Guest Author - Evie Jayne

As a vampire lover, the lure of fresh blood is always tempting. Today on the Vampire Scribe, I'm excited to welcome a new author to the Evernight family, Evie Jayne. Evie has a release that dropped September 7th entitled Lunacy and the Vampire. Please join me in initiating Ms. Jayne into the steamy realm of erotic romance.



Here's the book blurb from Lunacy and the Vampire:



Every myth you've ever heard is true. Monsters do exist.Luna Sea Rakshasa inhabits.

The Dominion, a realm of immortals hidden within the world of humans. She is a Beanne Sidhe huntress, a killer of dark and dangerous things, but she harbors a secret that has been tearing her apart for nearly two thousand years. On the cusp of finally facing the demon vampire who sired her, the last thing she needs is an obsessed vampire who stirs things she would rather not feel.

Aveon Ap Conwy was human before he was found dying on a battlefield and turned into a vampire. For a century he has been tormented by the personal war to keep his humanity. Nothing has been stronger until the night he meets Luna. She arouses his deepest hungers, but Aveon knows he must resist his urge to take her...because if he tastes one drop of her blood, they will both be lost.

Thrown together in an unwelcome alliance and fighting the heat that simmers between them, they travel to the mythical domain of Luna's demon sire. As their worlds merge, Luna and Aveon become bound by something stronger than lust. Can Luna lay aside centuries of prejudice and open her heart to the only man who can stand beside her in the battle with the vampire king?



Excerpt:

Her ears twitched. A sound. So subtle she barely heard it. A dark blur slammed into Cade, driving him off her. She saw a flash of metal, and cold blood sprayed across her face. Cade staggered back, clutching his arm. Red seeped between his fingers. He threw back his head and roared.

“Aveon, you bastard!”

From the shadows Aveon laughed quietly. His eyes sparkled like blue stars. He raised his dripping sword and pointed it at Luna.

“Catch me if you can,” he said, before sprinting into the darkness. For a moment Luna sat, stunned and gaping after him.

“You okay?” she asked Cade finally. The big vampire was grinning. The blood running down his arm had already slowed. His wound was beginning close.

“Hell yeah,” he said. “Go get the little shit. Make him bleed for me.”

“Will do,” she said, leaping to her feet and taking off after Aveon. As she ran she considered what had happened. Why hadn't Aveon allowed Cade to take her out of the game? It didn't make sense unless he wanted to face her himself. Or had he simply been protecting her?

As she paced through the labyrinth she kept low to the ground, scanning her surroundings for any trace of him. She found none. She was moving slowly and silently now, her sword drawn and her senses straining. Her neck prickled. He was close, maybe watching her. She peered into the shadows. Nothing, where was he?

“Luna,” his voice was a whisper of sound. She spun on her heel. He emerged from the darkness, his eyes burning with intent. His hands empty of weapons. Luna raised her blade towards him. He barely gave it a glance.

“You won't use that on me,” he said. He looked more than a little savage as he advanced on her.

“Don't count on it,” she said, eying him nervously. “We're still enemies.”

“We're many things, Luna, but not that.” He stepped toward her, laying his hand on the flat of her blade and pushing it away. Why didn't she use the moment to slice his palm, take the advantage?

Do it, Luna!

The sword tip scraped the gravel. With another step he had her backed to the wall. Inches separated them.

“This feels familiar,” he said ruefully.

“I believe it was you against the wall last time,” she said.

“And now the tables have turned. Shall I show you as much mercy as you showed me?” he said. Luna shivered as a chill that had nothing to do with cold ran down her spine.

Without warning Aveon grasped her wrist in a killing grip. Her sword clattered to the ground.

He grabbed her other wrist and pinned her hands above her head, easing his body against hers.

So savage and yet so gentle. Luna gasped, and Aveon smiled. His fangs glinted between his parted lips.

Vampire, Luna. Vampire.

But the closeness was a cool brand against her body. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest. She knew he could hear it. His eyes were fixed on the pulse point of her neck. His avid gaze burned.

He wants my blood.

“Let go of me.” Luna bucked to free herself. His grip hardened, and her struggles only increased the contact between them.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because if you don't I'll make you regret it,” she said.

“There's nothing you could do that would make me regret this.” He leaned forward and ran cold lips down her throat. Fear and lust leaped to life within her. Shivering with pleasure and surprise, she had to fight the urge to throw her head back. Good, it felt too good, and it had been so long.

She'd had lovers in the past, plenty of them. She was nearly a thousand years old after all. In her early years she had experimented as much as the next immortal, but after the first five hundred years or so it had just gotten, well, boring. Without an emotional connection it had become an itch that was less complicated to scratch on her own. And the specter of her father hung over any developing relationship. How could she commit to anything when a monster’s blood ran in her veins and whispered to her to take her lover's neck?

Aveon's hard body pressed against hers, and his lips left a trail of cold fire down her throat.

Desire rushed through her. Her small breasts grew heavy, and a wild ache rose within her. Goddess, she was starved for this and hadn't even known it. He groaned and flicked his tongue against her skin. The sound fluttered through her.

Vampire, vampire, she chanted over in her mind, clawing after sanity. Goddess, she had a vampire's lips against her neck, and all she wanted to do was bare it to him.

He'll bite you. She tried to push him away, but couldn't budge him. When had he gotten so damn strong?

He raised his head and stared into her eyes. “Don't deny this, Luna. You know this is right between us,” he said, and Goddess damn it, she did. It felt like coming home. Long forgotten emotions and needs roiled within her.

No! This was not happening. Not now. Not ever. Who did this leech think he was? How dare he make her feel such things?

“I said let-me-go.” Her voice dropped to a low growl, and her eyes narrowed.

“

Never.” His eyes burned with a purely male intent, promising wicked things. Possession was stark in his gaze, and he was looking at her as if he'd never seen anything more beautiful. Even as her mind rebelled, her body responded. To be looked at like that. For some unknown reason this crazy vampire had decided she was his.

“Why? I can't Quicken you. I thought you all wanted that,” she said. She thought a look of confusion flickered across his gaze, but was gone before she could be sure.

“I did.” He brushed his fingertips down her cheekbone. Had anyone ever touched her so adoringly, looked at her with such passion? Mesmerizing. She couldn't tear her eyes away.

Aveon leaned closer, slanting his mouth to cover hers. The shock of his lips. So cold, yet she felt delicious heat. A small moan escaped her when he gently brushed his tongue against her lips.

Another lap and the breath left her lungs. Without meaning to, she parted her lips, deepening the kiss, his lips cold silk on hers.

Can't fight this.

She fell, her mind spinning and her body raging in reaction. The ground seemed to shift beneath her feet, and the world spun away. He delved his tongue into her mouth, and after a moment of hesitation she met him. For just one moment all that existed was his mouth on hers, his tongue teasing gently. Her hand snaking up his chest and grasping the back of his neck, she held him to her.

Buy Links:

Evernight Publishing:  http://www.evernightpublishing.com/lunacy-and-the-vampire-by-evie-jayne/

Amazon:  http://www.amazon.com/Lunacy-Vampire-Dominion-ebook/dp/B00971BOK8/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1347160895&sr=8-2&keywords=Lunacy+and+the+Vampire

Author Showcase - Jean Maxwell

Happy Friday Erotic Romance Fans! I hope you've got your bolero jackets ironed and pressed today as we welcome the supremely talented, Jean Maxwell, to my blog. Jean's got another steamy edition of her Spanish Seduction series. This one's titled El Precio - The Price of Passion and it will definitely make you feel hot and bothered.


*****

 

 

 

Thanks so much for stopping by my blog, Jean. Can you tell us a little bit more about your current release?  What inspired you to expand your previous novel, El Matador, into the Spanish Seduction series?

 

Thanks Annalynne, delighted to be here!  El Mirador begins and ends with a Prologue-Epilogue scene, both of which occur in the past. As I wordsmithed these parts it became evident that Zara's father, the main character in these scenes, was way too colorful a guy to be captured in those few paragraphs, and knew I would have to tell his story eventually! And as with every good love story, you always want to know what happens to the hero and heroine next.

 

Do you do anything special to get into the zone of writing?

 

I find writing is a lot like exercising. You just start doing it, and at first you're kind of stiff but as you limber up everything starts to flow!

 

What genre/genres are your favorite, and why?

 

Well, romance of course! But science fiction is a close second, and since hooking up with Evernight Publishing, I've discovered genres I didn't know even existed! Such a sheltered life I've lived, tsk!

 

Can you describe the process you go through when starting a new story?

 

Hmmm, now you've made me think. While I'm big on 'processes' in real life, when it comes to writing I realize I may have more of a routine than a process. Generally I start with a title...great ones seem to pop up all the time and I try to write them down along with bullet-point notes for the main ideas in each. These become the 'novel notes' that I refer to as I go along. I stay away from self-editing anything until I get the whole story in place, because if I did it would never get finished. Having said that, I've found that writing first-draft stuff in longhand allows me a chance to review and improve on it when I get to my computer.

 

Tell us what books you have on your own personal To Be Read list?

 
 

Oy, I hate to admit it but I can't stop myself from finishing the Fifty-You-Know-What trilogy...I've got a ways to go yet. That, books 2 and 3 of Hunger Games, and then my copy of Shatner Rules.

 

 As you know, many of our readers are also writers themselves. What is the most important marketing tip you would share with a newbie?

 

 A book publicist told me to always have a budget figure established for marketing any project. The number doesn't matter, just set one, because there are always costs involved even for e-publishing. Secondly, be aware that even if you have a publisher and an agent, you will have to do a ton of self-promotion. So be creative, cast your net as wide as possible and join a variety of networks.

 

What can your fans expect to see from you in the near future?

 

I have fans? Yay! :) Well for starters, they can look forward to The Last Hallow's Eve, my short story coming out in October's Just Vamps anthology. I'm excited to see all the other entries in that compilation myself. There will be a Spanish Seduction 3, and a WIP that's coming along nicely about a hard-working, sexy warlock.

 

 

Excerpt:

“Welcome back, Lightning Girl,” he said with a dimpled smile, his voice low and raw with emotion. He took her hands in his. She thought her knees might give out as she recognized the undisguised need in his gaze. She swallowed hard and clasped his hands to her chest.

“Hey, Thunder Boy,” she said, embarrassed at the squeaky, Debra Winger-ish voice ensuing from her lips.

“May I escort you to your office?” he asked, casting a sidelong glance at the small crowd surrounding Mrs. Flynn.

Zara nodded weakly, feeling incapable of uttering another word. Dave’s arm slipped around her shoulders and guided her away from the action and down the long hall.

At last, they reached the cool solitude of the CEO’s office, Dave closing the door behind them. They didn’t get much farther. He spun her around and braced her against the heavy oak paneling, trapping her between him and the door.

“My God, I missed you,” he said, his mouth seeking hers insistently. She barely heard his words above the pounding of her own heart. Her lips trembled as they met his in a searing, all-consuming kiss. If he’d not been holding her so tight, she’d have melted to the floor in a pool of desire. She pulled her hands free and dove them into his tousled locks, dragging her fingers through the soft, collar-length waves of light brown hair.

When they broke their kiss, neither of them breathed lightly. A kiss wasn’t nearly enough to quell the urges seething within. Dave leaned his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

“This is completely unprofessional and inappropriate,” he whispered.

“I agree,” she said, trying to catch her breath. “What on earth were you thinking, Mr. Parker?”

“Ha.” He smiled his signature half-smile as he continued to hyperventilate. “I was thinking, a demonstration might make things more clear, Miss Flynn.” He swallowed and brought his respiration rate down to a manageable level. “With your permission?”

“By all means, you have my complete attention, sir.”

He pushed away from the door, pulling her with him. He dragged one of the hard-backed visitor chairs over and jammed it up against the doorknob. Walking backwards, he towed her across the room to the oversized drafting table between two massive bookcases. He lifted her to sit on the vinyl-topped surface, wedging his body between her knees. His hands framed her face while he kissed her, hard.

Without conscious thought, Zara’s fingers went to his belt, flipping the buckle open and sliding it through the jean loops and onto the floor. She undid the metal button and worked the zipper down in a few tugs. He caught up strands of her hair and massaged them against her cheeks as he deepened his kiss, letting her continue undressing him. She separated the buttons on his soft denim shirt, slipping her hands inside to stroke his muscled chest. Her fingertips found his taut nipples and lingered there, tickling and touching.

He wrenched the rest of the shirt off then set to work on the front buttons of her sweater, stripping her down to her lacy black bra. His mouth moved to her chest, licking and kissing the mounds of her breasts as he pushed up the hem of her skirt.

With her hormones raging, Zara felt like she might leave a puddle on the tabletop if she didn’t get his dick inside her in the next ten seconds. She grasped at the waistband of his jeans and pushed them down past his hips, releasing his swollen member from its bounds. He pulled her roughly to the edge of the table, lifting her enough to free her skirt from around her bum. Her thin panties were no match for Dave’s insistent fingers. Not much material to them in any case, they shredded easily in his hands. He slung one arm under her knee and lifted it to his ribs, creating enough clearance to plunge his throbbing penis into her.

Zara sucked in air at the sudden, aggressive entry, surprised at how much the rough play excited her. Her arms went tight around his back, her fingernails digging into his skin, clinging to him like a cat on a scratching post. She relished the pounding rhythm of his cock driving into her. Holy Mother, was this how it would always be between them if they were apart for more than a few days? God, she hoped so.

She took all of what he had to give her, mindless of the blueprints and mechanical pencils scattering to the floor from the rocking tabletop. Without the benefit of much foreplay, Zara still felt the rising tide of orgasm flow toward her center as she matched his thrusts.

It usually didn’t work that way for her, the tender tissues between her legs typically requiring a bit more encouragement and…finesse, but…right now…felt good. Jesus, this was her workplace! At least twenty people stood not five meters outside the door. This is crazy!

A burning flush rose up her chest, her breasts tingling and tightening, while her inner thighs quivered on the threshold of surrender. The very idea of making it on an office desk, and that they might be discovered at any moment, brought an unexpected thrill. This is beyond crazy…this is unconscionable…this is…oh, sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

She tumbled into orgasm, and so did he. As Dave was about to let out a satisfactory moan, Zara covered his mouth in a smothering kiss to prevent any telltale noise from exiting the room. His free hand cupped the back of her head. She listened to the sound of his breathing and the soft grunts trapped in his throat as he buried himself in her kiss.

Their lips parted, and he nuzzled her neck and licked her earlobe before speaking in a painful whisper. “I’m sorry…if I rushed you. Did I hurt you? I never want to hurt you. I can do better.”

She kissed his cheek. “If you were hurting me, I sure as hell like being hurt,” she replied. “And if you did any better, I’d have to fire you. For being so unprofessional. But your, demonstration, was certainly convincing. Remind me to have you make business presentations more often.”

 

 

Buy Links for El Precio - The Price of Passion:

 

Amazon:  http://www.evernightpublishing.com/el-precio-the-price-of-passion-by-jean-maxwell/

 

Evernight Publishing: http://www.evernightpublishing.com/el-precio-the-price-of-passion-by-jean-maxwell/

Blood Bond

Blood Bond, a short story I wrote will be included in Evernight Publishing's Just Vamps anthology due out on Halloween. Check out the book blurb/excerpt below:

Book Blurb:


 

Tori Gallagher and Gianna Pugliese have been best friends since kindergarten. But when Tori’s family is forced to leave suburban Lowell, Massachusetts behind and move to Boston for her father’s job, their world falls apart. Distraught at the possibility of separation, the two girls slit their wrists and forge a blood bond, sisters by means of their fluid exchange.

Flash forward fifteen years. Gianna still lives in Lowell, working at her parents’ Italian bakery, La Dolce Vita. Tori follows into her father’s footsteps and peddles prescription drugs to local doctors and hospitals as a pharmaceutical sales rep. One day on the job, she helps screen patients for a clinical trial of an investigational medicine. There she meets Dario Potente, a smoking hot vampire who shares her deviant sexual desires.

The chemistry between the two lovers is intense, until Gianna ends up on her doorstep claiming to who have seen and felt every detail of their latest lust-filled escapade.

Excerpt:

           “So tell me about this dream,” Tori said as she took a seat on the sofa next to her husband and nuzzled into the crook of his arm.

            Gianna’s cheeks flushed hot at the thought of revealing the nitty gritty details of the dream. Tori appeared safe and content, but on the off chance her best friend was in trouble, she had no other choice than to spill her guts. She needed to see the expression on her face in order to unearth the truth. Her gaze darted left to right to avoid direct eye contact as she relived the graphic sexual content of the fantasy that had unfolded between the two newlyweds. Whips and chains aside, the intense emotional connection between them caused her voice to crack as she spoke. Still, she managed to confess that she’d watched like a voyeur, reveling in each eagerly awaited brush of skin against skin.

            Gianna clenched her thighs shut, trying to keep her companions from smelling the pungent scent of her sex. Liquid had already moistened the flimsy material of her pink cotton panties. As the last few flashes of their erotic encounter spilled from her lips, Gianna stared up at Tori. There were a myriad of questions on her mind. Could it be true? Had her best friend willingly allowed Dario to pierce her flesh and guzzle down her blood?

            While the possibilities swirled around in Gianna’s brain, Tori cocked her head sideways as if to gauge her husband’s reaction. “How is this possible? Could Gianna have somehow gained a window into my subconscious?”

            Dario’s eyebrows furrowed. Then he scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. “I’m not sure. Have the two of you ever exchanged blood?”

            Suddenly both women drew back, their reflections laden with shock. Gianna hesitated before she answered, swallowing hard as realization struck. “Yes, we have. As children, we slit our wrists and forged a bond.”

            “But I never thought anything of it,” Tori interceded, standing up to pace the confines of her small living room. “It was just a silly, childish game.”

For the first time, Gianna noticed the drastic transformation the room had endured. Before, her friend had incorporated neutral shades of brown and tan with a splash of mauve thrown in to brighten up the space. Now the décor took on a much darker, more catastrophic feel. The couches were made of rich Italian leather and the carpets a deep, crimson red. Framed lithographs by renowned painter Salvador Dalí lined the walls with depictions of hellfire and brimstone.

In addition to her interior design preferences, Tori had changed a lot in the past few months. Most likely, Dario had been the cause. If the dream she'd experienced was any indication, sex for them teetered on the brink of kink. It seemed that that was exactly the way her best friend preferred it. She’d no doubt moved on from drunken one night stands with frat boys to submissive interludes with a sadomasochistic lover who drank blood for sport.

Although Tori would have had to be blind not to notice the flagrant sexual intent in her husband’s gaze the moment Gianna appeared on their doorstep. How could she stand by and watch him ogle her best friend? Unless, were they both into that kind of thing?

Gianna watched as Tori continued to walk nervously back and forth, but soon her husband grasped her wrist, and made her slip down into the comfort of his lap. He smiled at Gianna, a sympathetic gesture it seemed. “I know it all sounds crazy. Let me try my best to explain.” Dario combed his fingers through his hair, then took a deep breath and relaxed into the cushions of the couch. “I’m fairly certain you’ve already this figured out by now, but I am a vampire. Despite my proclivities, I’d never hurt your friend. I love her too much. Tori and I have shared fluids, including blood, and as a result, we can merge our minds.”

“You can read each other’s thoughts?”

“Not exactly,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s more intense than that. We can see, hear, smell, even taste what the other experiences.”

“The sensations can get a bit overwhelming at times, but you get used to it.” Tori dipped her head back to plant a kiss to her lover’s stubbly cheek. “I must have somehow broadcast the manifestation of my desire for Dario to you through our open channel of communication. Funny, before today, I never even knew it existed.”

Look for my short story, Blood Bond, due out on Halloween from Evernight Publishing.

http://www.evernightpublishing.com/pages/Annalynne-Russo.html

Muse Gone Rogue

What's a whimsical writer to do when her head strong muse decides to hijack the plot of her latest novel? For me, it was a question of whether or not it made sense in relation to the overal arch and theme of the story. In this case, my muse turned out to be right on the money.


Oliver Polinski (said muse, pictured above) works for the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs. His job is to plan covert missions and train his army of soldiers to hunt down and kill supernatural creatures, vampires most notably. About one-third into writing, Oliver wanted his story to take a much darker, more gritty feel. At first, I was very concerned, especially considering the rather tame nature of books 1 and 2 in the series. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Blood & Bondage is book 3 in my Tales From the Vampie Scribe collection.


Once Oliver started making his desires known, Blood & Bondage took on a life of its own. He demanded a love interest that was powerful, yet vulnerable. The heroine, Anaïs Moreau, is a classically-trained ballerina born during Henry VIII’s reign in France. After falling victim to the sexual appetites of a nobleman at court, she suffers betrayal and abandonment at the hands of her aristocratic father. Destitute and Destraught, she embraces her friend Christine’s gift of immortality and becomes a vampire. For centuries, Anaïs preys on calculating womanizers whose sole purpose is to manipulate women and steal their virtue.


Just to keep things interesting, my muse also nudged me to transform the story's villain into a sick, sadistic serial killer. After a brief lover affair a hundred years earlier, Pierre Gaucher's twisted fixation with Anaïs grows into a festering wound of jealousy and obsession that is fed by blazing desire he witnesses between Oliver and Anaïs inside a New York City BDSM club.


Below is one of the more sensual scenes from my upcoming novella, Blood & Bondage, due out in August 2012 from Evernight Publishing.



****

Other than the barrage of crimson stares, Anaïs found it difficult to make out faces. She did, however, recognize the guttural moans and groans of pleasure that came from every corner of the room. In addition, the loud bass of hard rock pounded against the walls, making the foundation of the building rattle and hum. The place had been painted all black with only a few dim strobe lights that flashed on and off at intermittent intervals.

Using the leash he’d insisted she employ, Anaïs paraded her boy toy across the length of the room. She only released him long enough to shackle his arms and legs to the hooks that hung from the walls and low-lying ceiling.

“Oliver, are you sure you want to do this?” Anaïs asked with trepidation. They had to make their act look legitimate. If their resolve wavered for even a second, the bloodsuckers in the club would see through it and surely pounce.

“I’m up to the task. I promise to be a good little sub,” he whispered huskily into her ear, making goose bumps form on already sensitive skin.

Anaïs drew back. She stared into the depths of her lover’s eyes, gauging his mood. “You do realize, I’ll have to bite you. If not, these fuckers won’t buy the charade.”

Oliver shrugged his shoulders, then handed Anaïs the flogger he’d kept huddled at his side. “No safe word, eh? Well, I suppose you’ve earned a bit of retribution.”

Anaïs yanked on the chains that bound him to ensure they were secure. Then she strutted around his tightly-coiled body, her perusal gluttonous and intense. As she encircled him, the cat o’ nine tails she held in her hand lashed at the rippled muscle on his chest. Damn, she found Oliver impossible to resist. Once again, the urge to ravage him had snuck up on her. There was something about his refined masculinity that kept her perpetually ensnared. God, she couldn’t wait to sample the rare, well-preserved vintage of his blood.

Standing behind him, Anaïs raked her razor-tipped fingernails down the curve of his spine. Then she cracked the whip again and watched his steel honed body wince. Afterwards, her hand drifted up, two bloody fingers teetered on the ridge of her lower lip. A few seconds later, her tongue slithered out and sucked the rich, red deliciousness off the tip.

That tiny tidbit of her lover’s life essence drove Anaïs’s libido into an all-out frenzy. Moisture soaked through the slick fabric of her clothing. The warm, slippery wetness slid down her inside thigh. Her hardened nipples sprang to life, rubbing painfully against the clingy latex cat suit. She wanted to tear open the sphere-shaped zipper and thrust her bosom into his face. But with an audience in tow, forcing her sub to do it with his teeth would make for a much more convincing show.

At his master’s decree, Oliver lowered his head and obliged, unzipping the fabric that covered each breast in one fell swoop. His puckered mouth took one, plump areola into his mouth, while he rolled the roughness of his weathered palm over the other.

“Suck harder, damn it! For Christ’s sake, do as I command.” Anaïs screamed loud enough for the masses to overhear.

Oliver’s low rumble reverberated against her skin. No doubt he was turned on, almost as much as she. With their bodies in such close proximity, she could hear the man’s heart beating in his chest. His carotid artery pulsed wildly on the side of his neck and Anaïs could no longer war with her instincts.

Anaïs felt her sharp, serrated canines protract, ready to pierce her lover’s supple flesh. With his mouth still suckling her breast, she reached down and clasped his enormous cock through his jeans, stroking its length until he purred like a cat. Once in the throes of pleasure, she sank her fangs deep, siphoning his blood greedily.

Oliver bucked slightly, then groaned in a clear attempt to remain in control. She knew it must have taken everything he had not to yank on the chains and pull out the stake hidden in his groin. To hell with the fact that her bite had made both of them feel good.

Anaïs pulled back, releasing the suction from their pleasure racked bodies. From a brief moment, she gazed at his face, watching his eyes re-emerge after they’d rolled back in his head. With flushed cheeks and sweat on his brow, Oliver no doubt enjoyed what they’d shared. Too bad he’d never admit it.

            Anaïs growled as her tongue swept over the twin pinpricks she’d left in his

neck in order to cauterize the open wound. “Don’t move, lover boy. The show’s not

over yet.”

Excerpt From My WIP

I thought I'd share an excerpt from my latest work in progress tentatively titled, Dance With the Undead. It's the third novel in my Tales From the Vampire Scribe series. This installment of the series centers around the relationship between Oliver Polinski, the counsel general of the Bureau of Paranormal Affairs, and Anaïs Moreau, an ancient vampiress with a well-deserved reputation as a man eater.

Excerpt from Dance With the Undead

Glancing up, Oliver spied the object of his desire; her red, flowing tresses hung over the edge of the iron railing above him. Anaïs was dancing with a man; a vampire as evidenced by the blood-curdling glow of his eyes. He had her luscious curves pinned against the balcony. Her back arched into the shape of a bow and her hair was draped over the railing’s decorative edge like a victory flag waving in the air. The sight made Oliver’s blood boil. He could hear its thunderous roar in his chest. His hands fisted at his sides, the fingernails digging into his palms.

Without thinking, Oliver leapt up the stairs to the third level of the nightclub and pushed his way through the hordes of half-drunk partygoers until he stood staring at the back of the male vampire’s skull.

Oliver tapped the guy on the shoulder and said, “Pardon me. Do you mind if I cut in?”

The bloodsucker barely acknowledged his existence. “Get lost,” he answered, with a slight tilt of his head. However, Oliver wouldn’t be denied. He slid out a stake from the inside of his coat pocket. Then he shoved his opponent back so he could look him square in the eye as he pierced the pointed edge of the weapon into his heart. The man’s eyebrows shot up in surprise once he saw the tip set against the background of his stark white shirt.

The bastard stepped closer, his red orbs growing darker until they’d been transformed into a deep, translucent garnet. Fangs extended, he sneered into Oliver’s ear; the threat came through loud and clear. Then, a splotch of blood spread across his chest. But before Oliver could press the stake all the way through, Anaïs stepped between them and knocked the weapon to the floor.

“Both of you calm down,” she said as she stared back and forth from one man to the other. Then, she turned to the vampire she’d been dancing with earlier. “You’ll have to excuse me. It appears that my dance card’s full for the rest of the night.”

The sly smirk that developed at the corners of Oliver’s mouth proved priceless, better than if he’d rubbed the vampire’s bloody wound in salt. Before long, his rival had disappeared into the crowd.

Oliver snatched up Anaïs’s hand, and swept her into his eager embrace. Their bodies glued together, they grooved to the tempo of the music. Hip to hip, the sexual tension between them soon sparked into a raging inferno.

Oliver grasped both of his partner’s hands. He thrust them behind her back, giving her very little room to move. She could hardly breathe, let alone find a way to escape. With Anaïs at his mercy, Oliver swooped in, his face just inches from hers.

“You’ve been a very bad girl, Anaïs Moreau,” his husky voice whispered in her ear. It was laced with anger and unfulfilled desire. Then he lowered his head and kissed her, slow and sensually letting his hands explore every facet of Anaïs’s magnificent flesh. Soon, he heard a soft moan escape her lips and felt her tremble in his arms.

Oliver couldn’t hesitate; the time to act had come. As he continued to distract her with his mouth, he reached one hand into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a zip tie. It was a simple, yet effective tool he often employed when the need to apprehend a suspected fiend presented itself. As he locked the plastic device into place, Anaïs’s body stiffened. The arch of her spine lengthened, while the serene expression on her face was replaced with an indignant scowl. Lifting her chin, she turned her nose to the wind and refused to meet her lover’s still smoldering gaze.

“So this is what’s it’s come to? For God’s sake, I’m a vampire, not a rabid animal. Must you tie me up like this?”

            “Somebody’s gotta save you from yourself,” Oliver smiled into

the side of her cheek, half-amused at her snooty show of defiance.

Maybe she thought it’d piss him off, but it only served to make him

horny and hard as steel. “Besides, have you ever tried playing the role

of a submissive? You never know, you might enjoy letting someone else

take the lead for once.”