Today’s stop is for Ellen Chauvet’s When Darkness Falls. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

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Lexie Miles, a southern belle living her dream life in Paris, is devastated when her best friend Emma is brutally raped and murdered by vampires. From that moment Lexie’s “perfect world” begins to crumble. She discovers her entire life has been a sham and everyone she cares about has been lying to her. Angry doesn’t begin to describe her reaction to the news.

Plunged into a two-thousand year old war between good and evil, she is propelled into a world of blood, lust and dark secrets. She must embrace her birthright to fight an ancient threat to humanity. Bequeathed with the dubious gift of being the “Chosen One,” Lexie meets the enigmatic Etienne Benoit. She falls hard for him and when he betrays her, she vows to get revenge. After all, she is a vampire executioner and killing vampire is what she does.

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Lexie sat waiting for her best friend Emma Gunther to join her at their favorite French bistro, the Boeuf sur la Toit, off the Champs Elysees. Emma had been away for two weeks and Lexie was looking forward to their reunion. Her thoughts drifted to the latest vampire novel Emma had given her to read. It contained hot, juicy sex scenes. Her gaze settled on a handsome man who had entered the restaurant. His wool coat outlined broad shoulders and chest, and tapered to a slim waist and hips. Dark eyes caught hers for a moment before shifting on. He sauntered to a single table radiating sex and passion. Lexie’s imagination took over. In her fantasy he was a vampire and she was his lover. She undressed him and heat rose in her groin as she pictured him naked. Lost in her fantasy, she jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. “Earth to Lexie,” Emma’s familiar voice intruded. “Shit you scared the be-jesus out of me.” Lexie rose and hugged her friend, then stood back. “Darlin’ I’m so happy you’re back,” she said slipping comfortably into her native Atlanta drawl. The accent she had to clip when speaking French or the Parisian’s would look at her with disdain. “It’s good to be back,” Emma said, removing her coat before sitting at their table. Emma was tall, had long brown hair which she pulled back in a severe bun and thick glasses. They worked together as translators for the United Nations and their friendship had flourished over the past three years. Emma was the science translator as well as a chemist and math whizz. They were a strange combination: a pretty Southern belle from Georgia and a stodgy but brilliant German fraulein, but the friendship worked. Rather than going home to Atlanta, Lexie had spent summer vacations at the Gunther’s cottage in the Taunus Mountains, and Christmas holidays with Emma and her father in Frankfurt. Too cold in late November to sit outside, Lexie and Emma enjoyed the warmth and coziness of the restaurant as they waited for their meals. “What were you thinking about when I came in?” Emma said. “You were a million miles away.” Lexie felt her cheeks redden and dipped her head to avoid Emma’s stare. “I was thinkin’ about some stuff at work. How was your trip?” Lexie steered the conversation to a safer topic. “It was good. Saw some friends from university and had a good visit with my father.” Lexie noticed that Emma’s response was vague, and wondered what she wasn’t saying. Before she could ask, the waiter arrived with their food. They ate in silence, the awkwardness between them increasing. Puzzled by her friend’s reticence, Lexie leaned back and said, “How come the subject of men and vampires hasn‘t come up yet?” “You always make fun of me when I talk about vampires,” Emma replied. “And as for men…” she left the statement hanging. Lexie did think that Emma’s fascination with the undead was odd so she steered the conversation toward men. Lexie felt a twinge of remorse that Emma was reluctant to mention vampires around her, so she chose to bring a bit of humor to the conversation. “We’re not spring chickens anymore,” Lexie said. “Don’t be silly, we’re only 29.” Emma replied. “Besides, you tried a committed relationship, and we both know how that went.” “Don’t remind me,” Lexie said as Justin’s handsome face flashed through her mind. “I still get my panties in a wad when I think of findin’ him with that bitch. That still hurts.” “Ach, let’s not rehash that one again.” Just like Lexie’s drawl, Emma’s German accent was always more evident when it was just the two of them. “At least I have one to rehash. How much longer are you gonna to pine over Tom?” “That’s not fair.” Lexie could see the hurt in her friend’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I just get frustrated that you waste your time longin’ for our unapproachable boss.” The truth was Lexie also had a little crush on their brawny, Daniel Craig like English boss. But of the two of them, she had the role of being the one who was worldly about men, and she enjoyed that. Since the disaster with Justin, she had shied away from any long term relationships. One night stands were exciting and safe. Never mind that they left her feeling empty and lonely. Emma smiled at her. “I know you worry about me. Maybe my destiny is to find a ’good’ vampire like in the books we’ve been reading. Then I could live a life of adventure and hot, juicy, passionate sex.” Emma purred. “Girl they are just myths. Besides, I don’t believe in good and evil.” Lexie usually saw Emma’s eyes twinkling in amusement through her thick glasses at their ongoing debate. But this time Emma’s eyes held no sparkle and she said with a serious tone. “All myths have some truth in the background.” “I guess everyone needs to believe in somethin’.” Lexie said. Especially when you’re a mousy nerd. She experienced a twinge of guilt at her unkind thought. Lexie loved Emma like a sister and her attempts to improve her appearance came from a place of caring. “Hon you are barkin’ up the wrong tree if you think I’ll ever believe vampires are real. There isn’t any ‘truth’ in the background. Although I must admit, I enjoy the erotica. The scenes give me wonderful ideas for my own flings.” She winked at her friend. “C’mon let’s get out of here and go for a walk.” Even Lexie noticed that male heads turned to ogle her as she exited. She and Emma walked the Champs Elysees, wandering in and out of the fashionable stores that were still open. “This would look wonderful on you,” Lexie said. She held up a deep purple sweater for Emma’s approval. Lexie felt it was her mission in life to break Em out of her dowdy wardrobe. “It would look better on you.” Emma replied. “This is more my style.” She held up a mustard yellow sweater and Lexie cringed at the sight. “The color is awful. It makes you look dead. Will you at least try this purple one on? Emma took the sweater and slipped it over her head. Lexie smiled. It was stunning and brought out Em’s chocolate brown eyes. It’s too….bright.” Emma said and yanked the sweater off. “I love it on you.” Emma regarded the sweater and Lexie could sense that she wavered. “Won’t you at least give it a try?” “I don’t know….I have plenty of clothes.” “C’mon hon, it’s sexy.” “I never think of myself that way.” Lexie grabbed Emma’s arm and pulled her in front one of the store mirrors. “Hold it up in front of you.” “Does it really make me look sexy?” Lexie could tell the idea of sexy appealed to her. “Absofrigginlutely, you have to have it.” Lexie smiled to herself as Emma walked to the cashier and paid for the item. Will wonders never cease? They stepped back out on the boulevard and Lexie linked arms with Emma as they walked. In soft whispers they commented on the men that they passed on the street. It was their usual game of imagining whether or not certain ones could be good vampires or bad vampires and then laughed at their silliness. Lexie pointed to a couple approaching. “Now he’s someone I could take to bed in a heartbeat,” she whispered into Emma’s ear. They were passing the Cartier store and Emma grabbed her arm and pulled. “Look at that diamond necklace. Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” “I guess so.” Lexie stumbled after her. Startled by Emma’s sudden interest in the incredibly expensive item in the window, Lexie started to say something when Emma tensed holding her arm so tight it hurt. “Em, you’re hurtin’ me.” She tugged at her friend’s grip but Emma held on tighter. “What’s going on with you? The necklace is gorgeous, and way out of our price range.” Lexie felt a presence behind her. Her scalp prickled and her heart rate accelerated. She scratched her head wondering if she’d picked up lice. The scratching didn’t help. “Oui, that is a most delightful piece,” said a tinkling female voice with a heavy French accent. “It would look stunning on you.” Lexie turned and the petite young woman who had spoken was too gorgeous for words. Her hair was blond almost white in the soft light of the Cartier window. Blue eyes twinkled from her heart shaped face. Her skin was translucent and flawless. The woman extended her hand and as Lexie shook it she noticed delicate blue veins on the back. “My name is Marielle,” she said. “And this is my husband Francois.” Lexie looked up into eyes so dark brown they appeared black. High cheekbones that any model would kill for were framed by lustrous brown hair. His broad chest and shoulders filled out the suede jacket he wore, and tight fitting designer jeans revealed a slim waist and long legs. So young to be married. “Enchanté” Lexie replied taking the man’s outstretched hand. “Je m’apelle Lexie.” Again her scalp prickled. It was annoying. She looked at Emma who still clutched her arm. Emma stared at the couple in a way that was not friendly but as if she knew these strangers. “Do y’all know each other?” Lexie asked puzzled by Emma’s demeanor. “Ah no, mademoiselle.” Francois spoke for the first time and reached out his hand toward Emma. Emma released the death grip she had on Lexie’s arm. In slow motion Emma raised her hand and when Lexie looked into her eyes the pupils were dilated and fixed. Her mouth opened but no sound came out. Lexie could see that Francois had captured Emma’s eyes with his own and the intensity of his gaze reminded Lexie of a hypnotist. How odd. “This is my friend Emma.” Lexie was pleased to introduce her friend but for the first time felt the male attention was being stolen by Emma. Francois raised Emma’s hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. When he released it, it hung in the air like some disembodied prosthetic. Before Lexie could say anything, Francois turned to Lexie. “We were just passing by and noticed you admiring the necklace. We were both struck by your good looks and Marielle couldn’t resist saying hello. Are you perhaps a fashion model?” “Oh, well it’s nice to meet you both and no, I am not a fashion model. But thank you kindly for the compliment,” Lexie replied, her ego soothed. “C’mon, we need to go,” Emma said. “It’s getting late and I have a lot to do tomorrow.” Rude much? “It was nice meeting you both,” Lexie said. “It was our pleasure mademoiselle,” Francois replied. “Perhaps we will bump into each other again soon.” He smiled at Emma and Lexie noticed that the smile never reached his eyes. “I would enjoy that,” Emma responded and then blushed to her roots. “We need to go.” Emma hustled Lexie to the curb. She waved her arm to hail a cab. “Em, what are you doing? You just live a few blocks away, and I can take the train to Montmartre.” Emma didn’t respond, and as a cab pulled alongside, she jerked open the door and climbed in. “Get in,” she demanded. Lexie hesitated. Emma reached out and yanked Lexie’s arm and she stumbled into the cab. “Em, what’s wrong with you? You’re acting very strange.” “There was just something about that couple that I didn’t trust. Especially the woman. They just - how do you say it in English ‘bugged me’. “But, honey, what’s with the cab? Aren’t we going to the Bus Palladium for dancing?” “I’m too tired to go dancing tonight.” Emma replied. “Besides I want to make sure that you get home safe.” Still puzzled at her friend’s strange behavior, Lexie sat quietly for several minutes hoping she would explain further. When she didn’t, she decided to change the topic. “Are we getting together tomorrow? “Not tomorrow,” Emma replied. “We could go shopping at the Gallerie Lafayette and Printemps. Have a late lunch at Café du Margot and finalize our plans for Christmas. It’ll be here before you know it.” “I have some things I need to take care of. But I will call you on Sunday morning and we can get together then, okay?” “Sounds good. Don’t forget my Mom arrives in the afternoon.” Lexie said wondering what things Emma needed to take care of. On occasion her friend could be aloof. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m looking forward to meeting her.” The cab pulled up in front of Lexie’s apartment. She was surprised when Emma leaned over and grabbed her arm. “Be careful, Paris is not as safe as you think. Lock your door and check your windows.” “I promise I’ll be careful,” Lexie replied. “Are you sure you’re okay? “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you Sunday.” Lexie waved as the taxi pulled away from the curb. Emma’s eyes stared at her, but she didn’t wave back. So strange. She entered her apartment unable to shake off the sense of unease brought on by Emma’s behavior. Large by Paris standards, Lexie’s home reflected her eclectic taste. Deep red drapes covered the French doors that led to her balcony, and the pieces of furniture she’d acquired were ultra-modern in design. She took a moment to review her to do list in preparation for her mother’s visit. Most of them were ticked off. She would clean the next day. In contrast to the rest of the apartment, her bedroom was romantic with wooden shutters painted a robin’s egg blue, a bedspread to match and big fluffy pillows tossed casually about. Her bed was wrought iron with gauzy soft blue drapes. Lexie changed into her pajamas and her eyes locked on to the most recent vampire book she was reading. Her thoughts returned to Emma and the discomfort she’d experienced earlier returned. She picked up the phone to call her then smiled at her concern. I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Ellen Chauvet lives in Vancouver, British Columbia. Her love for reading and writing developed at an early age and she wrote several short stories and plays which were lost over the years. In 2003 a friend introduced her to "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", and Ellen was fascinated by the idea of good and evil vampires. She particularly loves Anne Rice, Charlaine Harris and Laurell K. Hamilton. 'When Darkness Falls' if the first in a series of books called 'The Vampire Redemption Series' and is adult fiction.

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Today’s stop is for Cheryl Ann Smith’s The Sweetheart Kiss . We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :) 

Jess Lucas works hard at the all-female PI firm Brash & Brazen, and after a brush with death, she’s determined to play hard too—preferably with a certain detective on the Ann Arbor police force…

Jess was stuck at a frenemy’s wedding, playing bridesmaid in a mustard-yellow monstrosity, when chaos erupted. First the bride’s ex tried to stop the wedding. Then someone really put a damper on the big day by sending a bullet through a stained glass window and into one of the groomsmen. At least her ugly dress came in handy to stop the bleeding . . .

While the poor guy is rushed to the ER, Jess gets grilled by a gorgeous cop who’s not thrilled to learn she’s part PI and part pit bull. But he has to admit she’s highly observant . . . and he observes that she’s pretty hot, too.

The thing is, Jess was walking up the same aisle as the victim, and Sam suspects she was the real target. It’s more than professional duty that makes him want to protect her—if he doesn’t arrest her first for interfering in his investigation . . .

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There was one thing guaranteed to get Jess Lucas through a wedding that she didn’t want to be in, with a bride she intensely disliked, and a headache that had spiked through her skull the moment she slipped the hideous bridesmaid dress over her head: Alcohol. The crystal clear liquid called to her with a sweet siren song from within the bottom of her oversized tote bag. There had been speculation among her friends that Amelia Earhart— and aircraft—could be found in the tote along with Bigfoot and extinct dodo birds, if the right team of explorers took on the search. Laying that rumor to rest would have to wait until she finished soaking her throbbing brain with fermented potatoes and ethanol. Jess was certain a quick dash into the changing room wouldn’t be noticed as the groom hadn’t yet taken his position at the altar. Maybe the clueless sap had wised up and was now making a run for the Ohio border. No luck. She caught a glimpse of him talking to the minister and smiling. She didn’t know him well, but felt sorry for the guy. He was so dumbstruck by love that he couldn’t see past the big teeth and enhanced breasts to the character within his future wife. But that wasn’t Jess’s problem. The ceremony was not to start for three minutes and she was quick, despite a slight buzz from previous liquor shots. Without any impediments to block her path, she could get to the bride’s room, down the 1.5 ounces of vodka left from a raid on the minibar during a trip to Vegas last summer, and be back in line before anyone noticed her missing. She just had to shake off groomsman number three. She’d brought a variety six pack of those little booze bottles, knowing that in order to survive the wedding of Mandy Mae Smith—soon to be Jones—she’d need liquid courage. Not much of a drinker, she’d managed to chug three bottles already, but her duties had kept her from the fourth. The white crinoline along the bodice of the wide fifties-prom-dress inspired bridesmaid dress was already rubbing off the top layer of skin on her left arm pit. By the time the evening came to a thank-God-it’s-over close, she intended to be ripping drunk and naked with a groomsman in a vestibule closet somewhere. After all, wasn’t a single woman entitled to be cliché at least once in her life? “Ready?” “Er, what?” Jess looked way up at tall groomsman number three, Dodger Drake. Yes, that was his name. His fake tanned orange face grinned down from a foot above her, his teeth so white that she became convinced he ate, slept, and probably had sex while wearing teeth whitening trays. “It’s time to line up,” Dodger said and his gaze dipped unapologetically to her modest cleavage pushed up under her chin by the bone-corset bodice of the dress. Gawd, she hoped that Dodger was a nickname and not some sick joke his parents had heaped on their innocent baby to toughen him up on the playground. By the way he was measuring her cup size, he was clearly angling to be her next sexual misadventure. Heck, her first sexual misadventure. She was too smart to jump into anything without weighing the pros and cons beforehand. For the last several very long weeks, she’d been weighted down by gloom over a very serious health scare. After getting good news, she’d taken a look at her life and wasn’t happy with what she saw reflected back at her. Outside of work, she’d been kind of going along without much purpose. Her social life was boring and she hadn’t had an adventure since she and her friends had been kicked off a bus and almost eaten by buzzards. She was healthy now. It was time to start living. Perhaps she should do something reckless. She’d have to make a plan. “Oh, okay,” she said and let him lead her into the line. Damn. The bottle would have to wait, she thought, as she tugged at the torturous gown. Really, who would choose mustard yellow corseted dresses with lime and red sashes for a wedding anyway? Mandy, that’s who. Dear lord, why had she agreed to this epic mess? Jess hated Mandy. Oh, they’d been friends once. Then Mandy had blossomed after getting her severe overbite corrected, become promiscuous during the last two years of high school, and slept with Jess’s boyfriend of two years, Darren. A long-winded, weepy apology had tamped down Jess’s desire to kill her, and they’d left high school as frenemies. After all, by the time Jess found out about the cheating, Darren had already done it with half of the girls in their town over the age of sixteen. So what was one more, Mandy had said. As if that made Jess feel any better. Besides, the ex-boyfriend with the best friend relationship didn’t last much longer than the time it took for Darren to untangle Mandy’s lacy thong from his braces the night the cops found them parked behind the elementary school. His head had popped up and he was grinning like he’d won the lottery, with red lace snagged on silver metal. He’d been an overeager virgin, saddled with a girlfriend who wasn’t ready to go past second base, and full of raging hormones. After Mandy, his new reputation as a stud had gained him a following of would-be-hoes who were ready to see if braces were indeed better than a vibrator on certain areas of the female anatomy. And dear Mandy had spent their senior year in high school orally copulating her way through 25 percent of the males of the senior class. Senior photos that year were particularly chipper. The young men had a lot to smile about. This kind of behavior would lead psychologists to suspect childhood trauma or some sort of mental malady. But no, Mandy just liked sex. And she would have made a dent in the other 75 percent if not for that dreaded event called graduation. So when the call from way out of left field came three weeks ago begging Jess to be part of Mandy’s big day, she had been unable to come up with an excuse quick enough to get out of it. So, here she was...bridesmaid number three. But what ticked her off most was that Mandy was so happy with Chad Jones that it sickened everyone around her. If karma had blessed Mandy with a taste of her own medicine, Chad would be currently doing it with the maid of honor behind the pulpit instead of high-fiving his best man and heading to the front of the church with a bounce in his step. Not that she was bitter or anything, Jess reminded herself. High school was nine years ago. They’d all moved on. Sure. Mandy had trotted off to college, become a lawyer, and was now marrying the man of her dreams. This ending was completely unfair to the good girls of the world. Jess glanced up the aisle to the groom and wondered if he knew his soon-to-be-wife had questionable morals. Of course he did. He was grinning like a dope who had won a life-long ride on the easy train—easy being the key word. Sloughing off envy, she promised to be happy for Mandy if it killed her. They had been close once. The odds of the marriage making it past the five-year anniversary were nil. The last she’d seen of Mandy before she’d fled the bachelorette party two nights ago was the future bride heading into a bathroom stall with a well-endowed stripper named Chaz, and he probably wasn’t helping her look for a lost contact lens between her breasts. “Do you think the marriage will succeed?” Dodger whispered, and for a second, Jess felt her cheeks warm. Was her skepticism that obvious? “Of course it will,” she replied without much enthusiasm. It wasn’t nice to say negative things about a bride on her wedding day. “Why would you think otherwise?” Dodger looked around and bent down. Some of his spray tan had rubbed off on his starched white tuxedo shirt. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. “I slept with her two months ago,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “This morning before we left the hotel, I saw her leaving Mr. Jones’s room, carrying her shoes.” Jess’s mouth dropped open. “Mr. Jones? As in the father of the groom, Mr. Jones?” She glanced to the front of the church. The older but still handsome Mr. Jones was speaking to his half-his-age date, Chandi, and the girl was giggling. What was it about weddings that sexually charged up some people? Dodger grinned. “The same.” Brushing aside that Dodger had also slept with Mandy, Jess frowned. “Wait. I thought he was sharing a room with Chandi?” Dodger tipped his head left and lifted his brows. “He is.” It didn’t take her PI skills to figure that one out. Apparently, Mandy had upped her game. For some reason, Jess found this funny. She squelched a laugh behind her hand. Suddenly, she didn’t need the last bottle of booze. This was going to be fun. “Should we raise our hands when asked if anyone objects to the wedding? It sounds like intimate knowledge of the bride would qualify you as an expert, and she slept with my high school boyfriend. We both have good reasons to object.” The guy chuckled. “Ouch. Chad slept with my college girlfriend. I say we let this play out.” “They deserve each other,” she said and he nodded. With a new appreciation of groomsman number three, she hooked her arm with his and smiled. “Agreed.” The music started and off they went. In front of Dodger, groomsman number two was shellacked and polished down to his gleaming fingernails. He hooked arms with the giggling Shelby, who looked up at him in a way that suggested she wasn’t wearing panties. “I’ve been to three weddings this summer and I have to say, you’re the hottest bridesmaid so far,” Dodger said. “Thanks.” Jess wasn’t sure if that was some sort of awkward come-on, or whether she wanted to take it as such. The man looked like an over-sized Oompa Loompa. But after surviving a recent cancer scare and deciding life needed to be lived to the fullest, she hadn’t yet ruled him out for the coat closet. Sex was a distant memory. None of her recent dates had made her want to shave her legs or put on sexy panties. Maybe it was time for a no-commitments romp for fun. Besides, he had a good sense of humor with an evil streak. She admired that in a co-conspirator.

“Save me a dance later,” she said and shot him a flirty look. At least she hoped it was flirty. “Yes, ma’am. How can I refuse?” His response definitely held a sexual overtone. The way he returned his attention to her scooped neckline left no doubt that he had a coat closet all picked out for them. She just had to say yes. Could orange be her new...something? “Off we go,” said the elderly usher/uncle of the groom, shooing them out the open double doors. The likelihood of her actually sneaking off to the coat closet with Dodger was slim, but he made her laugh and she did enjoy his company. Except for Summer’s wedding last weekend, it had been weeks since she let herself have some fun. Now that she’d been given the all clear by the doc, the cloud of doom above her head was gone. Dodger couldn’t be the only single man at the wedding. Maybe she could find someone with more substance? Someone long-term? The possibilities were endless and she was seeing life through new eyes. It was time to get back to living. The music swelled with the beginning notes of the wedding song as Jess stepped over rose petals and Dodger grinned back at the bride. Mandy kept her eyes averted from his. It turned out that neither Jess nor Dodger—who was enjoying himself immensely—had to protest the marriage. They were steps away from the altar when a shout sounded from the back of the room and brought the processional to a halt. “Mandy, wait! Don’t do this!” Jess knew that voice. She flashed back nine years. It was the cold flush of the unfairness of life taking one last stab through her fourth and fifth vertebrae to kick her back to reality. Darren, aka cheating scumbag high school boyfriend, had arrived to steal the bride. Figured. The flower girl stopped and everyone swiveled in their chairs. Jess was halfway turned around, both disbelieving and shocked that he was still tangled up with Mandy after all these years, when a loud snap echoed through the old church, followed by a scream, and groomsman number two landed at her feet.

Cheryl Ann Smith became hooked on romance at age fourteen when she stayed up all night to read The Flame and The Flower by Kathleen Woodiwiss. Her own writing journey happened much later, when one afternoon she ran out of books and decided to write her own. Previously, she has published five sexy Regency novels and one novella with Berkley in her School for Brides series.

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Today’s stop is for Crimson Syn’s Grayson. We will have info about the book and author, and a great excerpt from the book, plus a great giveaway. Make sure to check everything out and enter the giveaway.

Happy Reading :)

She’s a wildcat in bed and she’s driving me insane! Ever since that first night I can’t get enough of Rahyne Andrews. Her kisses, her body, her moans, drive me crazy. I can’t seem to say no to her. My only problem is, that she doesn’t seem to be interested in more than my body. And I’m not about to have my control taken away from me. She either bends to my will, or I’m walking. Grayson Carter is everything I ever dreamed of and more. He’s built like a rock and knows how to satisfy my every need. But the last thing I want is to have another failed relationship. Especially, when it involves a member of the Hell’s Lovers. I’m the one in control, I’m always in control… So why is it that Grayson Carter is the only man who has ever made me beg for more.

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Scarlett Chase is every man’s wet dream. As soon as I laid eyes on her, I knew she’d be mine. That is, until I found out she was untouchable. One kiss, one forbidden touch, will have me out on the streets and stripped of who I am. Yet I want her. I need her. And I’m done following all these damn rules.

Wolf Stone is my obsession. Ever since he pulled over on that empty road, I’ve been tormented by the man. His possessive words and heated looks have me tightly wound. One touch, and he lights me on fire. But I want more. I not only want him in my bed, I want to keep him for myself. But he won’t budge, and now it’s up to me to entice his sleeping wolf.

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Grayson Excerpt 

IT WAS LATE when I entered my apartment. I sank down on the couch and stared out into the city. I lived in a high rise in downtown L.A., it offered a good view and it was near the club, I also owned the building. I had a few investments, mostly in stocks, so I did well for myself. I didn’t really have any family or anyone I truly cared about, except for Wolf and most recently, Scarlett. I used to do security for the military, and after retiring, Wolf gave me a place to stay and opened his doors for me. I was glad to have someone like Wolf. He’d been a good friend throughout the years. When he took over as President, he immediately named me VP, and it’s been that way for the last five years. The brotherhood was my refuge and although we didn’t voice it, we were a pretty tight knit family. I stood up and went to grab a beer. I headed down the hall to my bedroom, where an empty bed awaited me. Usually it didn’t bother me, but lately I’d been yearning for a warm body to press up against. Specifically, a voluptuous blonde, with eyes the color of emeralds. My cock stirred and I sighed as I took a swig of my beer and sat at the edge of the bed. Images of Rahyne spread out on my mattress kept flooding through my mind and they had been non-stop lately. It didn’t matter where I was or who I was with, I couldn’t get the temptress out of my head. It was starting to worry me. I never even thought of settling down. I lived my life peacefully, went where I wanted, fucked who I wanted, and didn’t give a shit about anything. But with Rahyne...fuck, I thought my urgency to have her was just an infatuation-something that would go away in a matter of weeks. Six months later, and my body still craved hers, more now than ever before. Running my hands through my hair I fought my desire to go looking for her and I gulped down my beer. Lying back on the bed I let her image envelop me and I pulled out my shaft-hard as a rock as usual-and stroked myself, remembering the sound of her sweet whispers, and the moans and whimpers I heard on an almost daily basis. I groaned, imagining the wonderful feeling of her tight pussy hugging my swollen member. Remembering the way she shouted my name, and how her body gripped me, made me jerk off harder. Knowing I could manipulate her body to such extremes had me grunting my release as streams of white fluid leapt out and landed on my stomach. I breathed out and splayed my arms on the mattress. Closing my eyes, I imagined her by my side, and the only thought that came to my mind, before I drifted off, was that I was going to make her mine.

My name is Crimson Syn, not really, but what fun is it to use my real name. Instead I’ll use my inner goddess’ name, it’s much more fun that way. I grew up in New York City where I had a wonderful education, loving parents and awesome friends. What more could a girl ask for? I started writing at the age of sixteen. The first romance I read was Stephanie Laurens’ Devil’s Bride. Since then I have been influenced by dozens of flourishing romance authors and even more dashing and daring rogues. I must say it, but Fifty Shades was not my first erotic romance, nor did it influence me to start writing them. If you’ve never read Mary Balogh, Elizabeth Hoyt, Lisa Kleypas, Bertrice Small or A.N. Roquelaure’s Sleeping Beauty trilogy, then you’re missing out. Those were my sweet introductions to erotic romance, and boy were they hot.

So here I am, after reading so many wonderful stories, I have too many sinful tales of my own not to share. I like my alphas rough and possessive, and I have no shame in saying it or writing it. I had delightfully wicked teachers growing up, their books took me to new worlds and brought me new loves. So, I want to do the same for you. I want to indulge my readers in those steamy reads that will send them into the arms of dangerous alphas and deliciously sexy rogues, without leaving the confines of their nice warm bed. If I am able to entice your inner goddesses, then I have done my job and I am satisfied. 

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