Hot 4 Friday Blog Hop! Book Boyfriends Cafe

Welcome to HOT 4 FRIDAY Blog Hop, sponsored by Book Boyfriends Cafe. This week's theme: First Kiss.

Visit all participants and read their excerpts HERE - BOOK BOYFRIENDS CAFE

My FIRST KISS is from Where the Rain Is Made, a time-travel, western romance novel. 

~*~

Heat emanated from Meko's body. Cesca didn't know much about wanton desire, but her breasts hardened beneath the doeskin shirt and a slick of wetness formed between her thighs. She could think of nothing but him removing her pants and satisfying this painful throbbing between her legs.

This man of solid muscle and power with his dark, brooding looks had frightened her in the past, but now those traits made her want him in the most shameful way. She longed for him to seize her, force himself upon her. Dear Maman, when had she lost all control of her senses?

Logic and reason left her. She didn't care if he knew how much she needed him. She slid her hand beneath his shirt, her fingers lingering over the raised circles of scar tissue near each breast. The sound of his rapid inhalation pleased her. She searched his face, hoping to read his thoughts, but found only a smoky glaze in his eyes.

Engrossed in the current of passion between them, his words startled her. "You've never lain with a man before?"

She croaked out an answer. "No."

"Then you should stop if you want to keep it that way."

"Tomorrow I could be dead." The strain had left her voice, replaced by a strength she knew she'd find with him.

"You think to taste this fruit before your life is over?"

"And you think I'm using you for—for my own selfish reasons?"

His tongue found her ear, dissolving any wavering thoughts. "I think a woman who is about to face what you must should have her every wish granted."

Hard and searching, his mouth covered hers. He lifted her without effort and shifted his weight until she lay beneath him. Her breath lodged in her chest when his hands stroked her face and trailed down her throat.

She arched beneath him, her nipples taut with need. He rolled the pants down her hips, lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head. Closing her eyes, she heard him remove his clothing and counted off the seconds. Soon that hard body would cover hers, their bare skin would meet.

She whimpered and then he was there, sliding his hands over her flesh with the skill of a sculptor. His scent intoxicated her, pure male tinged with the heady aromas of pine trees, horseflesh and the earth. Everything about the man oozed wild, including her spiraling feelings for him. Beneath her palm, his heart thundered in perfect sync with hers. How odd, his skin felt warm and cool at the same time. A shiver claimed her when he responded to her touch with a low moan.

Panting, he loomed over her, his left arm holding the weight of his body, his right hand seeking the nub of her sex. Normally shy about her body, she moaned, couldn't dispel the fire in the pit of her belly. Gentle yet demanding, he stroked her, wringing a series of gasps from her lips. In a moment of panic, she drew her legs together and cringed.

"You are afraid?" He withdrew his hand. "You wish me to stop?"

The absence of his touch stripped away the remaining doubt. She shook her head and guided his hand back. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

~*~

 

* Nominated for a Bookie Award

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HOT 4 FRIDAY BLOG HOP - Book Boyfriends Cafe

Hello and thanks for dropping in!

It's time for HOT 4 FRIDAY Blog Hop sponsored by Book Boyfriends Cafe. This weeks theme: Post a scene between your hero and heroine (or hero and hero) of a HOT encounter. I think we all have at least one in our arsenal, right?

Don't forget to visit all the authors participating today. They have some great snippets from their latest releases. CLICK HERE TO VISIT

My scene is from CHASING THE DEAD, a paranormal western romance. It's also my latest release. Maddie and Deacon have a troubled past, especially since he left her standing at the altar a year ago. Maddie's been kidnapped by the Apache to dispel a vengeful ghost from their village. If she can't accomplish her task, the Apache will feed her to the dogs. Enter...Deacon Bannister who's been sent to rescue her. Now, they're running for their lives from La Fantasma, along with a beautiful, young maiden who spurned the ghost when he was alive. The spirit will do anything to steal Sacheen and take her with him into the depths of Hell.

Excerpt (Deacon and Maddie come to terms with their past)

A chorus of night sounds filled the air, and the sound of the current trickling over rocks reached him. Close, he was close to the river and possibly strangulation once he found her. A montage of nightmarish pictures flashed behind his eyelids—Madrid, in the clutches of the vaporous ghoul just before he snapped her neck, or worse, a blaze of fire consuming her beautiful body. By the time she came into view, he vacillated between beating her or drawing her into his arms and never letting go.

  She stood on the bank, her long, sable hair soaking wet, the shirt from his saddlebag draped over her slender shoulders. About to step into the trousers, she must have heard him lumbering through the brush.

She looked up her eyes wide and startled. "Deacon. Dios, you could have hollered out a warning."

"Have you completely lost your mind?" God help him, had he lost his? The image of her standing under the moonlight, her skin glistening from the water, her mouth, ripe and lush, brought him to the instant brink of red, hot desire. He wanted to taste her lips again, feel her wet heat sheathing him.

She looked at the branch in his hand and then met his eyes. "Why are you carrying a stick?"

"You have the pistol and I left the rifle with Sacheen. But now that I found you, I have a strong urge to beat you with it."

Her voice thin, she asked, "You're angry?"

He felt his jaw twitch as he advanced; one slow, step at a time. "Anger doesn't cover what I'm feeling right now, Madrid."

"Well, you needn't be so protective. The ghost does not covet me."

"Right, he wants Sacheen and you left her alone, vulnerable."

A gasp left her mouth when she peered over his shoulder in the direction of camp. "I thought…well, I have the pistol and I didn't wander far. I'm aware of the warnings now before-before la fantasma comes."

Their faces separated by mere inches now, he held her magnificent eyes, "Warnings?"

She swallowed and her voice cracked as if she had a bone stuck in her throat. "Yes, a buzzing begins in my ears and chills race down my-my spine before he appears. I didn't-didn't realize it at first but…."

Pulling her to him until she leaned against his chest, he looked down on her, his mouth hovering over hers. Lust spiraled to life inside him. He imagined his lips moving against hers, the heady rush of possessing her, being inside her again. What made him think he could ever get over her; forget about the love they shared?

"Why are you here anyway, what do you want?"

"You know what I want, and you want it too."

She wrenched from his arms and sought shelter against a nearby tree.

He advanced. "I took you once against a wall. Do you think a tree won't work as well?"

 

~*~

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This week's theme is HOT AND BOTHERED. Post a scene to your blog that leaves the reader/visitor wanting more. It's all about sexual tension, baby.

My scene is from Where the Rain Is Made. This western/paranormal was nominated for a Bookie Award and Best Romance of the Year! Here's the blurb:

A decadent savage has captured Francesca DuVall and her brother Marsh. Now she spends every waking moment planning an escape from the camp of the brutal Dog Soldiers.

Ethan Gray is a curator at a national museum... until he travels through time to help his beloved People. In the Cheyenne world he’s known as Meko, leader of the most revered tribe of the plains.

Cultures and hearts battle, violence and death haunt the road ahead, but when kindred souls collide, anything is possible. From the windswept plains of Colorado to the placid life of a curator, their love is fueled by passion and kindled by destiny.

~*~

Francesca (Cesca) Duvall isn't too happy about being kidnapped by the Dog Soldiers. And she's even less happy about the feelings their leader, Meko, awakens in her. The man is far too civil, far too knowledgeable and far too handsome. While Cesca fights her attraction to the mysterious man, she is also drawn to him in inexplicable ways.

Snippet from Where the Rain Is Made

Meko's breath caught in his throat. Defiance masked the captive's face, in spite of what she'd been through. Her eyes shone with the brilliance of emeralds in the dim light of the tipi. God, the woman had a courageous spirit, not to mention beauty. He forced his eyes from her flushed cheeks and full, pink lips.

He came to put the fear of God in her, couldn't take the chance she'd disobey him again, or worse, attempt to escape. How could he protect her from those that hated the white-eye and everything about them? She'd rebel against the rules and boundaries, but he sensed she would never be broken or ruled by any man.

He looked across the fire, into her sea-green eyes again. Her lower lip trembled, yet she wouldn't yield. "Put the clothing on or I'll do it for you. Choose."

Her gaze darted about the tipi and an interminable amount of time passed before she answered. "No."

"No?"

"I will not put them on."

He rose, walked around the fire and grabbed her arm. "Poor choice." Before she could react, he clutched the shirt in his hands and ripped it down the middle.

Striking faster than a cobra, her nails clawed his cheek. "I hope you die! I pray a hatchet finds your skull."

He clutched the waist of her trousers. "You vicious little bitch."

Damn him for not anticipating her next move. A white-hot pain shot through his groin. She took advantage of his incapacitated state and bolted for the entrance. With his balls in his throat, he lunged through the air and brought them crashing to the ground. They tumbled about the lodge, her kicking and screaming, him trying to pin her arms and legs to the earth. Tiresome minutes later, she stilled beneath him, her chest heaving. Staring into her eyes, he realized if he looked too long he'd lose his soul. Breathless pants parted her lips. His mouth covered hers and his tongue slipped inside seeking the silken depths. Drowning in the sweet taste, he released her hands and she twined her fingers in his hair—the last response he expected from the baffling woman.

A moan came from the back of her throat when he melded his body into her soft curves. He couldn't control his quickened breathing or his expanding cock. God, the woman had bewitched him, and she seemed oblivious to her affect on him. 

He broke from the kiss, knowing he'd soon be inside her if he didn't. From beneath half-shuttered eyelids she watched him, and he couldn't stop staring at her sensual mouth. Pushing to his feet, he pulled her with him. She fell into his chest, would have slumped to the ground if he hadn't held her up.

Her eyes wide, she bolted from him and blew a huff of air. "Don't do that again! I wouldn't have kissed you if I wasn't so terrified."

For some strange reason, he wanted to take her in his arms, tell her he'd protect her from everything evil, real or imagined. But if he took one step toward her, she'd turn into the feral cat again, claw his eyes out.'

Visions came to him, striking with the force of a thunderclap. The enchantress of his dreams stood before him, bare breasts, pants slung low on her narrow hips. He buried the urge to toss her to the ground and fuck her senseless.

"I'm leaving now." To his surprise, emotion clogged his throat, but he'd be damned if he'd let her know. "You better be wearing the clothing by morning or I'll grab the nearest branch and beat your delectable backside."

"You would, you beast! You—you―" 

He put a hand in the air. "I already know what you think of me." He nodded toward the garments at her feet. "By morning."

When he turned to leave, she called out to him. "Wait!"

Gathering his battered emotions, he turned to face her. "What is it now?"

"My brother, he's alive and well?" 

"They called for the medicine man with the healing herbs." 

"What will happen to him?"

His heart went out to the impetuous creature that had little regard for her own fate. How could he not admire her courage and the love she held for her brother? What would it take for him to win such devotion from her? "He ran the gauntlet, proved his courage, and now he'll be adopted by Choking Wolf."

~*~

 (MEKO)

Get Where The Rain Is Made here

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Hope you enjoy both Sampler Books! 

"Hot For Friday" Blog Hop - Book Boyfriends Cafe

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This week's post is themed around a "Hot" morning between your characters after a night of passion. Well...I have the perfect excerpt for this from SOJOURN WITH A STRANGER, a Gothic Romance.

Derek Stafford thought he'd do anything to secure the title to Stafford House and all its holdings. So intent on winning the race against his brother, Lyman, to produce the first male heir in the family, he has little regard for those caught in his scheme of duplicity. 

Until he meets the new servant Raine Brinsley... Desperate to secure funds so she can return to her ailing grandfather in Maine, Raine accepts Derek's contract to bear his child. 

Overcome by guilt, has Derek been caught in his own tangled web of deceit?

In  this scene, tempers flare between Derek and Raine after a night of passion.

Derek's words came fast. "After considerable thought, I'm voiding our agreement.”

Raine's cup rattled when she set it down on the oak table beside her. She had never seen a more somber expression. Had he found her unappealing, so lacking in skills he could not force himself to spend another night with her? "Voiding it?"

He came to his feet. "Your blatant disdain for me is apparent, and I made a horrendous mistake in badgering you." He exhaled a long breath of air. "I release you from the contract. You can go home now to your grandfather."

"Are you mad? The harbor is frozen."

"But not ice-locked. I sent a missive to the Valor. She will navigate along the coast and head out to sea further north."

A muscle in her gut clenched.

"If that isn’t acceptable at the moment, feel free to remain at Stafford House until you’re ready to leave.” He gripped the back of his chair until his knuckles turned white. "You don’t have to come to my bedchamber tonight.”

She wanted to pound her fists into his chest, slap him senseless, claw his eyes out. How dare he take her virginity, dismiss her like rubbish. She struggled to control her hysterics. "What is it? Am I lacking in ability? Did I fail to please you?”

"No!" His eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Don’t even think such things. Canceling the contract has nothing to do with either one. I bullied you, took advantage of a young woman in peril. I realize the profound error I made in forcing you to participate in this masquerade." He shook his head. "I’m offering you a way out. It’s the honorable thing to do.”

Blinded by rage, she bounded to her feet. "Don't speak to me of honor, you low-life bounder, you flea-bitten whoreson! First, you prey upon a helpless woman mired in grief, and then you engage her in an ill-gotten scheme of deception, a tangled web of lies and covert secrecy." The words flew from her lips, stunning him into silence. “You stole the one thing I held above everything, destroyed any possibility of me entering marriage a virgin.”

He flinched on the last words.

She charged. Fuming with long-contained anger, she launched into a series of blows and kicks, pummeling his chest with her fists, turning her feet into lethal weapons.

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides, attempting to sidestep the blows raining down on him. "Raine! Stop! I'm sorry, so sorry."

She fell against him in a barrage of tears, her chest heaving with anger.

"You are right, lass. I'm lower than a parasite, a despicable cad.” He dropped her hand and stroked the side of her head. "I'm so sorry for everything I've done to you."

Exhausted, she closed her eyes and allowed him to comfort her. She felt safe. For the first time since her arrival in Norfolk, she felt sheltered from the world in his arms. Her sobs subsided and her breathing returned to normal.

"The additional five thousand dollars will be placed into your account today. The money doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters, not even Stafford House.”

She wrenched herself from his embrace.

“I won't be able to live with myself if I don't put a stop to this."

"I hate you!" she spat, backing away from him. "Convenient for you, isn’t it? You should have come to this honorable decision two nights ago.”

"I'm aware of how much you hate me--"

"You have no idea!" she shrieked. "I really hate you, despise you. I hope you end up at the bottom of the sea. I hope you march into the mouth of a cannon.”

She wiped the drip from her nose with the sleeve of his robe. “I hope you die!” 

Pain flickered through his eyes. "I'll place the remaining funds into your bank account this afternoon before I leave."

"Leave," she hiccoughed. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't stay here." His voice softened. "I long for freedom, like you, freedom to follow my own path, and—"

"And what!" she screamed. "Finish what you were about to say."

"Lucinda will rest in peace once I'm gone from the manor."

Disbelief mingled with outrage. "What did you do to her? What made her kill herself? Tell me more of your lies!”

He shook his head. "I didn’t harm her, had nothing to do with her death.” He handed her a handkerchief.  "I can't remain here, and you shouldn’t stay either. I believe you now. Lucinda’s ghost haunts the manor. Stafford House is finished.” A sarcastic chuckle left his lips. “Doomed before you arrived.”

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Sky Dance #Excerpt, Book 2 #sweeet #romance

Sky Dance, Book 2 of the 'SKY SERIES' is a sweet western romance and continues the saga of Rory and Dawson from Sky Tinted Water.

Here's an excerpt from the book:
(Rory receives a letter from the army telling her Dawson is missing in action and believed dead).

Isabelle joined Rory on the porch and settled into a rocker beside her. “What is it, lass? You're a million miles away these days.”

“Call it a gut feeling. There's no other way to explain it.”

“About Dawson?”

Rory nodded. “Has the pain of separation ever threatened to steal your sanity?”

“Yes,” Isabelle said without pause. “When we lost Jon Henry to pneumonia and James in the war.”

Rory clutched her hand. “Forgive me, Isabelle. I'm so absorbed in self-pity these days, I should have known better than to ask you that.”

“There's nothing to forgive. I know the love you and Dawson share is fierce, your mantle heavy while he's off fighting.” She paused. “Or whatever men call it when they're chasing the enemy across desolate terrain.” Isabelle found her feet and as if clairvoyant, placed a hand over her brow and scanned the horizon.

Rory's heart plummeted. “What is it, what's wrong?”

Jon walked from the barn and looked down the long drive.

“Company,” her sister whispered. “We aren't expecting anyone, and it's a bit early for neighbors to come calling.”

Rory bounded to her feet when the riders reined in their mounts near the porch. Sweat trickled down the horses' withers. Brass eagle buttons glistened against their dark blue shirts. Rory tried to draw breath but someone had sucked the air from her lungs.

The officer looked from Isabelle to her, his tone somber. “Mrs. Finch, Mrs. Dawson Finch?”

The sky spun and far-off voices rang in her ears—Isabelle's, Jon's, and a stranger's. Staggering down the steps on wobbly legs, she reached for the document in his hand with trembling fingers. “I'm Mrs. Dawson Finch.”

“Ma'am, it grieves me to deliver this letter from the army.”

This cannot be happening. Did he say grieve? Rory opened the letter and scanned the first paragraph.

Dear Madame,

The army regrets to inform you, your husband, Sergeant Dawson Finch, has been listed as missing in action and presumed dead.

Time ceased to exist and a sound she didn't recognize escaped her throat. She sensed Isabelle standing beside her and dropped the letter into her hand. Then she turned her back on the soldiers and vomited.

Long minutes passed before a man cleared his throat. “Our deepest regrets Mrs. Finch. The superior officer states in his report heathens rode off with your husband's body.” The voice paused. “We, that is, the army, failed to recover his remains.”

Missing? Presumed dead? His body taken by heathens? No. No. No!

Gripped by unfathomable grief, Rory folded like a leaf and collapsed into the dirt at her feet. 

~*~

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