Monday, May 30, 2011

New Release Party: In Her Closet by T. Harrison


Welcome to the release party of In Her Closet by T. Harrison

What's it about? I'm glad you asked!! Here's the blurb:

Fresh off of a night of anonymous sex we join Yves Santiago on the curb for a cigarette. Yves is a self-proclaimed slut who vows to live her life as carelessly as a man and make no apologies for any of it--though her meddling mother and ex-fiancé seem intent on making it difficult for her to do so. She’s determined to avoid anything that looks even remotely like love and escapes most encounters with her heart and her pride intact.

Then she meets Elijah Weinstein…

Elijah saunters in like a dream proclaiming to be the next great love of her life--a declaration that Yves finds ridiculous, though it doesn't make him any less enticing. With his mossy green eyes, broad, sun-kissed shoulders and a mouth so sensual that it should have an NC-17 rating, Elijah Weinstein is damn near irresistible. She willingly accepts his challenge, certain she will be able to get what she wants without relinquishing her heart.

Want more? Check out this excerpt in our Goddess Fish Excerpt Library.

And remember, T. will be giving away a Kindle during her tour -- so let us know what you think about In Her Closet right here on the party blog and be entered to win!

Follow the rest of her tour and comment for more entries. The complete list of her stops can be found here.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011



Welcome to the release party of Their Lady Gloriana by Starla Kaye.

What's it about? I'm glad you asked!! Here's the blurb:

Think medieval times when honorable men must do what is required of them. Thomas Lancaster, a widower with bad memories of marriage and a young son he barely knows, is a hardened knight loyal to his king. In reward for his efforts fighting in the Crusades, King Edward gives him Middlemound Castle to hold for the crown. But he must marry the beautiful young widow of the castle’s previous lord.

Lady Gloriana Stewart suffered brutally in her first marriage and has no desire to marry again. She has no choice and must protect her people and obey her king. All she wants is for her new husband to give her a baby. Thomas refuses to even consider it.

Complicating the situation is Sir Rowan Montgomery, Thomas’s first knight, friend, and lover. Complicating the problem even more, Gloriana has feelings for both her new husband and for Rowan.

Want more? Check out this excerpt in our Goddess Fish Excerpt Library.

More? View the THEIR LADY GLORIANA book video in the Goddess Fish Video Library.

And remember, Starla will be giving away a piece of medieval-styled jewelry during her tour -- so let us know what you think about BOOK Their Lady Gloriana right here on the party blog and be entered to win!

Follow the rest of her tour and comment for more entries. The complete list of her stops can be found here.

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

Congratulations to our New Release Party GC winner!!

On Monday, we had a huge New Release Party bash and awarded a $10 Amazon GC to one lucky commenter. selected:

June M. !!!!!!!!!!!

Congrats, June!

Thanks for playing and don't forget to check back the first Monday of June for another party.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

New Release Party:Trust In Me by Lori Toland


Welcome to the release party of Trust In Me by Lori Toland.

What's it about? I'm glad you asked!! Here's the blurb:

When Tristan takes over for a sick employee, he runs into an old high school crush. Ten years after a summer fling with Jamie, left him with a broken heart, Tristan's got a different view of it; will he push away the only man he's ever loved?

Want more? Check out this excerpt in our Goddess Fish Excerpt Library.

More? View the Trust in Me book video in the Goddess Fish Video Library.

And remember, Lori will be giving away a $25 gift card from Amazon, B&N or Loose Id and a copy of her book to one randomly drawn commenter during her tour -- so let us know what you think about Trust in Me right here on the party blog and be entered to win!

Follow the rest of her tour and comment for more entries. The complete list of her stops can be found here.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Win a $10 Amazon GC today only!

We're giving away a $10 Amazon GC to someone who leaves a comment on the party posts today! So read and comment often.

Also, I know that several of the authors are also holding giveaways, so check back throughout the day to visit and enter.

Good luck!

NOTE: This post is "sticky" and will remain at the top, so look below for new posts. Thanks :-)

Calen (BK 1 My Soul To Keep Trilogy) by Rie McGaha


When Calen MacLeod begins having dreams of an ethereal beauty who beckons to him, he passes it off as just having an itch he hasn't scratched in a long time. But when he leaves on a journey to find her, following the directions she's given him in his dreams, he begins to doubt his sanity. And when he finds himself high in the Mackinaw Mountains in a secret fortress with unicorns and a pink and white castle, surrounded by women, each one more beautiful than the next, it's a fantasy no man would want to wake up from. But Arianna is the only woman for Calen.

The women of the Fortress have lived in peace, hidden away from the humans who tried to annihilate them all. But now a 500-year-old demon is out to destroy the women's matriarch, Ariella, and he'll stop at nothing to complete his mission. When Calen MacLeod shows up, he throws a wrench into Damon's plans. Never let it be said Damon isn't ready for anything, but when he kidnaps Arianna and takes her to modern day San Francisco, is he ready to meet Calen, who will stop at nothing to save his ladylove?

Calen by Rie McGaha - EXCERPT

After five hundred years, Damon finally had his chance to exact revenge on the women who'd enchanted him and left him trapped within his own body in that dark, damp cave. Kept in a twilight dream state of being, he hadn't really been aware of his physical condition except in a very remote way, but he'd had the ability to dream-think about the witches in the secret Fortress. Five hundred years had given him plenty of time to plot how he would finish Ariella and be rid of the Fortress forever.
The corner of his mouth began to curve into something between a smile and a sneer as he thought of how he'd killed Alliana. She had been so invitingly bent over the stump. All that white skin just begging for his touch… and how he'd touched her. He could still see the red welts left across her white skin as he whipped her, and the sounds she had made drove him crazy.
Now, as he thought of Ariella, the fantasy came back full force. She had come willingly to his bed at one time, and before he was finished, she'd be there again. Willingly or otherwise. Once he found and killed the boy, he'd save Ariella for last so he could take his time with her. By the time he was done, she'd beg him to kill her, and hearing her beg for death would take him higher than any other woman had.
With two dozen men willing to follow him anywhere for the promise of gold, he couldn't lose. Besides, Damon wouldn't tolerate anything less than complete loyalty. Every man under him had witnessed what he'd done to Talbert. Damon smiled now, in much the same manner as he had when he'd dismembered Talbert. He'd sliced the man's limbs from his body… while he was still alive. He liked Talbert, but when the man had tried to take half of the booty they'd stolen, what choice did he have?
"Let's go," Damon shouted. "We have to find the boy." He did not know the child's name, but he would recognize him. All the witches from the Fortress looked enough alike. No doubt the child would have similar physical traits. The women's hair color might vary somewhat, but their facial features were strikingly similar. The men, however, were all golden from the top of their golden heads to the bottom of their golden feet. Their eyes were all as blue as the summer sky, and Damon had no doubt he would know who the witch's child was as soon as he saw him. He thought the boy must be of an age between two and five, or perhaps six, and he would tear every house down to find him if necessary.

The REBEL HEART returns

Publisher: XoXo Publishing


Nick Red Cloud is a man content and at ease with his life. He does a job he loves, and enjoys the freedom of his motorcycles and all life has to offer. He's a private investigator, and a damn good one. When he's hired to find Francesca Daniels, he has no way of knowing that his life is about to change when the vulnerable and reclusive Frankie permits him to spend the night in her home, and his presence unleashes a nightmare in her world. As the pieces began to fall into place, Nick realizes he has placed the woman he's falling in love with in danger that might take her from him forever. It takes all his powers of persuasion and courage to tame Francesca's rebel heart and make her know that the passion they share can be the start of forever for both of them.


She was double-checking the Jetta when she heard the distant rumble of an engine. Panic leapt into her throat, the reaction involuntary. Squinting, she turned toward the noise and tried to stay calm. In less than a minute the rumble of sound became more distinct, and by the time a gleaming Indian motorcycle had made the turn and come into view, she was ready to bolt for cover.

There was nothing on the road, only her house, and her father’s a little farther down, so it made sense the rider was either lost or looking for her. Neither possibility pleased her overmuch. It didn’t occur to her that he might be looking for her dad; Tom Daniels wasn’t known for his social activity. Her heartbeat began to thump in her ears, deafening her for several seconds as she watched the polished and chromed bike pull off the road and come to a halt a few yards from her car. The rider balanced the bike on the kickstand and rose, the motion seamless and well-practiced. As he walked toward her, Frankie was struck by the sheer size and presence of the man. He was easily six foot three, and had long legs encased in form-fitting black denim that accentuated both the muscular shape and the length of them. He wore a black leather jacket over broad shoulders, and was removing his gloves to reveal strong, elegant hands. He stuffed the gloves in his pockets and reached up to take off his helmet.

Frankie’s breath left her lungs in a sudden, powerful expulsion, and she forgot to draw in fresh air for several moments of time. In those suspended instants, she was lost in awareness of the man who walked ever closer to her. Within the emerging twilight, he didn’t seem quite real, yet he was more real than any man she’d ever seen in her twenty-nine years of living. Ebony eyes sparkled with natural warmth, and the perfect planes of his face were framed by long, blue-black hair. His skin tone told of Native American heritage, and the smile that flashed over his striking features revealed even white teeth.

“Can I help?”

His voice was smooth, tone rich and silky, modulation exquisite. She shivered, and remembered to breathe when tiny sparks danced before her eyes, haloing him as though he were some sort of dark angel.

“I’ve got a flat, and my spare is back at the house,” she replied when his head tilted to one side, his expression quizzical.

“Why don’t I give you a lift then?”

Every nerve in her body screamed yes, and it scared the hell out of her. The part of her brain that wasn’t attuned to every sinuous line of his body was still capable of reason, even if it was to a limited degree. She chewed her bottom lip for a few moments and considered her options, pretending for a second or two that she had any real options.

“I’m Nick Red Cloud,” he said, raking a hand through his dripping hair, and shaking the water away before reaching toward her.

She took his hand and tried not to choke on the leap of response that the simple touch elicited from the inner core of her heart. She’d never met anyone who rattled her deeply, and this man was already making her customary reserve a thing of laughable scorn. His grip was warm and strong, and he held her icy fingers for a breath too long before he withdrew.

“You are?” he prompted with a smile.

“Francesca Daniels.” She shook off the feeling of enrapture when a gust of icy wind shook her to her bones. “Most people just call me Fr…Frankie,” she added. “My house is about five miles down the road.”

Hunter and the Hawk (Excerpt #3) Thank you!

Hi Everyone! I'm Gale Stanley. I want to thank everyone for reading my excerpts and a big thank you to Judy and Marianne for hosting today! Being here for the Goddess Fish Release Party has been fun.

I’ve always been an avid reader, but I had to put my writing aside to raise a family and work full time.  I was a surveyor and CAD manager in a construction office of fifty men and four women. Lucky me! At the same time, I reviewed for RT Book Reviews magazine and wrote short stories for the Cup of Comfort Anthologies. Now I write romance - paranormal, wolf-shifters, vampires, contemporary, MF, MFM, MM, and MMM - for Siren-Bookstrand and Silver Publishing and I feel really fortunate to be doing something I love so much.

Hunter and the Hawk is a new release, book one of series. It just came out Saturday, April 30.


When Aidan walks into the Wolf Den and asks to see the Alpha, he doesn’t get a warm welcome. He’s barely through the door before he’s attacked. The Vampire’s arm is broken and he fears his totem animal, a Hawk, will never fly again.  
Hunter, a Lycan Enforcer, comes to his aid and takes him aside for questioning. Aidan claims to have information about the murder of Hunter’s mate and he’ll trade for Lycan blood. At first, Hunter thinks it's a trap, but Aidan convinces him that the answer to both species survival may lie in their blood. Hunter agrees to secretly help Aidan in exchange for the killer’s name. But he gets more than he bargained for when he finds himself falling for the seductive vampire. When the research goes awry, he’s sure he’s been used by the scheming bloodsuckers. But is Aidan the real enemy or is it someone closer to home?
Available at Silver Publishing:
This is excerpt #3

At the center of the mob, a ginger wolf circled a man he'd never seen before. A sweet, coppery scent wafted off the stranger. Underneath it, a dusky hint of feathers tickled his senses. Strangely enough, he didn't find the vampire's aura repulsive.
From the looks of things, more than a few punches had already been thrown. The black-haired stranger sported a bruise along his jaw and one eye was swollen shut. The right sleeve of his white silk shirt had been ripped off, revealing a hawk tattoo on his bicep. Despite this, he stood stock-still. You had to respect a man who took this kind of punishment without hitting back. His assailant, a wolf known as a bully and bigot, didn't have a mark on him.
This had to be stopped before the fight escalated. Right now, the other wolves were content to watch and enjoy a fight they knew their taller and heavier pack mate would win easily. But if the stranger decided to fight back, the other Lycans might feel compelled to help Toby. Then Hunter would have to deal with a bunch of dogs who wanted in on the fight.
"Toby! Back down."
"Fuck off, Hunter!" The ginger-haired man didn't even turn his head. "You gonna protect a bloody buzzard? Maybe the same one that killed your mate and plucked her eyes from their sockets?"
Hunter clenched his fists at his sides and tried to contain his rage. He didn't know who he wanted to hit more, the bloodsucker or Toby. He caught the vampire's eyes over Toby's shoulder and saw that they registered shock. Maybe a vampire-hawk had killed Tena, but it wasn't this one.
Talking wouldn't work. Not on Toby. Not on the others. The wolves smelled blood and they were in no state of mind to think about anything except a kill.
He considered his options. One or two men he could handle. And the other enforcers were standing by ready to keep the drugged-up crowd at bay.
He moved in behind Toby. The Lycan snarled but didn't acknowledge him. Hunter slid his right hand under Toby's arm and up behind his head, pushing forward. At the same time, he pulled Toby's left arm behind his back, trying not to dislocate the man's shoulder. "It's not worth it, man. Calm the fuck—"
A blur behind the vampire slammed into the black-haired man's back, knocking him to his hands and knees. An immense gray wolf locked massive jaws on his arm and pulled. Bones snapped like twigs, but the vampire went to his stomach without making a sound.
"You don't want to do this, Doyle!" Hunter fixed his eyes on the wolf. Everyone stilled. The gray wolf held tight to the man's arm. A twist and a roll, and those strong jaws would rip it off.
Tread carefully.
The stranger wasn't human and Hunter knew his injuries would heal, but no species he knew could re-grow a limb.
Toby spat at the man lying on the plank floor. "You're protecting a fucking bloodsucker?"
"One who has every right to be here."
"Says who? A fucking treaty that's older than both of us put together?"
Hunter exerted a little more pressure on Toby's neck. "That treaty is the only thing standing between us and a race war. Do you really want to be the one who breaks it?"
Toby tensed. "He started it."
"Doesn't mean you have to finish it. I don't think the Alpha is ready to do battle because you can't keep your temper under control."
Toby relaxed in his hold. "You can let me go. I won't touch him."
"Go get a drink." Hunter shoved him toward the bar, then looked around. "The rest of you follow him. Show's over."
The men grumbled but they dispersed, and after a few tense seconds the gray wolf backed down and released the vampire's arm. He rolled to his back and cradled his forearm to his chest.
The wolf shook its head from side to side and baptized the vampire with bloody saliva. Doyle's furious gaze held Hunter's and sent an unmistakable message.
Why did it feel like he'd just met his real enemy?

Happy Reading, Gale Stanley

Old Sins, Long Shadows: Excerpt #3

So far today I've posted excerpts from the past. Now it's time for a glimpse of Conrad and Damian in the present...

Ah, there you are!” Damian swept into the kitchen, startling Conrad, who was seated at the table. “Good. I’ve been looking for you.”

Conrad fumbled the PVC blood bag he was holding, nearly dropping it. He bit back an oath and glanced up, scowling. Damian was dressed as though he’d just come from the gym, and all in black like a damn cliché. His dark hair was pulled away from his face and the scent of exertion still clung to his skin. Conrad’s fingers clenched more tightly around the bag in his hand. His heart pounded with a savage rhythm. Of all the people he could not bear to be this close to right now, with his hunger running rampant and his self-control at low ebb, Damian undoubtedly topped the list.

“What do you want?” he growled, frustrated by his inability to tame the simmering need that even now was urging him to grab Damian by the throat, slam him against the nearest surface, bury his fangs in his neck and reclaim what was his. He buried his fangs in the bag instead and felt his gut heave at the faint chemical taste.

It tasted wrong. It was always going to taste wrong. And it was never going to be enough to satisfy either his hunger or his thirst.

“I need to talk to you about something.” Seemingly oblivious to Conrad’s foul mood, Damian pulled out a chair and seated himself. He was close enough to Conrad they could have clasped hands on the tabletop had either of them been so inclined. Close enough that they might speak softly to each other and not be overheard. Entirely. Too. Close.

“Very well then. Talk.” Forcing himself not to recoil, Conrad swallowed another mouthful. Another tremor wracked his frame. He tried not to imagine the pitiful picture he must be presenting. He would survive it. His pride had taken worse hits than this over the centuries.

Damian made no answer. Conrad glanced impatiently at him. “Well?”

Damian waved a hand at the bags heaped on the table. “What are you doing here with all of this?”

It was so stupid a question Conrad refused to even dignify it with an answer. “Is that really what you came down here to talk to me about? I would have thought you’d have better things to do with your time.” He drained the pouch in his hand, tossed it aside and was reaching for another when Damian put out a hand to stop him.

Espere,” he said. “Querido, wait.” His fingers closed on Conrad’s wrist and time stalled.

A low growl rose from Conrad’s throat as he stared, transfixed, at the hand on his arm. His control began to slip. Furious, he lifted his gaze to Damian’s face and the hand was hurriedly withdrawn, but Conrad’s skin still burned from the touch. With his eyes locked on Damian’s, daring him to try and interfere again, he picked up a new bag and deliberately sank his teeth into the plastic.

Damian’s nostrils flared. “Honestly, if this is all you’ve been eating, it’s no wonder you’ve yet to regain your full strength. You need fresh food, Conrad. Living food. Shall I find you some?”

Conrad sighed. He knew exactly what he needed and didn’t need, as well as what he could and could not have. He drained the second bag and reached for a third, forcing himself to speak calmly. “No, this is not all I’m eating. But, this early in the day… I fear I do not always find myself in the proper frame of mind to attempt anything else.”

He toyed with the unappetizing bag while he considered his options, coming quickly to the same conclusion he’d already drawn. There were none. By later this evening the edge of his hunger would be blunted. The worst of his venom would have been reabsorbed. He would have more choices. Until then, no matter how much he wished to feed from the living, he would not do it. He couldn’t take the chance of damaging one of the staff. That would only cause trouble, start rumors and end badly. As for attempting to take nourishment from one of his own… Appealing though the thought of it was, as an option it was even less acceptable.

His gaze following his thoughts, he cast a glance in Damian’s direction. His eyes cut to the scarf knotted at Damian’s throat. Anguish flared. Did Damian mean for it to serve as a constant reminder to him of the injuries it covered—injuries Conrad himself had inflicted—or was that just a happy accident?

He forced his gaze back to Damian’s face and inquired coldly, “You weren’t by any chance thinking of offering yourself for the purpose of slaking my thirst, were you?” As he’d expected, Damian’s face blanched. One hand crept protectively toward his neck. Conrad sneered, cruelly amused by the sudden increase in the tempo of Damian’s pulse. “No. Not such a pleasant thought, is it?”

Damian swallowed hard. He placed both hands on the table and deliberately folded them together. His face impassive, he met Conrad’s eyes with a steady gaze. “You still aren’t sleeping well, are you? Is it the nightmares again?”

Above all else, Conrad hated that Damian should know him so well. That he could so unerringly pinpoint the exact location of every weakness, every fault line, every flaw. “Yes.”

“What can I do to help?”

Conrad sighed. “You can tell me whatever it is you came here to talk to me about and then you can leave me to finish my meal in peace.”

Dancing With Fate - final excerpt and Discount coupon.

You can enjoy a 25% discount if you purchase my book today or tomorrow, by quoting Code  QK76J at the checkout

Terpsichore, Greek muse of Dance has been assigned by Apollo to protect Myrddin, a mysterious stranger from a danger which is not revealed to her. The situation is complicated further when they fall deeply in love.


"...I will ask my father to help us," she said, her voice low and heavy with emotion. "It would not be the first time a mortal loved a god and was allowed to enter Olympus and live among us..."

A glimmer of hope flickered across his face. Before he could answer, however, the blue sky turned black, and then glowed with a lurid orange tinge, like the flames of a distant forest fire. A wind sprang up from nowhere and whipped the branches of the trees. Some would have believed it a summer storm. Terpsichore knew otherwise, glancing at Myrddin's face she realized he knew it was not a natural force as well. Fear gripped her heart.

"Run, my love," she yelled above the howl of the wind, "Run!" Terpsichore leaned forward over Sal's neck, and the animal leapt into a swift gallop.Harri needed no urging to take off after her.

Myrddin risked a quick look over his shoulder. In the sky, a quadriga, drawn by four horses snorting fire, bore down on them. He dropped the reins, standing up in his stirrups and turning, in an archer's stance. This was no earthly enemy.

His hand strayed to the bow slung in its baldric across his shoulder. Perhaps he could kill the charioteer with an arrow. Immediately, he realized this was unlikely, for he flew high above them. Myrddin was an expert bowman but his arrows would not reach that far, even though their pursuer was drawing ever closer. If only there were some way to stop him. Terpsichore, he must protect her. He concentrated his mind. A wave of water rose, higher than the trees. At the same time, a narrow chasm opened up before them. The two horses leapt simultaneously to land, safe, on the other side. As they galloped on, Myrddin looked back again. The chariot and horses burst through the torrent of water, the jets of fire from the horses' nostrils caused it to vaporize with a fierce hissing sound.

"What enchantment did you use?" Cora asked, turning her head toward him as they sped onwards. "Never mind," she said, the wind whipping her words back to her. "Nothing will stop Ares, he's closing in on us."

Myrddin risked another look back. The chariot had touched the earth on their side of the chasm. He caught the glint of gold on the horses' bridles, the charioteer standing tall and dark, the sun's rays striking his bronze helmet and breastplate.


"The god of war!"

"What? Why is he after us?"

"He isn't...not us…he's after you." 

If you've read this far, thank you, and if you've been following my postings, I hope you enjoyed the excerpts. 
Don't forget, you will receive a 25% discount if you purchase my book today or tomorrow, by quoting Code  QK76J at the checkout.

I'll also be drawing a name to win a download from all the comments received on any of my posts.  Please remember to leave a means of contact if you wish to be included.

(It's late here in the UK now, but I'll pop back tomorrow to pick a winner!)

Old Sins, Long Shadows: Excerpt #2

One of the things I'm really enjoying about writing this series is that in each book I get to explore a particular time period in the characters' lives. In In the Dark it was the late 60s in San Francisco so I got to unleash my inner hippie.

In Old Sins, Long Shadows, I go all the way back to fifteenth century Spain, where Conrad and Damian first met. Here's Damian's take on the future love of his life:

Alcázares Reales de Sevilla, España
Late Fifteenth Century

The evening was balmy and warm. The air, already thick and sweet with the fragrance of a thousand blossoms, was made even more so by the guitars of the Sevillanas. The courtyard of the royal palace was crowded tonight and in the flickering torchlight, the jewels and glittering raiment worn by those in attendance threatened to outshine the stars. 

Truly, if the world had an epicenter, Sevilla was its name. Of that Damian Ysidro Esposito-Montoya, Vizconde de Castile was absolutely certain; and he was one of the privileged few lucky enough to live here, at the very heart of all that was cultured and elegant, beautiful and refined. As he glanced around appreciatively, he was aware of an almost unbearable excitement welling inside him. The night was young and filled with infinite possibilities.

“Well, amigo, it appears your beauty has caught someone’s eyes,” the voice of the duke, his patron, murmured in Damian’s ear. “Did you know of this?”

Damian inclined his head and smiled back at him, his expression an almost perfect blend of humility, adoration and gratitude. “Sí. Muchisimas gracias, Excelencia. I am flattered. You honor me, as always, with your kind regard.”

“You misunderstand me,” the duke replied peevishly. “The eyes to which I’m referring are not my own. They belong to that creature over there, the one lounging against that pillar on the far side of the hall. Who is he? Do we know him?”

Dutifully turning his head in the direction the duke was indicating, Damian cast a desultory glance across the marble floor of the patio de las Doncellas, already knowing what he would find. “Ah. Sí, Excellencia. He arrived here a fortnight ago in the company of that Italian baron you found so amusing at dinner the other night. His name is…oh, dear, let me see if I cannot recall it for you. Is it Señor…Quintano, perhaps? . I’m almost certain that is what he is called.” 

While the duke processed the information he’d been given, Damian allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Yes, that was very well done. As the duke’s most trusted attendant, he was expected to remember and keep track of the names and status of everyone at court, as well as any other information His Excellency might find useful to know. As his most intimate companion, on the other hand, he was not expected to have eyes, or even the smallest level of interest, for any other man.

It was important, therefore, that he strike the proper tone when attempting to recall the name of the man who, had the duke but known it, had spent most of the past few evenings watching Damian from beside that very same pillar. Damian was confident his answer—calm, disinterested, just hesitant enough—had achieved the desired effect. In truth, however, there had been no “perhaps” about it. By now, he knew the man’s name almost as well as he did his own.

His name was Conrad, Conrad Quintano, and those eyes that had been at the center of the duke’s complaint, the eyes that Damian could feel trained upon him even now, were surely the most astonishingly mesmerizing orbs the good God had ever created.

In fact, those same adjectives could also be applied to the man himself. Conrad was, perhaps, half a head shorter than Damian, but possessed of so powerful a physique that, just gazing upon it, quite literally stole Damian’s breath away. His face was hard, not beautiful in any sense of the word, but strong and so very masculine. His usual expression was dour, grim, the look of a man who had perhaps seen too much of the world. But fierce as Conrad was wont to appear, there was yet a sweetness to his mouth that Damian could almost taste and he wished, oh, how he wished, that he could taste it in truth.

As of yet, they’d exchanged only a few brief smiles and a handful of words in passing, but Damian had spent most of the intervening hours spinning deliciously erotic fantasies in which they did and said so much more. These last few nights in particular, as he rolled about on his cot, quite unable to sleep, those same sweet syllables had repeated themselves endlessly within his head. Conrad Quintano. Conrad Quintano. Con-rad Quin-ta-no.

“He looks like a peasant,” the duke observed.

Damian sighed. He did not look like a peasant. There was a regal air about the man that showed itself in the way he stood, the way he walked, the way he held himself. “And yet, he seems quite taken with you, my lord.”

“What’s that you say?” the duke snapped. “Me? Are you blind, Montoya? It is you he’s been staring at.”

.” Damian pressed closer to the duke, faking a tremor. “I fear your Excellency is quite right about that. If looks could kill, I know I would be in grave peril. It’s obvious he envies me my position and wishes to replace me by your side. In truth, now that I think it, I’m not sure I should not fear for my life. He looks to be extremely dangerous. Do you not think so, Excellencia? And more than capable of doing…well, just about anything he might wish to do.”

The last part of his speech was no exaggeration and Damian could not completely suppress an actual shiver of delight as he thought about it. In his fantasies, Conrad had already done a great many things, all of them capably.

The duke frowned. “Has this been going on for some time then? You should have mentioned it to me sooner. Who does the brigand think he is, to threaten you while you are under my protection? It’s insupportable. I shall have those eyes plucked from his head for his presumption. Perhaps I should send a few men over there now, to teach him some manners.”

Ay, Dios mio. Damian bit his lip. It was possible he’d overplayed that last hand. “Oh, but surely that’s not necessary? If your Excellency pleases, would you not prefer me to bring him over here, that you might speak with him instead?”

The duke looked affronted. “You forget yourself. Why should I wish to speak to such a one as he? Did you not just hear me say it? The man is a peasant. I am sure of it.”

, Excellencia, I am sure you are correct, as always. But, if you’ll forgive me, that is precisely my point. One would not wish to discount the peasants too quickly, would you not agree? For, upon my honor, I’m convinced they must rank among the world’s most proficient lovers.”

“Montoya! What nonsense is this? Is it your intention to insult me?”

Damian shook his head. “No, no, Excelencia. Le ruego perdonarme. Never would I do such a thing. If my lord will but allow me to explain?”

. Do so,” the duke replied, glaring at Damian through narrowed eyes. “Immediately.”

“Well, my lord, if you will but consider their numbers, I’m sure you will agree with me. How can they not be prodigiously skillful at the art of lovemaking? There are so very many of them in the world. Given the rate at which they’re reproducing, they must be devoting all of their time to practice!”
It took a moment for Damian’s thrust to hit home. Eventually, it did however. The duke laughed aloud, clapped Damian on the back and turned immediately to the neighbor on his other side and repeated the joke, giving himself the credit for having thought of it.

Satisfied the danger had been averted, Damian allowed himself the luxury of glancing once again in Conrad’s direction, but the space he had occupied all night beside the pillar was now vacant. Disappointed, Damian scanned the courtyard, hoping for at least another glimpse of the man, but Conrad was nowhere in sight. Que pena, Damian thought sighing sadly, his enjoyment of the night severely diminished. What a pity

Never, in all his life, had Damian known anyone who affected him in the way Conrad did. Next to him, all other men dwindled into insignificance. They left him cold, whereas Conrad fired his blood.
He wanted him as he had never wanted anyone. His body ached to have him in all the most unholy ways. There had to be some means by which he might satisfy the lust that raged within him or it would surely drive him mad.

All he needed was a small space of time in which to indulge his desires, just a few short hours, perhaps a single night, if he were lucky. If he could but contrive a way in which the two of them might be alone together, undisturbed—was that really so much to ask? Ah, if only fate would smile upon him.

Hunter and the Hawk (Excerpt #2)


When Aidan walks into the Wolf Den and asks to see the Alpha, he doesn’t get a warm welcome. He’s barely through the door before he’s attacked. The Vampire’s arm is broken and he fears his totem animal, a Hawk, will never fly again.  
Hunter, a Lycan Enforcer, comes to his aid and takes him aside for questioning. Aidan claims to have information about the murder of Hunter’s mate and he’ll trade for Lycan blood. At first, Hunter thinks it's a trap, but Aidan convinces him that the answer to both species survival may lie in their blood. Hunter agrees to secretly help Aidan in exchange for the killer’s name. But he gets more than he bargained for when he finds himself falling for the seductive vampire. When the research goes awry, he’s sure he’s been used by the scheming bloodsuckers. But is Aidan the real enemy or is it someone closer to home?
Available at Silver Publishing:

A brawny wolf took the stool next to him and caught his eye in the mirror. The man flashed a toothy smile and leaned over to whisper in Hunter's ear. "Buy ya a beer?"
Hunter wrinkled his nose at the stench of unwashed dog and held up his bottle. "No, thanks." Doyle always struck him as a cruel bastard, a yobbo, not someone he wanted to get up close and personal with.
Persistent, the man laid a hairy paw on Hunter's upper thigh and squeezed. "How 'bout a dance? They're playing our song."
Hunter turned his head swiftly, his lip curling back in a low, threatening growl.
Doyle backed off and put his hands up in surrender. "Some other time."
Hunter ignored him. He was here to keep an eye out for trouble, not start it. Why prove the Alpha right? Rafe would just try harder to find him a new mate.
He and Rafe went way back, more like brothers than friends. Even though he knew the man had his best interests at heart, Hunter didn't want him choosing his mate again. Yeah, he was frustrated as hell, but this time he wanted to go slow and choose his own lover.
Although Rafe was older by five years, they'd always hung together as kids. Hunter had idolized him and the older boy had enjoyed being put on a pedestal. He'd been sixteen when Rafe challenged Ulric, the old bastard who ran the pack back then. Rafe had won easily and as the newly made leader, he'd been hot to show the pack what he could do. Even then, their numbers had been decreasing. Rafe swore he'd turn the tide and started conducting his own breeding studies.
The men weren't happy when he chose their mates, but they followed his orders for the good of the pack. Hunter had mated with Tena willingly. Maybe there were no bells and whistles but they had cared about each other.
In the twenty years they'd been together there'd been no whelps. Yeah, Tena had conceived, several times in fact. But she never carried the baby to term.
Rafe had suggested on more than one occasion back then that it was time for Hunter to mate with one of the other females. A proven breeder, he'd called him. Maybe he'd have better luck with one of the other she-wolves. The Alpha hadn't cared if he stayed with Tena as long as he spread his sperm around. Hunter had refused. Only on that point had he defied Rafe. He might be old school, but he believed in loyalty to one's mate.
With Tena gone six months, he knew Rafe wouldn't let him hold off much longer. Guilt sat heavy on his shoulders. He should be trying to help his people increase their numbers, but he didn't enjoy fucking around. What if he got someone else's mate pregnant? If he should be lucky enough to father a child, he wanted to be the one to raise it. And coming between a woman and a mate she loved didn't sit well with him. A complicated situation for sure.
He would never want Rafe's position. The Alpha had a lot of responsibility on his shoulders and had to make some tough decisions. In the end, Hunter usually went along with whatever Rafe decided.
Suddenly, a frisson of unease radiated up from the base of his spine. Every hair on his body stood on end. He hadn't seen or smelled anything out of the ordinary, but his instincts were usually spot-on. Over the loud music, he heard a series of low threatening growls.
His head snapped around, nostrils flaring and amber eyes searching for the culprit. The wolves were gathering near the entrance and the crowd prevented him from seeing anything. Suppressing his own growl, he straightened to his full six feet, five inches and made his way toward the disturbance.
The men stepped aside as he passed. They knew he wasn't there just to shoot pool, and they respected his position as lead enforcer.

Happy Reading, Gale Stanley

A chance to win an e-book

Today, I'm guest blogging over at with an interview, information about Paradox, and a chance to win an e-book. I hope you can stop by if you get the chance.

Branden + Sloan + Naomi = Happiness? or Disaster? (ADULT EXCERPT)

"Terracotta Warriors" released 30 March. It is my first menage story where one of the heroes is the central character, not the heroine.

“Terracotta Warriors” Blurb

Naomi has a casual sex-buddy relationship with Branden, a bisexual man. When she loses her job Branden offers her a short-term position in the Museum of which he is a director, but more than that, he wonders if she could be the solution to his sexual problem. He and Sloan are very happy together, but Brand needs the softness of a woman as well as the harsher, more animal mating of two males together.
Sloan and Naomi join Branden on a business trip to Xi'an. Will adding Naomi to the mix be a disaster -- or the solution to all their needs?


Sloan was face down on the bed, his hands roped to the headboard, his legs wide apart and each foot roped to a bedpost. Several pillows pushed under his flat stomach kept his ass raised high. Stretched out like this, his six-foot-four inches easily reached from the head of the bed, to the foot, which meant Branden had tied the ropes quite firmly, allowing Sloan very little movement.
Branden crouched on the bed between Sloan's legs, a jar of oil in his hands. He gently ran a slippery palm over one of Sloan's shoulders and down his spine, then along his side and back up to the shoulder again. Sloan shivered. "Jeez, Brand. Will you, for fuck's sake, stick that finger in my ass, so we can get the main part of the program here?"
"Patience, patience. That's why I have you tied up. The longer you wait, the harder you'll come in the end."
"If I come any harder than I did last night, likely I'll break! I've never had such good orgasms as I do with you."
"I love you, Sloan. You know that, don't you?" Branden pressed soft kisses to the base of Sloan's spine, just above his highly fuckable ass.
"I love you, too, but I want some action here."
Getting there," soothed Branden, dripping some oil onto Sloan's butt and massaging the tense muscles there. Finally he gave in a little and dripped some oil along the crack, but still he didn't penetrate Sloan's ass. He merely teased around the cheeks, before returning to massaging Sloan's shoulders.
Brand leaned over Sloan's sexy body to press some kisses along his neck. Sloan's brown hair was cut military short, so there was plenty of sensitive skin around his neck to lick and nibble and suck. Tenderly, Branden sucked an earlobe into his mouth, before biting down on the fleshy part, then soothing his bite by sucking some more.
Next he flicked his tongue into Sloan's ear, and then trailed his hands down the man's body again, down, down, down. Branden crouched on his heels to oil his hands again, waiting for his heart rate to even out, noting how Sloan's lungs were heaving with arousal.
Brand's own dick was harder than a spike and aching with excitement. It wanted inside that dark hole so badly he was almost bursting. But it had to be better than good for Sloan. He loved Sloan so much he wanted it to be the best he could make it, every time.


Berengaria Brown


The ARe Romance tags for this book are: double penetration, erotica, explicit sex, marooned, ménage a trois, sex, shipwrecked, threesome

Erotic ménage/voyeurism
Publisher: New Dawning International Bookfair


What begins as an idyllic cruise for four friends quickly becomes a nightmare… the pleasant afternoon has had its tense moments as personalities clash. Iris is the newest member of the quartet, married to Dale Montgomery for a short time, she is reserved and elegant–a direct contrast to the earthy sexuality and eroticism of Giselle Jordan–the woman who has been Dale's closest friend for many years. When their boat is caught in the crush of a tidal wave near sunset, the four are swept into the ocean. Hours after the capsize, Giselle awakens on a stretch of beach, a short distance away is Iris, bleeding and terrified. When Iris dies, Giselle is left stranded on an island with the two men she loves. How long will it be before passion take them into the dangerous realm that is the uncharted territory of the heart?


Giselle floundered, no longer even remotely doubtful that she was dying. The sound of the waves pounded in her ears and she was aching and broken in every molecule of her being. As she lay face down in darkness and misery, her senses slowly started to wake and she realized she wasn’t dead after all. The sand under her cheek was cold and wet, and the water she heard was the rumbling thunder of surf heard at ground level.

She concentrated, then dared to turn her head. It was almost dark, and a long stretch of beach stretched before her. Something bumped insistently at her side and she reached out, pulling back with a yelp when she encountered a warm body. Forcing herself into motion, she sat up and looked at who was next to her, praying it would be Blake, then trying not to be angry when it wasn’t her husband, but Iris Montgomery.

She reached out a shaking hand and touched Iris’s shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge.


There was no motion or sound from the other woman and Giselle tasted fresh panic in her throat while she shook Iris. Pushing into a sitting position, she strained to see the prone figure next to her. As her eyes adjusted and the moon began to glow, casting chill silver rays over them, she spotted the bleeding gash along Iris’s side. The water was inching inward, too, covering them a little more with each lapping wave.

Biting back a scream, Giselle rose to her feet, bent, and started dragging Iris up onto the dry sand of the beach. Once there, she plopped to the fine, warm sand and leaned forward, head on her drawn up knees. As she tried to calm her terror and push it into the back of her mind, she prayed that Blake and Dale were still alive and close by.

A low, agonized moan made her shudder against a raw cold that was purely internal in origin, and she bent to touch Iris’s shoulder as the other woman fought to focus on her.

“What… what happened?”

There was a world of pain in the shaken words, and Giselle knew she was seeing the first signs of trauma and shock—what she could do about it wasn’t worth considering.

“We were hit by a wave,” she said, stroking Iris’s hair. “I don’t know where we are, Iris.”

This is an EROTIC/VAMPIRE historical..... it's set in Ancient Pompeii, mostly, and moves into modern time..... it contains a great deal of sexual content, and historical accuracy about the decadence of the Romans of that era. It was fascinating to write, and as you can see, the cover is a stunner..... I hope your curiosity will be piqued, and you'll consider adding this one to your collection - the reviews are amazing... and I think you'll find it a satisfying read!!!

by Denyse Bridger
Available now from XoXo Publishing:


Pompeii lies complacent and decadent in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius, the populace thriving on their depravity and their hunger for blood and Games. Within the elite aristocracy, games of another type are being played, deadly secrets are a threat to more than status, and conspiracy is a way of life for those who are unhappy.

Lucius has long been exalted as a warrior without peer. Adored and covetted by men and women alike, he is blind to the plots that are thickening around him. While total control is his on the bloody fields of war, on the battlefield of the heart, as he is about to discover, even the strongest man can be deceived by his ignorance.

Watching over it all is the majesty of Vesuvius, sputtering smoke, promising retribution. In the midst of the looming destruction, an ancient evil emerges, and will claim not only a celebrated general of Rome, but the slave girl he has slowly grown to love and cherish. A girl who will follow him into hell itself?


Pompeii—Under the rule of the Emperor Vespasian

“The Emperor is most pleased with your progress, General,” Proconsul Flavius noted as he strolled the market streets with Pompeii’s illustrious hero. They proceeded without impediment as the people of the busy city cleared a path for them.

The general, Lucius, smiled, pleased by the undercurrent of fear that marked his passage. He enjoyed the power his position gave him, and the recognition of it came in various forms. Even the proconsul wasn’t entirely at ease with him.

“And well he should be, Proconsul. Resistance is crumbling. Another victory and Gaul will truly be defeated.”

They had reached the slave market, and Lucius stopped as a scream rose above the usual noises of the area. He felt an unwelcome empathy for the terror he heard in the voice, and was annoyed by the surprising emotion.

The slave-dealer’s bellow rang out and drowned the girl’s frightened shrieks. Unconsciously, Lucius turned to look at the raised platform that displayed the slaves being auctioned off to the highest bidders. The dealer slapped the girl across the face and silenced her before he turned his attention to the gathered buyers.

“…I’m told her name is Xina,” the dealer called out. “Not part of my shipment, good gentlemen, but a last minute addition. Seems she knifed a soldier last night when he refused to pay a fair price for her.” He laughed lewdly and hauled the girl forward so the crowd could look more closely at her.

Despite her obvious desire to remain immune to what was happening to her, her cheeks flamed scarlet when the slaver tore open her gown and left her nakedness displayed for the eager bidders. Almost immediately voices rose and purses were offered. Lucius watched as she closed her eyes and tears spilled from the corners.

“She is a beauty,” the proconsul observed with a laugh. “And a dangerous one, at that.”

Lucius laughed with the shorter man, but his gaze was drawn back to the girl. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen or seventeen, if she was that old. The trader knotted his fingers in long waves of light brown hair and pulled the concealing mass away from her body so the view was unobstructed. Her eyes stayed closed, but her chin lifted and she stood with proud defiance as the raucous bids and laughs continued.

A slow, indolent sweep of her body stirred more than curiosity within the general. His gaze caressed golden flesh, noted the smooth swell of full, brown tipped breasts, the small waist that flared into sensuously rounded hips. Firm, curved thighs were topped by an enticing triangle of sand-colored curls, and the ties of the sandals she wore twined around well-shaped calves like serpents lazing in the sun. Slender arms were tensed, muscles quivering with the effort to mask her fury, and her small hands tangled in the folds of her shredded gown where it hung limply from her shoulders.

“Who is she?” Lucius asked, surprised by his own interest when the proconsul stared up at him, clearly startled by the query.

“You don’t want that one, Lucius,” he advised. “Nydia would destroy her overnight.”

The general smiled again, but let his expression grow icy. The glitter of carefully controlled, lethal rage created a distinct shudder of terror within the Proconsul of Pompeii.

“You haven’t answered my question, Proconsul,” he whispered, his tone cool.

“Xina is the daughter of one of Boudica’s whores,” the other man supplied after a moment’s thought. “She’s been in the brothel since the day of her birth.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow and waited for the official to finish his narrative.

“Her brother, Plautus, is the current champion of Pompeii. Her mother died recently, while Plautus was away from the city, and Boudica decided it was time for the girl to earn her keep until her brother’s return.”

“That woman should be fed to the crowd during games,” Lucius muttered grimly. It was quite clear that Xina was not a common whore, despite her background. Not that it mattered, he mused. Before he was through with her she’d be well versed in a great number of arts necessary to a whore’s survival.

Without warning, Lucius strode into the crowd and headed toward the auction block. He yanked a purse from his belt, threw it toward the dealer, and continued onto the platform. The crowd rumbled with subdued irritation, but none dared defy Pompeii’s most renowned general as he took the girl by the arm and led her from the marketplace.