It's a countdown! Part Two.

Calliope, Muse of Epic Poetry

Curse of the Spider Woman is a combination of James Bond meeting Greek Mythology. But with consensual sex.

One of the fun parts of the manuscript was writing the epic poetry that parallels the main story.  My heroine is an aficionado of Homer, and writes her own epics.

Here's some to whet your appetite.

Curse of the Spider Woman

An epic poem

By Rachel Havelock

Rage I sing, and death also,

The tale of curséd women, their deaths

The sacrifice demanded by

Grey-eyed Athena,

Keeper of the ground of Greece.

Arachne, the weaver, the spider,

Doomed by the pricked pride of

The white-armed Goddess, her daughters

To die before the blooming

Of their lives.

All died, all mourned

Until the last flew across the

Wine-dark sea to

Defy the Goddess.

It's a countdown!

I love coffee. I love coffee. I love coffee.

Curse of the Spider woman will be for sale before Halloween!

I am writing fast and trying to complete everything - and I do mean everything, from editing to formatting to pushing the publishing button (and hopefully ordering the print copies in time for my release party!)- before the 17th.

For this, I'm "Butt in Chair, Fingers on Keyboard" like mad. So before I go back into my writing cave, I'm going to leave you with a teaser from my new book.

The first paragraph:

“Look at that. The great god Hades gathering flowers on the riverbank like a lazy milkmaid.” The lieutenant of the Heirs of Socrates sneered. “Our emasculated gods no longer care about the people of Greece.” Despite the touch of silver in his own hair, the lieutenant still knew himself to be virile and manly. Not the sort who would wander like a barefoot hippie to appease his spoilt wife.

  More to come!

Quotes and snippets: Vamping It Up.

Celeste sipped her drink. “Enough of work. We are on vacation. Cheers.”

“Gan Pei!” Holly clinked their glassed together and they drank.

“And I see something that fits our vacation mood,” Celeste smiled. She beckoned to someone behind Holly.

 A perfectly ripped young man in a Roman gladiator outfit approached them, a golden tray of small bites on his shoulder. He stopped in front of the two women. “Fruit, ladies? Chocolates, perhaps?”

 “Some of us embrace the power of ‘and’.” Celeste smiled, her half-open eyes smoldering in admiration.

The waiter sat on the arm of Celeste’s chair and selected a fat, wet, strawberry. Grinning like they had a naughty secret, she bit into the luscious fruit. The berry’s juice stained her already red mouth.

 Holly blushed but she didn’t glance away. She watched as her aunt licked her lips, leaving a moist sensual shine. The boy’s eyelids dropped and he focused on Celeste’s mouth. The two shared a languorous, heated look, setting the cool indoor air on fire. He whispered in Celeste’s ear, making her lashes lower in agreement. With a small tilt of her head, Celeste motioned for their gallant to serve Holly.

He pivoted, a grape waiting for her in his fingers. Holly opened her own mouth, making him come to her. He sat on her chair and laid the purple-black globe on her tongue. She bit, relishing the juices bursting through the thin skin.

Their attendant stood, his thigh muscles shifting under his battle kilt. He blew Celeste a kiss, winked at Holly, and disappeared into the crowd. Sweat gathered on the back of her neck. The little display lasted less than a minute but the power of pleasure and attraction filled her.

At Amazon
At Barnes and Noble

Quotes and Snippets: Dracula's Desires

 John Jante’s life hung by a thread.

Valerie could smell his blood hanging in the air. If those idiot Fallen Angels let him die, she’d empty hell itself in vengeance.

She gunned her black 1966 Shelby Mustang to the limit, burying the tachometer in the red. The tires howled as the car fishtailed against the gravel-laden highway cutting through the Swiss Alps. Cursing, she spun the steering wheel against the skid and roared between two honking tourist buses.

“Lucifer’s wormy teeth, I spit at thee.” She damned the slow moving vehicles.

The heavily forested mountains and charming villages blurred until the view out her window seemed an unending wall of green and stone. Lake Geneva was nothing but a long deep blue line below her. The powerful engine propelled her through the hairpin turns faster than a vampire could run. Her smaller weapons duffel sat on the passenger seat, an innocent black bag filled with high-powered destruction.

The Blood Wings Trilogy:
Dracula's Secret, Book One. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula's Desires, Book Two. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula Unleashed, Book Three. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a Chapter!

Quotes and Snippets: Dracula's Desires.

Here are a couple of my secondary characters from Dracula's Desires, Anthony and Glenath.

Anthony O’Neill, one of the four vampires left on earth, hero of the French Resistance, recent instrument in the downfall of a Presidential hopeful, and currently on his honeymoon, found his wife stoned out her mind in an Amsterdam coffee shop.

The establishment was nice enough, at least, instead of one of those tiny ones that used cracked red plastic banquet chairs for seating. Glenath Tempesta, the love of his life, and her flowing skirts were draped over a worn velvet sofa.

“Have some of the space cake. I haven’t had anything this good since the ‘60s,” she giggled.

Her long wild grey hair framed her sensual face and heavy grey smoke framed her luscious reclined body. Young skinny males buzzed around her, each vying for his darling’s attention. Even in her sixties, his Glenath turned men’s heads with her sensuality and earthy style.


Buying and testing links:
Dracula's Secret, Book One. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula's Desires, Book Two. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a chapter!

Dracula Unleashed, Book Three. At Amazon. At Barnes and Noble.
Check out a Chapter!

Quotes and snippets: Dracula's Desires

A teaser from my second book, Dracula's Desires.

Chapter One
What in Hell was a Fallen Angel doing in Geneva, Switzerland?

That caustic brimstone stench could warn a city of half-dead humans with nose colds busily shoveling manure, let alone a solitary vampire minding her own business. Valerie Tate set aside her ancient manuscript about vampires and looked out her cheap hotel room’s filthy window to take stock of the newcomer.

Aching from yesterday’s long drive from Amsterdam to Geneva, she put her hands on the small of her back and stretched, counterbalancing the weight of her six months pregnant stomach.

She wasn’t interested in being a mother, but her curiosity demanded that she see what happened. Right now, an emissary from Lucifer was happening.

Quotes and snippets; Dracula's Secret.

Here is a teaser from my first book,
Dracula's Secret:

Then sheer vehicular lust overwhelmed everything. The black Shelby Mustang crouched on the pavement like a rare predator. This sweet machine was the pinnacle of all muscle cars, the most legendary of engines combined with perfect design.

And he was about to get in it. There was no way he was going back to work just yet.

“She’s a ’67?” He touched respectful fingers to the glossy black paint over the hood. The white Le Mans stripes decorating the hood shimmered in the outdoor lights of the motel.

“’66.” The smooth skin around her eyes crinkled, giving her a mischievous air. She was planning something. With a sly smile, she said, “You want to drive her?”

“You would let me behind your wheel?” He slapped his hand over his heart and staggered, feigning a heart attack

A creaky, unpracticed laugh escaped from the vampire. What a beautiful noise.

She pulled out keys, complete with a battered leather Mustang fob, and dangled them in front of him. They chimed like church bells in the dark. Her smirk revealed still-extended, wickedly delicious fangs.

His mouth watered at the thought of those 350 vintage horses under his fingers waiting for his command. A vague memory from his youth told him the Shelby could go from zero to sixty in 4.5 seconds. This was every car-crazy boy’s fantasy, hot babe included, right here in front of him.

“No need to ask me twice.” He snatched the jingling keys from her hand. Their eyes met.

Watchfulness swam in those dark depths. She was testing him. His awareness slid up a notch. The wrong move from him and she’d take that gorgeous car and disappear from his life.

That would suck.

New book!

As you know, I have a new book out! Vamping It Up, an erotic coming-of-age novella was released on October 25th. This is my fourth book, and the first I've self-published. And I am so stoked. :)

How about another teaser snippet?

She stretched and yawned. What adventure could happen next?“

Good morning,” a half-asleep masculine voice greeted her from the hallway. Holly opened her mouth to say hello, but her jaw stayed open.

A half-asleep Dante was a mostly-naked Dante. Oh, last night, he’d looked mighty fine in a pair of black trousers and a half-unbuttoned white linen shirt. In the morning light, though, he wore a pair of red boxer briefs cut high on the thigh and the crotch cupped his package.

She swallowed. Dante had no worries in the cock-size department. Her nipples rose against the satin.

To buy:
Amazon
Barnes and Noble

Available both in e-book and print.

Vamping It Up: Are you ready?

Vamping It Up will be released on Friday, October 24th, 2014 - Just in time for your Halloween reading needs!

To whet your appetite, here is what happens after Holly decides to free herself from her ex's mindset.

***

“Hey, what did that door ever do to you?” Her neighbor, Steven Dearborne, spoke from his doorway. The only time Blaine met Steven, her former fiancée claimed the other man was a horn dog. “Don’t talk to him. He wants to fuck you. A guy doesn’t smile at a girl unless he wants to fuck her.” She had believed Blaine’s assessment. After all, her ex-fiancé was older and more experienced. Hindsight told her his order revealed more about Blaine than about Steven. As a result of her blind trust, she knew very little about Steven.

He was a graduate student in math, shaved his head, and wasn’t with his noisy girlfriend any more. Today, his bald scalp gleamed with perspiration.

Unlike slender, hairless Blaine, Steven’s auburn chest hair decorated a broad barrel chest set with heavy muscles. He would have been right at home in one of those old pirate movies with strong men chained to the oars. Holly gazed at his chest. His pectoral muscles rose from his sternum in a graceful arch. His belly wasn’t a cobbled eight pack, but it was flat and tight, belying the stereotype of the sedentary math major. His reddish body hair was fine and pettable, like the softest fur.

Under that thin coat, his muscles moved with a supple enticement, drawing her attention to the line from his navel to his crotch. Holly glanced down, expecting to see the ubiquitous cargo shorts all men wore around campus. Instead, Steven wore a black and tan sarong decorated with enormous, frolicking geckos. His lax genitalia pressed against the thin cotton. He hooked his thumb under the waistband of his sarong and fanned his fingers.

Steven was framing his wedding tackle. Steven was uncircumcised and dressed to the right. Well, hello, Steven.

Vamping It Up; Are you ready?

Poor Holly! What is she going to do now that her long term fiance has revealed himself to be a liar and a cheat?

***

The harps sounded again.

I want the ring back. Bring it by tonight.

 Rage welled inside of her, hotter than the blistering road. The sun no longer burned.

“Fuck.”

 Holly rarely let herself use the ultimate profanity. As the expletive burst from her mouth, a valve inside of her soul released.

Fuck him.

Fuck his father, fuck her dependency, and fuck her making him the axis of her universe.

She wasn’t going to be his patsy, his best friend, his lover-but-not-really. Holly was done being his doormat.

She poked out the words to her return message. You want it, you get it yourself.

The harps sang with Blaine’s response. If you want to cop an attitude, that’s your problem, not mine.

Holly dumped the phone back into her bag. With the same hand, she removed the offending Batman comic she had bought for his gift. With deliberate, precise movements, she tore open the slick plastic bag. She gripped the front cover and with a surge of strength, shredded each and every page into tiny, multicolored confetti.

The story had been a steaming pile of misogynistic doo-doo anyway. She dumped the heaping pile of crap into the garbage can by the driver.

Hell.

She should have gotten her money back. The refund could have paid for her first vibrator.

Vamping It Up will be released Friday, October 24th! Meet Holly Barros, a shy, young woman who is about to find out some very unwelcome news.

***

An angelic harp arpeggio emanated from her backpack. “Oh.” That was Blaine’s text message tone. She plunged her hand into her cavernous bag. Probably some last minute instructions for tonight’s party planning dinner. What to wear, perhaps, or who she needed to talk to. Huffing and puffing from the heat, she unlocked the screen.

Theresa  is having my baby. I won’t marry you. 

Holly froze. He couldn’t mean Theresa Harrison, the bane of Holly’s existence? Her arch enemy from kindergarten to sophomore year of high school?

She blinked her eyes, shook her head. The heat must have done a number on her vision. Blaine couldn’t have said that. She must have misread it. Confident again, she opened her eyes.

And there it was, in damning black and white.

Theresa is having my baby. I won’t marry you.

The words twisted in front of her. The bottom of her stomach plummeted, leaving her hollow and brittle. The seat burned her thighs, but it barely registered. Nothing mattered except the message on the screen.

Blaine didn’t want her. Her entire existence for the last five years had been centered on Blaine. When she traveled to see her aunt or to attend out of town school functions, he complained. Holly knew it was because he loved her and wanted her around. She called him every morning to wake him and she called him at night to tuck him in.

The skin on her scalp yanked tight, adding to the headache streaking along her brow line. Unthinking, she unwound her ponytail. The curly black strands stuck to her forehead and neck. She’d not cut her hair since she was seventeen when Blaine told her he liked long hair. Even the cherry-dotted mini-sundress she wore was in response to Blaine’s tastes, even though its beige background clashed with the brown skin and black hair of her Portuguese ancestors.

Small, strong, with a full bottom but small breasts, she secretly wanted to wear pin-up girl clothes to show off her rear. Instead, the little dress was cut straight up and down; a style best suited for a narrow-hipped, fair-skinned waif. Like Theresa.

Who was she if she wasn’t Blaine Harrington’s girlfriend?

Vacation!

World's coolest tree in Lahaina.

Hello from Maui! I'm soaking up sun and relaxation before I start the push to self-publish Vamping It Up.

But to keep your appetite whetted, here's an excerpt from Chapter Two:

“Shit.”

Holly stared at the broken key sticking out of her apartment’s deadbolt. Frustrated beyond belief, she pounded her fist against the metal door.

Damn, that was satisfying.

She pounded again. And once more, with all her strength. The impact jarred her clavicle.

“Double shit.” She shook out her arm. The gathered sweat under her dress cascaded down her back.

Yuck.

The air conditioning in the apartment building hadn’t been turned on yet, either.

She dropped her head on the blessedly cool door. “Triple shit.”

Vamping It Up: In Production!

It's all about the junk.

I have finished my edits of Vamping It Up, an erotic coming-of-age novella. I'm attempting a mid-October release - just in time for a sexy, Halloween read. :)

Here is an excerpt from Chapter One.

His high, round ass, the only fleshy part of his physique, moved easily under his jean shorts as he shifted back and forth against the sway of the bus. Those shorts were low enough to show a teasing strip of heather grey boxer-briefs, but not low enough to make him waddle like a penguin.

Always a turn off, that, Holly thought.

His tight butt promised he could fuck all day. Holly rubbed at the sweat collecting on her collarbones. She wanted his narrow hips between her thighs, his package rubbing against the crotch of her panties under her dress. His long arms would brace him above her, giving him a great view of her face and breasts as he teased her, promising he would enter her, but at his own pace. He would demand she fall apart underneath him and she’d scream and scream and scream….