Saturday, November 28, 2015

SEALs are hot for @cerisedeland's MILITARY MONTH! Yum!


If you were saved by a SEAL from an abductor in a sizzling desert, you'd be grateful. You'd want to thank him. You'd also be astonished he came to visit you in the hospital and that he asked after you. You might even fall in love...and  seek him out to tell him that.
               * * * * *
Getting in the party mood for a weekend away with his SEAL teammates is no easy deal for “Zeus” Calderon. He’s hung up on a woman he saved from terrorists months ago, but he should be able to forget a gutsy blonde reporter who showed resilience and humor under fire. Shouldn’t he?

Kim Stansfield got the instant hots for the hunky Navy SEAL who led her out of harm’s way—and she’s got proof Zeus feels the same about her. He’s stubborn, but she’s devised a plan to conquer him.

When she shows up in Key West and surprises him on the beach, Zeus learns that once in a lifetime a man meets a woman he can’t forget—and every day without her is no easy day.

Excerpt, CONQUERING ZEUS by Cerise DeLand, 2012-3. All rights reserved.
   Pissed at himself for leaving Coyote and Ghost at the rockin’ Friday night beach bar scene hours earlier at Sunset Pier, he pushed through his temper and used it as fuel. Of all the women in all the joints in the world, the blonde bombshell who doesn’t walk in there tonight is the one I want.
   He pounded through the waves, spotting someone lean and female strolling the beach with a sizable dog.
   They were harmless. He had jumped in naked. No matter. Whoever it was would be long gone by the time he hauled his bare ass up the sands toward the house.

   SEALS ON FIRE:       PRINT:       EBOOK:

   He angled for the shore, fighting memories of doing a door-to-door in an Egyptian shantytown to find her. His team had landed the night before, marched hours over abandoned desert to the tribesmen’s village, then fanned out to search for her and her two fellow hostages. Amid machine gun fire, he discovered her in a tin-roof lean-to, weary and weak, dehydrated, blindingly beautiful and bravely smiling at him in her filthy rags.
   “Keep your head down,” he had whispered, pushing her to sit beneath the edge of the window in the hovel where the Bedouin tribesman had tied her to the post of an old iron bed frame.
   With a classic profile, Nordic and tall, Kim Stansfield, reporter and hostage, stared at him, sunburned and dazed from hunger and thirst. Despite her dire condition, she smiled, pointing at his face and the green and brown desert camouflage paint that disguised his features. “Are you wearing make-up?”
   “What? You don’t like a man to wear foundation?”   He fluttered his lashes at her, whipped an MRE drink from his vest and shoved it toward her. “Guzzle this.”
   Grasping the pouch with shaking hands, she downed it while he sawed off her chains with his Spyderco blade. She coughed, choked, then hacked some of it back up.
   “Cancel the guzzle. Sip it. Let me see how fit you are.” He ran his hands over her body, checking for sprains or injuries from beatings. God knew what these animals had done to a blonde Western woman who didn’t suit their ideals for dress or habits. After seven days of captivity, her body was still sleek, but limp from lack of nutrition. Outside, the rat-tat-tat of machine gun fire and bursts from his buddies’ Sig Sauers told him his team had run into her captors and it was his job to snatch her and run.
   “I can’t go with you,” she rasped, wiping drops of the liquid from the corner of her mouth with the sleeve of her dirty linen abaya.
   The hell you can’t. He shot her a look that spoke his thoughts. But hostages, especially women, needed assurances. He knew how to do that. Grandmothers, mother, sisters and cousins.  He had gentled them all.  The only man in a huge Tex-Mex family since his father had passed away when he was a baby, Jesus “Zeus” Calderon knew how to talk to women. “You’ll be fine. Do as I say.”
   This female, he knew, tended not to follow anyone’s orders. Not her newspaper editor’s. Not the American government’s. He had studied her top-notch professional background and her tough-as-nails character, all as part of his team’s mission prep. She might look like a runway model, but she was an Amazon in spirit and truth. Though she hailed from preppy American and crusty British diplomatic stock, Kimberly Morran Stansfield was a dare devil, thirty-one-year old investigative journalist who spoke fluent Arabic and had used her excellent skills to file stories from Bengazi and    Cairo during the Arab Spring. For more than three years in the Middle East, she had strolled through gunfire, air strikes and riots. Seven days ago, while working an angle on famine in Egypt after the overthrow of Mubarak, she had been abducted and held for ransom by a renegade tribe of Bedouin.
   “You don’t understand,” she objected, clutching his shirt in one fist. “They expected you. Planned for you.” She coughed again and he fretted about how deeply the spasms wracked her. “They’ll kill my cameramen Johnson and Hassan if you take me. Said they’d torture them first.”
   “No, they won’t.”
   “We’re getting your two guys. No worries. Then we’re putting down your captors.”
   “How many are you?” she asked, the reverence in her voice a prayer.
   “Enough.” He smiled at her then and it was as if the sun multiplied into a thousand more when she grinned back at him. “Drink all of that. Fast as you can. It’s got your meds in there.”
    She had a chronic condition of high red platelets. That was the reason the SEALs had come for her and her two colleagues as quickly as they had. Delay by even two more days and she would have died. Besides, this particular group of Bedouins had shown their hand at violence last year when they had kidnapped a French female television commentator. That woman they had brutally tortured and killed. Without a cause, save their own enrichment, this nomadic group tried to ransom those whom they abducted. And they always abducted women.
   “They’re cowards,” he told her as he checked her bare feet, concluding he would simply carry her with him. “And they’re dead meat.”
   Laughing hoarsely, she put a hand to her temple and swayed in delight. “Woosy. Think I’ve had too much to drink. Can you do that? Take them all?”
   “My only job is you.”
   She had laughed then, giddy with the strength of the MRE. Drawing his face down to hers, she planted a big fat kiss on his cheek. “Color me grateful, SEAL of my heart. Your wish is my command.”
* * * * *
    COME VISIT my website for more delicious tales:

Friday, November 27, 2015

Desiree Holts' WOLF MOON howls! Out today!

I have a longtime love affair with the wolf. Yes, he’s a predator. Yes, he kills. But he is such a majestic, magnificent animal that I am drawn to him again and again. Today launches a new wolf shifter series for me­.

Hot Moon Rising

A new wolf pack gathers…
Survivors of the devastation wrought by developers and a more savage pack, the Moonlight Wolf Pack struggles to find a new home for itself in the heat of Central Florida. Here you will meet Jesse and Charlie, the sheriff’s deputies who are their liaison to the human world; Alexa and Liana, the women they married; Derek Sawyer and Rand Molina, leader and lieutenant of the Moonlight Pack; and all those who make up their wolf family as well as those who will join them in the future.

It starts with Wolf Moon…
Shapeshifter Alexa Morgan fled her home in the north when her relationship with a human ended in disaster and the clan alpha shunned her. Now living in Florida, against all her better judgment she finds herself in a hot relationship with Jesse Farrell, the cop next door.  Despite her knowledge that the relationship is doomed, she cannot stay away from him. When Jesse, a gang task force member, is hurt one night on the job, Alexa begins to spend her nights tracking him, keeping him in her line of sight, determined to protect him. But she’s terrified of his reaction when he discovers her true nature. Will he accept her or bolt as her other lover did, leaving her destroyed once again.
And continues with Venus Moon and Blood Moon

Catch the special flash sale!
For three days only, beginning today, Wolf Moon will be on sale for 99 cents.

The sound of the doorbell startled her. On tiptoe she peered through the peephole. She was stunned to see Jesse on her porch, dripping wet and shifting from one foot to the other.
She yanked the door open. “What’s wrong? It’s pouring rain. Why aren’t you inside?”
“Can I come in, please?”
“Oh, sure. Come on.” Yes, bring your fantastic body into my house.
“Sorry to bother you. I left my key on the counter this morning.” He raked his wet hair back from his forehead. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Jesse always carried his car keys separately.
“In case I’m ever attacked,” he explained, “I don’t want anyone having a key to my house. I can keep an extra one of yours too, if you want.”
Another link to him she should have avoided.
“I’ll get it,” she told him now, “but come into the kitchen. You look like a drowned rat and you must be freezing. At least get that wet shirt off and let me make you some coffee.”
“I’ll drip all over your place,” he protested.
“Tile floors are easy to mop.” She took his hand. “Come on. I’d feel terrible if you got pneumonia and I could have prevented it.”
In the kitchen, she flipped the switch on the coffeemaker while he took off his shirt. Then she handed him a large towel from the stack in the laundry room.
“You look exhausted. Bad night?” Her heart pinched at the weary sight of him.
Jesse scrubbed a hand over his face. “Every night’s bad with the gangs. We’ve got a couple of new ones out there ramping up their so-called initiation requirements. That makes it pretty tense on the streets.”
He was a member of the sheriff’s gang task force, a thankless and dangerous job. On the night streets, he was a shadowy figure in jeans and t-shirt looking to stop trouble before it started. Even in a county as small as Palmetto, gangs were a big problem, many of them migrating south from Tampa.
She’d taken to waiting up for him, reassuring herself that once again he was home safely. If only she could find a way to protect him. Well, there was one if she transformed. But she had no idea how he’d feel about a giant redwolf following him around the county.
She ran a critical eye over him, noting his soaked jeans and pulled out another towel. “You’d better take off the rest of those clothes and let me put everything in the dryer. Coffee should be ready in a minute.”
“I’m all right, Alexa. Honest. I just need to get some sleep.”
How about in my bed?

Here is where you can get Wolf Moon:


Meet the author:
Known the world over as the oldest living author of erotic romance, and dubbed by USA Today as the Nora Roberts of erotic romance, Desiree Holt has produced more than two hundred titles in nearly every subgenre of romance fiction. She is a winner of the EPIC E-Book Award, an Authors after Dark Author of the Year and of the Holt Medallion. She has been featured on CBS Sunday Morning and in The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The London Daily Mail and numerous other national and international publications. She enjoys football and reading and her three cats, who are her constant writing companions.

“Get out the ice water and fan…Desiree Holt delivers smoking hot alpha heroes and red hot romances.” Lea Franczak, USA Today Happy Ever After blog

Learn more about her and read her novels here:
Twitter @desireeholt
Pinterest: desiree02holt
Google: www.desiree02holt


Thursday, November 19, 2015

Normandie Alleman gives us a hunky WEBMASTER!

An online connection.
Masked by anonymity.
No cameras. No pictures.
Curiosity ignited to intrigue.

I thought I knew what I was getting into, but had no idea how far we would go...

My intention was to test the waters, dip my toe in the wading pool. Instead I surrendered to the world of seduction and submission as he submerged me--body, mind, and soul--into an ocean of eroticism. 

Emails, texts, and hidden identities, were one thing. But now, coming face-to-face with the mystery man, the star of my fantasies, both terrifies and completely thrills me.  If all goes according to plan, he will intensify the exquisite bond we share by transporting me to that glorious intersection between agony and ecstasy. If not, everything we've built will come crashing down around us, destroying my dreams in the process.

Either way, there is no going back. Because I want more. Much more.
He always says, "For every ounce of pleasure, a price must be paid."

And I am going to pay...

Warning: If you’re not a fan of dirty talk or dominant alpha males, “Her Web Master” may not be for you, but if you're looking for a filthy online boyfriend who will make your toes curl, meet Sophie’s mysterious Dom.

Excerpt – (Abridged Prologue) Rated R:

I stared at the ice cubes in my glass, all that was left of my first drink. I was only allowed two, so I relished the sensation as bourbon sank deliciously into my bloodstream, numbing me ever so slightly. I tried to wait patiently for the next cocktail to arrive, but patience had never been my strong suit. An only child, spoiled rotten by my parents who’d all but given up on having children when I came along, I wasn’t accustomed to waiting. But today of all days, I needed that next drink to calm my frayed nerves.
      The restaurant at the Omni Hotel wasn’t crowded, about what one expected on a Thursday late afternoon. The elegant décor looked to be the result of a recent remodel, and I wondered who had done it. My mother would want to know the name of the designer. She served as the director of Fort Worth’s Junior Cotillion, as well as on a number of museum boards, and she’d taught me to stay abreast of all things related to the arts, but right now considering the hotel’s new look only helped distract me from an imminent meeting with the most important man in my life.
      I was excited yet anxious because this would be my first meeting with my lover.
      Our first meeting face-to-face.
      He’d left strict instructions for me to sit at the table he reserved for us. He requested I sit with my back to the entrance. This tricky move on his part allowed no way for me to see him as he entered. If his intention was to control and torture me, it was working. A loose strand of hair tickled my cheek, so I tucked it behind my ear. My hair wasn’t choosing this inopportune moment to misbehave. It always misbehaved.
      I watched for the waiter, again wanting that drink, but as much as I hated being outside my comfort zone, I loved the naughty, decadent feeling I got from doing something simply because my Master told me to. When I submitted to his demands, I stepped outside my safe little world, the one where my ex-husband ignored me for years, where all my friends had children, where I felt inconsequential. With him I wasn’t invisible. He relied on me.
      Sure it was for things of a sexual nature, but to me, that was something, and I felt fulfilled for the first time in ages.
      A few months ago, when I’d been supremely pissed at my cheating husband, I went online. I admit it, I’d been looking for trouble, which was mind-numbingly easy to find. I hadn’t intended to find a darker side of myself with needs that could never have been met by my philandering husband.  I’d never meant to find someone. I’d merely been looking, searching—for what, I wasn’t sure.
      What I did find was a whole new world of dominance and submission, self-inflicted pain as well as pleasure, and sexual satisfaction with a stranger. A man who reached out and touched me in corners of my soul I hadn’t known existed. We spoke every day, I performed sex acts upon myself at his command, and sent him reports on the intimate and sometimes humiliating tasks he gave me.
I was his submissive, and he was my Master, and every aspect of our relationship took place over the internet. I addressed him as “Sir”, but in our chats he went by the moniker, “MC.” We communicated only via Skype, email, chats and the occasional phone call. That is, until today.
I always insisted we not use a webcam, even though he implored me to do webcam “sessions.” My privacy was of the utmost importance to me, so I always refused. I’m a kindergarten teacher at one of Fort Worth’s finest preparatory schools! I couldn’t take the risk of being videotaped during our play sessions. So the only notion I have of what my Master looks like is a product of my imagination.
But today he flew to Houston to meet me in person. To have a real “play date.” In the flesh. A chill ran across my flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.
The waiter set my second bourbon in front of me. Always cognizant of my manners, I thanked him with a smile. I had been born into one of the wealthiest families in Texas and I’ve been given every advantage. I attended the right boarding schools, wore the right clothes, and behaved as any proper debutante should. And what had that gotten me?
An unfulfilling marriage to an unfaithful jackass and a lifetime of trying to meet other people’s expectations rather than my own. I sipped my drink then smiled. But not today. Today I was doing what I wanted for a change.
I would finally meet the man who dominated me for the past four months. My stomach roiled with anticipation. What would he look like? Would it matter? Of course whatever he looked like, he wouldn’t be the “Master” I’d daydreamed about.
Things never worked that way. It would be like conjuring an image for the hero in a book, and when a movie is made, the actor never matches the character in your head. Always a disappointment.
I’d tried to prepare myself for that from the beginning. I never pictured MC to be a handsome movie star. Instead, I envisioned him as rather average, with salt-and-pepper hair and kind features. For some reason I pictured him wearing glasses, possibly he had a beard.
In any case, it wasn’t his physical appearance that was captivating. MC awakened a primal response in me. He exposed my mind to a world in which I could be open about my sexual desires. A world where the wanton girl inside me was encouraged to come out and play, rather than squelched and pushed into a back closet where she had always lived. He controlled my sexuality, sensing my deepest, darkest needs. And it didn’t hurt that he made me feel cared for and cherished at a time when I desperately needed that. I wanted to please him.
Draining my second drink, I considered a third. I sighed deeply at the thought of the swats that MC would rain down on me for breaking his two-drink maximum. It made me wriggle in my chair, and the excitement between my legs spread down into my toes. My phone showed it was 5:12, and my tummy tightened. Any minute now… He told me he would be here at 5:15. The wait had been both excruciating and delicious at the same time—a perfect reflection of our relationship, a testimony to both pain and pleasure.
“Close your eyes, my pet.” The familiar voice came from behind my chair. It was a sound I’d come to crave and hearing it sent shivers of anticipation dancing down my spine. Suddenly, I wanted to freeze that moment in time, to stop things while things were still beautiful between us, before reality could mar the fantasy.
A hand circled my nape. His touch was like an electric current, setting my skin aflame. I leaned back against his fingers, shamelessly aching for more, though I knew I should maintain my composure because we were in a public place. But it was all I could do not to moan out loud.
He wrapped my long hair over his wrist and gripped it firmly. “I see you were looking at your phone. Did you think I’d be late?”
“Good. I’m going to sit beside you, to your left, but you will keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them. Do you understand me?”
“What did you say?” He pulled my hair tight, and I immediately wondered if anyone in the restaurant noticed.
“Yes, Sir.” My heart thumped hard in my chest.
“That’s better.”
He let go of my hair, and I yearned for him to touch me again. I kept my eyes closed, though I knew I must look an odd spectacle.
“Was that your second drink?”
I nodded.
“I expect you to answer me properly.”
I squirmed in my seat. “Yes, Sir.”
“Would you like another one?”
“Yes, but you said I could only have two.”
“Do you plan to be a good girl today?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Since you followed my directions so well and this is something of a special occasion, you may have another one. What would you like?”
“I’ll have a bourbon and water, please, Sir.”
“That’s a mighty strong drink for a young lady.”
I wasn’t that young, but I appreciated the chivalrous thought. “My grandmother taught me that if you drink bourbon and water it won’t sneak up on you the way sweeter drinks will. That way a lady can always take care of herself.”
“Smart woman, your grandmother.”
I listened as he ordered more drinks, my eyes closed the whole time, feeling ridiculous. Then I gave up and lowered my head, pretending to look at the ground. I’d spent my entire life being worried about what people thought of me. It was exhausting, trying to be perfect all the time.
Part of me was dying to cheat, to open my eyes to see what this dynamic man actually looked like, while the other part was enjoying the game and wished it could go on forever. Because once I saw his face, nothing between us would ever be the same. The fantasy would disappear, replaced by a yet-to-be-known reality, with only a few of the fragments of our mutual projection remaining.

and on Kindle Unlimited.

About the Author: 
A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of children, hunky husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull. If you’d like up to the minute new release info on Normandie’s books text RACYREADS to 24587.

Sign-Up for Normandie’s Book Club and get a FREE book:

Amazon Author Page:

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

4 brothers, 4 love affairs, 1 family curse, 12 mos. bestselling THE STANHOPE CHALLENGE #99cents on all @cerisedeland #regency!


Celebrating with reduced pricing on all my Regency romances!

The details!

HER BEGUILING BUTLER is 99 cents, reduced from $2.99

AMAZON   ARe   NOOK   KOBO   iTunes

LADY VARNEY'S RISQUE BUSINESS, Regency Romp #1 also 99 Cents!

Regency Romp #2 is 99 cents

LADY STARLING'S STOCKING'S is 99 cents! (note well: This book is erotic romance. Buy it only if you prefer a more frank intimacy in your romances.)


Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Military Month @cerisedeland 's bringing you ELITE GHOSTS w Sabrina York! Hot hot hot!

For more than two years they’ve been ghosts. Nothing but names on empty tombstones. Men and women forced to fade into the background after being pulled from the rubble. Dead Marines saved from a fate worse than death, but ordered to stand down while their lives disappeared all around them.
Some knew it could happen if a mission exploded. Double crossed by more than just Red Wolf. But now is their time to be reborn from the flames of a Phoenix. No longer imprisoned in the shadows. A half-life between them and their future. To make things right coming back to life is their only option.
Loyalty is their salvation but damage is always more than skin deep.
A new hope. A new family. Elite Ghosts.

Target: Tungsten by Heather Long
Bradley “Tungsten” Peck. Marine. Lover. Friend. He’s the man who can get anything, find anyone, and accomplish every goal. At least he was, before he lost the only woman who mattered…he won’t stop until he gets her back or she puts a bullet in him.

Zinc's Heart by Rebecca Royce
Zinc has nothing to prove--and everything to lose.

Lithium’s Rescue by Sabrina York
He will save her…unless she saves him first.

Thallium's Submission by Anna Alexander
From now on the only orders he will follow are hers.

Nickel’s Wounds by Saranna DeWylde
Hell hath no fury like a Marine who’s lost her way. Beauty was once her currency, but for a woman who can’t feel anything but agony, she has nothing left. Except the vengeance that could destroy the one man whose love could teach her how to save herself.

Titanium’s Sacrifice by Jennifer Kacey
Titanium. Warbucks. Commander. Brother. He is all of those things. And none of them. Giving up everything to save the men and women under his command was easy until it comes to one…last…sacrifice.

Lithium’s Rescue by Sabrina York
He will save her…unless she saves him first.
Michelle Parsons is on the run. She has evidence of a plot that could destroy the country, but in order to stop her boss and his extremist cohorts from taking over the US Senate, she needs to get the information into the right hands. Trouble is, her contact, the only man she trusts, has been neutralized. She’s all alone. No one can help her.
No one, but the Elite Ghosts.
It’s a shame then, that when Benedict Butler—Codename: Lithium—shows up to bring her in from the cold, she doesn’t know if she can trust him or not. And when their relationship evolves into something more…he’s not sure he can trust himself either.
She does something to him, changes him. Heals him, somehow. And in the end, it’s difficult to say who rescued whom.

Read an Excerpt of Lithium’s Rescue!
   Michelle stared at her phone as the realization that Ralley was watching her every move—had been watching her every move—whipped through her in a howl of horror. She should have known. She should have guessed.
   She was well aware of ASTCORP’s capabilities—of the sensitive information they collected and processed…and how they got it. She should have assumed Ralley would keep the same leash on his employees.
The thought of being watched, listened to, spied on infuriated her.
   “Fuck you, Ralley,” she snapped, though he had long ago ended the call. Still, she was certain he heard. He had ears everywhere.
   The hell she would wait here for someone to come and collect her.
   If Ralley knew everything—and she had to assume he did—she’d never walk away from such an encounter.
   She went inside and yanked the curtains closed, even though she knew, if Ralley had eyes on her, he’d be using a thermal scan as well. Shutting him out made her feel better. Then she quickly collected her purse, cash stash and a change of underwear—as well as a knife from the kitchen—and headed for the door.
   She had no idea where she was going, other than away, but that would make it harder for Ralley to find her. She didn’t have family or friends outside work. No predictable patterns. She’d slip away in the night to the bus station or the train station and hop on the first transport out of town. Wherever it was going, she would—
  She froze as the horrifying sound of a lock snicking shot through the silent room.
  Her eyes widened. She lifted the knife.
  Hell! Why hadn’t she turned off the lights?
  The door eased open with an eerie creak. No one stood in the opening, but Michelle knew better. Someone was there. The barrel of a Sig appeared, capped with a long silencer. Michelle sucked in a breath and ducked back against the wall. When a hand emerged, she slashed it with the knife and, when it clattered to the ground, she executed a roundhouse kick into the doorway in the spot she assumed a face might be.
  She got it right. Her assailant flew back with a bellow, slamming into the wall in the hallway.   She bolted forward through the door, but he rallied quickly and caught her around the waist.   With a howl, she kneed him in the crotch and gave him a healthy punch to the kidneys. She knew all the spots where a man was weak. She’d been trained for hand-to-hand combat since birth.
  But he was trained too, and he was bigger. Stronger. A stocky, burly sort with a squashed in face and piggy eyes. And speaking of piggy eyes, when he slammed into her, launching them both back into her apartment onto the floor, she gouged at his.
  His response was a clout to her cheek.
  It stunned her, but only for a moment.
  A moment too long.
  He captured both her wrists in one hand and pulled a long KA-BAR from its sheath.
  The bastard smiled then, revealing a hatred for dentistry. “He wanted you alive, bitch,” he growled in a thickly accented voice. Russian, if she wasn’t mistaken. Funny what little details filtered in when one was about to die. “It wouldn’t be hard to convince him this couldn’t be helped.”
  It was disturbing, the way his eyes glinted as he set the blade to her neck, as though slicing it would bring him a great deal of pleasure.
  A flicker of movement behind him caught her attention and her gaze shot to the doorway. She didn’t even bother to wince when his compatriot appeared. It was hardly a surprise. These sorts rarely worked alone.
  She didn’t know why her focus locked onto the newcomer’s face, why something rose within her, a wail of denial, a wash of regret. Because he was, this second villain, drop dead gorgeous.
  In that second, that fleeting moment of time before she died, a great wave of sadness swamped her. In another world, another universe, another dimension, if such things existed, she would want a man like him. He was tall. Broad. Beautiful.
  Their gazes clashed and his eyes narrowed. A muscle bunched in his cheek. Something that might have been cold fury rippled over his features.
  And then he moved.
  To her shock, he grabbed her assailant around the neck with a muscled arm and levered him to his feet. The knife clattered to the floor. The first man howled and flailed, kicking and scratching at the second in a frenzy to be free. He whipped down, throwing the second man over his shoulders and onto the ground—but the beautiful warrior bounded to his feet and faced his foe with a snarl.
  They circled each other, there in the foyer of her apartment, each taking the others’ measure.   Michelle would have run, but they were blocking the door, damn it all anyway.
  She grabbed the knife though, as it was in range, and scuttled back. She needed to be ready to face the victor when this was over. She had no idea why they were fighting over her, no idea who the second man was, but it hardly mattered. She wasn’t leaving with either of them. She didn’t trust anyone.
  It was probably completely idiotic that deep down, in the well of her soul, she hoped the handsome man won. Being handsome didn’t make him a good man. In fact, it often meant the opposite.
  The two men came together in a bone-crunching rush. The fight was furious. Fists and grunts and pummeling. The dull thuds of flesh on flesh. The crack of bones. The wet retort of splattering flesh.
  It quickly became clear, the pig-eyed man didn’t stand a chance.
The warrior, the beast, demolished him with clout after ruthless, savage clout. With one crushing punch, he sent the smaller man teetering back onto the carpet. He didn’t move.
  Michelle paid him little mind. She kept her eyes on the victor, the large and looming man with a sinfully beautiful face. Though she held the knife before her, it trembled.
  He stared down at the broken man and his lips quirked in what might have been a smile. Or not.    He cracked his knuckles and turned his attention to her. His eyes were cold, emotionless. His expression harsh.
  “Strip,” he said.
  Just that one word.

Elite Ghosts Buy Links
Elite links
B&N – On release day
Smashwords -

Release Party, November 11:
Jigsaw Puzzle

Sabrina’s Tiara Giveaway!

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates, alerts and giveaway announcements from Sabrina here: