Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Feb 9, 2014 Filed under: Uncategorized
Here’s a taste from Chapter 1…
Will followed the trail out of the woods and gave his horse her head. They raced across fields, and Will reveled in the freedom of a good hard ride. Despite Will’s size, his favorite mare carried him effortlessly, seeming to barely touch the ground. The beast didn’t even mind that he was as much bear as human. Animals understood him in a way no human or shifter ever had.
He could have made a damn good vet. Too bad he’d fucked that up. But that was his MO, wasn’t it? Get settled in a new place, start to make friends, lose his goddamn bear of a temper and scare the shit out of everyone, then move on and try again. He’d managed to take care of himself for most of his life, and he ought to be used to being alone, but lately his bed—hell, his whole life—felt colder and lonelier than ever.
He slowed the horse to a canter, then to a trot as he neared the main corral, but his heart rate didn’t come down as he slowed the pace of the ride. Ryan was in the corral putting Sandstorm, a feisty colt, through his paces, patiently waiting for him to settle down before trying over and over to get him to accelerate only at Ryan’s signal.
Ryan. The man could stir Will up with a mere glance.
Will dismounted and led his horse into the barn. He wanted to rush through untacking and grooming so he could watch Ryan work, but he forced himself to go slowly. His horse deserved a good brushing after making Will feel so free as they ate up the ground. He imagined he’d feel the same way thrusting into Ryan, riding him just as hard. Fuck. He really needed to stop thinking about that. As it was, he became a tongue-tied idiot every time he was around Ryan.
When Will walked out of the barn, Ryan was still there, as focused and calm as he’d been earlier despite Sandstorm’s reluctance to obey.
Will leaned against the corral and watched, fascinated by how in tune Ryan was with the colt he was training. If only Ryan would give him the same attention he gave the horses. It had been nearly a month since Will had laughed off his friend Tristan’s suggestion that he had a thing for Ryan. He’d known what he felt then, but he hadn’t been ready to talk about it. The infatuation hadn’t gone away though, and now he wished Tristan was here. When he took a minute to be serious, he gave good advice, and Will could use some.
Ryan was as elusive as a breeze in the August heat. When he caught Will staring—something that happened all too often—Ryan never looked offended. A few times he’d even smiled, and that smile felt like a gift. Will shook his head. How pathetic could he get, following Ryan around like a lost puppy, getting as turned on from a hint of a smile as he would from an in-your-face, pin-you-to-the-wall proposition from another man? He couldn’t keep this up. Ryan might be skittish like the colt he was training, but Will needed to make a move. He just hoped if he got more aggressive, he wouldn’t scare Ryan off.
At least if Ryan rejected him outright, he could move on, instead of watching every move the man made, every sexy twist of his body, every drop of sweat that rolled down his chest as he studied the colt, not even seeming to notice the heat, every scar on his back that told something of the hell he’d been through. Who the hell was he kidding? There wasn’t any moving on from something this powerful. Will wanted to kiss each of those scars, to hold Ryan and tell him he was safe, but he doubted Ryan would believe him. Ryan never let his guard down, and he was rarely still unless he was working with a horse that was more skittish than he was.
Several times he’d considered pressing Tristan for more information about Ryan. He was sure Tristan knew more about Ryan’s past than he’d told Will, but every time he was tempted, he stopped himself. It was Ryan’s story to tell, and Tristan had his own issues to deal with. Less than a month had passed since Tristan had left for Nashville with his boyfriend, Wes, so they could find out whether they’d kill each other living together. Every time he imagined putting up with Tristan day in and day out, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or send Wes a sympathy card. He hoped they found happiness together. They sure as hell deserved it.
“Whoa,” Ryan called to Sandstorm. The horse slowed and finally stopped. Ryan held up a hand, indicating that the colt should stand still. Then he walked slowly toward the animal. He didn’t make a sound. How had he learned to move like that? Had it been out of necessity?
Sandstorm nuzzled Ryan when he reached his side. Ryan pulled a carrot from his pocket and fed the horse as he rubbed his neck and whispered something to him. Oh what Will would give for Ryan’s hand to move over him like that.
Ryan started leading the colt toward the gate, but he stopped when he saw Will standing there.
Say something. Something that won’t spook him.
“I’d be happy to brush him down for you.”
Ryan shook his head. “He’s not let anyone else groom him yet, but um…you could get his feed, I guess.”
Not a ringing endorsement for wanting Will around, but he’d seize any chance he could.
The more he watched Ryan, the worse he wanted him. The more the man hid, the more Will longed to bring him out of his shell.
What if he only likes girls?
Tristan had said no one had seen him with a man or a woman. Ryan rarely left the farm, not even to go into town for supplies. Will had offered to bring things back for him and he’d gotten a smile, a thank you, and a list in return. Ryan had been conspicuously absent when he’d returned. He’d set the things by the door of Ryan’s room, resisting the urge to use delivery as an excuse to go in and snoop.
Will entered the barn ahead of Ryan, not wanting to make Sandstorm—or Ryan—nervous by walking behind them. He headed to the feed bins and measured out the right amount for Sandstorm. Then he filled a bucket with water so he could fill the water trough in his stall. When he got to the stall, Ryan was busy working Sandstorm over with a brush. The flex of his muscles as he swept his arm over the horse’s back made Will suck in his breath. How the hell was he so far gone over this man when they’d never even had a real conversation?
“Will you have dinner with me?” The words were out before Will could stop them.
Ryan whirled around and dropped the brush. Sandstorm stomped and snorted, but Ryan didn’t seem to notice.
Check out the rest of the Wild R Farm, series!
Jan 12, 2011 Filed under: Uncategorized
I now have a page on Facebook. Stop by and click on like while you’re there.
Jun 30, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
I’ll be in the Samhain Cafe tonight for an Author Spotlight hour from 8-9pm EDT. Please join me!
Jun 25, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
I’ll be running a List Mom Hour at the Samhain Cafe from 1-2 EDT today. Stop by to learn more about To Capture A Spy. If you join the conversation, you’ll be eligible for a few prizes.
Jun 23, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
Changeling Press has released the first stories in the new Heat Stroke series and Stallion’s Summer is one of them. Check it out here!
The beginning of the story:
Raya exited the aged transport that had brought her to Oriana and thanked all the deities she could name that she’d made it there in one piece. The planet was beautiful, and a few months ago she’d had the best sex of her life on this backwater outpost, but gods above, couldn’t the locals invest in some modern ships?
She used her absurd lace handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow. She’d thought the weather hot the last time she’d visited Oriana. But now it was full summer, and the transport pilot had reported a surface temperature of 110 degrees Fahrenheit.
She wondered what the locals would do if she donned a short, cool-cloth suit, the only garment she’d normally consider in such heat. They’d probably arrest her for indecency. Calder would get the charges dropped and her comfort would almost make it worth the trouble. But getting thrown in jail would delay the long, hard fuck she needed from Calder. That was not acceptable.
Between her raging desire she’d been unable to slake and the blazing Orianian sun, she feared she might explode. She needed to find Calder fast, get some relief for her aching pussy, and then sleep for about twelve hours in a climate-controlled room.
Since she hadn’t bothered to inform Calder that her client was finally ready to close their land deal, no carriage awaited her. She would have to walk the three miles to his estate. As the heat pushed against her in oppressive waves, she wished she had called. But if she had, Calder might have asked annoying questions like how long she planned to stay and whether she had reconsidered his offer.
No, he wouldn’t ask that. He’d warned her that he wouldn’t ask her to stay again. She’d blown her chance. Surely that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be excited to see her? She supposed he had a right to be angry. She had left without saying goodbye. But his cock would respond to her, and that was what mattered, wasn’t it?
Jun 9, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
On July 1, Samhain Publishing will release my spicy historical, To Capture A Spy, which is set in France in 1814. And in a few weeks, Changeling Press will release my latest short story, Stallion’s Summer which is a sequel to Stallion’s Gambit. I’m s-l-o-w-l-y working on a novella to wrap up Raya and Calder’s story so look for news about that.
When danger lurks, is courage alone enough to save a country—and a heart?
It’s not enough Meg Wentworth has suffered kidnapping, imprisonment and torture. She kept her wits about her and escaped with her life, only to be captured by a handsome British officer—and promptly accused of spying for the French. Convincing him otherwise turns out to be easier than dealing with her next discovery: that Lucien just might be the man to help her put her life back together. If only he will let go of his rigid control long enough to let her show him they belong together.
Recovering from a near-fatal injury, British intelligence officer Lucien Archer hoped to leave the shadowy, violent world that left him scarred, body and soul. But a mysterious letter calls him back to duty, and nothing prepares him for Meg. The beautiful spy’s fiery spirit threatens to break through the shell Lucien has built around his heart.
But Meg’s kidnapper wasn’t looking for simple ransom. He’s an old enemy of Lucien’s, Le Lézard, who’s resurfaced with a single goal. To raise magical forces dark and powerful enough to destroy England. To do it, blood must flow. The blood of Lucien and Meg.
And the fire of passion that burns between them is the perfect lure to get them both where he wants them. On an altar of sacrifice.
Learn more here.
Feb 25, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
One Love for Liv by Marianne Arkins
Liv is out to prove her high society fiancé is cheating on her. Can she do it without breaking a nail—or falling in love with Mike the mechanic?
Olivia “Liv” Leigh, wealthy socialite and spa owner, suspects her fiancé of cheating on her. Drastic steps are required to discover whether appearances are deceiving. And if those steps require a bit of stalking, a change of appearance, a hippo-sized dog named Spike, and sacrificing her manicure to clean house for a sexy-but-sloppy man whose neighbor is determined to break several of the strangest Guinness world records, why should that be a problem?
Mike, a happily single auto mechanic, is more than content sharing his bachelor pad with piles of laundry, dirty dishes, and a sneaky ferret. But when a half-crazed woman in a bad wig shows up on his doorstep, what’s a nice guy to do?
Why, invite her in, unknowingly help her in her search for the truth and, in the process, fall head over heels for a woman who’s never been less his type.
Liv drove past the VW and parked around the corner. Nervous in these strange surroundings, she stepped out of the car. First one foot cautiously touched the pavement, then the other.
Litter dotted the sidewalk, and she sidled around a huge wad of pink chewing gum that glistened on the cement to her right, practically pulsating in the sunshine. The wooden fence beside her was covered in graffiti, mostly silly scrawls of people’s names and the objects of their affections.
With a glance over her shoulder at the beat-up sedan, she gave thanks she wasn’t driving the Miata after all. This neighborhood made her terribly uneasy, and her sweet car probably wouldn’t last an hour parked on this street.
She hurried up the sidewalk to the corner, grateful for the first time she was wearing sneakers instead of her usual pumps, and peered around to make sure Daisy wasn’t looking. Of course, she probably wouldn’t recognize Liv, but it was still good to be careful.
She trailed Daisy until the redhead turned up the walk toward the complex and moved behind some thick evergreen bushes. Liv broke into a trot, not wanting to lose her.
As Liv turned the corner, she nearly ran Daisy over. The woman had stopped to check her mail at the wall of mailboxes just outside the complex.
Liv leaped back and slipped between two parked cars, squatting down to hide for a moment until she realized she couldn’t see anything. She duck-walked up a few cars until she could lean down to peek underneath and watch Daisy’s feet to note when she moved on.
Utterly focused on the sight before her, she had no warning before the driver’s door beside her swung open, clipping her sharply on the head. She flew backward, sprawling into the street and thumping her skull on the pavement. Tires squealed nearby as a moving car whipped around her flattened body.
“What the—?” From a million miles away, a man shouted in surprise. She heard the thump of footsteps but couldn’t seem to open her eyes. “Hey, lady.” A huge, heavy hand shook her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Something warm and wet swiped her face, both reviving and disgusting her. She kept her eyes closed and limply swatted at it. Her hand hit fur. “Ugh.”
“Spike, back off.”
Spike? What was going on? She gave a low moan and tried again to force her eyelids to obey her will, finally succeeding after a Herculean effort. A tanned face covered in five o’clock shadow and smears of black grease swam in front of her. Next to him, its neck surrounded by a studded black leather collar, sat the biggest brown dog she’d ever seen. The creature had drool suspended from its mouth and it looked as if it had swallowed a sneaker with the laces hanging out. Dear heavens, was that what had licked her?
The voice spoke again, and this time she saw the man’s lips move, though they seemed oddly out of sync with his words. The last time that had happened was when she’d seen Shoot the Piano Player in French with English subtitles.
“You don’t look so good. Maybe I should call for an ambulance or something. I whacked you pretty hard.” He touched her forehead and she tried to move away from those greasy hands. Did she have a smear on her skin?
“No, don’t call an ambulance.” Liv was dismayed at how feeble she sounded, but the last thing she needed was to draw more attention to herself. How would she explain that to Geoff or her father? “I’ll be okay. Just help me up.”
“If you’re sure.” Strong, firm hands slipped under her arms and pulled her easily to her feet. The dog leaned against her and shoved its head under her hand. She flinched at the feel of its bony, fur-covered skull even though she appreciated the support. It wasn’t enough, though, and her legs wobbled beneath her.
“Whoa there, Nelly.” The man tightened his hold and steadied her. “Maybe you should come inside and sit down for a couple of minutes. I could give you an ice pack for your head.”
Liv drew herself up to her full height, all five feet, two inches of it—damn, now she missed her three-inch heels—and declared, “I would no more go into a strange man’s house than…than…” She hated that the man only grinned and watched her sputter. She lost the little bit of strength she’d summoned and sank down onto the sidewalk. “I’ll sit on the curb. Just get your ugly dog away from me.”
“Spike? C’mon, he’s gorgeous.” He gave the monster a vigorous scratch all up and down its body. “And he’s not my dog, but don’t worry, he’s a marshmallow.”
“I don’t like dogs.” She dropped her aching head into her hands and peeked through her fingers to watch as the man dragged the dog a few feet away. Spike stared at Liv with droopy brown eyes for a couple moments before he turned and trotted into the apartment complex. Thank heavens.
“Look, you can’t sit out here by yourself. What if you have a concussion and pass out?” The man squatted beside her. “Do you live nearby? I could take you home.”
“I don’t live anywhere around here.” Heaven forbid. Liv waved off his offer with a flip of her hand. “I just need a few minutes to gather my wits.”
“I don’t feel right just leaving you here. Maybe you could go to my neighbor’s? Daisy is a pretty harmless woman—at least if you’re not a man—and from where I’m sitting, it’s obvious you’re no man.”
“Daisy?” That was impossible. What were the odds?
“Yeah.” He grasped her elbow and helped her stand again. Despite the grease and calluses, his hand was oddly gentle and comforting. “I bet you’re seeing double, and you can’t drive in that condition.”
Annoyed he was right, and interested in checking out where the competition lived, she reluctantly agreed. They walked side-by-side into the complex, each step making her head throb more.
“I’m Mike, by the way. Mike Peck.”
She looked up at him, really seeing him for the first time. He was unbelievably tall, well over six feet, and wore some kind of gray coverall that had his name embroidered on the patch affixed to the front.
She squinted at the smaller lettering above his name. Doug’s Import Auto Shop. Saved by a grease monkey. How exactly right for her day.
Feb 25, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
I’m supposed to be getting my kids up and ready for the day but instead I’m mindlessly surfing the net and I ran across this quiz. As a writer, I just had to take it. (Acutally I’m a sucker for quizzes of any kind. 🙂 I’m a dash. Take it yourself and let me know what mark you are….
You Are a Dash
Your life is fast paced and varied. You are realistic, down to earth, and very honest.
You’re often busy doing something interesting, and what you do changes quickly.
You have many facets to your personality, and you connect them together well.
You have a ton of interests. While some of them are a bit offbeat, they all tie together well.
You friends rely on you to bring novelty and excitement to their lives.
(And while you’re the most interesting person they know, they can’t help feeling like they don’t know you well.)
You excel in: Anything to do with money
You get along best with: the Exclamation Point
Feb 18, 2008 Filed under: recipes, Uncategorized
I also tried another recipe from the same episode of Everyday Italian where Giada made the baklava, it’s called Caponata and it’s basically a roasted vegetable salad. I am sadly not a good vegetable eater. I want to love vegetables but most of the time I simply eat them because I think I must, but this recipe made me eager to get in some veggies with my dinner. The flavors of garlic and oregano with the eggplant, zucchini, and tomatoes were so yummy mixed together. I served it over thickly sliced rustic bread like Giada did, and all we ate with it was some cheese and nuts. I’ll definitely make it again. You can find the recipe here.
Feb 2, 2008 Filed under: Uncategorized
A Persistent Attraction, Book 2 in the Regency Intrigue series will be released by Samhain Publishing on February 12. For those of you who have read Book 1: A Carnal Agreement, you’ll remember Rhys and Amanda. This is their story.
Starting on February 5, I’ll be doing a daily countdown here. Anyone who comments will be entered to win a book of their choice from my backlist. Each time you comment, you’re name will be entered to win so the more you comment the more chances you have to win.
Here’s a little taste of A Persistent Attraction to whet your appetite:
A Persistent Attraction by Silvia Violet
Rhys flashed one more knee-buckling grin and walked away. Amanda tried not to observe the animal grace of his movements as he made his way through the crowd. His powerful, fluid walk was at odds with his foppish attire. Her sister had warned her there was more to Rhys than his appearance indicated, but she didn’t want to delve into his secrets. If she were wise, she would do her best not to cross his path again after their dance.
Despite her resolve, she could not pry her eyes from him. She watched him halt next to one of the musicians. The man continued to play, never faltering, while he held a brief conversation with Rhys. Rhys handed him something, and he pocketed it when he had a chance. What was he up to?
She turned away, hoping to seek her aunt’s advice on how to manage Rhys’s advances. But Claire had followed her friends to the punch table. A few minutes later, the music ended with a flourish, and Rhys appeared behind her.
When he set his hands around her waist, she pulled away and turned around. “Have you forgotten where you are?”
“Not in the least. I merely intended to guide you onto the dance floor.”
The strains of a waltz floated across the ballroom, and Rhys’s conversation with the musician suddenly made sense. “You bribed them, didn’t you?”
“I made a request and tipped them for their thoughtfulness.”
“I will not waltz with you.”
“Yes, you will.”
“You can return when the next dance begins.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I am not afraid. I am wary as any young woman should be of a man like you.” Amanda was intensely aware of him. She could still feel the heat of his hands where he’d touched her. How was she going to survive a waltz without letting him know how he affected her?
He took her arm and linked it through his. “Even a rake such as I would not attempt to ravish you on the dance floor.”
Much to her annoyance, his touch sent shivers down her spine. “One waltz. Then you promise to leave me be for the rest of our stay here.”
Rhys smiled. “If that is what you still wish, then I will not plague you again.”
Amanda’s heart pounded as he led her onto the dance floor. The strictures of society dictated that a waltzing couple kept eighteen inches of space between them, but Amanda doubted Rhys left three. He was so close, the warmth of his body radiated against her as if she were naked. His thighs brushed hers as they twirled, and she tried to look anywhere but into his eyes.
As they moved together, she realized Rhys was an excellent dance partner. Most men whose invitations she accepted were arrogant and boorish once they got her on the floor. Even if they showed any skill at dancing, she was too busy trying to discern their true motivations to enjoy herself.
Rhys made his motives clear enough. He wanted to seduce her, but she also knew he would not truly harm her. Mark would kill him if he did. Rhys led so expertly she had only to relax and let him direct her body. She could easily let her world narrow to the strains of the music, his body pressed to hers and the wonderful feeling of flying.
Then she made the mistake of looking up. Their eyes met. Raw hunger was reflected in his gaze. She’d seen lust on men’s faces before, but she’d never expected such primal desire to be directed at her.
She realized with dismay that Rhys had managed to maneuver them so they were standing by the French doors which led to the courtyard. When the music ended, he flashed a wicked smile. “I thought you might enjoy some fresh air.”
Before she could protest, he reached around her, opened the door and practically pushed her through. She took a slow, deliberate breath. “Now I have some fresh air in my lungs. Please return me to my aunt.”
“Your aunt is busy catching up with old friends. Why don’t we take a few minutes to enjoy the cool evening?”
Rhys had made her body come alive while they danced. She was much too vulnerable to be alone with him. “I found the temperature in the ballroom quite pleasant.”
“Really? Then why are you flushed?”
“How rude of you to notice.”
“Not rude, simply honest.”
He walked toward her. She backed up, but a bench caught her behind the knees. She sat down hard, her breath escaping in a whoosh.
Rhys sat beside her and took her hand in his. His thumb stroked her wrist, sending waves of heat straight to her belly. “Why are you afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid. I’m annoyed. Now unhand me and let me go inside.”
He smiled. “Prove it.”
“That you are not afraid.”
“How would I do that?”
“You must be joking.”
But she looked into his eyes and knew he was quite serious. He’d said the words in a light, teasing tone, but his eyes glowed like a predator stalking prey.
She told herself to get up and go inside, but her legs wouldn’t obey. He’d trapped her like a frightened rabbit. A secret part of her wanted to sample what he had to offer.
His lips descended on hers, and she opened to him. For once in her life, she gave herself utterly to a new sensation.
What a glorious sensation it was. The heat of his mouth enveloped her as his tongue sought the recesses of her mouth. Never in her most fevered fantasy had she imagined a kiss could feel so…exotic and sinful.
Instinct took over, and her tongue reached out, sliding across his and seeking entrance to his mouth. He groaned as she traced his lower lip with her tongue. His arms closed around her, pulling her firmly against his hard chest. She shuddered as his hands stroked the naked skin of her shoulders.
Amanda sank her teeth into the soft flesh of his lip, and he growled. His hands slid around to cup her breasts. When his thumbs flicked across her nipples, bolts of lightening ran through her body.
Then reality crashed like thunder.