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.

Inspiration! Perspiration!

Yul Brynner. Hellllllo!

Some days, a romance writer just has to go through pictures of handsome men. Romance novels are one of the few place that women can safely and unashamedly enjoy the male form, so I'd better be able to write about men in a clear and vivid manner!

Here are some of my favorite men for inspiration.


Who are some of your favorite men to admire?

Dolph Lundgren.

Oh, and another Yul, just for fun.

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?