On New Iceland, the place my Vikings wound up after making the mistake of accepting an invitation to Asgard from the “gods”, they’ve thrived despite the inhospitable conditions. Another human race on the far side of the universe thought this uneducated bunch of barbarians would be easy to keep enslaved and working to mine the richest energy source in their galaxy. However, these barbarians aren’t easily subdued. They own their planet now. When the others decide to snatch the most virile males, they don’t take it lightly. They hijack space ships and follow. The first book, Ravished by a Viking, describes that first hijacking and ends in a glorious battle with ice dragons. This book has its own savagely beautiful battle, plus the added bonus of watching those virile Vikings play at being sex thralls. Interested now? I hope so. I love these guys and can’t wait to write more stories in my far-away galaxy.

His suffering…

Though proud and strong, Eirik, heir to the Ulfhednars kingdom, found himself seduced and taken from his homeworld by a bounty-hunting vixen, who sold him into slavery. Purchased by a wealthy, Consortium-backed brothel, he is kept at a heavily guarded and secure breeding facility, where he is forced to feed the lustful whims of Helios’s elite at night. He bides his time, waiting for a chance to escape and get his revenge on the woman who betrayed him…

Her satisfaction…

Once a sex thrall, Fatin earned her freedom through service. Now, as a bounty hunter, she is determined to earn enough to buy her sister’s papers from the same brothel she escaped. For this, she abducts a brutishly handsome, breed-worthy specimen from the Viking planet and delivers him to auction. But her desire for justice and his desire for freedom may consume both of them in a passion neither wanted—or can resist.

“This is an exhilarating BDSM (and more) romantic science fiction… With a strong cast made up of several races and a lead couple in love and distrust, readers will appreciate Enslaved by a Viking in outer space.”
~5 Stars, Harriet Klausner, Genre Go Round

"This lusty novel has components of BDSM, scorching sex and the element of surprise. There is clever worldbuilding and tight plotting, with a great cast of characters..."
~4 Stars, RT Books Reviews

Link to excerpt and BUY links: http://www.delilahdevlin.com/books/enslaved-by-a-viking/

Delilah is offering a $10 Amazon.com gift certificate to one lucky person who leaves a comment on this blog. Please leave your email, too, so we can contact you. We'll be choosing the winner on Sunday, Oct 16th. Be sure to pop over to read Delilah's excerpt! It's great!

And be sure to drop by next Monday when I'll be continuing my free erotic read, Beauty or the Bitch. For those of you who missed it, Chapter One started on Aug 22nd. Catch up and tune in for Chapter Eight next Monday! If you don't want to wait for the ending, you can pick the e-book up at www.amazon.com/dp/B004UWPPWC

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Please give a warm welcome to Cerise DeLand

I have a special guest for you today, Cerise DeLand. She’s going to give you a delightful excerpt from her regency historical, Lady Starling’s Stockings. I love the book cover, very sexy! Enjoy the blurb and the excerpt!

Lady Solange Starling has a special skill. But catching spies within her cousin's embassy has never presented a challenge. Then one moonlit evening in a garden, Solange meets a daring man who once saved her from death~and stole her heart. A man, who even in his youth, carved his place in her life and her reverie.

Monsieur Noir, he calls himself. And so he is, a man living in shadows, dark and dangerous to all he encounters. Now he joins her to weed out the nemesis who attempts to thwart their fight against Napoleon. Together, Noir and Solange finally discover how rich grand passion can be.

But this time can they finally win against cruel fate to give them what they most desire? Each other. Free of torment and loss. Free at last to love.

LADY STARLING'S STOCKINGS, 99 Cents in Kindle http://tinyurl.com/3orc36e and AllRomanceebooks.com at http://tinyurl.com/3h2b4b3

A nibble of my newest cherry:
Excerpt, Copyright 2011, Cerise DeLand. All rights reserved.

Naples, Italy
Evening, October 5, 1815

The evening seemed eternal! Solange read Byron and fretted. Sent two hot bricks up to her maid Cora, brought low by the rain today to her bed in the upstairs servants’ quarters. Then she wrote to her Aunt Minette, James’s mother, and walked the floor. She even played a vicious and solitary game of chess and threw the board, pieces and all, across the room. Still, Noir did not come.

If she could not relieve herself from the anxiety of holding her secrets, she would look like the ravages of hell at breakfast. Why did he not appear? Her visit below stairs had been most profitable. Her visit with James, minutes later in his study, much more so. Noir must learn it all.

Yet, what detained him? Where are you, Etienne? Are you reluctant to come tonight? Afraid I might not welcome you? Or need you?

Clutching her dressing gown around her, she marched to her boudoir window three stories above the Via Espana. No one walked out at this small hour of the morning. The rain broke into torrents, lightning crashed and a downpour obscured the details of the other houses along the boulevard.

A sleek black coach trotted past her door, only to pause at the garden. Had a figure emerged from the cab? She wiped the moisture from the glass, but her vision became no clearer. Her hands upon the latch, she satisfied herself that her balcony doors were indeed unlocked and accessible from the garden terrace.

Climbing into her bed, she lay on her back, folded her hands like a day-old corpse and waited for Noir.

Many minutes later, she heard the latch on the French doors give and the pounding of the deluge become louder as someone entered from the balcony and shut out the sounds of the world. Exhausted but satisfied he had arrived, Solange called to him from the bed.

In the flashes of lightning, she watched his powerful silhouette stop and scan the room. “Do not stand there and drip on my carpet, mon cher.” She flung back her covers. “The night is ugly and we both need warmth.”

“Solange, no,” he murmured, pleading for reprieve from the intimacy she offered.

“Come, Noir. I will not leave this bed.”

Cursing, he divested himself of cloak, boots, coat and stock. Striding to her side, he slid in beside her. Once this close, she knew he would do as he had always done when this near to her. He encompassed her in his arms and she lifted her bare leg to curl around his hips and welcome him to her. He did not object, neither did he move.

“You are chilled,” she murmured, a frisson of delight traveling her spine.

“I am never ill.”

“How well I recall. You could eat nothing, hunt for game or scout for soldiers all day and never tire.”

“To weaken is to lose,” he told her, his lips to her forehead, his tone grim. “You went out with Giorgio today.”

“I did,” she offered simply, replaying the tone of Noir’s voice, listening for the jealousy she sought like a starving child.

“What did you learn?”

Her palm upon his chest, she caressed his well-hewn muscles. Then with an indifference she used like a knife, she said, “He wishes to have me as his own.”

Noir snorted. “Bastard. Of course he wants the lovely English woman. So does every man worth his salt in this city.”

Wondering if Noir would admit to counting himself among those men, she snuggled into him and kissed his throat. The aroma of his musk met her nostrils, the fragrance balm to her soul and spur to her desire.

He cupped her nape, holding her still. “You refused him?”

She sighed. “You and I both suspect him of treachery. We have tried to learn his actions and failed. It seems the best course. I concluded I should accept him.”

Noir pulled back, their gazes locked as the lightning struck to illuminate the room. “You do not wish the man.”

“I wish only to complete my work.”

Noir’s arms tightened. “Such sacrifice is not required.”

“Of course it is. You know it. Recount what you have lost since the Terror. Your entire family. Your lands and your–”

His body went rigid. “I did not relinquish those. They were taken from me.”

“And what do you sacrifice to gain any of it back?”

“Do I work for that?” he asked as if he had never before considered it.

“You live in the shadows,” she persisted. ”Running spies in foreign cities. How do you live? Where? Why have I not seen you–” she tempered her tones of sorrow, “–not seen you in years?” She pressed a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He flinched. “You have no idea what I have given to the cause of restoration of my rights.”

She heard the bitterness in his words. “I can imagine, mon cher. I can help you and you must not forbid it.”

“Not to give your body to a man who will not respect you! No!”

She tore from his grasp and rolled to her feet. Naked, she rejoiced when the storm obliged her with another bright strike of lightning. Noir drank her in, like wine for his soul. “You cannot stop me, Etienne.”

“Darling Solange, he is not worthy to touch you.” He sprang from the bed and came round to press her to the wall. “How can you expect me to sanction such an act?”

Her heart leaped at his words. Would that he could stop her and make her his alone. “We must learn who aids Murat in this house. Time grows short. If Murat invades and wins back Naples, Bonaparte can return to the Continent!”

“To hell with Bonaparte!” He took her by the shoulders. “The British sail him off to St. Helena.”

“He escaped them six months ago. He could again!”

“Never!” Noir gave her a shake. “I will not let you take that Italian crow to your bed!”

“You have no say!” she incited him, even as her body flooded with delight.

“I do! I have earned a say. Once, twice and now…”

“Now, what?” She wrenched to be free of him.

“After last night?”

At the memory of their passion, her heart raced. Her nipples hardened. Her pussy pounded, gushing with joy that he would recall them together on her bed. Still, she knew to provoke him or lose the moment. “We shared nothing!” she flung at him. You saw to it.

“We could not!”

“No? You left me wanting, needing–“ She pushed at him, all the hurt she’d experienced fueled her movements. “After all we are to each other and all these years of yearning, you left me, Etienne.”

He yanked her close. “How could I make love to you?”

“How could you not?” she demanded.

“I cannot have you!”

“Who forbids it?”

“My conscience! What if we loved and tomorrow escapes us?”

“Mon cher,” she mourned, “it always did.”

He stared at her, hunger and remorse in his stance and in his eyes, desire. “Why do you think I never came to you before this? Why do you think I ran a courier between us? Why?”

She raised her chin and arched her brows at him.

“I did not want to see you. Not face-to-face. I could not. From afar, I saw enough.” His face fell lax with sorrow. “You were so lovely. Yet you appeared so forlorn. Even as a debutante, you roused men. And as a bride to that idiot Starling, you dazzled. Other men spoke of you. Wished for you. Rejoiced when Starling died, thinking like fools they might attract you.”

“What could you care?” she tossed at him, needing his own declarations of desire.

“Care? I cared. I pined like a boy. Wanted you like a man.” He clamped her so close, she melted at the pressure of his cock against her belly. “As you grew older, after you were widowed, I knew your life and I knew if we met again what would happen between us.”

“Did you? Sure of your charms, are you?” she taunted him, roiled he had purposely stayed away and yet had longed for her.

He crushed her against him. This time, his cock rode her cleft and she whimpered. “No coyness for me, my pet. You and I came to care for each other long ago. When survival depended on trust and mutual responsibility.”

The proof of his desire was a torment and she undulated against him. “Still you deny us both any pleasure.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled so near she could be absorbed into his skin. “The finest bliss I ever knew was with you. The exhilaration of escape. The thrill of victory against all those hundreds who hunted us. The years between our meetings have been so fraught with the perils of ordinary living. And no affection. Or love. How can you refuse the opportunity to seize bliss?”

His expression, so bleak, so stern, shattered. “The devil knows. I do not.”

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Hope you will read all of Solange and Noir’s story--and then try my other Regencies. See www.cerisedeland.com for a full list!

 

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