Mystery Date Monday: Bear from InkUbus Tattoo

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Note: today's excerpt contains adult themes

Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Pagan tattoo artist "Bear"

What Book He's In: THE WICCANING, a paranormal romance

Where He Lives: the fictitious and magical town of Willowgrove, California

Why He's So Fascinating: Bear is a top tattoo artist, who puts a special flair into his artwork. He's also big with the ladies, who line up for a chance to have him brand them--both in the parlor and in bed. Though he tries to pass along his sage female advice to best friend Rion Silverhawk, in the end his friend has to follow his own path to romance.

A Memorable Moment with Bear:

Bear finally came out of his daze. Boots clicked on the floor with a resounding thump thump, then a sharp smack clipped the side of Rion's head. “Ouch! What the hell was that for?”

“You knocked Justine up, then did magick on her without her permission? What's wrong with you, Man?”

“Can't you understand? It's my child at stake. I acted to protect it from a woman who doesn't believe in our powers, let alone has the power to save the baby herself. Why is that wrong?”

Several long moments of thick silence followed. Then another slap on the side of his head sent hair flying into his face.

“Damnit, Bear! Stop already!”

“You got her pregnant?”

“I used a condom. And she claimed she couldn't even have kids.”

Bear chuffed. “That's what a lot of 'em say, pal. I can't believe she caught you.”

“It wasn't like that. I told you, as soon as she heard the word 'pagan' she wanted nothing to do with me.”

“Yeah, until she came crawling to your doorstep with the Big News, waitin' for a handout.”

Rion stalked over to the garage door and yanked down with excessive force. It came down with a grinding metallic scrape. “Wrong again. She never came to me about it at all. Never told me any Big News.”

“Okay, now you're confusing your best friend. If she didn't even tell you...”

“I overheard her talking about it. Twice.”

Bear waved giant arms as though diverting a ship on a crash vector. “So? That doesn't prove the kid is your problem.”

“Kids aren't problems, thanks. And I know for certain this baby is mine.”

“What, did it crawl up and say 'dada?'”

“No, the universe did.” He walked over and snapped up the spare tarot deck laying on the finishing table. “Over and over, the same cards. Remember?”

Recognition dawned in weathered, yet sharp blue eyes. “That's what all the tarot freakiness was about on fourth of July?” The manic guffaw he let out was promptly replaced by a scowl. “And you never once thought to mention any of this to your good old friend Bear?”

The man leaned across the worktable as his paw came up yet again. This time, Rion grabbed his wrist before he could make contact with his skull. “Enough with the slapping. I need some brain cells to run this business, you know.”

“You're obviously already a few short, considering your track record with women.”

“Hilarious. It's not my fault she turned out to be anti-pagan.”

He retracted his hand, pointing it in Rion's face instead. “Are you kidding? It's totally your fault. You're a trouble magnet, friend. That's why I keep trying to take you under my wing, show you how to escape the claws of the unforgiving female.”

Rion rolled his eyes. “What, with your laudable conquer-and-flee technique?”

“No, with my brilliant find-the-players technique. I only bed women who can handle a ride on the Bear Express without the need to use a barbed lasso on me when the deed's done.” He shot Rion a pointed glare. “And I don't leave behind any surprises scheduled to arrive nine months later.”

He growled. “I told you...”

“Yeah, yeah. It wasn't your fault.” Bear clucked his tongue. “Careless, Man. Real careless. And then you shtupped her with magick?”

“I shielded her to protect the baby.” A memory of their night together flashed.

“Twice.”

--from THE WICCANING
~~~~~~~~~

When Bear is Available: THE WICCANING is a work-in-progress.

How You Can Get His Story: Stay tuned!

Mystery Date Monday: Seeking Guest Dates!

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Every Monday I have been introducing a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels. Now I'd like to open this up to other authors as well! Send me a request, along with the info below, to me at writerlisalogan@verizon.net. I'll feature YOUR character on a Mystery Date Monday! I do prefer romance or erotic titles, please, though mixed genre is fine. (i.e. romantic mystery, sci-fi, or paranormal)

What To Send:

Your info: Your name, brief bio, and website or blog address.

Who: What the character's name is and what they do for a living, or "who" they are as a person.

What Book They're In: The title and genre of the work.

Where They Live: The location, fictional or real, of your character's setting

Why They Are So Fascinating: Give me a quick paragraph explaining what the character's driving factors are in your book, or something unique about their personality.

A Memorable Moment with Your Character:Provide an intriguing excerpt/scene featuring your character.

When Your Character is Available: Whether this is a current or upcoming release. (No work in progress please)

How You Can Get Their Story: Sales links for purchase.

I'm looking forward to meeting some of your characters for a Mystery Date!

Mystery Date Monday: Justine St. Clair

Photo courtesy "Bixo" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Budding candle shop entrepreneur and soon-to-become Wiccan Justine St. Clair

What Book She's In: THE WICCANING, a paranormal romance in progress

Where She Lives: fictional town of Greenview in Northern California

Why She's So Fascinating: Justine is struggling to put her life in order after the string of miscarriages that not only ended her dream of being a mother, but her marriage as well. The last thing she needs is a romantic entanglement, yet a chance encounter opens her body and soul to the meaning of true passion. Rion seems like everything she ever dreamed...until she discovers he is allied with witchcraft.

Her night of misguided passion leads to the shocking news of another ill-advised pregnancy. When a series of mysterious messages leads her to the conclusion a curse may be responsible for her prior losses, her best hope of saving her unborn child is to become the last thing a "good" girl ever dared.

A Memorable Moment with Justine St. Clair:

Two weeks had come and gone since the day she'd been rushed to the hospital. Two weeks of occasional cramping but as of yet, no more bleeding. Something horribly wonderful had happened to her that day, or wonderfully horrible. Either way, whatever was going on wasn't natural. And it had saved her from her usual fate―temporarily, at least.

She sat cross-legged atop her down duvet and pulled the towel from her head, a third thought swirling just overhead.Rion.

That day as she'd crumpled on the sidewalk, doubled over with the pain she knew meant another pregnancy was over, she'd been surrounded by the most incredible feeling. A woodsy, pure smell wafted to her, followed by a tingling warmth that outshone even the bright, hot summer day. A shimmer surrounded her, like a mirage of welcome water in the midst of a molten desert. The sensation infused her with a sense of well being, permeating down to a molecular level. All the way through to her child. The same feeling she'd had the night she and Rion had created that child.

Though she knew it was just her imagination, she could almost sense Rion's presence with her. In any case, by the time she'd reached the hospital the stabbing pains had subsided, and when they'd put the doppler over her abdomen she'd had the biggest shock of her life and broke down in sobs.

The baby still lived.

Are you cursed? Suffering the heartache?

Ironic, finding that message right as she'd been wracked with an all-too-familiar pain. Though the pain had faded, the message stuck. A curse.

Something about that word resonated in her spirit. Her miscarried babies had not shown any obvious malformation, and both she and David passed the usual battery of medical tests. Her mother would call her ridiculous for thinking such things, but the idea of a curse made a kind of wild sense.

Regardless, Justine had pushed aside the weird message to juggle the needs of her pregnancy and business. The doctor had ordered strict bed rest for ten days, and she'd reluctantly closed Candlescapes for two. Miresa was a life saver, taking paid leave to run the store. Her mother might have helped, but Justine wasn't ready to explain why she was suddenly bedridden. Still, when Miresa's paid days were up Justine had to retake the reins earlier than the doc's mandate. She'd sat in the shop in a rocker with her feet propped up, giving customers a vague story about a bad ankle.

All thoughts of that message had been forgotten until she'd stopped for groceries on the way home her first day back, when a flyer sticking to the windshield caught her eye as she drove away.

Only You Can Save Your Child.

--from THE WICCANING
~~~~~~~~~

When Justine is Available: THE WICCANING is my current work-in-progress.

How You Can Get Her Story: Stay tuned!

Who's YOUR Ideal Mystery Date?

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Every Monday I've been treating you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my stories. This week I'm turning the tables and asking you to share a character with me!

If you could have a date with (or meet) any character you wanted out of a novel, who would it be? A swarthy hunk from a pirate story? The svelte and shrewed detective from a hard-hitting P.I. novel? How about a brooding, but uber sexy vampire like Lestat or dare I say, Edward?

I suppose it's only fair to share my own choice to start things off. While there many characters who intrigue, I'll have to go with Dageus MacKeltar from Karen Marie Moning's DARK HIGHLANDER. A rippling Celtic lord with Druid powers and a massive...broadsword, he's got just the right stuff to make MY Mystery Date Monday.

Okay, I confessed...now it's your turn! Whether it be a character from a mystery, science fiction, or romance, I'm anxious to hear who you'd most like to meet!

Mystery Date Monday: Jade Windsor

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Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Budding Psychic, 8-Year-Old Jade Windsor

What Book She's In: VISIONS, contemporary/romance/mystery novel

Where She Lives: Mentone Beach, California

Why She's So Fascinating: Jade is the product of a divorce, with an upwardly mobile dad intent on a life of status cars and trophy girlfriends, and a lonely mom who works hard to give her a normal life. Except her mother isn't normal, and neither is Jade--her mother is so intent on escaping her special talent that she doesn't even realize her daughter has it, too. Can Jade help her mother embrace a gift that makes them both unique?

A Memorable Moment with Jade Windsor:

“My, Jadey, you’re squiggly today.”

The girl shrugged, itching at the tag on the back of her pink flowered blouse. Her cast had come off yesterday, her pale arm healed well enough that no additional time past the initial six weeks had been required.

She flung a new pat of butter on the stove, then stuck two slices of bread in the toaster.

“Can I have A-B-C pancakes, too?”

“We don’t have time for those today. But I can make you Wheel of Fortune toast. You can have pancakes on Saturday.”

She jumped down from her seat, voice breaking into a panicked whine. “But what if I have to be at Dad’s? Then I won’t ever get A-B-C pancakes! Jenna never cooks anything.”

Abandoning breakfast, Glory went over to kneel down in front of her daughter, hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, baby. You probably won’t have to live at Dad’s, and even if you do we’ll still be together as much as we can.” She swept Jade into a tight hug, willing herself to believe what she’d just said. “You don’t think anything could stop us, do you? We’re the amazing Jaded Glory!”

The girl sniffled against Glory’s navy blazer before pulling back. “Then when court’s over, can we see Trenton again?”

The name jolted through her stomach. It had been weeks since Jade mentioned him, much to her relief. The whole thing had been too far over an eight-year-old’s head to explain. “I don’t think so. It’s–”

“I want to play my new karaoke CD for him. So he can sing Jailhouse Rock.”

“It’s complicated. Look, let’s just worry about us right now, okay? In fact, we’d better finish getting ready.”

“But I messed up your jacket.”

Glancing down, she saw the smudge of child’s tears and runny
nose leavings below the left shoulder. “Nonsense! That’s just the
official lapel pin of motherhood, and I shall wear it proudly!”

--from VISIONS
~~~~~~~~~

When Jade is Available: VISIONS is available now in ebook or print.

How You Can Get Her Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Draumr Publishing

Mystery Date Monday: Rion Silverhawk

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Pagan jeweler Rion Silverhawk

What Book He's In: THE WICCANING, a paranormal romance

Where He Lives: the fictitious and magical town of Willowgrove, California

Why He's So Fascinating: Rion Silverhawk is far more than a craftsman who fashions artistic and magically imbued jewelry. He is a powerful witch with a talent for divination, a man who risks bucking his own spiritual ethics to save a woman--even though she rejected him for what he is.

A Memorable Moment with Rion Silverhawk:

A glance over her shoulder rewarded her with a jolt. A man was pushing through the crowd, looking straight at her. Breath dried in her throat as he drew near enough to catalog his features. Not a nondescript, average Joe. The words rock star wouldn't have been too great a stretch. As the quickening flutter of Monarchs in her stomach could attest, neither were the words trouble with a capital hunk. The glowy feeling intensified.

Many women would be moved by the black leather jacket flaring out around his knees as he strode along, or the snug jeans trapping slim hips within every confident step. A long sheen of straight blonde fell below promising, wide shoulders; with each boot step silky strands fanned back to allow glimpses of a provocative array of earrings climbing one ear. Those women who would be immune to such trappings, however, would no doubt be ensnared by the clean, strong angles on his carefully sculpted face, beginning and ending with a pair of lips one could easily envision singing praises from God's own heavenly host. These flashed into a smile that could melt a woman's heart, with a single dimple quirking his right cheek.

A smile she swore he'd just directed at her.

Dumbfounded and rooted to the spot, she managed to twist one weak corner of her own mouth upward in return. As stirring as the rest of the package was, Justine found something far more affecting about the stranger--his eyes. Did eyes that color even exist? They must, for no colored contact lens could take the jade of a Caribbean morning sea, press it into polished glass, and burnish it with a smoky quartz crystal until gray and black and green were indistinguishable from one another. That gaze held within its center the secret to unlocking a woman's universe; a spark of determination mingled with destiny that spoke to her in whispers and shudders.

Those whispers thumped her heart into a primal beat as she watched him approach. Good heavens, but the man was attractive...and getting more so the closer he came. Surely this was where the term “drop dead gorgeous” was coined, for at the rate her pulse was fluttering she would soon collapse from sheer exhaustion. Was he really coming to her? What on earth for? What would he say?

About the time she'd shifted back and forth three times between fear that the captivating stranger would speak to her and fear that he wouldn't, he dashed her hopes completely by veering off course at the last second. She felt a stab of foolish disappointment as he caught up to a basket-carrying flower lady and pulled some bills from a wallet. Of course. He wanted to buy something for the girlfriend―or twelve―no doubt swooning over him somewhere nearby.

Hoping to God he hadn't seen her grinning at him like an idiot, she swiveled back around to her drink and shook ice around in the bottom. So, he wasn't coming to talk to her. What a relief. She didn't need any drunk lechers hitting on her anyway. Speaking of which, when was Miresa coming back? Surely she wasn't planning on ditching her all night to engage in debauched flirting in some dark corner. Why on earth had Justine let herself get talked into this?

Her eyes narrowed in begrudging annoyance at the thought that even now she could be home, sunk chin deep in frothing bubbles or perhaps already slid between Egyptian cotton sheets.

"That ice bothering you, Miss?”

With a small gasp she startled at the interruption, head swiveling to find none other than the world's most striking gaze penetrating her not two feet away. Her heart applauded almost loud enough for him to hear.

She swallowed. “Excuse me?”

The eyes shifted to her glass. “The way you were scowling into your drink, I thought maybe those ice cubes had done something to offend you.”

She blinked twice before the humor in his words sank in. It's just a man trying to make conversation, for crying out loud. A really gorgeous man. Which generally works best if you converse back.

Flustered, she brushed aside a section of sideswept bangs that were impeding the toe-curling sight of him. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

"Ah, well that explains it,” he said, leaning one elbow casually on the bar. A toss of his head sent luscious blond flying again, a glimpse of earrings winking in, then out as the flaxen hair slid right back down. “Thinking that serious often gets me scowling. Or in trouble.”

His smile flashed again until she felt giddy, but this time she managed to return it as she twisted around in her seat to face him. As she did she saw he held one of the flower lady's wares, a delicate red rose with the stem clipped off and paired with a sprig of leafy fern. He twirled the bud between thumb and forefinger in a motion that beguiled.

--from THE WICCANING
~~~~~~~~~

When Rion is Available: THE WICCANING is a work-in-progress.

How You Can Get His Story: Stay tuned!

Mystery Date Monday: Grant Decker

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Farmer-turned-beachfront-home-builder Grant Decker

What Book He's In: BEWITCHING LOVE, a paranormal romance

Where He Lives: San Simone Shores, California

Why He's So Fascinating: Grant Decker is a man with big dreams and simple beliefs...until he gets entangled in the web of a witch's love spell. Enchanted by the woman he must forget, Grant discovers that crazy neighbors and magically coerced seduction are the least of his worries. When the job he needs to to fund construction on his dream home drives him right into the heart of a vampire's obsession to make the witch his mate, Grant must decide once and for all whether his feelings for her are no more than one enchanted spell, or the result of the greatest power known--love.

A Memorable Moment with Grant Decker:

Grant dropped the nail gun like a hot poker, grabbing hold of the thumb he had just impaled. Blood flowed as fire shot through the flesh, but within seconds hadn't elevated itself to the dire proportions he was expecting. Examining the wound, he realized the nail hadn't truly drilled a hole through joint and bone. He'd merely grazed a chunk of skin.

Damn fool. Get your head on the job.

His mind was in turmoil today, and he couldn't keep to the business at hand. Why he had no idea, but the result was distraction to the point of danger to himself and others—had anyone been around. As typical, he was working a solo act.

Stalking back to the trailer, he rinsed the bleeding thumb in the sink and held pressure as best he could while rooting around in the first aid kit. While the whys of his lack of brainpower might elude him, he knew the who behind it.

Dream.

Antibiotic cream and a Band-Aid later, he was back out in the grilling heat of late morning. If only he could find a way to rid himself of the witch's spell, maybe he wouldn't be crucifying himself against the support struts of his house. But he'd been caressed by a magic for which there seemed no cure. He felt boxed in despite his open surroundings, trapped in a world that forced him to obsess over the specter of what might have been. Endless nights were spent with his enchantress beneath him, writhing and crying out to him to make more like it.

He tried to avert his eyes whenever he saw his neighbor leave or return—and to stop himself from staring at the house where he'd experienced erotic wonders he'd never thought possible. And that they weren't—the whole thing was a mere facade, a phony display brought before his eyes, body, and soul by some perverted rite. Knowledge of this, however, failed to shake him loose from a need to steal glances at the satin movement of her hips and sparkle of her hair whenever he could—a sight that threatened to ensnare him all over again. Afterwards, he'd hammer and screw and drill until the churning effusion of want quieted enough to regain his sanity.

Were he a religious man, perhaps the answer might be sought from a higher source. At the rate things were going, perhaps becoming one would be wise. Until then, all he could do was finish the task before him and steer clear of the feminine persuasion in San Simone Shores. By and large they seemed a dangerous lot.

“Grant?”

Squinting into the bright sun, he watched as the voice resolved itself into the DeSanto girl. So much for steering clear.

He nodded.“Morning.”

“I'm Lacey. Remember me?”

“I do.”

She strolled around, hands folded in front of a bikini top and torn denim shorts that left little of her well-turned figure hidden. Women here didn't seem any more inclined to clothe themselves than the men, though in light of the broiling weather this shouldn't keep surprising him.

“Wow,” she said.“The place is really coming along.”

“Thanks.”

Her eyes slid over him in an appraisal ending with a movie star smile.“Looks like a lot of work.”

Already he smelled the damp hay of ulterior motive, and he hadn't the time nor constitution for it. Short of being rude, which he hadn't ruled out yet, he couldn't decide how to get her near the real point of her visit. So he opted for silence.

He met her eyes until the lack of words grew loud and uncomfortable. Her smile slipped a bit.“I...wanted to talk to you.”

“Isn't that what we're doing?”

“About Dream.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw, and he had to bite down to avoid ordering the brunette off his land.“I assured her that the house will only be single story. It won't hamper her precious ocean view.”

He started to walk back toward the nail gun, but she stepped in front of him.“That's not what I'm talking about. I know what happened between you.”

Good Christ. Had the girl blabbed to the entire seaside?

His brows knit.“Even if I knew what you meant, that's not a conversation I find fitting with a woman I barely know.”

“Oh, but sleeping with one is okay?”

“That's not for discussion. I keep to my business. Feel free to keep to yours.”

He stalked back to the frame section he'd been working on, hoping she'd be too girl-minded to follow him into the maze of power tools and dusty boards.
She wasn't.

“Dream's devastated about what happened, you know.”

He turned to her with a stare that stopped her advance.“So much that she couldn't wait to brag? Tell me, is there anyone in this town she hasn't told?”

Lacey frowned.“She only told me. I'm her best friend.”

His snort in reply was less than kind, as was her return glare.“I thought you were a nice guy the day you moved here.”

He turned back to his work, dropping the same nail three times.“I am a nice guy. People around here just seem hell bent on undoing that.”

--from BEWITCHING LOVE
~~~~~~~~~

When Grant is Available: BEWITCHING MAGIC has not yet been released.

How You Can Get His Story: BEWITCHING MAGIC is currently under consideration for publishing. Stay tuned!

Mystery Date Monday: Dominique Trudeaux

Photo courtesy "Bixo" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!
NOTE: The following excerpt contains adult themes.

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Joan Collins-wannabe Dominique Trudeaux

What Book She's In: A GRAND SEDUCTION, a tale of contemporary intrigue and mystery

Where She Lives: Quakertown, PA

Why She's So Fascinating: Dominique Trudeaux is a well groomed, successful divorcee--turning the sour lemons of an ugly breakup into the lemonade of a lucrative investing business. Everything about her is sexy and smooth--from her designer wardrobe to her blood-red fingernails and her Porsche Boxter with MNYDIVA on the license plate. Smooth enough to be the brains behind a contrived seduction scheme designed to spare a best friend from a divorce as financially anemic as her own...but not quite smooth enough to keep from getting trapped in her own web of sex, deception, and murder.

A Memorable Moment with Dominique Trudeaux:

Dominique watched as her friend’s face turn red, eyes bulging at the contents. “What is all this stuff?”

“What the hell does it look like?”

Ridelle’s lip sneered, but a wicked smile lurked beneath. “Sex toys.” She picked up a rainbow colored shaft of studded rubber. “Some really wild ones.”

Dominique threw her head back and laughed. “Right you are. There’s a bit of tramp in all of us, darling.” She leaned over and pawed through the treasure trove before holding up a tube labeled Tasty Twist—butter cream.

The other girl shook her head, her voice pounds lighter than when she’d first walked in. “So what’s your point here? If you can’t beat ‘em, tramp with ‘em?”

“No. It’s that what you’re feeling isn’t betraying a friend. It’s just natural born chemistry.”

“That doesn’t make this all right.”

The woman’s eyes landed on a pair of old handcuffs, a memory alighting in the pit of her stomach. Good times. “You’ve been asked by Fran to help do this. You agreed. Now, you believe that to prove your intentions pure, you should punish yourself by obtaining no sexual pleasure from this whatsoever. Does that about sum this up?”

The girl dropped the bright orange love ring she’d been examining with puzzlement back into the case. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Dominique shook her head. “It can’t work like that, honey. You’re a healthy young woman. Bruce is no George Clooney, but he isn’t exactly Woody Allen, either.”

To visualize her point, she pulled out an eight-inch jelly dildo in bright purple and waggled it at her friend. Ridelle’s eyes shot open and she exploded in laughter. “You’re crazy!”

“He’s a wealthy, distinguished businessman who has an eye for you.” She waggled the dong closer, as if it were a walking Bruce. “Of course that attention is flattering. He wants you. That’s flattering, too.”

Ridelle was scarlet from laughter. “Stop!”

The other’s eyes twinkled mischief as she reached into the case, extracting the cock ring Ridelle had just abandoned. She danced it slowly toward her the dildo hand. “Then here you are, playing an undercover role. A woman of erotic mystery, dressing in sexy clothes and playing the part of seductress. That’s exciting.”

The toys shuffled closer to one another as Dominique went on. “The tension between the two of you grows. The anticipation. Does he really want you? Bad enough to risk anything? Are you truly that desirable?”

The girl’s face had gone purple, and she was holding her sides. The tears now streaming were from gleeful hysterics, not guilt. Yes, I was always quite the holy terror at parties.

“Just when one thinks that’s all the sexual tension two human beings can stand, there’s a final blow.” She waggled the jelly penis and love ring in front of Ridelle’s face to within centimeters of each other, then froze them in place. “Their lust is forbidden.” She strained the dildo and cock ring toward one another, quivering them to elicit another paroxysm of laughter from her friend. “They want, but cannot have. In not having, their want grows. Fires their need until they are consumed. Then, finally, Boom.”

Dominique’s toys jammed together, consummating rubbery passion in a graphic depiction of adultery as her demonstration concluded.

Ridelle wiped tears from her eyes, chest heaving with hiccuping exhaustion. “You are one completely crazy bitch, you know that?”

She tossed the toys inside the box and shrugged. “Whatever it takes to make my point. I was captain of my debate team, you know.”

Laughter subsided into a dull hoot. “Oh, no doubt. With you waggling fake dicks around, the other team probably forgot what they were supposed to be arguing.”

She leaned her left hand on the table, reaching across to Ridelle with the other to brush back a wayward strand of hair. “Please stop slapping yourself around for possessing female hormones. If you get some physical enjoyment out of the deal, don’t treat it as something evil. Use it to your advantage. Use it to get you through what must be done. If nothing else, consider it too small of a reward for what you are doing for Fran in return. Right?”

She nodded.

Dominique shoved the box closer. “Good. Now I want you to take this home.”

Eyebrows shot up. “What? I’m not taking that stuff!”

“I assure you, it’s sanitized for your protection.”

“I don’t need dildos to get me in the mood for this job, remember? That’s the whole problem.”

She shook her head. “Not for that. It’s to remind you of our talk. If you start wavering again, I want you to take out this box and look through it. Remember that you are human, and were cajoled into doing this. The fun part is your silver lining.” Dominique winked at the girl and started to flip the lid shut when something caught her eye.

Digging into the box once more, she came out with an iridescent silver phallus that could readily have borne the logo “Official Dildo of NASA.”

“Not this one, though.” She thumbed on a switch, bringing the space aged device to surprisingly forceful life. “I think we have a date tomorrow.”

--from A GRAND SEDUCTION
~~~~~~~~~

When Dominique is Available: A GRAND SEDUCTION is available now.

How You Can Get Her Story: Get it in print from Amazon, or eco-friendly eBook from Fictionwise

Mystery Date Monday: Warren Ross

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Homicide Detective Warren Ross

What Book He's In: A GRAND SEDUCTION, a tale of contemporary intrigue and mystery

Where He Lives: New York

Why He's So Fascinating: Warren Ross' investigation into the motel room shooting of a wealthy businessman while in flagrante delicto takes him to Bucks County, Pennsylvania, where he encounters a sexy brunette whose girl-next-door charms turn his head after hours. Just one problem: his new squeeze is far closer to the investigation than he suspects.

A Memorable Moment with Warren Ross:

“Man, haven’t I been there before.”

She glanced sideways, just enough to fix him with a get lost stare. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you from your troubles,” the man said. “I just recognize that look intimately. Weight of the world.”

Her intent to shoot a stream of acid his way evaporated at his blue-eyed gaze, which pierced the shield around her resolve to sit alone and brood. Square shoulders spanned beneath an equally square chin nicked in the center; close-cropped hair was peppered with shades of silty brown and rust, as if it couldn’t quite decide which to be. Still, it was the smile in the midst of this handsome melee that undid her—smoky, knowing, and sincere rolled into one skirt-lifting package.

Despite herself, her mood lifted into a half smile and shrug. “Just call me Atlas.”

He held a hand out to her for a firm, yet supple shake. “Pleased to meet you, Atlas. I’m Warren. Warren Ross.”

“Ridelle ‘Atlas’ Walters.”

The sizzling touch of his hand partnered with that smile to instantly unlatch her virtual chastity belt. Or would have, had she’d still possessed one.

Shifting sideways on his stool, he rested one elbow on the bar and the other on his chair back, hands folding in front of his torso. “Live here in Quakertown?”

“Yep. Not a native though; transplanted from the Poconos. You?”

A quick shake of his head tousled the sheen of reddish-brown. “New York, as I’m sure my dashing lilt gives away. I’m here on business.”

“What kind of business?”

Brows went north. “The stressful kind.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

“You aren’t. I just don’t find shop talk very useful when trying to dazzle a beautiful woman.”

The word beautiful danced through her midsection.“Is that what you’re doing?"

“That depends. Is it working?”

Ridelle gazed in front of her, twirling the stem of her empty glass between her fingers. “It’s definitely not failing.”

“That settles it. You’re obviously a skilled diplomat. White House publicity rep?”

A grin twisted one corner of her mouth. “Hardly.”

“Professional schmoozer, certainly.”

Well, there is that...

She laughed, offering a small shrug. He sat as she twirled, obviously waiting for an answer she couldn’t give. Honestly, anyway. There was the truth, and then the stylized version she told her family. But hell, this was just a stranger in a bar. She didn’t owe him truth or anything else. Besides, hadn’t he just cleverly dodged the same question? Well, she could be mysterious, too.

Abandoning her thoughts and the glass, she turned back to him. “So, Warren...do you dance?”

His smile lit all the stars in her heaven. “Willing to find out?”

--from A GRAND SEDUCTION
~~~~~~~~~

When Warren is Available: A GRAND SEDUCTION is available now.

How You Can Get His Story: Get it in print from Amazon, or eco-friendly eBook from Fictionwise

Mystery Date Monday: Dream Ballantyne

Photo courtesy "Bixo" from Stock Xchg

Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: California girl-slash-witch Dream Ballantyne

What Book She's In: IMMORTAL MAGIC, a paranormal romance in progress

Where She Lives: San Simone Shores, an affluent and hip (fictional) Southern California beachfront town.

Why She's So Fascinating: Dream Ballantyne lives in a beautiful home overlooking the glittering Pacific Ocean...wealthy, beautiful, and a powerful witch. But darkness preys on San Simone Shores, a darkness that cost her both her parents and any chance at a normal life. When her attempt to conjure a love spell works a bit TOO well, Dream finds herself with a whole set of new problems--including the gorgeous new neighbor-turned-one-night-stand who has no intention of associating with a witch, and a vampire stalker who has every intention of taking Dream as a mate--forever.

A Memorable Moment with Dream Ballantyne:

A well-crafted spell was not unlike the careful chemistry of baking a cake. A proper blend of intent, correspondences, and actions provided the best results. Several books into her search, she opted for a two-part spell, done overnight to utilize both the moon's feminine, mystical energies and the sun's potent male power. Tied to the incantation would be a spell bag full of ingredients, specially selected for their potent love qualities.

Yes.

“When the moon is waxing,” she read aloud,“place the witch's ball under the pillow.” She snapped the book shut, dropping it in her lap.“Easy enough. Sleep the night away on the potion bag, then do the actual incant tomorrow.”

Groaning to a stand on legs protesting the lengthy research party, Dream didn't bother to replace her books as usual. Grabbing her spell journal, she slid downstairs through a mantle of descending night, pausing outside the door to snatch several tiny white flowers just opening on vines snaking along the railing. Night blooming Jasmine.

Gathering more ingredients on the way to the kitchen, she narrowed her thoughts to a single purpose—the power of attraction. Lighting a narrow red taper, she focused her will on the flame for a few moments, then dripped a quarter-sized circle onto a square of tin foil. Allowing this wax coin to cool, she set the candle aside and laid out a square of cheesecloth. Into this would go nine correspondences of love, attraction, and lust: jasmine, her favorite moonstone, a copper penny, a sprinkling of cinnamon, a slice of red apple, a dash of vanilla, three pink rose petals from the bush outside the front door, and a photograph of herself.

A rather particular photo.

Turning behind her, she gazed out the window overlooking the front of the house. The home was elevated with a vacant lot directly across, and she was fairly certain no one could see in. Still, she twisted the mini blind louvers closed, then snapped up the Polaroid and fiddled with the self-timer. When she was as ready as she could get, she shrugged out of faded blue jeans and a double layer of tank tops, heaping the works in a pile at her feet.

“Just point and shoot,” she said, grinning like a fool at the irony of exactly what part of her was pointing of its own accord at the camera on the counter before her. Being naked while alone in ones' own home was hardly cause to feel jumpy, but she was no Playboy model. Not that the photo had to be professional quality, but a nervous shiver ran through her nonetheless.

Still, plenty of witches did all their casting in the altogether—some during group ritual. Surely she could manage this.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, she struck a ridiculous and awkward hands-behind-the-head pose, held her breath and waited. As always, she managed to blink right as the flash went off. Damn. As the mechanism spit out the results, she left it alone to develop.

--from IMMORTAL MAGIC
~~~~~~~~~

When Dream is Available: IMMORTAL MAGIC is a completed manuscript currently seeking publication. Stay tuned!

Mystery Date Monday: Bruce Myers

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Wealthy Philanderer Bruce Myers

What Book He's In: A GRAND SEDUCTION, a tale of contemporary intrigue and mystery

Where He Lives: Bucks County, PA

Why He's So Fascinating: Bruce Myers has everything--a high paying New York job, fancy home, black BMW. Everything but the one thing he wants--love and true respect from his trophy wife. Like many caught in the disappointment of a sagging marriage, Bruce has sought comfort elsewhere from time to time. Little does he know his wife is not only aware of his latest conquest, she set the whole thing up to trap him into a cush divorce settlement.

A Memorable Moment with Bruce Myers:

Once back at the car, Bruce leaned in over the passenger side, depositing Styrofoam containers on the seat before fiddling with controls that beckoned the black leather soft top to return from hiding. As mechanics whirred and clicked the roof into place, he turned to Ridelle and fixed her with a determined stare. “So, I’m wondering something.”

She cocked her head in reply, and a span of heartbeats passed before he continued. “If I were to ask you what it was that you said you desired back there, would you tell me?”

Oh, sure thing–and in pig Latin, since it comes so natural to me. Besides, if I do and you say no, where does that leave us?

Her eyes dropped to his Adam’s Apple, skimming down past the hollow to where chest hair disappeared under the top button of his shirt. He was close enough now that if she were to lean in and sniff at his pinstriped vest, she would swoon under the faint tang of remaining cologne. A thought which proved insanely appealing, rather than dangerously fatal as it should be.

“I’m not sure I can,” she ventured. “It probably doesn’t matter anyway. I’m used to not getting what I want.”

With a tentative reach, Bruce crooked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze to meet his. His touched seared away thoughts of cold night air. “We all want things, Ridelle.”

Her voice dropped away to an accusing whisper. “But what if...what I want is wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong with desire. Life deprives us of enough without us holding back from ourselves. If there’s something you want, don’t be afraid to take it. Don’t wonder later what might have been.”

“I...” she paused, a lump rising in her throat as the truth of his words sank far deeper than her current predicament. Was that what held her like a cripple all these years, unable to move ahead with life? Was she afraid to want?

She pulled herself to him, arms wrapping around his surprised shoulders in an embrace that cried for more than friendship. Burying her head in his chest, she let go of restraint and breathed him in deeply. A shuddering gasp elicited a moan from Bruce’s throat, and he pulled her back to hold her at arm’s length.

Studying her clouded gaze, a muscle worked along the set of his jaw. “Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to want...me.”

--from A GRAND SEDUCTION
~~~~~~~~~

When Bruce is Available: A GRAND SEDUCTION is available now.

How You Can Get His Story: Get it in print from Amazon, or eco-friendly eBook from Fictionwise

Mystery Date Monday: Sinda Ella

Photo courtesy "Bixo" from Stock Xchg

Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Servant-Turned-Vampire Lusinda Ella Fairbairn

What Book She's In: In the lead story SINDARELLA in TWISTED FAYRIE TALES, fantasy/erotic anthology

Where She Lives: A fantasy kingdom far away

Why She's So Fascinating: Lusinda Ella Fairbairn, called Sinda for short, has as little desire to attend royal balls as she has fancy gowns in her closet. Spoiled, self-absorbed princes hold no intrigue, even if her life is little more than indentured servitude to her stepsisters. Yet when she discovers their plot to use twisted sex magics to bind Prince Verrill to their will, Sinda winds up in a race against time and death itself to get to the royal ball and save him. Just one problem: how can she save a tempting male when her only escape from the manor is to become a bloodthirsty vampire?

A Memorable Moment with Sinda Ella:

“Sinda.”

My eyes fluttered, arms and legs feeling strangely detached. Mikkhail stood over me.

“Am I...?”

He nodded, extending a hand that no longer felt cold as I rose to a thousand scents. One enchanted above them all. I breathed deeply.

“Blood,” he said. “Yours.”

I glanced down, frock wet with smears of Mikkhail's feed. He reached out, but I passed, drawn to dark energies just ahead. 'Twas still black under the canopy, but my eyes had adjusted. Or changed.

I felt the magic, its power twisted and rife with all manner of unknowable creatures. This was what Mikkhail had felt. What drew him here.

Reaching the barrier's edge, I plunged my hand through...and smiled.

“Going so soon?” Mikkhail grabbed my arm.

I pulled away. “I have royal business to attend.”

He was at my heels. “Such haste...even at the risk of your life.”

I stopped. “I'm not 'alive,' am I?”

“If you wish to be so again, you'd be wise to hear me.”

I wanted my business done, but held silent.

“The enchantment breaks with sunrise,” he said. “You must be indoors―and within the barrier―before then.”

I shrugged. “If not?”

“I'm not certain.”

My brows lifted. “Meaning, perhaps nothing?”

“Meaning, either the bite won't fade in time to save you death by sunlight, or it will―with you outside the barrier.”

Consequence sank my stomach, but not as much as if I were still mortal. “Then I shall return before sunlight.”

I stalked away, leaves crunching underfoot.

“Think the palace will bid you welcome,” he called, “when you arrive torn and bloodied?”

The truth of it burned my cheeks. “Fine.”

With nimble fingers I made to pull the laces of my bodice, but grew angry. With a growl I rent the garment, shrugging it to the woodland floor.


--from SINDARELLA, TWISTED FAYRIE TALES
~~~~~~~~~

When 'Sinda is Available: TWISTED FAYRIE TALES now available in ebook or print.


How You Can Get Her Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Eternal Press Publishing

Mystery Date Monday: Ted Blake

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Reclusive Freelance Researcher Ted Blake

What Book He's In: the award-winning story THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT, part of the TWISTED FAYRIE TALES anthology

Where He Lives: A small town in Anywhere USA

Why He's So Fascinating: Ted retreats from society--and life--after tragically losing the woman he loved on the very Christmas Eve he planned to propose. Every Christmas Eve thereafter he brings a gift to her grave...until a snowglobe he intends to bestow whisks him away to a chance of a lifetime--one chance to reclaim his lost love.

A Memorable Moment with Ted Blake:

“Ready?” Finn chewed his pipe as the pair regarded the door. After a restless night flopping around on his cot, Ted announced the path he’d chosen. Now they stood by a door much like all the rest.

“No, but I’m going in anyway.”

Finn clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “I’m not supposed to say, but your choice shows promise.” He jabbed his pipe in the air towards the other man, to punctuate each word. “But remember, the way you do the twisting’s is as important as where you do it. Choose your words and deeds wise and well. That’s the way to turn the path aside.”

“I will.”

“As soon as you step inside the door, time will turn aside, to the past. You can’t come back once you’ve started.”

His eyes widened. “What happens to me when I’ve finished?”

Furry white brows raised. “That depends on your actions. You’ll end up where the twist takes you. Good turn to you, lad.”

The thought gave him pause. What if he screwed up and landed in some dismal place? His home could be gone—everything he knew. After a panicked moment, he came to the realization that he lost everything that mattered eight years ago. Nodding to Finn, he squared his shoulders and started towards the door.

A voice shouted from behind him. “Hey, mister!”

Ted peered over his shoulder to see the boy standing, small and alone, in the middle of the street.

“Charlie? What is it?”

“Just, good luck. That’s all.” The boy’s eyes were glassy and reflected a longing Ted knew all too well. The sight of the lost child stung right to the core of the man’s heart. Why couldn’t the boy have this same chance for happiness? Or had he been given a chance, and failed?

He let out a deep breath and mustered a smile. “Thanks. And . . . you too.”

After a moment that seemed to span a lifetime, he turned and headed for the door.

“Hey! One more thing, mister.”

Before Ted could reply, the boy yelled, “Duck!”

A snowball caught him solid in the back. He winked at the boy and reached for the door. Finn waited, silent.

The knob turned. He hesitated at the threshold, then drew a deep breath and stepped through the open door . . . and found himself in a barren and freshly swept cabin that was completely unremarkable.

Empty? Was this a trick? Halfway through the thought the scene melted in a dizzying swirl, rocking him on his feet. Forcing himself not to shut his eyes against the sensation, he watched as the room resolved itself into a small park.

Shelton Park! It had worked. Overdressed for the early autumn weather, he doffed his hat, gloves, and scarf and squinted against the bright sunlight. There, his heart caught.

Julia sat on a bench, cobalt blue eyes a startling contrast to the beige sweater and pants she wore. Silken strands of hair the color of caramel candy wafted on a gentle breeze. She smiled at Ted and his soul leapt. This was it—the part of the path he had to turn aside.

--from THE CHRISTMAS PRESENT, TWISTED FAYRIE TALES
~~~~~~~~~

When Ted is Available: TWISTED FAYRIE TALES available now in print or ebook

How You Can Get His Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Eternal Press Publishing

Mystery Date Monday: Glory Windsor

Photo courtesy "Bixo" from Stock Xchg

Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Psychic/Single Mom Glory Windsor

What Book She's In: VISIONS, contemporary/romance/mystery novel

Where She Lives: Mentone Beach, California

Why She's So Fascinating: Glory finds herself in a position most women would envy: she attracts the notice of a delectably sexy film star. What's more, they become inexplicably bound to each other after an accidental bump transfers some of her much-maligned psychic abilities to him. While he--and the paparazzi--chases after their passion and power, she runs away...but not fast enough to escape an inevitable union, OR a past that threatens to rob her of her daughter, Jade.

A Memorable Moment with Glory Windsor:

“Glory Windsor?”

Her head snapped up, startled to find flashbulbs going off from over a nearby display rack. She hadn’t noticed anyone come in.

“Glory, can you really see the future?”

Two photographers slapped at shutter buttons as she tried to process what was happening. The press? Had they followed her here?

“What’s the future look like for you and Trenton Dane?”

Another reporter chimed in. “Are you taking money for your services? Is it true you’re running a scam on celebrities?”

“No!” She looked around, silently pleading for help. The sales people huddled together by the register, making no move to intervene. For one of the most famous shopping destinations in the world, she decided some Rodeo personnel could stand lessons on customer service.

The press stood between her and the exit, leaving her trapped like a mouse about to be picked off by a circling hawk. Desperate, she dropped to her knees and shuffled through two small racks of designer dresses before hopping up and rocketing out the door. Not to be outdone by the feeble trick, reporters pushed after her.

Another flashbulb, situated by the curb, caught her head on as she fled out onto the sidewalk.

“Glory, who’s going to win the playoffs next week?” The question sent up a ruffle of derisive laughter.

“Hey, she didn’t pay for that stuff!” The spiky-haired salesgirl protested. Glory was too far out the door–and moving too fast–to hear.

Without thinking she dashed across the street, narrowly averting a trip to Cedar Sinai hospital courtesy of a midnight blue Mercedes 350 SL. The driver was still yelling at her as she took the remaining few feet of Rodeo Drive in long strides and rounded the corner at Wilshire, nearly taking out a woman heavily laden with shopping bags labeled “Escada.” The startled brunette sniffed at Glory’s breathless apology and resumed clicking her high-heeled way down the Boulevard.

A hundred feet further brought her to the old-world European splendor of the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, where she wasted no time peeling through the glass doors. Still at racing speed upon entering, her black flats slid across the shiniest floor she’d ever seen.

[...] A quick look back offered reassurance that no one had followed her. Yet. She leaned against a massive square column, breath coming in short, mouth-drying gasps. Beads of sweat prickled her armpits. The hundred-yard dash had never been her best event, but the fatigue induced by her sprint was a definite sign it was time to get reacquainted with the treadmill gathering dust out in her garage.

--from VISIONS
~~~~~~~~~

When Glory is Available: VISIONS is available now in ebook or print.

How You Can Get Her Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Draumr Publishing

Mystery Date Monday: Prince Verrill

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Prince Verrill

What Book He's In: TWISTED FAYRIE TALES, story: SINDARELLA anthology/fantasy/erotic

Where He Lives: In a fantasy kingdom of vampires, erotic pleasures, and witches' spells

Why He's So Fascinating: Powerful enough to attract the notice of 'Sinda's step-witches, there's more to Verrill than meets the eye--and he's certainly a delectable eyeful. And he's more than male enough to go neck and neck with the dangerous beauty who crashes the ball to save the man she believes little more than a shallow slave to his hand mirror.

A Memorable Moment with Prince Verrill:

Truly, the royal portrait painter deserved execution for the gross miscarriage of justice in every likeness of Prince Verrill I'd seen. This god wrought my understanding of his plight; had I been born to his visage I, too, would desire only to pleasure myself in view of the looking glass. Tall and sculpted, his hair was sleek, yet wild as the finest black steed. Eyes were the unfathomable jade of a churning sea. Indeed, the latter fixed me with a stare stirring new hungers, tossing what remained of human emotions like waves after a storm.

This storm was just beginning.

Shock subsided enough to allow dictates and my voice. Lifting heavy skirts, I dropped in a low curtsy. “I fear I'm naught for finery or the ballroom, sire.”

His nod bid me rise; his smile bid my desire aflame. “Yet finery clings to you quite naturally,” he said, gaze sweeping without fanfare to my breasts. “Though you seem to have forgotten some of it.”

He neared, gold tassels swaying from epaulets which capped shoulders a palm's width greater than my own. “Perhaps you were remiss in your excitement? Or did you wish to get a horse's gallop ahead of other maidens, by seeking me without your undergarments?”

My lip snarled. I recalled my true purpose here, and my true feelings. “I was neither, Highness. Merely in need of haste.”

And no longer disposed to modesty, but no doubt he would count this a personal testament.

“I've offended you.”

I raised my chin. “Not at all, sire. I came with all haste to see you, true. But for reasons you do not suspect.”

My chest gave an odd flip as he took my hand, my stilled heart trying to remember how to beat. “I can't say I'm not glad of it, whatever your reasons.” He frowned. “You're frozen. Here.” The Prince tugged a silk cord at his throat, releasing a gold capelet thrown across one shoulder. With the smooth flourish of a conquistador, he draped me in fabric.

I had no need of it, but smiled. “You're too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Verrill.”

“Lucinda Ella Fairbairn. Sinda.”

'Twas his turn to bow. “Come, Sinda. I would not have you catch your death.”

Truly. My smile followed his to a small chamber; small being relative to the palace. The parlor spanned the Manor's length, boasting more chaises than a carpenter's craft for a year.

Leading me by the hand, Prince Verrill brought me to a crackling fire. He took both hands in his, but 'twas his gaze warming me as gentle strains of a minuet stole through the open door.

“May I?”

Without pause for the rejection he'd undoubtedly never heard, he pulled me to him. Dance 'tis a genteel art, one my father tried to bestow. Alas, I proved early on I lacked a featherlight step. Yet my liege was in command of his talent. Giving me honors, he plié-stepped like a master. I moved with the grace of a wooden ox-cart. To his credit, the Prince showed no sign of it.

Circling, we twirled in to face each other at a close breadth, but instead of opening back out he halted, possessing my waist with his arm.

“Sinda.”

The name quivered low, as though my womb had awakened to possibility.

--from SINDARELLA, TWISTED FAYRIE TALES
~~~~~~~~~

When Verrill is Available: TWISTED FAYRIE TALES available now in print or ebook

How You Can Get His Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Eternal Press Publishing

Monday Mystery Date #2: Ridelle Walters

Photo courtesy "Bixo" from Stock Xchg

Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Daddy's Girl/Professional Student Ridelle Walters

What Book She's In: A GRAND SEDUCTION, contemporary/murder mystery novel

Where She Lives: Bucks County, Pennsylvania

Why She's So Fascinating: Ridelle is a fierce enough friend to go out on a very long, precarious limb to end the heartache of a failing marriage. This Girl Least Likely To becomes the bait for a staged seduction scheme...but this affair is a far greater sacrifice than merely bedding someone's husband on camera--and not even her best friends know why.

A Memorable Moment with Ridelle Walters:

Ridelle stared into the closet, despite knowing the outfit jointly selected for her trampy debut was tucked right up front in a wispy dry cleaners bag. Now, two years after Fran had dressed her in a ridiculous froth of peach chiffon to act as a bridesmaid, the marital investment she’d spent most of her adult life securing was about to come to a bitter and grinding halt. At Ridelle’s own hand, no less.

Yanking the hanger off the rod, she twisted around to the full-length mirror inside the closet door and held the bag-covered garment against herself. “You can do this. You’re a vixen...an animal of unimaginable sexual magnitude.” She rolled her eyes at her reflection. “Girl, if your pals only knew the truth.”

An hour later, Ridelle stared with fascinated horror at the transformation. Her eyes were rimmed in kohl, shadows of taupe and cream accentuating a dreamy, heavy-lidded look. Full lips were moist with a slick of magenta, and her usual straight brown locks fell in soft waves just tickling the tops of bare shoulders. A single pearl dotted each ear, and a matching pendant fell like an arrow pointing the way to modest, but well displayed cleavage.

The dress she’d worn only once and vowed never again, but here she was, all five-feet six inches almost wearing what her mother had dubbed the “man magnet.” She’d bought it for Ridelle’s twenty-fifth birthday, in hopes that scores of well-to-do country club suitors would stampede. Done in abstract splashes of pink, black and white silk, the halter bodice plunged bikini style to a snug band of fabric under her breasts, then clung for dear life along dangerous curves to mid-thigh. There, the fabric flared outward in gentle folds that fell to just below the knee.

Once again the revolving door of her will spun to the negative and her heart drummed out a rumba, a beat befitting this new style. She shook her head at the slut-tastic vision in the mirror. “I can’t do this.”

Is that your final answer? She nodded at the thought as she gaped at a woman that was the antithesis of herself in the mirror. Much as she loved Fran and wanted to help, she couldn’t kid any of them. Time to do everyone a favor and stay home, before she blew the whole plan out the whale’s hole.

She reached slender arms behind herself to unhook the halter at the back of her neck, picturing Fran racing around with preparations, daring to hope for a way out. She needed a life boat, but Ridelle was fresh out of inflatable rubber. Still, the thought stayed her hands. She couldn’t just beg off with a phone call, not for something like this. Could she?

Ridelle tottered on strappy heels over to where a wicker table lamp highlighted the old slimline on her cluttered walnut night stand. For a long moment she stared at the phone. Fran needed moral support if nothing else—she was as nervous about pulling off the party as she was about the scheme embedded within it.

Damn. She’d just changed sides again.

Fine, so she would show up to lend whatever clumsy hand or crying towel she could muster, but the first order of business was to explain why she couldn’t go through with this. Fran would understand that this was too far out of her jurisdiction to be plausible.

Hopefully better than Ridelle understood it herself.


--from A GRAND SEDUCTION
~~~~~~~~~

When Ridelle is Available: A GRAND SEDUCTION is available now in ebook, and coming soon to print on Amazon.

How You Can Get Her Story: Get it in eco-friendly eBook from Fictionwise

Monday Mystery Date #1: Trenton Dane

Photo courtesy "Surely" from Stock Xchg
Every Monday I'll treat you to a Mystery Date with a character from one of my romantic or erotic fiction novels!

This Week's Mystery Date:

Who: Actor/psychic Trenton Dane

What Book He's In: VISIONS, romance/psychic/mystery novel

Where He Lives: Beverly Hills, California

Why He's So Fascinating: Not only is Trenton Dane celebrity hunk gorgeous, he's largely unaffected by his own stardom--but highly affected by the mysterious beauty who unwittingly transfers psychic abilities to him when they bump into each other at an event.

A Memorable Moment with Trenton Dane:

By the time the tortilla soup arrived, Glory was feeling like a geek in a fish bowl. People were staring and whispering, and though “the falls” kept words away it wasn’t hard to imagine what they were saying. This was the local hotspot in a small town, and a major name had plopped his Calvin Klein-encased derriere right in the middle of it. She swore she caught camera flash from the corner of her eye a couple of times. Who, she wondered, brings a camera to the local dive?

The question was answered as a couple of breathless girls of maybe sixteen bounded to the table, caught up in the giggling mania of teenaged adoration. The shorter of the two, arms akimbo, gripped a Nikon digital. She nudged her elbow into the other girl’s ribcage.

Girl Number Two sprang into action. “We have a bet. She says you’re Trenton Dane, but I say he would never be seen in boring Men-toad Beach, so you must be a look-alike or something. Right?”

Glory’s eyebrows had inched higher with each sentence, but Trenton was unfazed. Instead, he winked at the shorter girl and turned his best The-Camera-Loves-Me smile on the Doubtful One. “Guess I’m not a very good look-alike, am I?”

Camera Girl’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Ha! See, I told you,” the Doubter trumpeted to her friend. “You owe me a jumbo hot fudge.”

Several koi wriggled near the edge of the pond, checking out the commotion.

Trenton wasn’t finished. “Yep, my agent’s always telling me I’m so terrible that I must be the real deal.”

The believer’s eyes widened three sizes. “You are him!”

My heaven, are those tears in her eyes? Glory laughed while the pair squealed and bounced around in delight. “Can we get a picture, Mr. Dane? Please?”

Glory did the honors while the pair leaned in–just a bit too close, she thought–on either side of his seat for a giddy group photo. They were met in short order by the manager, who shooed them sternly back to their seats and proffered a rosary’s worth of apology.

When they were alone again, Glory stared at him with open curiosity. “How do you manage? Isn’t it, distracting to be in the public eye all the time?”

He swallowed a mouthful of rice pilaf and shrugged. “Sometimes, but this is what I’ve chosen to do. What I love to do. If people didn’t have this reaction, I wouldn’t be nearly so marketable as an actor. You learn to adapt, and to hone the art of disguise when necessary.” He waggled his brows at her, Groucho
Marx style.
--from VISIONS
~~~~~~~~~

When Trenton is Available: VISIONS available now in print or ebook

How You Can Get His Story: Get it in print on Amazon, or in eco-friendly eBook from Draumr Publishing