So far January is turning out to be rather nice
I’m happy to say that the first week of 2016 has been enjoyable around Casa Cameron. Ramón is still looking for work, which is a bit of a fly in the ointment, but he’s ridiculously talented and I have faith he’ll have a job toot sweet. He’s keeping busy with various electronics stuff in his Fortress of Solitude, and we’ve received shipments of arcane computing gear that have had him grinning in anticipation. I can’t tell if he’s building a quantum computer, a transporter, or a new machine for dispensing kitty kibble, but he’s busy and that’s all that matters.
In personal news, my buds Karl and Colby came to town on Monday and we wound up having beer and hard cider at Whole Foods (we were supposed to have lunch at Tallywackers but it’s closed on Mondays and the WF down the street had a mini bar area in their beer and wine section) with their friend and Colby’s traveling companion Oliver. Two hours of listening to details of Colby and Oliver’s new religion, Karl talking about his plans to make a documentary about women who like gay porn, M/M romance, and the like, and laughing like drains was wonderful.
On the writing front Empress of Storms continues to sell well, I’m back at work on Cross Current and Behind the Iron Cross, and I’m mulling over the plot for an Empress sequel. I have also purchased an absolutely ridiculous amount of yarn and have four projects going in the living room alone. Expect pictures of socks, shawls, and fingerless gloves in the very near future.
And to those fellow Eastern Orthodox folks who celebrate, Merry Christmas!
Welp, that’s it
Empress of Storms is officially in the black. As of today I’ve made $297.55, which pays off the production and promotion costs (which were $297.56, but I just made another sale according to Amazon so I figure that penny is covered).
And sales have been really picking up since December 5, as well — don’t know if that’s due to advertising, word of mouth, or what, but I’m damn grateful for it. According to Amazon, All Romance eBooks and Smashwords I’ve sold 204 units so far (won’t get reports from Smashwords’s associates for another quarter). The only way this could get any better would be if people left reviews on Amazon, Goodreads, etc. but that’s out of my hands (and it’s been a really busy month for a lot of people, too. Hopefully they’ll have more time in January).
Although I did get that five star review and top pick from Night Owl Reviews, bless them.
So yeah, 2015 is going out on a high note. Let’s see what 2016 has.
News about Breaker Zone and Empress of Storms
As of tonight, Breaker Zone is in the lead for Book of the Year at The TBR Pile (if you haven’t voted yet, there’s still time). For it to win 2015 Book of the Year would be utterly awesome, and I want to send a HUGE thank you to everyone who voted for it — you people rock so hard, you make AC/DC look like a garage band.
Now, switching gears: according to the three online vendors to which I have reporting access, Empress of Storms has earned back 100% of production costs and 95% of promotion costs (in less than two months, to boot). If I sell three copies tomorrow, it’s in the clear and everything after that goes into savings for RT in April.
So another thank you goes out to EVERYONE who’s bought a copy, left reviews, or asked me when the sequel is coming out (right now, that looks like summer 2016. I’m still noodling about the title, but remember that clever and dangerous prince from Illium that Flavia was pushing as a possible husband? He’s going to show up in Hellas with his sarcastic manservant and throw himself on Danaë’s mercy after one of his older brothers drops dead. Meanwhile, the Pauwels are continuing to make life difficult for Matthias, mainly by trying to get him to declare Luna as his heir since Danaë isn’t pregnant yet. And hijinks ensue!).
And of course I need to work on Cross Current (Olympic Cove 4), and there’s the Trickster sequel to finish, and I really want to do another story with Rory and Dmitri, and I wouldn’t mind doing a Bully Boys novel either.
But all that will happen in 2016. For now, you are all in the will, and I adore you to bitty pieces. MWAH!
Breaker Zone up for Book of the Year at The TBR Pile!
Calling all Breaker Zone fans! I just found out that book Two in the Olympic Cove series is up for Book of the Year over at The TBR Pile!
This is where you come in — I need you to go and vote for me. No registration is required, just a click of your mouse button. (Plus you would earn my undying gratitude by voting for me because the second half of this year has been sort of crap on the personal front and wining Book of the Year would do wonders for my peace of mind). So please go and vote for Breaker Zone, and I thank you for your support!
P.S. Empress of Storms has now paid off 100% of its production costs and 70% of its promotion costs. I may well break even before the end of the year — woohoo!
A look at the numbers behind Empress of Storms
As I sit here taking a break from Christmas preparations (today’s arts and crafts section included making 22 wired ribbon bows for the tree with on-sale Christmas ribbon, floral wire, hot glue, and the not really needed assistance of my cat Jemma. Still, 22 tree ribbons for $7.60 — BOOYAH), I decided to take a look at the sales figures for Empress. I’m very happy to note that it’s made sales every day, and it’s sold in the US, the UK, Canada, Germany, and Australia so far, which means my legion of readers is growing, muwahahahaha.
Then I got down to business and crunched numbers. My entire production cost for the ebook and print book was $120, and advertising, giveaways, tchotchkes et al racked up another $177.56. So far based on the numbers I’ve gotten from Amazon, All Romance eBooks and Smashwords (I can’t see numbers from Smashwords’s partners and won’t get those figures until February at the earliest) income from the book has completely paid for production and 42% of the marketing budget. Considering that I’ve never written high fantasy before in my life, Empress is an MF book so my MM readers probably aren’t going to be interested, and this is the first Nicola M. Cameron outing so those who don’t know me are taking a chance on a “new” author, I’m kinda pleased with this. Yes, it’s not a huge amount of money, but frankly Empress was, as Ramón put it, supposed to be a quota quickie, 
something I just did to win a challenge. It turned out to be way more popular than I expected, and more and more people are asking for sequels so I should be making more money once Book Two and Three are out in 2016.
Yes, there will be sequels. Yes, I’ll be finishing the Olympic Cove series as well. No, I’m not going to stop writing MM, just expand my horizon a little. And hey, I may even be writing some non-erotic SF novels in 2016 as well! Because sleep is for the weak, muwahahahahaha…
Okay, back to the decorating, tra la…
Wicked Wednesday Reads: Cupid #holiday #christmas #erotica #romance #shifter #paranormal #pnr
Whee, it’s Wednesday and Christmas is right around the corner! Let’s celebrate this with Lucy Felthouse and her delightful new holiday romance, Cupid, now available from Evernight Publishing and other online retailers of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Lucy!
As a postman by day, and one of Santa’s reindeer on a single very special night, Cassius Cupid eats, sleeps, and breathes deliveries. He doesn’t mind, but sometimes wishes that someone would send him something more exciting than bills and junk mail.
One cold January morning, Cassius gets his wish. A young woman arrives with a parcel. Turns out it’s for his housemate – but Cassius doesn’t care. All he’s interested in is Carina – the beautiful female courier.
Has Cupid finally met his match?
Story Excerpt
Cassius Cupid woke with a start, and then sat bolt upright in his bed. Shit, I’m going to be late! was his first thought.
Milliseconds later his brain switched on, and he remembered. He was on holiday. Flopping back onto the warm mattress and pillows with a contented sigh, he smiled. No work for fourteen whole days—it was going to be utter bliss. He stretched, relishing the feeling it created in his sleep-softened muscles. Ahhh…this is the life.
He knew he wouldn’t go back to sleep—hell, it was eight o’clock, which was practically the middle of the day for someone in his profession—so Cassius fell to thinking about how he was going to spend his day, not to mention the several others in front of him. God knew he deserved to relax and have some fun. He’d just emerged from the busiest part of his year, and he was more than ready to do some chilling out.
He enjoyed his job as a postman—he really did—but the Christmas period was a total killer. He idly wondered how many cards and presents he’d delivered over the past few weeks. It didn’t bear thinking about. Once you factored in the festive period itself, the weird few days between Christmas and New Year, and then the flurry of mail that got sent when everyone went back to work properly at the beginning of January, he’d racked up some serious deliveries. And that was before you even thought about his other job—which was for just one day a year, but was arguably more important than the other 364 put together.
Cassius—or Cupid, as he was known to his boss and colleagues in his second, but most important job—was not only a regular postman for the Royal Mail, but also a reindeer. For a single day of the year, Cassius had the supernatural power to transform into one of Santa’s faithful steeds and help pull that famous magical sleigh, delivering presents to excited children the world over.
Therefore, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Cassius really did eat, sleep and breathe deliveries, but not for the next fourteen days. All he planned to do was watch some TV, read some books, maybe go out hiking, meet some friends… basically anything that wasn’t delivering something to someone. Hey, he might even receive something through the post himself—preferably not the usual crap; bills and junk mail. He didn’t hold out much hope.
He lounged in bed for another ten minutes before realising he was lying there just for the sake of it. Being on holiday didn’t have to equal staying in bed all day—and certainly not for someone as active as him. He reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his glasses and put them on. Throwing off his thick duvet, he walked to his bedroom window and peeked out through the curtains, immediately glad of the effective central heating he and his housemate had forked out to have installed the previous year.
The outside world was covered in a thick layer of snow, and Cassius was mightily glad that he wasn’t out delivering letters and parcels. The stuff was treacherous enough without having to carry a heavy bag up and down driveways, paths, and pavements — most of which either hadn’t been cleared, or had been cleared badly, leaving incredibly slippery patches of ground for an unsuspecting postie to come across. God knows he’d gone down enough times, but, much to his relief, nobody had ever seen him do it. He’d always been relatively unharmed—excerpt for his pride, of course—and had been able to scramble back to his feet and carry on.
The eerie silence outside was broken by the rumble of an engine, and Cassius turned his head to look up the street—he lived in a cul-de-sac, so he knew that’s where the vehicle would come from—and watched as a delivery van made its way slowly and carefully down the road. He hoped the driver was sensible enough to try and steer over the thickest parts of the snow—the more people went over and over the same patches, packing it down, the more the road surface resembled an ice rink. And since the cul-de-sac was on a slight hill, it was easy enough to get stuck. He’d seen it so many times—even going outside one time last winter to suggest the driver go down to the bottom of the road, turn around and try reversing up the hill—an almost foolproof plan for vans with rear-wheel drive. He’d gotten a big thumbs-up for that suggestion as the driver finally got to the junction where the road became flat, and went on his merry way.
As the van drew closer to his house, he saw that the driver was a woman. That would explain her cautious driving—he’d never admit it to one of his drinking buddies, but women were far superior when it came to driving in adverse weather conditions. He even thought he’d seen some survey containing statistics that proved it.
Where to Buy
Evernight Publishing
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand
Goodreads
Abo
ut Lucy Felthouse
Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over 140 publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include several editions of Best Bondage Erotica, Best Women’s Erotica 2013 and Best Erotic Romance 2014. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies, and also edits for a small publishing house. She owns Erotica For All, is book editor for Cliterati, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9.
Christmas Prep, The Force Awakens, and why I need clonazepam
What the To Do list looks like so far:
- Finish manuscript editing for two friends – in progress.
- Finish video editing for another friend – in progress.
- Haul all the laundry upstairs and put it away – in progress.
- Clean the house from top to bottom – front rooms are clean, I’m doing the guest room and downstairs bath today, living room tomorrow, and kitchen on Wednesday. Upstairs will just have to wait.
- Put up Christmas decorations – tonight.
- Finish Behind the Iron Cross, get off to agent – obviously not this year.
- Finish Cross Current, get off to Evernight – ditto.
- Do ebook/paperback cover for client, format book interior – probably this weekend.
- Update website for another client – nights this week.
- Rake leaves in front yard – hahahahahahahaha…
In other news, folks in Australia have just started buying Empress of Storms. So whoever that is, thank you and recommend it to your friends, please.
In other OTHER news, yes, I saw SW:TFA. No, I’m not going to invoke shitty karma by giving you spoilers. All I will say is that Daisy Ridley, John Boyega, Oscar Isaacs, and Adam Driver were superb casting choices, Daniel Craig does a good American accent, I cheered and gasped at all the right places, and J.J. Abrams has issues with scale on a planetary level. You’ll know what I mean when you watch the movie.
And I suppose I don’t need clonazepam. It would just be nice to have some right now. The bills are all paid, I still have money in my checking account, and Ramón got a honest-to-Cthulhu Christmas miracle and got a final bonus from his ex-employer so we’ll be okay through January. Things could be a hell of a lot worse right now. I’m just tired of trying to clean the house by myself, stop the daily cat fights, keep Ramón’s spirits up while he job hunts, sell enough jewelry to clear off the Amex bill, and be a good friend and listen to other people vent. There isn’t going to be any Christmas spirit here this year, but if I get through it in one piece that will be good enough.
Marvelous Monday Reads: Dragon’s Honor #freeARC
Happy Monday, folks! Today I have Michaela Kendrick on to talk about her new book Dragon’s Honor, now available from Amazon. For a FREE review copy of Dragon’s Honor, email Michaela at mkendrickauthor@gmail.com.
Set in a far-distant future, the Dragon Corps Series follows the members of the Human Alliance’s most feared fighting unit. Across the vast distances of space, the Dragons maintain justice and peace.
But the cost is high. Cade Williams, a soldier with the potential to become a living legend, left the Corps after a mission that claimed not only the life of his target, a slave trader, but also the lives of every slave on the man’s ship. Vowing never again to kill, Cade has spent the last two years trying to put his past behind him. But when he finally runs out of options, it’s Talon Rift, his former commanding officer who finds him in the slums – and offers him a nice, easy job guarding Aryn Beranek, one of society’s richest woman.
Starving and desperate, Cade takes the job – and realizes the moment he sees Aryn that he’s made a terrible mistake. Not only does he want her more than he’s ever wanted anyone, her husband is the arms trafficker supplying the legendary despot known only as the Warlord of Ymir. And when the truth about her husband comes out, Aryn’s search for justice will force Cade to confront the one man he fears the most: himself.
From the slums of New Arizona to the mines of Ymir, Dragon’s Honor follows the journey of a man determined to save the only woman he has ever loved – a woman who has already decided to sacrifice herself to kill the Warlord.
Story Excerpt
“Cade Williams?”
The words came through the haze of smoke and drunkenness like a hallucination. Cade knew that voice. He was never, ever going to be able to forget that voice, and it had to be a hallucination because there was no way in hell the owner of that voice had chased him across three systems only to walk into a dive bar on the lower streets of New Arizona. So he went back to his drink.
He picked up the glass and stared at it. It was a scotch he’d been nursing for about three hours now, and not just because “scotch” seemed to be a loose term for colored grain alcohol. When he finished his drink, he had nowhere to go. And in the ever-drifting snow of New Arizona—he’d never figured out if the name was born of ignorance or irony—he needed to stay indoors as long as possible. The cold was fierce, and whatever acid was in the water on this planet, it would burn his skin raw in less than a night.
And if he didn’t get ten thousand credits to Osiris within a week, he was a dead man. But one thing at a time. Cade shook his head and let the moment slide away from him, a tiny drift into memory and nothing more.
“Williams,” the voice said again.
That was definitely not a hallucination. Cade’s eyes traveled along the arm that had come down on one side of him. Callused fingertips, last joint of the right index finger missing, the hint of a tattoo poking out from under a blue cuff. The arm underneath the suit jacket was well muscled, leading to broad shoulders and a clean-shaven jaw, and with a sinking feeling of dread, Cade looked up at one of his worst nightmares.
“Lieutenant Rift.”
“Actually, it’s Major now.” Talon’s face was expressionless, as it almost always was. He watched as Cade’s eyes traveled over the understated suit, across the planes of the handsome face. At last, sensing the question Cade would never ask, he flipped over the hand on his resting arm. There, glimmering in the faint light, were blood-red cufflinks.
A Dragon always wore red.
Talon absorbed Cade’s bitter smile in silence.
“You look surprisingly well.” Cade looked down into his scotch and considered drinking the rest in one gulp. The pours in this bar were generous, and with the alcohol being of dubious provenance, a gulp might well kill him. Right now, that wasn’t seeming so bad. It was all coming back to him—without warning, as it always did. He’d known the moment he heard the voice that this was going to be a bad night, even worse than he’d thought—and he’d already thought it would be pretty bad. There was screaming at the corner of his mind, the flashing of the lights in the bar taking on a reddish hue, the emergency exit sign too clear a reminder.
He closed his eyes, clenching his jaw until he thought his teeth would give way. He had to keep breathing, or the memories would take him, and the world would devolve into the chaotic mess he so feared, every face reminding him of the pods, the children pounding on the glass—
He was going to be sick. His stomach heaved.
“Should I go?”
“No.” Cade’s answer surprised even him. He opened his eyes and looked down into his drink again. He could force the world back into its neat shapes if he tried hard enough. In the vacuum of space, in the long silences of a courier’s job, he’d learned to face his fear and press it away.
He could face this, too.
“Okay.” Talon sat, pulled reflexively at both cuffs, and looked over at the bartender. “What won’t kill me here?”
“Don’t try the scotch.”
“Noted.”
Where to Buy
About Michaela Kendrick
Raised on the Dragon Riders of Pern, Star Wars, Star Trek, and a whole bunch of historical romances, Michaela grew up adoring the adventure of Science Fiction and the passion of a good love story. Filled with double crossing, grand romantic gestures, sarcasm, and plenty of heat, Michaela’s books are just the sort of thing she wants to read herself!
Nicola’s Sunday Shoutout: Liv Rancourt
Today’s Sunday Shoutout goes to Liv Rancourt and her delicious new erotic romance The Secret of Obedience, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Liv!
Ronnie Durand is a country boy who transfers to the University of Washington after two years at Central. He’ll have to give up playing football, though finishing his education at a major university in Seattle – and being out and proud without having to look over his shoulder – makes the sacrifice worthwhile.
But finding friends at a huge school is tough, especially when the hottest guy Ronnie meets makes him doubt his own sanity.
Sang’s been on his own a long time. He’s only a couple steps away from living on the street, and he’s got dreams so big they don’t leave space for a steady boyfriend. Then he meets Ronnie, who just might be strong enough to break through his barriers….as long as Sang lets him in on one big secret.
Story Excerpt
Sang wants to spin, to expand into the space. He shows his desire in the way he raises his arms and sweeps the floor with his gaze. He’s wearing a simple white wife-beater over his jeans, but it’s topped with a long navy double-breasted coat with gold trim, the kind of thing worn by Union soldiers in the Civil War. It fits like it was made for him, and my palms burn to touch it.
I move deeper onto the dance floor. I’m broader, wider, and the crowd packs tightly around me. I get as close to Sang as he’ll let me, belly to belly. He’s only about 5’4″, and when he turns his back, he presses his ass against my thigh.
I take it as an invitation. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, I let the other wander. He reaches behind, grabbing handfuls of the denim wrapping my legs. I stroke his throat, bend down to tell him how pretty he is, chicken out and do nothing but breathe in his ear.
Bodies crush, sweaty and raw, shifting us to the center of the floor. My dick’s engaged in an argument with the fly of my jeans. I let my hand drift lower, across Sang’s chest. His small nub of a nipple hardens under my fingertips, but no softness surrounds it. If he’s really a girl, he totally got shortchanged. I sweep my fingers wider. Nah, these pecs belong on a man.
I move my hand lower, going slow, giving him time to stop me. I stick my thumb into a belt loop. He grabs my wrist, tight.
“What?” I ask. The bare, light toast skin of his neck is inches from my lips. I could taste him. I want to. Over the stink of sweat and too many colognes I smell him, some warm spice scent like the incense Mom used to burn.
He brings his mouth within kissing distance. “Don’t.”
“What you got under the hood, pretty? You packing a V6 or a V8?” I want to kiss him, to taste him, to admire this perfect jewel of a person.
“V6 or V8.” He grins, and it’s the curve of his lower lip when he smiles that I’ll remember, like his mouth is held by a chalice. “Does it really matter?” he asks.
It does, but not in the way he thinks. I leave off my search, but don’t move my hand from his belt. See, my stepdad threw me into football when I was eight. I was good at it, good enough nobody messed with me. The locker room’s not known for being a gay-friendly place, but being able to dead lift 280 pounds at age fifteen bought me some peace.
I’m still a guy, though, and I like lovers who are smaller and prettier than me. Call me a cave man. Whatever. Sang is my small-town boy’s fantasy, and the press of his body has me so turned on I’d think about doing him even if he’s actually a she.
My fingers are trembling with the need to touch, to know.
“Come on, Sugar Cookie. Does it matter?”
I lean in, drawn like his lips are the center of a flower and I’m one very horny bee.
“Oh no.” He jerks away, his gorgeous smile extinguished. “No kissing. I don’t kiss strangers.”
Puzzled, I reach out. He’s hemmed in by the crowd, so it’s nothing to loop my fingers under his shirt and draw him closer. “No kissing, then.” Some guys are like that. He rocks against me, straddling my thigh, giving me a taste of the hardness in his groin. Hell yeah.
“Is your ID legal?” Because somehow it matters that he’s at least 21. I can’t keep the grin off my face. His dick is going to be gorgeous, and I’m going to suck it, and he’s going to scream.
“Of course.” He’s not frowning anymore. He’s sly and shimmering and a little mean. “I do love a man in cowboy boots. The rest of it…” He brushes his hands down the sleeves of my plain white t-shirt. “Not so much. But I’ll do you for your boots.”
I get both hands around his waist and drag him further up my leg. He hangs onto a handful of my shirt. I’m not sure his feet are even on the floor. The song changes, or maybe it doesn’t. They all sound the same. My cock is pressed against him hard enough to make me grit my teeth. “Let’s go.”
His heavy eyelids drift down until he has to tip his head to maintain eye contact. “Bathroom?”
I guess it’s that or an alley. “Sure.”
He grabs my wrist roughly and leads me through the disorganized crowd. We go right past the men’s room to the women’s. “Less crowded,” he says over his shoulder.
The restroom smells like piss and semen and sweat. We find a stall, and I get down on my knees before he can argue. The floor is sticky, but I figure I can’t catch anything too scary through my knees, and from there I can nuzzle his belly.
“Are you always like this? I like a nice toppy guy, you know, but he’s gotta be able to—”
I don’t hear what he thinks a guy’s gotta do seeing as I’ve covered his mouth with my hand, smearing gritty sticky lipgloss with my fingers. The bossy little fuck has just dragged me in here like I’m some kind of prized bull, and now he’s gonna whine about me? There are crinkles of laughter at the corners of his eyes.
“Sang?” I’m not sure what the question is. The door to the stall is at my back, and I’m wrestling with the buttons on his very tight jeans. “Hey, I’m new in town. You should treat me like a guest and let me do what I want.”
He drags my hand away. “Now you just wait a minute. What do you think I’m going to let you do? Because if you do anything I don’t want, I’m going to scream.”
“You’ll scream, all right.”
Where To Buy
Evernight
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
Barnes & Noble
About Liv Rancourt
I write romance: m/f, m/m, and v/h, where the h is for human and the v is for vampire … or sometimes demon … I lean more towards funny than angst. When I’m not writing I take care of tiny premature babies or teenagers, depending on whether I’m at home or at work. My husband is a soul of patience, my dog’s cuteness is legendary, and we share the homestead with three ferrets. Who steal things. Because they’re brats.
I can be found on-line at all hours of the day and night at my website & blog (www.liv-rancourt.blogspot.com), on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/liv.rancourt), or on Twitter (http://www.twitter.com/LivRancourt). For sneak peeks and previews and other assorted freebies, go HERE to sign up for my mailing list.
Come find me. We’ll have fun!
Fabulous Friday Reads: Donner and Prancer
TGIF! It’s never too early to start getting into the holiday mood, so let’s kick off the weekend with Robin Badillo’s delicious new Romance on the Go Donner and Prancer, now available from Evernight Publishing and other purveyors of fine erotic romance. Take it away, Robin!
Noah Donner had it all. Good looks, great job, and a kick-ass gift. As a special breed of shifter, every Christmas Eve he assisted Santa as one of his famous reindeer. A lover of all women, he’s the quintessential playboy. But all that changed within weeks of Christmas, when he found himself drawn to another reindeer shifter, Mira Prancer.
Not exactly sleek reindeer material, full-figured Mira took pride in her gift as a shifter, while not nearly as confident about herself when in human form. Usually a timid wallflower, Mira is surprised to learn she’s Noah’s latest target, and after a drunken night of unexpected passion, they find themselves in a quandary.
Neither can deny the attraction, but Mira will need more than words to trust the sexy Casanova.
Can the two love-struck shifters play nice? Or will this little Reindeer Game require a little Christmas magic?
Story Excerpt
Noah nudged her against the door, closing it behind them.
Mira gasped. His smoldering expression turned her stomach upside down, and heat pooled between her legs. Had he cast a spell, stealing away her ability to escape? Her skin tingled at the thought of giving in to his silent intent.
Noah’s hands found her midsection and needy eyes drank her in as though she were a mug of hot, buttered rum on a cold winter’s night.
I’ve totally lost my mind. “Is this really happening?” Did I say that aloud?
Noah’s eyes gleamed and a mischievous grin spread across his face. “Oh, it’s happening.” He slowly leaned in, and his lips grazed hers, immediately followed by his tongue. Warm swipes plunged deeper with each pass, triggering moisture that dampened her panties.
Mira’s knees buckled and Noah scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the sofa as though she weighed next to nothing.
His kisses grew more passionate. Deeper. Hungrier.
Mira could hardly catch her breath. This was crazy. Insane. “Get the fuck out!”
Noah stopped. A look of confusion and shock flashed in his eyes. “What?”
Mira laughed, covering her mouth as heat rushed to her cheeks. “I’m sorry. That sort of slips out whenever I’m surprised.”
Noah’s brow pinched. “You’re surprised?”
She bit back another laugh and went with an enthusiastic nod instead.
“Why?”
Mira’s head spun and she strained to sit upright. How could she explain this? “Men like you don’t come home with women like me, Noah.”
He shook his head. “Why?”
He sounded like a broken record now.
“Be-because,” she said stammering through her reply. “Look at you.”
Noah rose and stood by the sofa, gazing down at her. “What about me?”
“Uh … well, you’re built like a Greek god and you have a reputation as a …” She searched for the correct words—words that held a little more delicacy than man-whore. “Ladies’ man?”
“Humph.” He rested his hands on his hips. “Ladies’ man, huh?”
“I was being polite.” Mira squirmed.
Noah’s eyebrows arched high. “Is that so?” He folded his arms across his chest. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel, Mira?”
Bile shot up in the back of her throat as her nervous demeanor morphed into one a little more hostile. “How I really feel?” Dozens of irritating things about the man came to mind. Everything from his obnoxious, too-loud laugh, to the ugly reindeer sweater he wore, to the Christmas party every friggin’ year. “Well … for starters, you brag about your conquests entirely too much.” She’d keep her comments limited to the facts rather than opinions. “You treat women like trophies and well … you seem to have a serious problem with my ass.” The last part flew out of her mouth so fast she had no time to reel it back in.
Where to Buy
Evernight
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About Robin Badillo
Robin Badillo and her pseudonym, Tyler Robbins, is a down to earth mother of four, born and raised in a small Texas town where she still resides with her nearly grown kids and a pack of spoiled dogs.
After years of being a wife and mom, complete with company picnics and fundraisers for the P.T.A., Robin found herself starting over when her husband of fifteen years suddenly passed away. With no particular skills to speak of other than making killer chili con queso, Robin took the advice of friends and family, and followed her heart and passion for writing into the publishing world.
A fan of paranormal and southern romance novels, Robin does her best to offer up a plethora of tasty morsels to satisfy her readers’ appetite. Whether mainstream and/or paranormal erotic romance or Tyler’s LGBT romance line, Robin strives to create characters who are endearing and relatable.
Adversity is Robin’s motivation, which explains why she’s a true believer that grey hair is simply God’s graffiti.
Nicola Cameron Writes 