Showing posts with label angels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label angels. Show all posts

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Devil Under the Mistletoe by Sam Cheever


Perdition guide Damian is supposed to escort sexy Amanda to Hell. But he’d much rather keep her.

Damian Noire is a Perdition Guide. He escorts people who die to their rightful spot in Hell. Business always seems to pick up around the Holidays and this Christmas is no exception. Damian’s assignment is to bring a beautiful young woman to Hell to stand before the judgment assembly, and then take her to her assigned circle of Hell. It sounds simple. But it’s about to become the hardest assignment he’s ever performed.

Amanda Wright might have been unjustly judged. She might not belong in Hell at all. Problem is, Damian really kind of likes her. He especially likes enjoying her lush, willing body under the mistletoe. If he gets her the judgment she truly deserves, he’s probably going to lose her forever. But if he doesn’t help her, an innocent may spend eternity in Hell. It appears to be a lose/lose situation on all fronts. Proving once again that holidays truly are hell!

~~*~~

Worm emerged from the assembly vault a few moments later. Fear shot through Damian at the speed with which the judges had decided. The ugly little man gave Damian a sneer. The girl’s presence is needed in the chamber.”

Damian stood.

“Not you. You’ve been dismissed.”

Rage flared and Damian took a step toward the smaller man, his fists clenched. “What the hell kind of trick is this?”

Worm shrugged, his ugly, round face smug. “No trick. In fact, I think I’m being very clear. You’ve been judged to be too close to the… erm… situation to be objective, and you’re no longer on the case.”

Amanda clutched his arm, her face paling. “What’s going on, Damian? What are they going to do with me?”

Damian drew her behind him. “You’re not taking her in there without me.”

Worm’s smile widened, and something mean sparked in his eyes. He inclined his head slightly, just enough to give Damian a warning, but not enough of one. Hard hands clasped his arms, dragging him backward, away from Amanda.

She screamed his name and tried to follow but Worm grabbed her, holding her in place as tears streamed down her cheeks and she sobbed his name. Damian fought with everything he had, but the judgment demons who had hold of his arms were massive, eight feet tall, with tree-trunk-sized arms and hands that could hold his entire head like a football. The enormous black and white demons dragged him away from her, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the stone floor as he pummeled them.

“Get your fucking paws off her, Worm. I’ll kill you with my bare hands.” Heat flared over Damian, fire. He embraced the pain, nurtured the flame, until the demons holding him tensed. “Amanda!” Even to himself he sounded pathetic. He was desperate, terrified for her, but he couldn’t get to her. “Amanda, run!”

But she didn’t run. Couldn’t run. Worm dragged her backward, toward the chamber door. Damian was relieved to see that she’d stopped crying, but he was concerned that she looked pissed. If she mouthed off to the judges…

He fought harder to get away.

They reached the end of the hall, and Damian heard the door to the outside opening. In another second he’d be locked outside, and Amanda would be lost to him forever. He concentrated hard, bringing his inner fire forward. He burst into flame and the creatures holding him screamed, loosening their grip. It was enough, barely enough, but Damian was desperate. He wrenched himself free and turned, kicking out with enough power to take the legs out from under one of the demons. He didn’t spare the toppling giant a glance as he leapt off the ground and swung his leg toward the second demon, catching it in the midsection. The monster doubled over but didn’t go down. Damian took off running. Behind him, thunderous footfalls told him at least one of the demons was after him.

He didn’t care. He had only one thought. Get to Amanda.

He came through the chamber door just as Worm pushed Amanda to her knees before the judges. They were about to proclaim her sentence. “No!”

Amanda’s head whipped around. “Damian!”

“No, she’s an innocent! I’ll go to the angels myself and tell them.”

Rock-like hands wrapped around his arms and yanked him backward. He roared his rage, flailing out, but a fist the size of a boulder hit him on the side of the head and the world spun, darkened.

The last thing he heard as the world folded away was Amanda’s screams. He hit the rock floor, dazed and bleeding. His fingers clutched convulsively on the gritty floor. Amanda. He had to get to her. She was yelling something… pleading with them. She was in danger. If he didn’t save her he’d never see her again. Damian lifted his head. “Amanda…” His voice was muffled, feeble -- he doubted she even heard him. The boulder smashed into his head again, and everything went black.





Saturday, December 15, 2012

Shades of Naughty - Devil Under the Mistletoe


In my newest series, Holidays are Hell, my main characters are Perdition Guides (PDs). These guides have been conscripted to carry the newly dead to Hell. But their jobs include much more than just escorting souls. They must also figure out where their “supplicants” belong in Hell according to the “sins” they’ve committed.
In writing these books, I’ve come up against the good or evil question repeatedly, because the heroines my PDs escort to Hell are not angelic, or they wouldn’t be headed for Hell. However, nobody wants to root for an evil heroine, so they need to be naughty but likeable. That’s not an easy feat if you believe that good and bad are black and white. Personally, while I do believe there are truly good and genuinely evil people in the world, I also believe there’s a lot of room in between these extremes. I think that’s where most of us belong.

So what tilts a supplicant toward the “Eternity in Hell” side? And what level of naughtiness is still redeemable (retaining the heroine’s likeability)? Here’s what I’ve come up with to help determine if a supplicant is too naughty to be likeable. Answering yes to any of the following would almost always put the supplicant in the “not redeemable” category:
  • Was an innocent badly hurt, emotionally or physically by the misdeed? Probably not good.
  • Were children or animals hurt? NOT acceptable!
  • Was there violence or violent intent involved in the transgression? Usually not good.
  • Was the intent of the misdeed to improve the supplicant’s circumstances at the expense of an innocent? Nasty business.
  • Did someone die or become permanently disabled from the offense? Definitely a no no.

So what kind of transgressions does that leave? Victimless crimes, accidental offenses, wrongs committed against evil people for good reasons, self-destructive crimes, offense resulting from ignorance rather than intent, petty theft, white collar crime against evil organizations, politics (though some of us might find it hard to forgive a heroine for being a politician…hehehe).

In Holidays are Hell, there is a Dante-like division of Hell. Hell is divided into several layers and supplicants are assigned according to the seriousness of the sins these souls committed during their lives. PDs have to present facts to a judging body in Hell to determine if their supplicants belong in the innermost layer which encompasses the fiery pits or an exterior layer that is pretty much like Earth. In the course of this discovery, the guides have to spend time with their supplicants. And, since these are erotic romances, that enforced familiarity usually breeds some pretty sexy results. In the first book of the series, Devil Under the Mistletoe, Damian Noire and Amanda Wright discover that their time together leads to lust…and pain…and much, much more. I hope you’ll check it out!

~~*~~

Perdition guide Damian is supposed to escort sexy Amanda to Hell. But he’d much rather keep her.

Damian Noire is a Perdition Guide. He escorts people whose souls are stained to their rightful spots in Hell. Business always seems to pick up around the Holidays and this Christmas is no exception. Damian’s assignment is to bring a beautiful young woman to Hell to stand before the judgment assembly, and then take her to her assigned circle of Hell. It sounds simple. But it’s about to become the hardest assignment he’s ever performed.

Amanda Wright might have been unjustly judged. She might not belong in Hell at all. Problem is, Damian really kind of likes her. He especially likes enjoying her lush, willing body under the mistletoe. If he gets her the judgment she truly deserves, he’s probably going to lose her forever. But if he doesn’t help her, an innocent may spend eternity in Hell. It appears to be a lose/lose situation on all fronts. Proving once again that holidays truly are hell!



AUTHOR BIO:
Sam writes romantic suspense and fantasy/paranormal/sci-fi at a variety of heat levels. She likes to mix a little fun, a little magic, and a little real-life spice to create her fictional characters. Her fun-loving creations fight their way through a dizzying array of dangerous challenges without letting little things like dangerous bad guys, angry, manipulative gods, evil dark world denizens, or killing Furies dampen their zest for life and hot love!

In Sam’s real life, she lives on a hobby farm in Indiana with 11 dogs, 2 horses, and one husband. Not necessarily in that order. No, that isn’t a typo, she has 11 dogs. Sam is a self-confessed dog-aholic!
To find out more about Sam and her work, please pay her a visit at any one of the following online hot spots: Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Blog


Sunday, March 4, 2012

Every woman should be treated like a goddess!

That's the premise of The Goddess Connection series! Each book is a stand-alone, featuring a heroine who learns she's related to a goddess. Her lifelong quirks become strengths once she finds her true place in the world and accepts herself for who she really is.

Dancing with the Devil, book 2 in the series, will release on March 30! Watch my blog at http://catemasters.blogspot.com for details.

Here's a sneak peek:

What had he done? By all that was sacred, Bodie knew better than to lie with her. Since the first night he’d spoken to her, he’d had trouble restraining himself. Her every movement, every word, seared into him at his greatest depth, filled him with yearning for something forbidden.

Her lips moving against his unleashed emotions that had stayed dormant for millennia. He was in it, deep. Already he spiraled out of control, and he hadn’t allowed himself to move, not even a finger. Not a slide of his lips, not a slip of his tongue into what must be a warm, tantalizing place. Once he did, that one tiny step would trigger an avalanche of desire, already building with volcano force.
To clear such thoughts from his mind, he turned his head to break away. Never should have closed his eyes; it only intensified the tactile senses. The fluttering of her breath as she followed, her kisses now moving up his neck, her fingers splayed lightly against his cheek as her mouth found the edge of his mouth.
“I can’t, Lily,” he rasped.
Her knee grazed his thigh as she straddled him. “Are you sure?”
A shudder wracked his body, and he clenched the cushions to keep from reaching for her. “I don’t mean it’s a physical impossibility. And I’d love to, believe me. But it’s not exactly condoned by my superiors.”
She sat up. “They’re not here. They can’t see us, can they?”
He risked a look at her. A mistake. Tawny hair framed her heart-shaped face in tumbling waves. He locked the muscles in his rising arm and forced it down before he could touch her.
A teasing smile lit her face. He hadn’t needed to answer her. She lifted the bottom of her shirt up and over her head, revealing a black lace bra, lush dark peach rosettes pebbled beneath.
Her warm hand closed around his, and drew it upward to press against her breast and hold it there.
Everything in him screamed No! and Yes! at the same time. With an animal sound, his torso rushed up to meet hers. Somehow he stayed his desire. Lips barely brushing hers, he drew back enough that her breath flowed into his mouth as he spoke. “They’ll reassign me, Lily. I’d love to make love to you. I’ve wanted to for longer than you know. But I don’t want one night to have to last an eternity as a memory. We’d have tonight, but then I’d never see you again. Is that what you want? Tell me now. Quickly.”
Sadness tightened her lips. “No.”
As she curled into him, her muffled words soothed the tension threatening to burst through his skin. “I want to be with you, Bodie. Hold me.”
His body quivered, whether from denial or relief, he couldn’t say. He relaxed into her embrace and closed his eyes. “Always.” If only he could keep her here, safe from their reach.
But how safe was she from him?
He couldn’t let his feelings for her compromise the mission.
With a sharp intake of breath, she pulled away. “I’m not like this. I don’t seduce men. I haven’t even…” Hair hid her face when she dipped her chin to her chest.
He tilted his head to catch her attention. “I know.” It won him a tentative glance. “You don’t need to explain, Lily. Ever.” He knew she’d let men touch her, a few with whom she’d been infatuated, maybe even loved. None had taken her virginity.
Yet she’d offered it to him. Tenderness washed over him as she searched his face, wary and confused. Distrustful. How terrible for her, not to believe herself worthy of complete love and devotion. The same worship any goddess deserved. Someday he’d prove to her she was a true goddess.

Cate Masters loves romance with a dash of magic and mayhem! Multipublished in contemporary to historical, sweet to erotic, fantasy/dark fantasy to speculative, she sometimes mashes genres. Reviewers have described her stories as “so compelling, I did not want to put it down,” and “such romantic tales that really touch your soul.”

When not spending time with her family, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. Look for her at http://catemasters.blogspot.com, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

Sunday, February 13, 2011

The First Time ~Sensual Excerpt, Deena Remiel


The first time we make love, with the one we have fallen in love with, is a magical, wondrous experience. So, too, for Emma and Michael. But it can also be nerve-wracking as well...

Excerpt from Trinity, A Brethren Novel

©Deena Remiel, 2010. Coming soon from Decadent Publishing



“So, can I get you a cup of coffee or something?” Emma finally asked, her voice near breathless from the deafening silence that had grown between them.

“Or something,” Michael replied, as he gathered her up in an embrace that took the rest of her breath away. His eyes hypnotized as he gazed determinedly into hers. And then, he kissed her. Oh so gently at first, nibbling at her bottom lip, masterfully parting her lips so he could enter and taste her. Then he slowly raised the temperature to blistering.

At first, her arms hung limply at her sides. But as the kiss deepened, she found her footing again, and her hands slid seductively up his arms, caressing and gripping Michael’s back and shoulders. She couldn’t seem to get enough of him as she fought with his tucked-in shirt. But then, she won the battle and could feel his smooth skin and his taut muscles clenching with every touch of her hands. She didn’t feel him lift her off the floor, never once breaking their kiss. Surprised, she found herself planted on the countertop.

“Oh God, Emma, do you know what you’ve been doing to me?” he growled. “Driving me crazy, woman. That’s what.” His lips left a feverish trail of burning kisses from her jaw line down her neck. “I need more of you, Emma. So much more.”

Emma took his face into her hands and looked at him with eyes blurred by desire. She threw all caution to the wind. “My bedroom, Michael, take me there, now.” She could barely speak anymore, she could barely think. He lifted her up in his arms, never taking his eyes off hers, and made his way to her bedroom.

He closed the door with his foot, and proceeded to lay her on the bed. Her hair splayed out like black satin on the pillow. Michael stood motionless.

***

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Trinity Excerpt ~ Deena Remiel


A blood-curdling scream shattered the peaceful silence of the wee hours. She roused, instantly alert. Her soul, rocked by the echoing scream, seized up like a blown car engine.
“Ow! Son of a bitch!” Emma swore under her breath. She kicked aside the inconsiderate Malibu Barbie. “Hannah, I’m coming! Mama’s coming!”
Her stomach roiled at the terror and desperation in her daughter’s panic-stricken voice echoing through the hallway.
“I won’t go! I won’t go! No! I’ll never let you take me! I won’t do it! You can’t make me do it! Mama! Help me! Mama!”
Well hell, this is something new. Usually, when Hannah was having one of her nightmares, she shrieked until Emma talked her out of it and put her back to sleep. Now she’s talking in her nightmare, too? Completely at a loss, she raked her hands through her hair as she rushed to her daughter, writhing on the bed.
“Hannah, I’m here. You’re ok. Mama’s here. Wake up, honey. Sweetie? Mama’s here.” She repeated these phrases like a mantra, trying to keep her voice as calm and soothing as possible. But who was she kidding? This newly added dimension of these nightmares was sending her over the deep end herself. She hoped her little one couldn’t sense it.
“Mama! He’s got me! Save me, Mama!” Hannah pleaded in a frenzy of emotion. It looked as though something was tugging on her arms and she was trying to pull them back. And her eyes were open.
Crap! She’s never had her eyes open before, either. What the hell was going on?
She sat next to her frenzied body and waved a hand in front of her face. Hannah looked at and past her, as though there really was someone else in the room; as though this someone was seated right next to her. Crap, crap, crap! As she turned to look beside her, she saw a hint of a shadow, but then figured it to be her own. Get a hold of yourself.
“Honey, wake up. It’s only a dream. You’re ok. You’re safe.”
Hannah looked back again at her, and foretold in a chilling tone, “I’ll never be safe, Mama. Not anymore.”

© Deena Remiel, 2010.

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