It’s that time of year again. We’re walking to raise money for research in the hopes that one day my 12 year old daughter, and the many other people with Type 1 Diabetes, can live a more normal life. Over 80% of all donated money to JDRF goes straight to research. In just the four years since my daughter’s diagnoses the artificial pancreas, smart insulin, encapsulation, and other life-altering breakthroughs have gone from “We hope to one-day…” to actual human clinical trials. These specific breakthroughs have been helped along by the JDRF organization and the hard work of thousands of volunteers and fundraising individuals.
I know there are a lot of worthy causes. I realize October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I know it’s so close to the holidays that every penny matters. If you can donate even a single dollar, it would be GREATLY appreciated. Every single donor will be entered to win a $25 Amazon gift card. Donate $20 or more and I will send you a signed book. Just click here to donate and be sure to include your name and email so I know how to contact you.
Blurb: When she’s good, she’s very good. But when he’s bad, she’s better. Taming the Beast, Book 2 As a good fairy, Heather is empathetic and chaste to a fault. No bad language, no dirty thoughts, flirting and no sex. But when a satyr named Daemon steps up to her reception desk at From Crud to Stud, she finds herself on the fast track to exquisite corruption. Daemon is the total bad-boy package with a kiss straight from the dark side. Though he’s here for a supernatural makeover, Heather can’t imagine why any red-blooded woman would want him to change. A disciple of the god of wine, Daemon has had his share of good times. But sex has never been this good. Heather brings out a new side of him, a side that makes him want to protect as well as pillage. But Daemon needs a little creative backup to help set his fairy’s naughtiness free. And that means bringing in Mistress Jin. Under the genie’s tutelage and Daemon’s shameless lust, Heather is about to learn what it means to let loose.
Heather steeled herself to do battle with Satan. Cautiously, she faced her webcam and his image on her computer monitor. This evening, he’d assumed the form of a European playboy, a snifter of cognac held casually in one hand, dark hair slicked back, his blood-red ascot contrasting nicely with his white shirt and navy blazer. He certainly knew how to dress.
“Cara mia.” Heat smoldered in his voice and dark eyes. “What can I do to you?”
“For me,” she corrected gently, wondering when he’d ever get that right.
Grinning, he focused on her white peasant blouse and jutted nipples, her areolas tightened from the chilly weather, not him. Tonight was damp and cool thanks to a spring storm that continued to rage in the French Quarter. Lightning flashed and the office lights flickered. Flames flared briefly in his pupils.
“We’ll do many things to each other, no?”
Heather smiled politely, a knee-jerk reaction for a good fairy. Needing to get tough, she held up his overdue bill, hoping he’d look at it rather than her chest. Her hand shook so badly the paper rattled.
“How you tremble,” he cooed. “How pale you are. Allow me to put some color in your lovely cheeks. Heat that will last an eternity.”
Her skin got even clammier. “Please, just pay your account.” She waved the paper and talked fast before losing her nerve. “Your grandson failed to show for his last two appointments. I’m sure he had a good reason. Unfortunately, he didn’t call to cancel.” She offered an apologetic smile and pressed on. “Because you’re the cardholder, we had to charge you for the time. I’m so sorry, but it is the rule.” One she was honor-bound to enforce as an employee of From Crud to Stud, a makeover service for supernatural beings.
Howls from weres, hisses from vampires and obscenities from demons poured from the treatment rooms. Those poor souls were going through proverbial hell to suppress their beasts. They longed to date mortal women without freaking them out, while also winning their hearts the normal way. With real charm, not magic, with integrity and love, not lies and manipulation. But these makeovers took the staff’s valuable time and clients needed to pay for the effort. Even Satan should understand that.
He gave her an indulgent smile. “What charges?”
Gasping, she dropped the flaming paper in her trashcan before it burnt her fingers.
“Later,” he said and killed the call.
Hurriedly, Heather put out the small blaze, chiding herself for letting the account get to this point. She should have been firm with Satan’s grandson when he signed up for the service. Determined to make up for being too nice, she brought up her bank account to pay the charges herself. She was about to transfer the funds when the lights flickered twice, thunder boomed and the front door flew open, banging against the wall. She flinched. A blast of dank air and rain blew inside, followed by a guy who looked to be thirty or so. He wore a black cowboy hat, snug navy tee, low-slung jeans and cowboy boots. Once he shoved the door shut, he slumped against it, breathing hard.
Heather stood so quickly her chair rolled into the wall. He didn’t notice. He’d closed his eyes and raised his face to the ceiling, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with his hard swallow. Alarmed yet intrigued, she regarded the short, dark hairs on his throat and took the rest of him in. His rain-dampened hair was the color of dark chocolate, thick and wavy, flowing to his broad shoulders. They heaved with his next ragged breath. Tall, possibly six-three, he was lean yet muscular. His wet tee clung to his well-defined pecs and abs, those bruising biceps. Stubble covered his strong jaw, upper lip and cheeks. His bronze skin spoke of days in the sun.
Even from where she stood, Heather smelled his scent. Clean and masculine, a woodsy, fresh fragrance along with something else…the unmistakable odor of liquor. Uh-oh. It wasn’t often that mortals, drunk or otherwise, happened upon this place. When they did, Heather had ironclad rules to follow. First, buzz Constance, a voodoo priestess who could remove memories by laying her hands on someone’s head. Following that, Heather was supposed to buzz Becca, a half-mortal witch who owned this place. Heather leaned over her desk to press the intercom button. The guy turned to her, blinked slowly and stared. Her hand stalled. His eyes were amazing, the color of Lipton tea, ringed by long, sooty lashes, his attention riveted as he drank her in. Given his slow, sexy smile, Heather suspected he was undressing her with his eyes. She swallowed and was about to press the button when he groaned suddenly and mournfully, the sound of someone in serious pain.
About Me (You know you want to know!): I’m an award-winning, bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance for Kensington, Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Siren Publishing, Booktrope, Luminosity, Decadent, and indie. Yay! Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic Times and numerous online sites have praised my work, and trust me, I’m forever grateful for that. I’ve had my books reach finals in the EPIC competition, one title was named Book of the Year at a review site, and others have won awards in RWA-sponsored contests. I’m actually featured in the 2012 Novel & Short Story Writer’s Market. Talk about feeling like a freaking star. Before my writing career, I was the editor of an award–winning Midwestern newspaper and worked in Story Direction for a Hollywood production company. Outside of being an admitted and unrepentant chocoholic, I’ve flown a single-engine plane (scary stuff), rewired an old house using an electricity for dummies book, and have been known to moan like Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally whenever I’m eating anything Mexican or Italian. Yeah, I like to eat (burp). You can check me out here – yes, I am everywhere! 🙂
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