Sunday, August 30, 2015

#99cents #kindle #sale Vaewolf:Damn the Darkness [Hearts of Darkness book 3]

Available at AMAZON

New World - New Rules
Vampires are losing their immortality and they are the the only thing standing between humans and the demons of the Underworld. In this third installment, when two men imprint on the same woman, will the Prophecy's Promise finally be fulfilled?

$0.99 limited time for Vaewolf - only at Amazon
The third book in the Hearts of Darkness trilogy 
is available at most retailers 
and at all international Amazon sites. 
Books One and Two are also available

Vaewolf: The beast invokes fear in the fearless and hope in the hopeless. 
A dark adult romance. A paranormal-erotic love triangle. M/F/M
Jackson Xenos, the first born vampire in a millennia is a hybrid werewolf destined to lead the Loreans. He resents being the Werewolves’ miracle and the vampires’ hope, and he certainly doesn’t want any part of an ancient prophecy. 

Dylan Macgregor, Jackson’s mentor, overcame the loss of his family and years of darkness, but until he almost lost his life mate to a bullet, he didn’t know what loss could be. Now the vow the Highland berserker made to Jackson’s father on a bloody battlefield three hundred years ago has come due, and suddenly he faces a greater challenge when Jackson imprints on his life mate. The promise he made might be more than he bargained for. 

Psychic FBI profiler, Caitlin Donovan’s life forever changed the day she died. Despite awakening to a world of supernatural beings she never knew existed, her new future with Dylan couldn’t look brighter, until something inside her responds to Jackson's wolf. Caitlin, to her horror, discovers the men who care for each other like brothers, may end up fighting to the death over her, because vampires don’t share. 

To fulfill the prophecy, Jackson must bind his mate, but neither man will risk completing the life bond to Caitlin without understanding the prophecy and until she’s bound to one of them, her psychic DNA calls to the demons, endangering everyone in the Parrish. 

The answers are in their blood, but what does her unique variety of DNA prove? Is Caitlin meant for one man or the other? The pain of remaining unbound is draining her life force, and the men who love her suffer her pain. To the sex fae in her, seduction seems a fair solution to their problem. A little faerie dust can’t hurt.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Hot Excerpt: Share a link to Hot Highland Fling

Please share! 

Contemporary Romance
(This title contains adult content: language and explicit language)

Free lance writer, Ailsa Jackson is finished dating executives. She’s looking for hot sexual fantasies with a man who fits her needs... “All muscle, stamina and no commitment.” The assignment in the UK sounds perfect when she's assigned to interview an American CEO who recently inherited lands and a title in Scotland. She tosses her inhibitions aside for the first Highlander she encounters—prepared to research all the old myths about brawny men in kilts and finally answer the age old, burning question: What does a Scotsman wear beneath his kilt? 

Colin Fitzgerald represents everything Ailsa hates. He knows it's wrong to deceive her, but he can't risk Aisla discovering his true identity before he seduces her. If only he can become the lover she adores before the interview, perhaps he can convince her they're perfect for each other. He has one night to prove he's no stuffed shirt and three weeks to be everything she desires in a lusty lover. His adventurous lass is not only imaginative but willing.

Can lust turn to love in three weeks and will they be ready for more than a Hot Highland Fling when the assignment draws to an end?


“So ye don’t mind a man in a skirt, hey?”
The expression on his face turned predatory as he moved into her personal space. She felt like Little Red Riding Hood had come upon the very big, very bad Wolf, and she so wanted him to eat her. As far as she was concerned, he could have her all he wanted. The silence between them was charged with sexual tension.
“You look...ah, great.”
Ailsa’s gaze took him in again. She’d have to settle for great. Any other term would just be insufficient. Yet great almost seemed an inadequate description under the circumstances. Vocalizing her true feelings—terrific, yummy, fantastic—might be a tip off about her fascination with him and his kilt. She decided to hold it there. Anything other than great would be over the top. No sense scaring the hell out of the first man she encountered in Scotland.
She certainly couldn’t ask the question she longed to ask or lift his kilt and satisfy her curiosity.
He frowned and tilted his chin to one side, perhaps puzzled by her perusal.
She tried to explain. “Don’t get me wrong. I was surprised to see the native dress. You know...the kilt and all. Sorry, I’m babbling. I didn’t know kilts were daily attire.”
“Do ye have something against kilts, then?”
“Oh, no! Absolutely nothing. I actually have a certain proclivity for men in kilts.” The only thing she wanted against his kilt was her body. From the rising action going on under the sporran, she imagined he’d meet her sexual requirements, and then some. How well would he fill her? Her inner muscles clenched at the mental image.
His eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared.
“Do you, now?” Colin suppressed the smile on his lips, but it crept into his eyes.
She played with fire, boldly flirting with him. “Yes, I do.” She lifted her chin defiantly and let her smile say...“Try me.”

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Facing The Darkness - #Excerpt DEFEAT THE DARKNESS by Eliza March

If you just started reading my blog,  you should probably know my muse abandoned me when I went through some personal medical issues. I began writing this story weekly to give myself the kick in the butt I needed to keep it moving forward. The story (originally intended to be a short story) grew, became more intricate, and expanded into a full length novel, then another and another... Warning: This is the first book  in the Hearts in Darkness Trilogy, which,  believe it or not, is now completed. Other books are now in the formulation process. 
This story is about to heat up. You go ahead and read this chapter. After the pain, will come the pleasure.

When Shelby opened her eyes, the room was dark and the bed was comfortable. She glanced around and realized she could see details as if every light in the room were ablaze. She was hot, but there was no fire in the fireplace—no windows to let light in. A comfortable, genuine looking Queen Anne’s chair stood beside the bed. The rest of the furniture, an armoire, dresser, and night table, seemed to match the period. There appeared to be nothing else in the room except the modern day, king-sized bed where she lay.
Where was she and how did she get here?
The last thing she remembered was talking to Kyle before she suddenly began to shiver and sweat. Nausea and excruciating pain soon followed. Finally, it eased, and then she passed out.
The hair falling over her forehead bothered her. She tried to brush it away, but her arms felt too heavy to lift.
Drowsy and confused, she was able to hear Kyle’s voice and it registered he was speaking with someone in the next room. The other man’s voice wasn’t familiar. His dialect was American, but when she listened more attentively, she caught a slight Scottish burr in a word or two.
Suddenly, as if he sensed her listening, he stopped speaking, and as soon as she struggled to sit up, she heard him say, “Ack, Kyle. Yer Shelby’s awake.”
What the heck? From her prone position on the bed, she checked the room for cameras. Seeing none, she was still busy wondering how the Scot knew she was awake when Kyle called her name.
“Shelby?” he said, “I’ll be right there.”
More male mumbling followed. Max’s and another familiar voice with a soft Spanish accent she knew to be Victor Salazar’s. Max argued with another man. The deep, gruff voice made all the fine hair on her back stand on end. She felt the urge to stand and fight or claw her way from the house.
Weird reaction.
Panic she’d never experienced filled her with dread even though her rational mind dismissed it.
The Scotsman said, “Hurry. She’s reacting to Garr.”
Me? No, I’m just freaking out for no apparent reason.
Kyle appeared at the side of the bed as if out of nowhere and gripped her shoulders to still her. With a strength she didn’t remember him having, he lifted her off the bed. Cradling her in his arms like a baby, he sat back down and calmed her with a gentle, soothing voice.
“Shh, relax. Everything will be all right.” He reached for a glass from the nightstand beside the bed. “Here, drink this.”
She took a sip and choked. “Yuck. This is terrible.”
Kyle stood his ground. “Drink it. All of it. Victor says it will help ease your symptoms.”
“What symptoms?” When she woke up without any memories of how she got here, she figured that was what Kyle meant. “Do you mean what happened in the car?”
“Yeah that and other symptoms you’re about to experience. Drink up. Victor made the concoction just for you.”
“The stuff tastes like old, dirty socks and cut grass.”
Kyle slanted his head and asked, “And you know that because…?”
He at least made her smile on the inside. “Okay, never mind. I stand corrected.” She was too tired to argue. “It’s what I would expect that combination to taste like.”
Scrunching her nose, she held her breath and quickly downed the rest like a shot of Sex-On-The-Beach. Swallowing the potion did soothe her parched throat and immediately eased her stomach cramps.
When she handed him the empty glass, Kyle still looked tense as he placed it on the night table.
“What will I begin to experience?” she asked, watching him for a reaction.
“Let’s go into the den so we can talk,” he said.
That didn’t sound like it was going to be good news, but his blank face gave nothing away. Usually she was good at reading Kyle’s moods, but no more.
He helped her stand, allowing her a moment to get her balance. His touch triggered every sense in her body to a fevered pitch. The immediate sensation was like touching an open circuit. She had to shake his hands off to regain her composure.
His expression looked pained when he moved away from her, giving her space. He edged closer to the door. “Victor is here already.”
“What about Max?
“Yeah. He took some blood samples to the lab Victor set up in the cottage. He should be here any minute. Come on. I want you to meet our host. We’ll stay here while you recuperate and hope the authorities track down Amyra soon.”
“Is our host the one with the Scottish brogue?”
“Brogue? Yeah, come to think of it, the old accent does pop out when he’s excited.” Kyle surprised her by laughing. “I think he’s been in this country for a long time, though.”
“Tell me how you and Dylan met,” she requested, as she tested her balance.
“You need help?” he asked.
“No. I want to try.” She wasn’t ready for any kind of physical reaction to him, yet. “Go on with your story.”
“An old friend of Victor’s put us in touch. When I returned, they arranged for me to finish recuperating from the jungle ordeal here at his place. Dylan freelances for local and state police as a consultant and, when necessary, also for the FBI.”
“That’s handy under the circumstances.” She took one tentative step, then another.
Kyle opened the door wider.
She halted mid step when she caught a strange scent in the air. “Who else is out there? I thought I heard someone else. Maybe Cajun?”
“Deep, gravelly voice?”
The sense of panic set in again. She couldn’t control the trembling in her hands or the vibrations rising from somewhere deeper inside her. She nodded at him but had to stop when the room spun. He rushed to her side and supported her before she fell. This time, the physical reaction to his touch as he caught her was a low, pleasant hum.
Heady. Warm. Nice.
Gripping her shoulders to keep her from hitting the floor, he wrapped her in his embrace. “That’s Dylan’s friend, Garr.” Kyle murmured against her ear. “He’s here to help train Dylan’s ward, Jackson. You okay?”
“Yeah. Just a little dizzy.” Shelby winced and slowly shifted her attention to the doorway. She pinched her nose. “What’s that smell? Wet dog?”
“No. But I understand why you might think that.” Kyle looked like he was holding back a grin. “You’re trembling. There’s nothing to be frightened of here. You’re safe with any one of us, including Garr. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I do. But something inside me doesn’t trust…I think I don’t trust Garr.”
Smothered by Kyle’s enticing scent, an overwhelming need for him sparked within every cell in her body. Relaxing into his familiar embrace, she was inexplicably drawn to the power of his presence. Suddenly, an exotic fragrance, emanating from both her body and his, permeated the surrounding air and blocked the other repulsive dog scent. Leaning into him, she gripped his t-shirt and buried her nose in his chest.
“God, you smell…amazing!”
She fanned her fingers over his broad chest, testing the feel of him as he nuzzled her ear.
Kyle tilted her chin up with a knuckle and stared at her mouth. He brushed a finger over her bottom lip then bent his head to take her lips with his. The kiss started out as if he was moving in slow motion, but the longer his lips lingered, the stronger the pull between them grew. He opened his mouth enough to slip his tongue across the seam of her lips and tested the entrance.
Opening to him, their tongues tangled in that old familiar dance. A sigh escaped from her as he pulled her closer, and she didn’t miss the moan of arousal Kyle released against her lips when he pressed her hips against his obvious erection.
His muscles bunched and bulged beneath her touch, and his scent caused something beneath her skin to ripple. She shivered when she felt the same ripple answer beneath his. He was holding back some kind of unleashed power in the muscles beneath her fingers.
Lost in the frenzy of her desire, she didn’t notice when Kyle took back control—not until he moved her away and held her at arm’s length.
“We shouldn’t…keep them waiting,” he said with obvious effort. He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted her to believe.
That didn’t prevent her from being mortified by her own lack of self-control. Who was she? Back in the car, she’d played the role of damsel in distress. Here she was dropping at his feet the first time he glanced in her direction again, and she’d practically climbed his body. Her behavior was out of character. Especially when the image of him with that woman replayed repeatedly in her head.
The urge to hide her face in shame and run was so overwhelming she shuttered her expression against him, refusing to allow him to see the emotions clearly expressed there.
She wanted him, she needed him, and darn it…she loved him.
The fact that she was behaving like a cat in heat was even more mortifying under the circumstances.
What could be more humiliating?
She could still wrap herself around his body and rub all over him. That impulse almost surpassed the sudden desire she had to throw herself down on the bed and beg him to mount her. The urges were just so overwhelmingly irresistible.
The idea that it all sounded so darned appealing pissed her off even more.
…and that other scent? What is it? Trying to identify the scent plagued her like a dream she couldn’t recall—remaining a whisper beyond memory’s reach. Although, not unpleasant, they weren’t foreign or entirely unfamiliar to her, either.
And this feeling I’m experiencing…? I know what it is, but…
No, her mind was not quite ready to reveal the identity of the scent or the need to her, yet. The closest state she could compare it with was hunger.
Hunger for Kyle?
Yes. But hunger for something else, too.
“It’s blood and…”

...All rights reserved. No part of this may be copied or reproduced without the written permission of the author. Copyright 2012, Eliza March

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Humorous Sci-fi Available August 5th from The Wild Rose Press

Hearts Akilter

  Published by: The Wild Rose Press

COMING SOON 08/05/2015
Please Choose: Download

ISBN Digital: 9781509202560
Page Count: 91
Word Count: 20705

When a medical robot insists he's having a heart attack, Marlee Evans, a pragmatic maintenance technician, has every reason to panic. There's a bomb inside him.  Since Marlee can't risk the bomber discovering she's found the device, her only option is to kidnap Deacon Black, an unflappable bomb expert, and secretly convince him to disarm it.  Things go slightly awry when Deacon sets a trap for someone who is trying to kill him, and  inadvertently, captures Marlee instead.  Instantly intrigued by her refreshingly forthright and gutsy attitude, he's smitten.  Unfortunately for Deacon, Marlee recently hardened her heart and swore off men, especially handsome ones with boy-next-door grins.  But as Marlee and Deacon attempt to identify and prevent the bomber from detonating the device, they discover that love may be the most explosive force of all. 
The bomb. Right. Dismantle the bomb. In this lift? No, that was insane. “Marlene, if the bomb goes off accidentally—”
“It’ll blow the station to kingdom come?”
He nodded.
“Not to worry.”
She said that with such nonchalance that he found himself speechless. He cleared his throat. “Why not? Did you snatch the portable Bomb Disposal Unit, too?”
“What’s better than a BDU?”
“Garbage incinerators.”
“What?” He glanced out into the darkness beyond the lift. Giant machinery stood silhouetted and veiled in shadows. “Where are we?”
“Deck forty-three, Ring D zero three. Relax. Don’t panic. They once accidentally incinerated a torpedo in number four, over yonder.” She pointed to the left. “Nobody heard or felt it explode, and there wasn’t even a drail’s worth of damage done to the incinerator, or anything else.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It happened three years ago. I was there, a deck above. Never mind.”
Henry manipulated his finger appendage, grabbing and briefly tugging the shirt sleeve of Deacon’s good arm. “Marlee would never lie about anything so important.”
“Does she lie about unimportant things?” He instantly regretted his caustic remark.
“I do not know.” Henry spun sideways, facing Marlee. “Do you lie about unimportant things, Marlee?”
“I have been known to tell a white lie now and then to spare someone’s feelings, but on the whole—” She looked away from Henry.
As her blacker than black eyes met his gaze, Deacon felt pinned to the wall.
With clarity, she said, “I am an honest person.”
The robot put the ends of his appendages together, as if they were hands meshed together for prayer. “Marlee, have you been honest with me?”
She looked at the robot, and her voice gentled. “Yes, Henry, I always have been honest with you as you have been with me.”

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

For #Writers: I don't usually rant...but I am doing so today! Insecure Writers Support Group

MONETIZING is the word of the day. Everywhere I look, everyone I see, everyone I talk to is utilizing that concept. Is it causing our brains to tune out the commercialization tactics bombarding our lives at every moment? No. I feel like we'll be speaking in commercials soon, if we aren't already.

I remember a time when television was free but for the price of watching the commercials. Now I pay for cable and have to watch the commercials, any way, and don't get me started on the internet. Every page contains commercial material and after I stop the pop ups, I find advertising embedded in the web page.
This blog is no different. Well, somewhat... I 'm not taking money for any of this advertising. It's all about my books.

I want to reach a bigger audience because I believe what I write is entertainment at a reasonable price. If I charge less than $2.99 for a book on Amazon Kindle I only make 30% if I charge $2.99 I make 70% It isn't price fixing but it sure is price controlling. Even when you consider authors are out there giving away their work as a form of advertising, with so many free books available, who's willing to pay for a first time author experience? I think about how hard it is to hook a reader these days and wonder what it takes to develop a loyal reader base. Any ideas?

There was a time when workers banded together to demand better working conditions, hours, and wages...but today unions have a bad name. Professional organizations should have some answers. Upper echelon authors' sales have to be impacted by the ridiculous numbers of books being pumped into the market daily and yet authors, like lemmings, keep jumping off the cliff. Taking that leap of faith...this book could be the one!

 How do you decide what professional organizations are right for you? The first group I joined wasn't what I needed but they were great for making me think I was taking myself seriously...the beginning of my quest.

I'm a member of (Tampa Area Romance Authors) the local chapter of  RWA (Romance Writers of America), and I'm a PAN member (Professional Authors' Network) which means I've met some criteria to prove I'm attempting to work in this industry as a career. Lately, I find myself wondering about membership fees and whether they're worth what I'm paying for. The learning curve from 0-60 was worth it, but I believe the sustainability isn't meeting expectations for all their members.  And although these organizations are groups of authors who are highly supportive of one another, an unusual situation in a highly competitive industry, they can't keep up with the needs of an ever changing industry.

And another truth is...we aren't all competing for the money...but we are competing for exposure.

The dollar spent by a reader on an inspirational book isn't coming out of the erotic writer's pocket. I even recall when there weren't enough books being release in the genre I liked. As readers we have more choices (in some cases perhaps way too many) than we've ever had before. The new books pile up on top of the older books. The new books are buried beneath the next ones that release. At the release rate, it's only the most reviewed, highest rated, best selling books that you see. But if you don't have reviews before you put the book does that work?

The industry is full of reviews of a questionable nature. How do you decide whether a FREE book is worth downloading? OMG we're in trouble when we've gotten to the point where we can't be bothered. It's free and we get angry when we discover it's not up to standards with what we're used to reading.

Who can you trust for an accurate suggestion for a Blog, for a book, for advice, for an organization?