Category Archives: romance

Author Tips for Writing Detail

Detail has a purpose. It should provide something to the story. It should do something to the reader. The picture I used for my page has that romantic couple in a sexy pose. But in describing it, can you as an writer describe the scene accurately to draw a reader response? It makes me think of a sandy beach (yet it’s a wooden floor, reminiscent of Dirty Dancing) perhaps because of the way the light strikes the two characters. I think heat.

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I remember the way the sun feels against my skin as it soaks in, the way it also heats me from the inside without the need for a kiss. Has he just finished kissing her or is he about to kiss her? The sensations before and after are different, and depending on expectation and circumstance, so are the emotions and response.  In describing this moment, an author will know which words to choose to evoke the exact reaction intended from the reader.

Can you imagine the moment leading up to this point? Can you begin to imagine what comes next? Everything depends on story. Characters react to story. Having a plot in mind puts the characters in the story, then knowing your characters well determines how they will react. They have options if they’re three dimensional characters, so they may surprise you, and also the reader, with their reaction. How will he touch her? Where? What does he want? What keeps him from taking what he wants? Maybe he will. maybe he won’t. Details like background noises may define the moment. Maybe an interruption sends them into hiding…everything depends on what’s in the author’s head…and where the story has been as well as where the plot is going.

Think about this when you add detail. What he’s wearing or not wearing can set a scene for what comes next. With both of them scantily clad, sexual tension can elevate quickly, especially if they are forced into close proximity. Does he hear her breathing heavily? Does she notice perspiration form on his forehead? “Showing” these details makes “telling” the reader the obvious unnecessary, but it does put the reader in the scene and  into the story.

Remember the books that frightened you? I had to take breaks while reading The Shining by Stephen King, I could “not” breathe. Normally, writers give the readers time to breathe between scary scenes. Not King.

Remember the books that turned you on? The one that comes to mind for me wasn’t an erotic book; it was a suspense…All the Queen’s Men by Linda Howard. I was on a plane and deep into the dangerous scene of the book, when the sensual tension began to build. OMG danger and suspense and sex! I was seated in an aisle seat in business class surrounded by men. Lost in the story, I must have been holding my breath because when I finally exhaled, the man across the aisle turned around, winked, and asked, “That good huh?” I flushed to the roots of my hair. But “yes” it was that good, and I immediately bought one of those paperback book covers to hide my choice of titles in the future. (Although that cover had had nothing on it but chess pieces, I wasn’t ready to get teased over something like Fabio’s chest. It’s nothing to laugh at!) Getting lost in the details is a reader’s pleasure and the author’s job. Authors must draw the picture, set the scene, create the mood, string the reader out until they want to scream in pleasure or fear, or cry or laugh, or clap and cheer. Emotion is key. If an author can make you feel something…the job is done. Details create sensations that develop the emotions. Make certain the details you choose move the story forward. Set the stage for the scene.

Happy writing makes happy reading!

I Blame Harlequin for this…

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As the Chair Turns (a paranormal, tongue-in-cheek romance series) by Eliza March begins with Hair of the Wolf, Book One coming this Fall.

Anyone who’s ever read my writing knows I have an underlying sense of snide… Is it humor? Or sarcasm? Or scattered brain cell patterns from working with too many chemicals and inhaling too much hair spray?But funny? I’m not so sure. Lately, maybe more so than ever.  Nevertheless, I was a reader (and, also apparently a drinker) before I was a writer.

I belonged to Harlequin’s “books of the month club”. Not sure what it’s really called. But I got additional gifts when they arrived. Purple wine glasses I had to use while I read the books they sent. I had a book a day habit and the purple glass always looked full … too bad it wasn’t. My wine habit couldn’t keep up with my reading or I’d pass out before I finished the book…and four books, Harlequin? That didn’t keep me satisfied. I went to the used book store to supplement my reading addiction, ordered books online, and then discovered a few small ebook presses. Whala! I would never go without something to read again…and I could download at 2 AM! Book two in the series completed? Ah! Book three is available immediately! Yea.

Soon, the series didn’t satisfy, the authors couldn’t write fast enough, I’d imagined the story twist differently, the characters reactions differently, and I had an idea…write it myself. At least I couldn’t drink and type at the same time.

When I first began writing, one of my stylists suggested As The Chair Turns for a title, and with her blessings I am going to use it. The series was originally intended to be reality based and a serious, non-fiction fiction. I just couldn’t do it. Fifty years in this business, in one capacity or another, didn’t allow for it.

What I didn’t suspect at the time was that:
1. I’d ever write it.
2. It would be paranormal.
3. It would be funny.

Karsley, “like Parsley,” thank you.  Now that I’m finally going to use it, I hope you find it up to your title suggestion. I doubt Karsley ever suspected it would be something like this. But she has a great sense of humor so I think it will be perfect.

I’d started out writing romantic suspense, then for a while, found my niche in erotic paranormal romance. And I was pretty darned good at it, too. The only thing funny about that is the idea of me writing erotic anything. My husband suggested I write what I know. I have had one husband, five children, the beauty industry, and reality for experience. That was more what he had in mind. But hey, Problem was I read lots of fiction. Don’t forget that book a day habit. And I read sexy fiction. Paranormal fiction.

I guess he didn’t expect me to stray off to my wild imaginary, sexy-shifter worlds. Uh-duh…that had become my escape reality. Who needed more of what I did every day? I refused to consider writing about the industry I’d been immersed in for…well…forever. (Fifty years is close enough to forever to qualify, I believe.)

One morning I woke up with my hero and heroine in my head in a scene in a salon.  Deja vie. They were sexy. New addition. Nice. But they were funny. Too funny. I didn’t write funny. I’m not funny …or I wasn’t, anyway.

i thought for a moment and suddenly realized in recent years,  I’ve started having comic-strip visions in my head when people speak or I read something. The intent changes and I see the hysterical side of life.  Everything has a humorous side, right? The visions I have usually include little clouds of dialogue pointing to the characters’ (sometimes cartoon animals’) heads. Often, I have to bite my tongue to stop the hee-haw response I feel swelling up inside me. You experience that too, don’t you? No? I’ve wondered why my imagination for story-telling waited so long, but it was probably for the best while I was doing personal things to people’s hair and bodies.

Here’s an except from Hair of the Wolf from Book One of As the Chair Turns. To set up the scene, Dela is the only human working in Frankie de Wolf’s world renowned salon and spa in Boca Raton, FL. They are going to a hair show in Vegas…Dela is the responsible one until the slot machines start singing…

All rights reserved Copyright 2017 Eliza March

…Our group filed past the flashing lights, then the digital billboards caught my attention. Suddenly, I had a change of heart. My gambling release switch flipped off and desire did a happy dance in my pants. Images of gyrating, shirtless men from “Down Under” put me in a different frame of mind.

Vegas. Sin City. I began thinking of all the potential sin and felt my lips curl. I was here to party. What happens here…yadda yadda yadda…right?

“Earth to Dela. Are you ready for a couple of those in your lap?” Selena, the female cat shifter, purred, pointing to the Chippendale poster.

Frankie didn’t look at me, waiting for my answer, but I noticed the way his ears perked up. They sort of twitched in my direction. I weighed my answer carefully, reconsidering my previous let-it-all-go moment, and just gave the shifter my non-commital smile.

I had enough on my plate with this raucous bunch of supernatural species, who, under normal circumstances, did their best to look human and contain themselves. Here, I’d already seen evidence of their loss of control. Eye shapes and colors were the first signs. Contacts were a good explanation since shimmering silver eyes weren’t a color humans were naturally blessed with, but that was just for starters. Some of their other traits weren’t as easy to explain. The younger vampires were already setting off smoke when direct sunlight hit them and one of the younger werewolf’s ears sprouted hair.

Never mind. You get the gist.

Controlling them at Luna de la Mar promised to be easier than keeping my staff’s identities secret in a town filled with them…. In Boca, being the only human in charge of every paranormal species unknown to the local inhabitants was harder than making them seem eccentric or weird instead of different. Here, I had a feeling my boss and the staff were going to be, not only uncooperative but, downright bad influences.

By the time I rounded up transportation for everyone and gave directions to the hotel and instructions regarding where to pick up the hair show tickets, I’d lost half the group and all their attention.

Whatever! The staff were all adults of a sort. They could fend for themselves. After all, I wasn’t their caretaker this weekend. They were powerful, magical, and gifted. I, on the other hand, was merely human. “Screw it,” I mumbled to no one in particular. Only a handful of the staff were still nearby, close enough to hear me anyway.

“You need a drink and entertainment, sweetie.” Jen, the witch, slipped her arm around my neck and scrunched her magical nose at me. Before I could argue, one of my favorite witches prepared to glamour me right there in the taxi line, in front of fake Elvis, a poster of Neil Diamond, and God knows how many witnesses.

I gasped and held up my hand to ward off Jen’s magic, then realized she was right. “What the hell? Do your worst!” I opened my arms wide as she doused her magic over me.

Hell, the six-inch red stilettos didn’t even hurt my feet. Wow. I could get used to this. I liked the taller illusion. The view was pretty awesome. I just hoped I didn’t topple over what with all my cleavage piled up in front like this.

Carrie, my other witch-bitch, just grinned up at the billboard. “We need three or more of them…” She pointed at a digital video of bare-chested Chippendales.

Chippendales and Thunder From Down Under?

Be still my thundering heart. How would I ever get through the weekend? With a low moan, I clenched my jaw and turned away from the smorgasbord of flesh and muscle. Calculating the idea of  “more” … my right brain did the math while my left side did the architectural planning…

There’s more, so much more so if you liked this excerpt and want more, sign up for my Newsletter HERE  at http://eepurl.com/buCZLf  You’ll be the first to get them and hear about the release date.

 

 

Trends in Romance – Mature at 30? Or 40?

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Sizzling Romance

The new trends in romance are moving toward romance about millennials and the issues they’re faced with every day. Is age a barrier to love? Women  seeking careers, for years, had to face the questions many women today face: now or later? May-December romances used to refer to older men younger women, now older women-younger men barriers have come crashing down. Although it wasn’t the norm years ago, it wasn’t unknown. Do women still feel the stigma? I have two aunts who married younger men. Both lied about their ages for years. My husband is a few months younger than I am. We’ve always joked about it. My sister, daughter, and cousin all married younger men. I never considered it an issue, and then the problems that come with aging have silenced ticking fertility clocks. There are ways for all of us to remain younger looking as our life expectancy increases; and ways to extend the years we have before parenting.  So we can love who we chose with less stigma.

Want to get into one woman’s head? Read my More Than a Stud, a short erotic study on two people who want it all.

More Than a Stud by Eliza March

With her biological clock ticking away, Carina Roth, CEO and owner of a corporate security company, wants a child. On the night of her forty-second birthday, her thirty-five-year-old corporate intel officer, Evan Douglas, surprises her by admitting he’s always wanted her. But when he offers to be her baby’s daddy, she’s not sure she wants to risk complicating their working relationship even though she’s spent years pushing him out of her sensual dreams.

Evan has waited too long for Carina to realize what they have between them is perfect. When he discovers she’s considering in vitro fertilization, he decides he can’t wait. Not only does he want to father Carina’s child, he sets out to prove he can fulfill her every need despite the difference in their ages. For Carina, he wants to be…more than a stud.

The POWER OF THE LIGHT – The 1st Journey in the Gemini Prophecy series

Before the Gemini Prophecy, the World of the Fae and Underworlds clashed. Here is one ins300px-Fortingall_Yewpiring photo of the ancient yew that I wrote about in the story. Many of the old stories are derived from folklore, but this tree has stood in this place throughout the times the tales were told. Fascinating.

235px-Dunedin_Andr_Mem_Chapel01This old church reminds me of the one I wrote about as far as shape and size, but the location and material was off. irish SO with further research here is the one in Ireland I imagined; white-washed walls, mold, and ancient cemetery included.

Now how did I come up with the cliffs, you ask? I envisioned the Cliffs of Mohr with trees and a stone circle. Caves and wooded forests filled the images I had of the outskirts

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Coming SOON

of Washington, DC. The location where the psychic was killed may have looked like the image at the bottom of this mock-up cover for the first book in the series; POWER OF THE LIGHT. Certainly, the Traighon is aptly portrayed here. Blue skin and all.

 

Have you read the prequel? The Fae Myth may be a good place to begin before the first book in the series is released. In the coming months look for Power of the Light, followed by Power of the Sea…then two more books in the series will be following in 2018. Each is a stand-alone story.

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Where to BUY

AMAZON

 

Fantasy gone wild

The Gemini Prophecy final copyI’m a sucker for Fae Mythology. Trouble is I want to manipulate the stories to fit my tastes. I like author, Karen Marie Moning’s fae–good and bad, dark and light. I like their warrior aspects and their sexual appetites. How beautiful they are. How dangerous they can be. How evil and cold hearted, too.  I also enjoy their evolution.

My story is very different from Ms. Moning’s, but similar elements and characteristics run rampant through the mythology surrounding everything from pixies to gnomes in the fae world. The Stone of Fal and elements, like the Agate and the Book of Kells, play a large part in the series’ conflicts. But so does love and faith, trust and friendship.

My Gemini are a species born of the royal fae and druid mortals.  Damned until they accept what they are and locate the other half of their soul. Each has special gifts but can be killed. And they are being hunted by the Traighon, right hand of the dark lord of the Underworld.

A Fae Myth, the prequel to the upcoming modern day series of The Gemini Prophecy,  fills the reader in on the past. What came before. Find out what caused the anger of the gods and forced them to separate the realms of the fae and mortals. What is the prophecy and how can it be fulfilled? Where have the Gemini been and why are they hiding? What threats remain that could still send our world into eternal darkness?

Fantasy and suspense blend the past and draw the reader into the present as serial killers return to track down and kill psychics and profilers throughout the world. But why? And who are these serial killers with links to Vlad the Impaler, Jeffrey Dahmer, and Jack the Ripper?

PRE Order HERE Get your book May 28th on Kindle

Book Blurb – A Fae Myth: The Gemini Prophecy

Morgan and Brianna, two sixteen year-old Irish girls, stumble upon a magical book hidden within the standing stones. Believing local mythology is just an interesting tale about immortal killers, vengeful gods, and age-old battles, they take the stories lightly…until the book mentions their ancestors and reveals the girls may be destined to fulfill an ancient prophecy.

Discovering a deadly rift once split the fae and mortal realms as the result of a forbidden love between the fae and druids, the girls dedicate themselves to the book. A covenant with the gods had been broken, and the responsibility of restoring the worlds fell to the Gemini, descendants of the illicit lovers. These chosen caretakers of the elemental stones were challenged to protect the elements from the dark mystics. With a vow to destroy all the chosen, evil forces used black magic to release the daemon from the Underworld, and the Gemini went into hiding while the battles to find them raged on through the ages.

Years later, psychics and profilers all over the world are being targeted for death. A historic pattern becomes obvious to a former FBI agent and an Irish psychic who, forced to join forces, are assigned to discover who or, more precisely, what is targeting psychics, and why. They also discover an improbable relationship linked to their past.

Fae mythology isn’t in the FBI training manual, but when a killer disappears into a solid stone wall, it’s time for Graeme to re-evaluate reality. Recently, the pragmatic FBI instructor has a hard time dealing with the woman’s thoughts seeping into his mind. Psychic or not, none of this can be real. More and more he’s convinced she’s the same girl who’s been in his dreams since childhood.

Morgan only felt whole in her dreams when Graeme joined her. There is no doubt Graeme is her old imaginary playmate. What does it mean now that his thoughts are breaking through when she’s awake? Even if he refuses to accept their connection, his presence in her mind is a comfort…until their shared dreams turn into nightmares.

Fae Myths of the Gemini

the-gemini-prophecy-final-copyThe Gemini Prophecy: Psychics and profilers all over the world are being killed. Who or more precisely what is targeting them, and why? 

Before the Power of the Light, a modern fantasy suspense and the first book in the Gemini series, there is a long history of life, love, death, and destruction. Without retelling all the ancient tales, this prequel will give you some background into what came before Graeme met Morgan.

Coming this spring.
~~With the completion of the convocation, the fae queen began… “Each Gemini is entrusted with a gift to be shared and passed down throughout the ages, until one day, reborn together, the Gemini will forge the power of the light, the sea, the earth, and the air. I command you to return the elements to the Stone of Fal, lift the Veil, and reopen the portals between fae and earth. This is the promise of the Covenant.” copyright Eliza March, 2009.

As you can see, this series has been a long time coming. each book is a stand alone story, but each tells part of the story about the eventual battle between the Gemini and the Dark Mystics.

Everything begins here, in the ancient past where the breaking of sacred vows to the gods leads to the destruction of the peace between the fae Seelie and unseelie and where mortal’s lives are endangered by those who hunt the Gemini, descendents of the royal fae and ancient druid priests.

Sign up here to get special unpublished excerpts from me and a chance to win a FREE ecopy of the book when it is published.

Meet Morgan and Brianna: 

From her place beside the willow in the world beyond the Veil, the white witch Tapestry, weaver of souls, watched the girls run to the top of the hill, heading to the ancient cemetery beyond the old pagan stone circle. Brianna’s red hair reflected sparks of gold as she ran like a rabbit caught-up in the chase, zigzagging, aiming haphazardly for the field beyond. Her coloring reminded her of a druid priestess who one night stood on this same knoll calling down the power of fire and fertility from the gods. The ancient unconsecrated ground held mystery for the girls, but not so for her. After a millennia of existence, the woman knew well the magic here.

Morgan, the raven haired beauty shouted out to her friend, with her head thrown back and her arms open wide, twirling. “Brianna, this is my favorite place in the world.”

Tapestry could barely suppress a cry of delight when she heard the girl claim this place in her heart. Except for her slanted eyes which belied her fae ancestry, Morgan looked so like her druid forefather, her heart almost burst with longing for her own lost love. She sighed as her lips curved into a contented smile.

Ah beloved gods of old , the mortal child has accepted her place here on sacred pagan soil where all her mortal ancestors’ souls lie waiting—here in this long forgotten cemetery—here where it all began.

This old resting place, nestled far behind the new cemetery, was the burial ground accepted by Morgan and her family for generations upon end. They’d avoided the one most recently consecrated by the proud bishop, and fenced beside the church. Her druid forefathers favored the family’s traditional pagan cemetery where they believed the old spirits still danced by moonlight. Here is where Morgan’s father laid to rest, the last druid priestess, his wife, ten years before.

Tapestry hid, concealed in the overgrown vines. Although the limestone church, affectionately known to locals as the Kirk by the Sea, had been recently whitewashed, mildew still raised its grungy head, poking through the white paint, taking hold, thriving from the constant damp of the ocean mist and the rain. The wet season seemed to last most of the year up here on the cliffs. Through eons upon eons of time, this place remained sacred to many races of people. For here in the tumbling stone circle was the last open portal between the mortal world and the Otherworld. Here on the cliff, more than one set of slanted, fae eyes watched from behind the Veil this day as the preordained events of the prophecy resumed. The fate of all the Worlds rested on the shoulders of this child of the Gemini, one in a long line of gifted offspring of the forbidden love between the fae and the druids.

Morgan collapsed to the damp grass, smiling, taking a series of deep breaths, and recounted the cemetery’s importance to Brianna. “This is where I come to be with my family since Mum passed. The old ones are all here as well. Me Mum always said their spirits listened, waiting to be called upon when I had need of them.” She tossed her black mane and gave a quick look back at the church. “And having Jesus, Mary and Joseph right over there in the church, does’na hurt either.” She grinned wide.

Brianna giggled at the heretical remark before she caught herself. Her mouth dropped open in shock when she realized her sin. “Blasphemy. How could you, Morgan?”  Quickly, she shushed her friend, tracing the sign of the cross over her torso.

Morgan flopped to her back, laughing, her eyes gazing up into the light streaming through the trees as Brianna pulled the oilcloth covered tome from a crevice in the stone and with slow methodical precision that nearly drove her to distraction, she unwrapped it.

“Go on now Bri, please stop stalling and get on with it. You promised to finish telling me the story of the fae and the prophecy. The day and the place for the telling are perfect.” She snatched at the book and scooted beside Brianna, sitting closer on the grass so she could see the illustrations in the book. But Bri slapped at her hands and backed up.

“I’ll not tell you anything if you don’t show a bit of patience.”

“Come now, let’s have a look. You know how I’ve come to enjoy the pictures.” Morgan seemed to love the description of the fae. “…so breathtakingly beautiful that to look upon them hurt a mere mortal’s eyes’. Ah, I long to see such beauty. ”

Tapestry knew about the dreams and about the boy…the fair beauty of the boy who came to her in dreams, with his pale hair, golden skin, and silver eyes. 

Morgan ran her hand over the picture of such a boy in the ancient book and sighed.

Brianna smiled back with an accusatory glance at her friend who usually pooh-poohed romance and took life too seriously.

“Ah, I’ve caught you. Is this a romantic streak I glimpse? Have you one, after all? It seems you do, and now I know your taste runs to fae love tales with tragic endings.”

“Go on with you, I was just looking.” Morgan stiffened and glanced away, but not for  long.

Brianna held the tome of ancient myths the girls discovered under the sacrificial stone the previous month. She put on her lecture face and began translating the old language.

“Here in the land of mortals, we sometimes forget there are other planes of existence. But at one time all the Worlds shared doors that opened between them. Anyone who wanted could venture into other realms through these portals. The fae lived in the Otherworld, and they were called the Sidhe, the people of the tuatha da danaan. They held all the powers of the elements, protected and kept them safe in the Sacred Stone of Fal.”

Gemini copyright Eliza March, 2009  No reproduction without the author’s permission.

I hope you are enjoying the little teaser. Now one for the first book in the series.

POWER OF THE LIGHT  coming December 2017

“Should the Traighon achieve his final goal and the Dark Mystics succeed in their ultimate quest, the sun will not rise and the rains will not fall and the flowers will not bloom again. All the Worlds on every plane will cease to exist—all will be lost to the blue-green planet.”

There’d been a time when Graeme could have walked the path from the mailboxes to the entrance blindfolded. Closing his eyes, he visualized the area in his head. For a minute he let himself imagine a twelve-year-old Sharon waiting for him on the fence with her legs wrapped around the post, her saucy grin taunting him, and her pale blonde pigtails covered with her red bandana. He tried to get his bearings, then reopened his eyes and started walking. Intuition? Who was he kidding? He wasn’t ready to share his ability with the FBI, but it was more than intuition. His abilities, the ones he never admitted to, were often his best tools. 

Suddenly, a familiar flowery fragrance wafted in the air, interrupting his thoughts. A hint of her perfume. Dense fibrous vegetation crisscrossed the old path. Sharon had pushed through somewhere near this spot. A small break in the bushes indicated she made her way past the densest weeds. He followed through the same opening into a clearing on the other side. From there the old path was only a thin visible line in the tall grass.

Trust your instincts,” the soft voice, not Sharon’s, murmured softly in his mind.

Focusing on Sharon, all he heard was the sound of a beating heart pounding wildly in his ears. Where are you?  his mind screamed. 

The link they usually shared remained cold. A deadly chill crept up his spine. He needed their old mental link to find her.

“Stop making yourself crazy. Relax.” The familiar female voice in his head was back. At times, he couldn’t separate his thoughts from hers. Mental images from this woman often intruded his own. She’d been his imaginary friend. The Irish girl he’d called Morgan. What had suddenly made him think of her? And why now?

In any case, her presence in his mind strengthened him and forced him to focus. He pulled himself together.

“Track the signs with your heightened sense of sight and smell.” On the right track now, he increased his pace. Observation and evidence, in contrast to instinct, was hard to dispute.

“Do not deny your instincts.” The female voice roared in his mind. “Together, your instincts and observation make you the quality investigator you are!”

Graeme wanted to curse, pausing only when he came to a downed tree blocking the path. Instead, he didn’t waste time analyzing anything. He put both hands on the limb and vaulted over. When his collar tightened around his throat practically choking him., he unbuttoned the top button on his shirt and tore off his tie, picking up his pace.

Despite the sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip, another shiver slid up his back. The shadows and something else in the deep woods kept the air cool.

“Hurry!”

A startled covey of birds flew from a nearby bush. “Damn!” He flailed his arms in surprise, shouting at himself or at them, he wasn’t sure. Graeme repeated the low trembling curse and gathered his fear around him, closed his eyes, and instinctively sensed her path. 

A blood curdling scream pierced the quiet forest like a soul-wrenching insult. 

“SHAAAARRROOOOONNN!” The cry resonating in his head hurt his ears—but even worse, there was no answering reply. Barely able to catch his breath, his heart pounded harder. His fear slowed his thinking. He took off running, tearing through the dense underbrush, jumping over downed limbs, pushing aside wide branches as if none were there.

“Sharon. Sharon. Sharon.” The drum-beat of her name repeated silently on his lips, a prayer. He chanted the mantra as he fought his way to the cave.

His lungs burned, and every muscle coiled tighter as he ran. His arms pumped like pistons for added speed. But before he rounded the path to the yawning mouth of the cave, the world shifted beneath his feet. Somehow he knew. His best friend was gone. He sensed her life force drain from him and a light went out.

“Too late…” The sympathetic voice ended with a mental sob. 

Then Graeme saw Sharon on the ground.

A muscular young man wearing jeans and a black T-shirt kneeled over her body. Blood covered the intricately carved handle of the dagger in his hand, and the rest of the scene played out, frame by sick frame, in slow motion. When he leered at Graeme, his image rippled, warped, and faded, morphing into someone—no, some thing else. A fiend. A daemon. A monster of epic, nightmare proportions.

In the afternoon light, the killer’s skin appeared blue. The image in front of him looked to be well over seven feet of solid, naked blue muscle covered in swirling tattoos. Graeme shook his head and blinked his eyes trying to focus.

The monster’s eyes flashed red. Not blood-shot. The whites were white. It was his irises that were red, blood-red. 

Like any rational-thinking man, Graeme’s first reaction was denial. Caught in the illusion, he forced himself to play out the scene and stay in the moment. His mind staggered at the prospect.

The killer smiled. Fangs flashed inside his mouth before they lengthened and he bent over Sharon’s limp body, sank his teeth deep into her neck, draining what blood was left. When he lifted his head, fangs dripping, he opened his mouth over hers and inhaled.

A pale golden light rose from Sharon’s body as the monster took her essence into his own. The daemon turned, leered at him, and tossed the blood-drenched dagger. The blade flipped end-over-end as droplets of Sharon’s blood flew through the air like red mist.

Graeme instinctively reached up and caught the knife, then flipped it into his right hand, and rolled his shoulders. Tempted to let his emotions run wild, his cold professional habits forced him to control his actions. Spreading his feet wide for balance, he flexed his arms in front of him, and tensed for the attack. The muscles in his legs bunched as he assumed the defensive stance.

Gemini copyright Eliza March, 2009  No reproduction without the author’s permission.

Join The Release Party and Giveaway Valentine’s Day

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Hi all my friends. I’ll be hosting this party at 7 P.M.on February 14th, so don’t forget to stop by for some fantastic opportunities to win. I’ll be participating in the Amazon Gift card giveaway and have a few of my own.

Valentine’s Day Party with ton’s of authors click Here

Playboy brewery owner … driven saleswoman … sultry brewer … the craft beer world sizzles like no other in Liz Crowe’s new novel!

TAPPED: The Brewing Passion Series Book 

Release date: 2/14/17  Pre-order here:  https://www.totallybound.com/book/tapped

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Tapped-Brewing-Passion-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01N0XLM0E/

Blurb:

When wealthy brewery owner Austin Fitzgerald meets sexy saleswoman Evelyn Benedict, angry sparks fly. They seem destined to clash, until a hot hookup in a cold beer cooler changes everything.

For Austin, it’s a life-altering moment that sets him on a path away from his birthright, while Evelyn must face her fears about committing to a man considered the playboy of the micro-brewing world.

The power of preconceived notions nearly tears them apart—until they meet up with brew master Ross, who opens their eyes to a deeper, even more erotic connection. But three strong personalities don’t always make for the best emotional mix and when a simple misunderstanding causes chaos, it’s up to Ross to repair the tattered shreds of their relationship.

READ A SHORT EXCERPT

Excerpt 1:

Sensing the heat of Evelyn’s fury as he finalized another large order, he excused himself and made his way toward the restroom. The tuning-fork sensation had morphed into a dull ache centered in his gut, which steadily made its way down to his balls.

When he emerged—after splashing water on his face enough times to calm the hardening in his jeans—he almost plowed straight into her. He gripped her arms to keep her from falling and the impulses that had bounced around in his brain since the morning nearly brought him to his knees. He dropped his hands and looked away, swallowing back the urge to say something, anything, to convince her he wasn’t such a bad guy.

“Sorry.”

Her voice was flat. He took a step back, stopped only when his butt hit the wall. The space between them filled with near-visible silence, but he didn’t move.

“I don’t know how I’m doing it, but the longer we work together, the more sales I make, and the more you hate me. Clue me in here, Benedict. I thought sales were the goal of the day.” He crossed his arms, holding them close to his chest so she couldn’t gauge how shaky his hands had gotten.

She swallowed, and he watched the exquisite warm peach hue of her skin redden. Admiring the line of her neck, her jaw, the plump fullness of her lower lip as she bit it, a nervous tic he’d love to come to love, if she’d let him, Austin sensed himself falling deeper into a very scary hole. Her ongoing silence took on a life of its own.

“Well? I left my secret-sales-goal decoder ring at home. You obviously have a different agenda for today. I get it. ‘Prove to the rich boy he doesn’t have what it takes’ is fine, but we could have saved some time if you’d just told me first.”

She opened her lips, then pressed them together and shouldered past him. He watched, fascinated, as his hand reached out of its own accord and snagged her arm. She stopped, stared at it, then up at him. When he realized the blue of her eyes was brighter because of tears, he hesitated. Female tears always unnerved him, but his chest tightened in a thoroughly alarming way at the thought of having caused her unhappiness.

He let go. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

In a split second, her beautiful face was within inches of his. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just pissed off. You’ve had that effect on me since I first laid eyes on you, so yeah, I guess I set you up. But apparently, all your country-club, private-school time has been worth it. Bullshitting comes naturally to you. And that’s all this job is. A whole barrel of bullshit.”

She stomped away before he could speak or, even better, grab her and kiss her. The space she vacated quivered with anger. But her crisp perfume stayed in his nose and he had to clench his hands into fists to keep from shoving her up against the wall and kissing her until she saw it his way.

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