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Sunday, May 31, 2009

It's Halfway to Halloween!

Come by my loop for the party! Check the files section for recipes and links to some wonderful music, poems and video clips!


Saturday, May 30, 2009

Mother by Linda Suzane

By Linda Suzane
“What are you going to be for Halloween this year?”
In answer to his best friend Billie’s question, Janos stared at the kitchen calendar. October 31st was a mere five days away. “We’re too old to go trick or treating,” he said. He and Billie had graduated from high school last June.
“Yeah, but not to party,” Billie said, with a wide grin on his pixie face. “Will your mom let us?”
“Let you what?” his mother asked, as she entered the kitchen followed by Janos’ sister, Jirelle.
“Have a Halloween party,” Janos said.
“Sure, why not,”
“Great Mom,” Jirelle said. “Can I invite some friends, too?”
“The more the merrier.”
Billie elbowed Janos. Jirelle was a sophomore, but she had some cute friends.
“What are you going as?” Billie asked Jirelle.
“I think a cheerleader.”
His mother said suddenly, “I think I’ll be a vampire this year,”
“Awh, Mom, no one would ever believe you’re a vampire,” Jirelle protested.
“That’s right, Mrs. Em.,” Billie added.
Prane looked at Janos and smiled. The faint lines around her ice blue eyes crinkled.
With the sprinkle of freckles across her nose and the dark wavy auburn hair, she didn’t look like a vampire, but that was just what his mother was.
Last May Janos had learned the truth, seen his mother shot, seen her transform, seen the fangs, seen the lips pulled back in a predatory snarl. He had seen her change into something not human, seen the fear on the men’s faces, but somehow he had not been afraid. He had never doubted that his mother would protect him.
What had happened remained their secret.
“I think it would be cool to have a vampire mother,” Janos said, with a conspiratorial smile.

Linda Suzane first wrote about the vampire Prane Emerson and her two teenagers, Janos and Jirelle, when her own daughter was a teenager. Later a character from the story, policeman Wade Kain, demanded that she tell how he was first bitten by a vampire. Wade’s story, CAPTIVITY, is available from Linda Suzane is currently putting the finishing touches on the second book, FREEDOM. You can learn more about the Darkhour Vampire Saga at

Linda will donate a .PDF of Arc of Captivity to one lucky person commenting on her blog!

Friday, May 29, 2009

Halloween Party this Sunday!

Hey guys, don't forget the Halloween party this Sunday, from 4 to 8 PM ET. Bring your favorite scary stories, recipes, songs and books. There might be some tricks, there might be some treats!


Tabitha Shay's winner is...

Linda Wisdom! Congratulations!

Tabitha Shay and the Winslow Witches of Salem

‘The Witchy Woman In Me’

(The Beginning)

Good Morning, Readers,
Thank you, Belinda, for inviting me to be your guest author today.
I’m paranormal romance author, Tabitha Shay, author of Witch’s Brew, Witch’s Heart and Witch’s Moon. Yes, there are more books to come in the Winslow witches of Salem series.

Bitten By Books gives Witch’s Brew a 4.5 tombstone review!


Witches, wizards and magic!

Saylym Winslow regains forgotten magical powers, but is determined to ignore them. No way is she a witch; magic brings nothing but trouble. But when Talon, Waken Prince and assassin of witches is assigned to terminate Saylym by stealing her soul, she discovers being a real, spell-casting witch is only the beginning of her problems.

Talon is enchanted by Saylym's beauty and charm and refuses to do his duty. He is given a choice by the powerful Waken Guild: Handfast with the trouble making witch to keep her in line or they will send Drayke, the most ruthless waken assassin, to hunt her down.

Sparks fly in this bewitching, sexy battle of the sexes-witch-style.


The hairbrush in Saylym Winslow's hand came alive, wiggling worse than a worm on a hook. With an earsplitting scream, she flung the brush across the bathroom and pressed a hand against her run-away heart.

Unfortunately, the brush landed in the commode with a distinctive plop. Water slapped over the sides of the porcelain rim, splattering onto the worn tiled floor.

Biting her lip, Saylym tiptoed to the toilet bowl and peered over the edge, then jumped back. Her breathing rattled to a dead stop in her chest. "Ohmigod! I don't believe it!"

The brush had inched its way up the side of the white porcelain as if it had suddenly sprouted hands and feet to pull itself up the wet surface. It reached the top, tottered for a second, then toppled over onto the floor and flopped like a fish out of water.

"No more," Saylym moaned. "Please. I can't stand one more inanimate thing coming to life."

There are nine more books planned for the series, with Witch’s Magic next in line, with a Sept. release date planned from Eternal Press.
Quite often I’m asked where I got the idea for Witch’s Brew, book one. Honestly, it just popped into my head one morning while I was going to pick up my son from work. Listening to my CD by The Eagles, I was jamming to their song, Witchy Woman. Spssst, I really get into the drums of that song and of course, I’m an avid sing-along-person.
But that morning, I was listening, instead of singing, and it suddenly hit me, Hmm, I could write a book about a witch.
Now anyone who knows me at all knows this would be a big leap for me. I’ve written romances for years, but I tended to stick to contemporary western romances. The truth is, deciding I could write about a witch never even hit me that I was switching genres in mid-stream.
Mulling the idea over, the thought struck me if I was going to write about a witch, then she had to be different. Not just any old regular witch would do.
So how could she be different?
Okay, I had to think about that. What if she’s a witch who doesn’t know she’s a witch? Yea! That sounded like a good start. Okay, problem. Why doesn’t she know she’s a witch? It’s not like using magic is something one can hide forever.

Coffee Time Romance gives Witch’s Heart a five cup review!


Journey into a world where magic rules and death is the penalty for mistakes-return to the kingdom of Ru-Noc, where witches, wizards, and warlocks dwell. . .

Hannah Miller is starting over-new life, new location, and the grand opening of the Sugar 'N' Spice bakery with her best friend, Kirrah Walker. But Hannah soon discovers Sanctuary is not small town America. Trapped in a world of magic where humans are considered aliens-Hannah soon becomes the target of a waken assassin.

The male witch, Sage, is sent to terminate Hannah, the impertinent human who has dared to enter their sacred realm. Sage usually complies with the guild's orders, but he faces this assignment with dread. He hasn't forgotten what took place at the Salem witch trials in 1692 and has vowed to avoid all mortals-until he sees Hannah for the first time.

Caught up in the immortal conflict sweeping across Ru-Noc, the star-crossed lovers wage a different kind of war that set off more sparks than a witch's wand. . .

Fall under the spell of Witch's Heart-where Sage and Hannah discover love has a magic all its own . . .


"I know a lot more about you than your name, Hannah Miller."

His voice was pure silk. It wrapped around her like a fur coat, warm, sensual and smooth as honey.

For the life of her, she couldn't keep the curiosity from her voice. "Oh? What do you know? Exactly?"

"I know you're human, a frail illumrof whose life span is but a twinkle, then gone. I know you should have remained in your own dimension. And I know it's impossible to mate with you."

"Mate with me?" Hannah gulped and put her hand on the rolling pin she'd left on the counter earlier. If she was no use to him, then what did that mean? He was going to kill her? Crap! They were back to the slice and dice. She tightened her grip on the rolling pin. "Over my dead body!" she said under her breath.

Bad choice of words, Hannah. Really bad.

Right. So…what if my witch fell and hit her head? Has a bad case of amnesia? For how long? Three hundred years? Because right away I decided she had to be three hundred years old, or in that neighborhood.
Three hundred years of amnesia? Nope, don’t think so.
Why don’t I let someone erase her memory? Totally wipe away everything about her past. What would happen? How would she cope if one day her magic started to return, and she had no idea what was happening? So, dear readers, Saylym Winslow was conceived and born.

Coffee Time Romance gives Witch’s Moon a five cup review!


Ru-Noc: A magical world teetering on the edge of destruction.

Excited about her first Beltane, the feisty and strong-willed Princess of Ru-Noc makes plans to find her ideal mate. But Princess Kali's world is turned upside down when finds herself whisked away and trapped in the mortal realm of vampires.

Captain Koran T knows he's in serious trouble when the King of Ru-Noc orders him to kidnap Princess Kali. He's no different than any other male of his species at mating time, so the urge to breed Kali is strong. But Koran T has a dark secret of his own, one that could have him banished from the coven.

Fall under the spell of a Witch's Moon-when dark forces gather to threaten the very existence of Ru-Noc--and Princess Kali and Captain Koran cross swords in a fierce battle only a witch can win!


Ah, but the novel appearance of a male witch popping in at the all girls’ academy had them all atwitter, all—but one.
Abrupt silence filled the halls and avid gazes shot to Princess Kali as she marched down the hall like a stiff-backed soldier. Fury etched the aristocratic lines of her face. Her topaz eyes blazed with gold flames. Her heart-shaped lips were tight with displeasure and color stained her noble cheekbones.
What would the princess do? Say?
Money exchanged hands as bets were quickly made on the outcome of the battle that brewed. Who would win, Captain Koran T or Princess Kali?
Oh, but this was going to be an entertaining moment for all of them.
No doubt about it, the reckless and hot-tempered Princess was in a bit of a snit. In a swish and swirl of red silk, she left a heady cloud of jasmine and oleander perfume in her wake.
Necks craned and eyes widened as everyone watched the Princess storm down the corridor to Principal Wing’s office.
“What’s she doing now?” someone asked. “I can’t see her anymore.”
“Who cares what she’s doing? My heart’s still pounding from catching a glimpse of the Captain,” one young lady commented. “Did you see how handsome he is? The excitement is almost too much to bear.”

Now, I don’t want to reveal all Saylym’s secrets or the problems she faces when her magic starts to return, but obviously, the fun doesn‘t end with Saylym‘s story. No. Saylym has two sisters, Kirrah, whose tale in Witch’s Fire, will be released in 2010 and Nyra, who tangles with Death in Witch‘s Touch, in 2011, so be watching for them.
I’m so thrilled to announce that all my books are now available in print from
Anyone leaving a comment today has a chance to win an E-copy of one of my witchy books or a signed print copy, which ever you prefer. Be sure we have a way to contact you if your name is drawn or be certain to check back about 8p.m. CST., when the winner’s name will be announced. Until the next time, scope out my website at
I can also be found at Myspace.
Pay a visit to my publishers at

One more tidbit of information: I also write contemporary western romances under the pen name-Jaydyn Chelcee. You’ll find her at the same website Tabitha Shay hangs around at, plus she has a Myspace site.

See you soon.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Rhonda Parrish - Sister Margaret

The meaning of Halloween has changed for me throughout my life, and I'm not sure that I'm alone in that. When I was younger it was all about candy and freedom. It was the only time of the year my brother and I could go door-to-door all over town with our pillowcases in hand and collect goodies. I was all about the popcorn balls (this was back in the days when you could actually give away popcorn balls) and my brother loved chocolate bars. We were forbidden from eating anything until we got home so my mom could "check" it. Checking really took the form of inventory more than anything. There was always an aura of vague threat as you had to be careful that the 'big kids' didn't catch you alone or in a dark corner because they would take your candy away. That added to the atmosphere and the excitement. It was an adventure with a candy reward for bravery!

When I was a teenager my personal style was a bit…shall we say rebellious? Halloween then was a chance to dress up (in something revealing no doubt) and go to a school dance or party. It was also a great opportunity for me to stock up on fishnet stockings, colored hair spray, black nail polish and lipstick. Some of the people in the small town I lived in would say I made everyday Halloween. They would say this like it was a bad thing. Silly people.

It was also about fun and pranks. I was never one of the big kids who stole children's candy, but I've thrown a raw egg or two in my life (mostly at other similarly-armed people). I remember one time it was like a scene out of a musical with two groups of egg and shaving cream armed teenagers facing each other across main street. There was a moment of silence that would have benefited from a tumble weed blowing between us, and then? Pure chaos. It was awesome.

Nowadays I'm told I'm a grown up but my fascination for and adoration of Halloween hasn't wavered. Not in the least. One of the most frequent genres I write is horror. Did Halloween influence my love of horror, or was it the other way around? In the end, does it really matter?

A few years ago I married my soulmate – on Halloween. It was a small ceremony in our living room with everyone in costume. After we said our vows, ate and had some cake we ushered our daughter over to the neighbour's and then took her out trick or treating after. Who needs a honeymoon if you've got Halloween?

What does Halloween mean to you? Has its meaning changed for you over time?

All comments to this blog entry will be entered into a draw to win a copy of my story, Sister Margaret. It's not Halloween-themed but it does deal with vampires. I will make the tomorrow. Good luck!

Rhonda Parrish

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Chaeya Robles: Shhhh....

I grew up watching ghost stories like a lot of people, and they frightened me. When people would start telling of their experiences with ghosts, I would usually leave the room because the idea of seeing or feeling a spirit was too much for me. Over the years, I have been poked in the back, I have had lights cut on around me. Then I’ve had my hair stroked and still do. Usually, I would find some way to explain it away, but my experience back in 1992 was something I could not ignore.

I was living in Zurich, Switzerland. My husband was a painter and we sold photos of his paintings as cards. Soon, I got my own business selling Wiccan supplies I imported from America. I sold velvet bags, silver amulets, incense, ritual oils, and ceramic wizards and dragons.

One of the items I sold was a black mirror, made only during the full moon. The night before my debut market, I set up my stand inside our apartment to arrange everything on my table. I used the black mirror as my centerpiece and it was beautiful. It was by then very late, so I left everything set up and went to bed. What I didn’t understand about the black mirror at the time was it needed to be kept wrapped up in its pouch. But who reads instructions? Uh, I don’t. I do now, but back then, I didn’t. Okay, sometimes I still don’t. But don’t tell anyone. Shhhhhh.

We lived in an old apartment complete with old hardwood floors. So there’s no way you can sneak in there without being heard. Around 3 a.m. I woke up to footsteps coming from the room where my market stand was set up. I thought it was a dream at first, but then my husband woke up and asked me if I heard footsteps. Yeah, I heard. We both sat up in bed and sure enough, there were footsteps walking through the bedroom. It continued on through the middle room and into my husband’s atelier, where he painted. Papers rustled and then it stopped.

My husband sat up. “You’ve been playing around with that witchcraft *#$@ again and I’m gonna take it all and throw it out in the street!”

Like most men who suffer something disturbing, he put it out of his mind and went back to sleep. I, on the other hand, lay awake all night shivering under my covers. And that’s the way I was for about three months.

During this time strange things happened in my house. I would walk into a room and find cupboards open, one time a bunch of my kitchen utensils fell down onto my stove, still heard footsteps and the scariest of all, while my friend was visiting, my front door opened with the deadbolt still on it. The doorknob on our front door was broken and the only way you can get the door to stay closed was to lock it using the deadbolt.

Other than this, I did get my business going and it was a hit. One day, I met three gentlemen who were practicing shaman. One of them was a Yaqui Indian from Mexico who followed the teachings of Carlos Castaneda. I know some people dispute Castaneda’s teachings as all fiction, but after having read Castaneda’s books and from the many spiritual experiences I had, this guy was on the level as were his two friends, a Swiss gentlemen and a Dutch man who read my palm. So far, most of what he told me has come true. They had just returned from India, having performed a puja ceremony. We developed a friendship and I confided in them about my spirit. They came to my house and did a “cleansing and a blessing” on my spirit friend. They told me he wasn’t a bad spirit, but he had suffered some “emotional” issues which were keeping him mired to this plane. After the ritual, my spirit was fairly quiet.

Shortly after, my ex and I had a fight and he left to go to his martial arts class. I lay there on the bed crying. I “felt” the ghost enter the room, by that time I had become sort of used to him. The bed weighted down beside me and my hair was being stroked. This didn’t frighten me and it felt good. I was still angry with my ex and I was happy to pour out my heart to anyone at that point. So I lay there crying and talking about my woes while this spirit stroked my hair. Since he was being so kind to me and I didn’t feel any negative energy in him, I explained to him he couldn’t scare me any more with leaving cupboards open, knocking things down, doors opening by themselves and walking around at night. For the first time in a long time, I was able to sleep good through the night and every night thereafter.

The ghost honored my wishes and did none of these things again. But his presence felt more brilliant and my senses prickled sometimes before he even entered the room. At times, I could see iridescent colors in the dark when he was near. I stopped sleeping with my husband and slept in the other room just so I could talk to my new “friend.” Who knew a ghosty could be someone worth confiding in. I never found out any details about him, but I got a psychic reading and to my surprise the psychic picked up on him. She stated there was a painting in my bedroom and a spirit in the house was fascinated by it. He would spend hours sitting and staring at it. I told her my ex painted the picture. She told me to never leave him without the painting and to keep it with me always. I asked her if he would be leaving any time soon and she intimated to me he was staying there because of me.

My relationship with my ex had been poor for a few years and I believe my ghost friend helped me sort out my feelings and give me the strength to get out of my relationship. My ex isn’t a bad guy and we have since made up and are friends now. Three months later, I wound up leaving him and I took the painting with me where it still hangs over my fireplace.

I didn’t “feel” my spirit friend again after I moved back to Los Angeles, but I am thankful to him for listening to me and for comforting me when I needed it the most. I hope he was able to find some peace.

Monday, May 25, 2009

The Temple of Fyre by Janet Lane Walters

The story began with a large fire opal that had belonged to my grandfather. Since opals are the birthstone for October, there is a sort of fall theme here. As a child I liked to look at the opal for the colors of fire were deep inside. White, yellow, orange and red. Once I noticed a thread of blue. One day when I was looking for an idea for a new story, I thought of the fire opal. What if, a writer's magic words. What if there were gems called fyrestones that could be used in magical ways. Thus the land of Fyre was born and then I needed a story to go with the idea. A temple and a rebellious young priestess came to mine. Then she needed an opponent. Who better than the chief priestess, a woman consumed with a desire for power over everyone. Still, every heroine needs a hero. Who could be a hero for this young woman? What if the stones were rather rare and it took a special man to be a stone seeker. I had my hero. Her name was Ria and as I looked at that name, I rearranged the letters and he became Ari. Of course in the story there had to be a quest of a sort. What if there were blue fyrestones but these fabled gems could only be used by a couple who were bonded in body, heart and spirit. Thus the pieces of the story came together and I began the tale of the rebellious priestess and the stone seeker who became lovers and had to fight against the priestess to save themselves and their land.


Ria huddled beside the bushes near the wall of the Temple of Fyre . How long had she lain here? Hours? Days? She had no notion of how much time had passed since the duel with Malera. Ria’s memories were filled with the confrontation, the stoning and the strident case of the carrion crows. She’d expected the birds to attack. Instead, they had used their beaks to drive her through the hedge where the thorns had torn her caftan and the flesh of her arms. Once beyond the hedge, agonizing pain had driven her into darkness.

Her body ached from the blows of the rocks and the slashes of Malera’s flail. Tears welled in her eyes. She could no longer be one of the priestesses who called fire from the opaline crystals.

Hunger gnawed in her gut. Fever from the poison of the thorns flowed through her body. She wrapped her arms around her middle. What would she do? She had succeeded and called fire. She had blended the flames raised by the other women. Malera’s choice of a task had been wrong. So was the punishment the chief priestess had meted.

Ria had been unable to destroy Gydon for its failure to pay the tithe. Malera was evil. How could women, children and the elderly plow the fields and bring in the harvest? Ria shuddered. To sell children to the slavers was wrong. Though she’d been treated with care by those grim, swarthy men, she’d seen how the others had fared.

The scuff of boots on the stones of the path drew her toward the place where she’d broken through the hedge. A man strode toward the temple. His clothing was dusty and rumpled. A hunger different from her need for food arose. He carried fyrestones in the pouch dangling from his belt. The first of the seekers had arrived, but what he carried could never be hers. Malera would buy all for the temple.

As he drew closer, her breath caught in her throat. Though unkempt, he was handsome. Tall and lean, with muscles honed by labor and sun darkened by the sun. Like hers, his hair was rich with the colors of the fyrestones.

Her body tingled with awareness. For him or for what he carried? He paused beside her hiding place and stooped to examine the stone. She tensed. Would he discover her and drag her to the temple where Malera waited?

The Temple of Fyre
Janet Lane Walters
New Concepts Publishing
available via download New concepts publishing, Fictionwise: Excellence in eBooks, free eBooks, eBooks for Palm, Pocket PC, eBo

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Laura Tolomei

I’m Laura Tolomei, an author of paranormal & horro and I love Halloween, the myths, the legends and just about anything connected to it. In one of my books, Trespassing All Hallows Eve (publisher eXtasy Books), I had fun coming up with a different explanation to its origins as one of my characters Amber, a comic-book superheroine, tells her creator, Troy, after pulling him into her very particular world.

“Welcome to Tirynanyog,” she announced.

The light outside was unlike anything he had ever experienced on Earth. In fact, he could hardly define it light as it seemed that the star’s rays, whatever the star, hid behind thick clouds. There was no direct sunlight anywhere, the endless soft hue similar to Earth’s late summer evenings. Then again, it was not only a matter of cumuli-nimbus.

“But…it’s red!” he exclaimed, looking up at a threatening bloody sky.

“Yes, our sky is not blue, a little bit different from Earth.”

“And where’s the sun?”

“Our light is dimmer, less harmful.”

“You practically have none.”

“For some of us, it’s exactly what we need.”

Troy noticed red pools. “What are those?” he asked.

“That’s our water.”

“Red?” He looked up. “Like the sky?”

“Yes, and thicker than your water, too.”

Troy grinned. “Vampires would love it here.”

Amber turned around. “This is exactly where they come from,” she said seriously.

For a moment, Troy thought she was kidding, but looking in her blue pools, he knew she was dead serious. “Vampires? You mean you, too, are…”

“Relax, Troy . I’m no vampire. I come from another planet, so I didn’t have to become a vampire to remain here. Only your kind turns into vampires if they stay for a long time.”

“I don’t understand,” he confessed.

“You see, Tirynanyog is set in another dimension from Earth. You had to crossover a boundary to get here.”

“You pulled me in.”

“No, Troy .” She came closer. “It was your energy when we made love that pulled you through, even if some humans are so sensitive they can crossover the worlds without any help, simply by wishing it. Spirits do it often and vampires have learned how to do it over time. Of course, on Halloween it’s easier for everyone.”


Amber looked surprised. “I thought you knew,” she confessed at last. “Starting from Halloween, there are three days when boundaries between the dimensions thin out and anyone can crossover to your world.”

“I thought Halloween was a one-night deal.”

Amber shook her head. “The spirit world is much stronger than just a one-night event. October 31st is only the beginning. You must also count the 1st and 2nd of November.”

“Aren’t they some kind of Catholic holiday?”

“Actually, the Catholics stole Halloween’s tradition from the Irish folks, turning it into a sacred celebration of their own and treating it as if it were their invention,” she scoffed. “They celebrate All Hallows day, better known as All Saints day.”

“All Hallows?”

“Yes and they even gave the name to Halloween. The vigil of All Saints or rather All Hallows Eve…get it?”

Troy ran the words through his head. “Sure, now I get it.”

Please visit Laura at her website:

Saturday, May 23, 2009

Bryl Tyne: Have you Hugged Your Witch Today?

Have you hugged your witch today? By Bryl R. Tyne

What is the first thing that comes to mind upon hearing the word pagan? The answer depends on what personal beliefs you hold. Some might immediately conjure images of hoods and cloaks circling a bonfire, incantations, spells, or evil under a moonlit darkness. But what exactly does it mean to be a pagan? Are pagans soothsayers, psychics, witches?

I personally am a spiritualist, guess that makes me a pagan. To sum up the brief under Paganism in a plethora of references sought, paganism quite simply is any nature-based religion. Any religion that does not acknowledge God as the God. But I wasn't satisfied with that simple definition. I wanted more, something here and now, something real that I could embrace.

Oh, and I found it. Just not exactly where I expected. One of those instances that I wondered if I shouldn't have been more careful with what I wished for type of deals, when I met the Wicca card-carrying, Author MS Panthera.

MS contacted me with this marvelous idea for a book she wanted me to co-author. Elaborating that she was on her back porch one morning and watched as two trees formed this vision of two people holding hands...I thanked her and told her—I'd be in touch. After reading the first few chapters, I was intrigued though. And her story, Shadow, ate at me until I contacted her and arranged a meeting to work out the details. Of course, as my luck runs, the details would have to wait. Our "meeting" went something like this...

Bryl: So, you practice Wicca, huh. You're pagan?
MS: Yes.
Bryl: Aren't there negative connotations associated with that term?
MS: To many, yes. But they consider me pagan, because I am not Christian.
Bryl: That's it? Because you don't believe like they do, you're pagan?
MS: The few I know think I am evil.
Bryl: Why? Do you bite off chicken heads under a waning moon? Hex those who look at you cock-eyed?
MS: No! No self-respecting Wiccan would. No, it is because they do not think we believe in a higher power, and since I do not call my higher power, God—I am considered evil.
Bryl: No self-respecting Wiccan...Is that an opinion?
MS: It is just the way it is. We believe whatever we do will come back to us. The only difference among us is in how much our return investment will be. Some believe 2x, 3x, some 10x.
Bryl: You say you have a higher power, but you don't believe it is the same God as Christians profess their faith?
MS: Right, for no matter how we got here, I believe there had to be a hand guiding it. I choose to call mine the powers that be.
Bryl: Whoa! PTB? As in Ann McCaffery, the author of the Dragon of Pern series, PTB?
MS: Mm-hmm.
Bryl: Wow. Sorry about that. Here, let me help...
MS: I am fine, dear.
Bryl: *whew* Okay. Are there any universal beliefs that you think all religions embrace?
MS: Oh yes, to treat others as you wish to be treated. Most know it as the Golden Rule, but there are other terms that mean the same thing. I also believe there is a power greater than us, and no matter what one chooses to call it, it is one in the same.
Bryl: There must be other religions, besides Christianity, that look unfavorably at paganism.
MS: I am sure there is. The funny thing is, most religions actually honor one pagan holiday or another.
Bryl: Takes all kinds, I guess. So MS, getting back to the reason for this meeting. Like your protag in Shadow, do you call yourself a witch? And out of curiosity, what is the most evil thing you've ever done to a living being?
MS: "...."
Bryl: What? What's that look for?
MS: I was just showing you the worst I have ever done to any—
Bryl: Come here. Come on... {{{{{{hugs}}}}}} ...You know, I was just messin' with you. Right? MS? M?
Have you hugged your witch today?

Friday, May 22, 2009

Savanna Kougar

The Fun of Halloween

Since I didn’t know the true meaning and history of Halloween-Samhain as a kid growing up in the 1950's, Halloween night for me was just a whole heck of a lot of fun. My sisters and I would end up with big fat sacks of candy, a wondrous thing in a large family where the goodies were rationed. Wearing the costumes was a fun thrill, a fantastical escape from the everything ordinary. I got to be anything from a black cat to Annie Oakley to a ballerina princess. I won’t go into all my “fun” adult fantasy costumes.
No, it wasn’t only the *gathering* of the candy by running from door to door, it was the freedom, the sheer freedom of being able to roam the surrounding neighborhoods with good friends. I felt like a horse allowed to run wild... yep, I had a horsie costume, too... with a long flowing tail.
Later, when I lived in a suburb with 2 acres per lot and lots of land around it, Halloween night was even more exciting. And the sense of freedom was bigger. It was also a salvation for me as an emotionally troubled teenager. The constraints of society has never been my thing.
Okay... fast-forward to the call for Halloween stories from Liquid Silver Books. I couldn’t resist. There she was! My Black Cat Beauty girl, Sable Kiki, yowling her demand for her story to be written. The naughty feline girl seduced my imagination just as she initially seduces the hero, Devon Zant.
After all, what would it be like to shift into a black cat for Halloween? My goodness, fun and adventures would ensue... like walking in front of the scaredy humans... or arching your back and hissing at the trick-or-treating kidlets... then, there are all those haunted houses.
Of course, Sable’s story is much more complicated... but that’s life and the stuff of fantasy, isn’t it?

Black Cat Beauty

Blurb: A private Halloween party in a gothic mansion hidden in the Hollywood Hills. Add one party crasher, Sable Kiki, a naughty black cat with a sexy wild human side.
Her covert assignment from her devious, always-cunning father: use her seductive wiles to find out the truth from Devon Zant, a movie star on the rise to super stardom.
Posing as the superhero actor, Devon Zant, D’Torr has arrived on Earth seeking revenge for the capture of his younger brother, and to assist in stopping a powerful enemy.
The leviathan warfleet of the Altirrux wants rule of all intergalactic trade routes to Earth, endangering the survival of D’Torr’s race, and all the inhabitants of the rare blue jewel, Earth.

Excerpt ~ Sable Kiki and Devon Zant meet ~

Sable flipped her ear forward, noticing Devon Zant had halted high on the stairway, his attention clearly on the “accident” commotion. Although concealed by shadow, the bold strength of his physique could easily be seen. His dark shirt and pants skimmed his superbly muscled body as if the materials had been poured over him.

“Every inch the superhero,” Sable whispered, wondering how he would look flying on screen as the son of Super Ace. She hadn’t bothered with the movie trailer or the website. Especially since she’d only learned about the assignment late yesterday afternoon. A catnap in the sun had seemed much more enjoyable.

“Of course, I haven’t viewed those meaty ‘inches’ yet. So who knows if his cock is supercharged and heroic in action?” Sauntering unimpeded to the stairs, Sable briefly scanned her surroundings. Evidently Mr. Rising Superstar didn’t require beefy cow muscle to protect him ... just PETA to protect him from wandering pussycats. Maybe I should offer him personal protection from all pussies ... if he’s worthy.

Once she placed her foot, encased in the supple black leather of her sleek shoe, on the first step, his gaze fastened on her. Slowly she smiled at him. She lingered her Mae West smile on him as she provocatively swayed up the stairs.

Riveted, almost standing at attention, he trained his gaze on her.

Sable drew in his scent, careful not to overwhelm herself--easily done in this topsider culture. Ignoring the expensive men’s cologne he’d used, she inhaled his virility, raw and rivers-of-lava volcanic. Give me some more of him--yum.

Sliding her hand along the polished wood banister, she gradually mounted the stairway. As his gaze smoldered over her, Sable swayed even more teasingly. Her breasts rounded, becoming heavier, her nipples peaked into tight buds, and she knew they were outlined by the black gleaming stretch fabric of her costume. For a human male, his allure was far more ferocious than she’d ever experienced.

Smiling seductively, she tipped her face upwards, keeping her gaze beneath his as she approached, and halted one step away from him. Instead of blatantly perusing his masculine assets--yet--she studied his classically carved features through her half-lidded gaze. The god Hermes and the half-god Hercules, blended as one--and definitely more handsome than either--that was Devon Zant’s face.

From on high, his gaze scorched over her. Glints of lightning sparked in the depths of his eyes, and she was surprised to see how blue his eyes truly were--not sky blue. Not Paul Newman blue. No, they were deep iris blue, and so brilliantly luminous that for a moment she thought she observed an aurora of color slide over them.

No wonder a movie camera, even in the age of digital, couldn’t completely capture the actual color of his eyes. Nor could any camera do full justice to his hair. His auburn mane just brushed his shoulders and was nearly black, with fine streaks of burnt gold and bronze. She could analyze by the smell he hadn’t dyed the color. It was all natural, and obviously, a hairdresser’s dream.

Flirtatiously Sable smiled widely, then flashed her gaze over him admiringly.

“Sable,” she softly rumbled her name for him.

Excitement skittered along her skin like electrical currents as she waited and wondered if the sound of his smoky strong voice would be beyond the capacity of digital mikes.

“Your hair?” His gaze broke away from hers, moving pointedly to her own auburn tresses, which were not quite as dark as his and flamed with reddish tints.

“Not colored and like my name.” She enticed her voice over him, then languidly moved her hips back and forth so the thick waves of her hair rippled over her back and bottom. The Cat Goddess, Bastet! His voice was smoky and sinfully rich--yet pure as a clear mountain stream. If she had willed it, Sable could have orgasmed over his voice. Right there on the steps. In full view of him.

Excerpt - encounter with a witch ~

Warning ~ x-rated language

...the woman suddenly appeared, stepping in front of her.
Halting instead of gliding around the woman, Sable ran her gaze up from the stiletto black heels she wore, to the woman’s gaunt face, decorated like an Egyptian cat statue. Unblinking eyes that reminded her of dirty pool water analyzed her face.
“What black arts’ technique did you use?” The woman’s tone spiraled around her, cast from a cauldron spell.
“And why would I share anything with you?” Sable didn’t bother disguising her utter disregard. When she moved to walk away, the woman stepped in front of her again.
“He’s mine.” The sinister woman’s voice coiled like a serpent in Sable’s belly.
Placing her fist on one hip, she faced the woman fully. “Is that so?” Sable seized the attacking energy, then twined it around the woman’s throat.
Sinister woman blanched for a moment, her eyes dilating mummy-style before she dispelled the energy, and scowled ruthlessly at Sable.
“I knew it.” She growled, her voice like an inner-world gargoyle.
“Knew what?” Sable envisioned batting her head around like a play toy, but didn’t throw the energy at her.
Narrowing her eyes, then pointing a bony finger with a dagger nail that could slice open many a sardine can, sinister woman intoned, “I’m not done, if you’re smart you’ll get out of my way. Everyone gets out of my way...eventually.”
Sable idly slid her gaze over the woman’s scarecrow features, her enraged glints for eyes. “If Devon was interested in fucking a woman with a body designed by Skeletor, I would be more than thrilled to send you in his direction.” Casually, she regarded her own nails, popping out one claw. “As it is, I would advise you to express your sorcery talents elsewhere.”
“Everyone in Hollywood bows before me. I’ve ruined countless careers, and decreed countless others into existence. You’re no match for my sorcery talents, you fat ugly toad.” A sparking black cloud emanated from the center of sinister woman’s forehead.
Creating a gale-force wind in her third eye, Sable blew it, dissipating the nasty soupy stuff before it could cause a second’s harm. “Since I have no wish for a career in Hollywood, your dire threat is just so much jibber jabber to my ears.” Sable remembered not to flick her ear. Or her tail in haughty satisfaction.
“Do you think your amateurish use of magick can stop me from getting what I want? I can enslave you to my will as easily as crooking my little finger.” Demonstrating, sinister woman thrust her Grim Reaper hand in front of Sable’s eyes.
“A big ole’ oops, witchie poo, but you’re too late.” Sable languidly tossed her waves of hair. “I’ve already been enslaved. Any advise for removing this collar?”
For an instant, mean ole’ witchie poo gleamed her gaze directly on the collar, then stared at the matching bracelet.
“Want to give it a magickal try?” Sable held up her wrist twisting it in front of the woman’s eyes. To further taunt sinister woman, she glittered the bracelet in the spooky illumination of the neon disco lights. “Maybe a tiny bolt of lightning. Want to try?”
Silent long enough for Sable to hear the lyrics ‘love to love you, baby’ of the sensual disco chant behind her, witchie poo finally looked up from the bracelet. “You’ll regret angering me, you cunt stupid bitch,” she snarled, her eyes gleaming greenish streaks of demonic hatred.
Sable smiled widely, her most I’m-going-to-make-you-prey grin. “Spells at dawn? Since I’m the challenger you can choose your favorite weapon from your black arts’ bag of tricks.”

Happy Early Halloween!


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~ ~

BLACK CAT BEAUTY ... She has the claws and the cattitude to prove it... He has the super-powered strength and passion she fights, but needs... available from Liquid Silver Books ~ ~ ~

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Sheri Lewis Wohl

So tell the truth…the cross you wore around your neck when you were younger, it wasn’t simply an expression of your faith, was it? No, you wore it for a little extra protection against the creatures who claim darkness as their own, didn’t you? Oh, you know what I’m talking about—vampires! For me, it started around age twelve. I’ve loved scary stories and movies for a very long time. Yet, for some reason, my interest in vampires picked up at that age, and just in case, I sported a beautiful sterling silver cross for years. I didn’t really believe in vampires. I just didn’t quite not believe in vampires either.

It didn’t start on Halloween for me, though I must admit a particular fondness for the day folklore tells us the veil between this world and the next all but disappears. Something about the darkness, literally and figuratively, has fascinated me for a really long time. Scared me even. It began a journey not just as a writer, but also as a scholar, into the why.

Did I come up with any answers along the way? For me, yes. Whether others share my theories is up for debate. For me, it has helped me to understand why I am fascinated with things that go bump in the night. In Gothic literature, the vampire is both evil and alluring. Death is cheated, the ravages of age denied and the vampire’s strength unstoppable. All one is required to do in order to receive the gift of darkness is give up daylight and humanity. Not too bad considering a life of immortality. Right? The debate still goes on in educational endeavors such as my own Masters Thesis on Le Fanu’s lesbian vampire story, “Carmilla.”

As a writer, the vampire is the most interesting of all creatures, at least to me. He or she is alluring, powerful, and immortal. The storylines are infinite. But, most interesting for me, is the ability to humanize the vampire. Are they good? Are they bad? Are they a little of both? How much fun is it to play with all those dynamics while weaving a story! Just take a look at Necuratul 3: Blood Secrets to see what I did with our favorite vampire, Dracula….

I no longer wear the sterling silver cross though I often think of those days and smile. They remind me of how my young imagination ran wild. These days, a much more mature mind still runs a little wild, only now I channel that imagination right onto the page.

Happy Halloween in May dreams to you all.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Sundays Winner

Cathey Caffey!

Cathey wins a download from my backlist!

Thanks for participating!

Halloween in May by Selena Illyria

Halloween in May: The Meeting
By Selena Illyria
© 2009 Selena Illyria, All Rights Reserved
Interracial, Holiday, Magic and Mayhem

“Halloween party in May, what else will they think of? I can’t wait for the Christmas in July party,” Sadie thought. She checked the slip of paper by the soft golden glow of the overhead porch light.
“Two-twenty-two Nightingale Park, this is the place.”
She rang the bell and waited. Nothing. There wasn’t even loud music to indicate that a party was going on, nor were there cars parked out front of the house. Maybe they magicked them away, she wondered and glanced over her shoulder. Vampiropolis, bathed in soft Silverlight of the full moon. It was a gorgeous sight to behold especially the Blood Tower, rising above the rest of the buildings with its illuminated dials showing that it was midnight.
Sadie pulled out her phone and with the guidance of the back light she scrolled through her numbers and hit speed dial.
“Hey, Lida, it’s Sadie. The party is at Two-twenty-two Nightingale Park right? Well I’m here and no one is answering the door.” She pressed the button again. The muffled sound of a bell ringing through the house could be heard and yet there was no rush of footsteps or someone calling out, “I’m coming, I’m coming.”
“I just rang it again. Nothing. Maybe I’m early. I know you’re running late. Wait hold on, I hear something.” A pounding sound coming toward her could be heard and then the door was thrown open by a man wearing a Wolfman costume. He was holding a cup of something that seemed to be steaming.
“Sorry about the delay, come in,” he said in a gruff voice, stepped back and gestured for her to step past him.
Something about him made her uneasy. She swallowed. “Lida, the door has been opened by the Wolfman.”
Sadie gazed up at the man, very intimidated. The costume looked so authentic from the torn plaid shirt and ripped jeans to the back paws and the clawed, furry hands wrapped around the steaming cup.
“I’m Dave from accounting. I’m a werewolf. They did tell you everyone was gonna come as they are.” He pointed into the room. She stuck her head through the doorway to see quite a few people in their animal form, all on their hind legs, wearing clothing. They all held cups of steaming something or other. The sight did little to put Sadie at ease but then again she still wasn’t used to being around so many paranormal, magickal and mythological beings.
She swallowed, “Sorry, I’m still getting used to being in Vampiropolis. Um, do I give this to you?”
Sadie held out a small wrapped box that was supposed to go to the birthday person. Dave bent over and sniffed the box. He looked up at her, his eyes lit up.
“Oh, chocolate and the good stuff too. Oh, he’s gonna love that. Baby? Baby, where are you?” Dave looked around and gestured for someone to come to the door. A man dressed in voluminous robes, wearing a pointed hat came over to Dave. His long red hair fell around his shoulders in waves and his features were obscured by the large brim of the hat.
“Baby, look what…Um what’s your name?” He took a sip of his drink and both men looked at her. She shifted under their scrutiny.
“Sadie, I work in Lida Sandros’ boutique. She invited me.”
“Oooh, yes, Lida, so much fun. Anyway, look at what Sadie brought you for your birthday.” Dave took the box from her and held it out to the wide brim man. He picked it up from his lover and shook it.
“Chocolate. We should have fun with that later. Come, come in. I know it doesn’t look like we’re having a party but, if we play the music too loud and don’t use shielding the neighbors complain. As for the cars, I just miniaturize them and put them on a shelf until everyone is ready to go. Is that your car?” The wide brim man pointed past her to the Mini Coop parked in front of the house.
“Um yeah.” She looked over her shoulder at her car and got an uneasy feeling. Her eyes widened as she watched the car shrink in size until it was just a toy that was now floating in the air. Whirling around she saw wide brimmed hat man with a wand make a few quick hand gestures and then the car was in the palm of his hand.
“There you go, all shrunken in size. Don’t worry it won’t get crushed or anything.” He pocketed, her now toy car and beckoned for her to come inside. “Don’t want you to get a cold. May be Spring but it’s been crazy lately and the teenager wizards and witches got their first lesson in changing the weather. So you can bet experiments in abundance.”
Wolfman grabbed Sadie’s hand and pulled her into the house. The feel of the silkiest fur that she’d ever touched combined with the slight prick of his claws was a disconcerting feeling. The unease only increased as she took in the other party guests. Some were in shifted from, some were dressed like wide brimmed hat man and then there were the people she thought were human until they flashed fangs.
Each new revelation was one shock after another. It was overwhelming. She had thought she knew what she was getting into when she’d taken the job at Lida’s boutique in Vampiropolis, unfortunately that wasn’t the case. Stories, movies and brief brushes in the work places had not prepared her to experience everything at once.
“You okay?” A gruff voiced asked. The sound was similar to Wolfman at the door but deeper. She looked up to find a man dressed in jeans and button down shirt. His short hair done in a just-rolled-out-of-bed style so common now, his features had that chiseled matinee idol look with light brown hair and large vivid blue eyes.
“Don’t worry. I won’t go all furry on you. I’m just your average werewolf, brother of Matt over there.” He nodded his head the “Matt” the Wolfman that had answered the door.
“Why aren’t you-” She started.
“All furry? Cause I don’t get a kick out of scaring the mortals. See?” He nodded to a group of scared looking people dressed for the office holding shaking glasses of steaming whatever.
“And you are?” Sadie asked, feeling at ease for the first time since arriving at the party.
“I’m Crispin and you are?” He held out his hand and she took it.
“I’m Sadie.” She shook his hand.
“Ah, Lida’s friend. She was so excited you were coming tonight. She wanted you to have some fun in your first week here. I hope we deliver.” Matt gave her a dazzling smile.
Sadie found herself smiling back. A sense of warmth filled her and she began to relax even more. She felt safe with Crispin.
“Do you want something to drink? I wouldn’t recommend the Witch’s Brew Punch. You’ve never had anything from the Magickal community before so I don’t know how you’ll react. So how about something safe like regular punch? I should warn you it’s spiked with some vodka.” He gave her a warm smile and she relaxed even more.
“Sure, I’ll take some of that.”
Crispin nodded and stood up. She found herself watching his retreat with much interest.
“Found someone to cuddle with?”
Sadie jumped up from her seat to find Lida standing next her, dressed head to toe in a black, leather skin tight cat suit with cat ears and a tail that moved. Her hands were the only thing not covered. She scooted around Sadie’s seat to sit down and cross her longs legs showing her deadly looking spiked stiletto lace up boots with silver heels. She sipped a pink drink and tossed her curly blond hair over her shoulder.
“He is cute. You should get to know him better,” Lida suggested. “Before one of those bitches over there tries to snap him up.”
Lida glared at the group of half shifted werewolves females were congregated in the corner looking like an awful mix of fur and fashion colliding and not quite working out.
“Oh I don’t know…” Sadie’s voice trailed off not sure what to say. She was so new the paranormal aspect of life. Was there some sort of etiquette in befriending a shifter male? She wondered.
“Don’t worry about offending anybody,” Lida said as if reading her mind, “We paras date who we want when we want. End of story. So go on, flirt, have fun otherwise I’ll embarrass you. Do you really want me to do that?” Lida’s perfectly plucked eyebrow rose in question. Sadie shook her head as she remembered her first day at the shop where Lida had introduced to her every attractive, available and straight male client as her new mortal assistant who was single and on the prowl. Admittedly, Sadie had never gotten so many phone numbers in her life but still it was embarrassing.
“I thought so. Go on, shoo, shoo. I have some entrees to devour and Devon, the birthday boy hasn’t gotten his spanking yet.” Lida rose and wobbled a little before righting herself and tottering off.
Sadie looked over to the drink area and took in Crispin again. She studied him very carefully and smiled. He looked like just the type of guy she went for, cute but there was an underling mischievous streak there. He seemed genuinely nice and she was comfortable around him.
“I do want to get to know him,” she said aloud.
“So do I.”
She shrieked and looked to her left then her right and saw no one. After a second just the head of man with a mop of curly ink black hair, pale skin and black eyes floated next to her.
“Too bad I don’t have a body and I don’t think he’s in to men,” the floating head sighed. “Good luck.”
He then vanished from sight and Sadie felt uneasy all over again.
“I saw what happened. Sorry about that. Someone says Halloween and all the ghosties and ghoulies come running. Here, this should help ease your nerves.” Crispin handed her a glass and she took it and drank the contents down, wincing at the after burn.
“Whoa, slow down. There’s more where that came from. Come on, let’s go outside. Despite the brats from the Magickal Academy screwing the weather we should be fine.” He held out his hand and she took it.
“Okay, but promise not to go all furry, please? The full moon is tonight and…”
He interrupted her. “Don’t worry about that. Come on. I want to get to know you better.”
Crispin pulled her out of the house and into the spacious backyard. The first thing she saw was the forest dusted in silver by the moonlight as small white petals fell from the sky.
“Oh my God! Wow!” Sadie whirled around laughing at the unbelievable sight.
“Looks like someone thought to combine Spring Flowers with snow fall.”
A soft floral perfume, the fragrance of which she had never smelled before swirled around her and she giggled.
“This a better experience than the paranormal parade in there?” Crispin asked.
She nodded. “It was just so overwhelming. I’m still getting used to all of this. I come from a small town where the population of paranormal beings is three, a family of werebats, that only come out at night. Good people but very hard to get to know.” She laughed.
“So, where are you from?”
“You’ve never heard of it, I promise you, it’s a small town down south.” Sadie bent down and picked up a petal, brushing the softness over her palm.
“Do you miss it?”
“Mysterious. I like that. So what brings a beautiful human like you to Vampiropolis?”
Sadie turned and looked at him and she began to laugh. “Are you trying to charm me?”
“No and don’t change the subject. Why did you come here of all places. There are other paranormal cities you could have gone to. Hell one has flying carpets. Why this one?”
“What is this, twenty questions?” She laughed.
“Answer the questions or give me something to work with otherwise I won’t have to interrogate you. Goddess, getting information from you is like pulling teeth,” he groaned.
She giggled and walked over to him.
“I came here for a job opportunity and a new start. I left behind a bad relationship and an overbearing family. I just wanted to break free of all that. Your turn. Why is a handsome werewolf like yourself hanging out with a boring mortal like me?”
“Well, I think this mortal is beautiful and interesting and better company than the rowdy bunch in there.” Just as he spoke the sound of shattering glass pierced the air and curses could be heard coming from inside.
They both laughed.
“And outside is much quieter than inside. Also, I’m single, no children, never been married and I have a good job as baker for Magickal Sweets. Anything else I left out?” Crispin took a drink. His eyes glittered with amusement causing her to smile.
“Do you live with your mother?” She asked, deciding to play along.
“No, no and no, I could never…I’d never hear the end of it.” He leaned into her, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I’m a bit of a slob but don’t tell Sadie that otherwise, how will I get her to come back to my apartment with me?”
“Presumptuous much?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I can be very charming and persuasive.”
“Really, when do I get to see this charming, persuasive side of you?”
“You’ll have to go out with me to see.” Crispin reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She landed with a soft oomph against his hard body. Tilting her head up, she smiled at him, her body warm. She felt so relaxed she could fall asleep. But not yet. First she wanted a kiss. As if reading her mind he bent his head down.
“You know,” he whispered, his breath fanning her lips. “I don’t normally do this.”
“Do what?” she asked.
“Kiss someone I barely know.”
“You haven’t kissed me yet,” she replied.
“Let’s rectify that.”
The kiss was soft, sweet and gentle. The tip of his tongue traced the seam of her lips and she sighed, allowing him entrance. The heat inside of her blazed to life starting from her stomach and spread. Sadie rose up on tip toe, wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her body full against his.
He groaned and slid his hands down to her ass, cupping the full mounds. Crispin ground his erection against her stomach causing liquid heat to pool in her aching cunt. The kiss morphed into a demanding bumping of teeth and scraping of lips. He rocked his body against her, mimicking the act of sex, sending arousal shooting through her system. Her cunt clenched and she groaned wanting to take this to another level.
She jumped and he held onto her tightly. They both looked up to find fireworks in jewel tones exploding in the sky. Sadie watched amazed, only to start shrieking as it began to rain tiny glass beads on them.
Crispin laughed. “I take it, its fate’s way of saying go slow. So what do you say how about an actual date tomorrow night, say seven? You work with Lida so I can pick you up from the boutique.”
Sadie grinned, “Seven it is and don’t get presumptuous.”
He stole another kiss. “Time to go inside. Why don’t I drive you home? You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”
Crispin stepped back and took her hand and led her back into the house. All in all this was the best day Sadie’d had since she first got to Vampiropolis. Things were looking up.

I/R Author Selena Illyria was born with an overactive imagination. She loves to write stories featuring futuristic cities that can only be imagined, visit island kingdoms of vampires/dragons, giggle with mischievous pixies, peek in on faeries looking for their mates, check up on the naughty staff of an exclusive academy, and sigh over how in love a powerful business exec is with his wife. She can't wait to write stories with her talented, creative and wonderful CPs, Celia Kyle and Shara Cooper.

When she's not writing, she loves to read books of many different genres. She also loves to watch some of her favorite movies (too many to be named) and television shows. She also loves to listen to some of her favorite musical artists. All of these things help inspire her to write.

If you’d like to know more about her, you can visit her website, blog, My Space page, and The Pink Chair Diaries. You can email her at

Check out her Changeling Press Author Page!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

Gothic Antebellum Homes and Vampires by Mary Winter

One of the iconic images out of a Halloween horror movie is the antebellum mansion standing against a slate-color storm-tossed sky. Lightning streaks overhead and monsters lurk beneath. That’s the location where Portia Fenton finds herself when she inerhits a home from a great aunt she barely knew. Except in this case, the monster really does live in the basement, and he’d much rather do other things than kill her. Unless, of course, it’s la petite mort.
I wanted to use that image of a stormy night and an abandoned old house in one of my older books, Willed and Waiting, from Changeling Press. I hope you like my take on an old gothic trope and that you find a little bit of Halloween in May.


When Portia Fenton inherits an antebellum mansion from her great aunt in Tennessee, she knows it will change her life. She doesn’t realize how much until she meets Rody Aylor, Myrtlewood’s hunky handyman. All she wants is a chance to get away from New York City and start a new life. She never imagined a man whose kisses take her breath away and whose touch leaves her hungry for more.
Rody Aylor expects Portia to be a dour old maid like Clara. He doesn’t expect her to be the woman who can break his curse. A young woman to love him — and perhaps to free him. With Portia he hungers, for her body and her blood. And in night after night of dizzying passion, he takes her. He hopes one day he can convince her he’s been willed to her, and he’s waiting for her to set him free.



Outside, thunder rumbled. Portia shivered. “You must be cold,” she said, her hands reaching for her waistband. “Here, let me warm you up.” She wriggled out of her jeans and barely-there lace panties, then snuggled under the covers.
She swore he growled. The rasp of a zipper filled the air. His jeans whooshed to the floor, revealing Rory in all his glory. Long, muscled legs, a thick cock, her mouth watered just looking at him. She reached from beneath the blanket and crooked her fingers at him. A bit presumptuous of her to crawl into his bed. The storm outside made her think of being buried under the blankets, hiding from the dark.
Rory leaned forward. He curled his fingers around the blankets and pulled them back. He stared at her lying in his bed, her skin pale against his dark wine-colored sheets. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he pressed his knee against it. Leaning over, he reverently touched her. Fingers spanned across her skin, feather-light touches along her shoulder, over the slope of her breasts, and down, across her flat stomach.
Tiny fires flared along her skin. Restless, she moved her legs, parting them, hoping he saw the glistening juices on her labia. Her lips parted. Her panting breaths echoed in the room.
A rumble of thunder shook the house.
She shivered. She couldn’t help it, and then he was there, his body hot and hard above her. Bracing his weight on his arms, shielding her from the storm outside. His protective action ignited one deep inside her, and she longed to feel her nipples rasping against his hair-roughed chest. She threaded her fingers through his hair, combing the silken strands away from his face. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she buried her face against his chest and licked his salty skin.
His groan vibrated through her body like her best silver bullet. Her clit hummed. A scrape of her teeth demanded he take her, his cock against her slick folds telling her he was more than capable of doing it. She lifted her face and kissed him. Lips parted, she plunged her tongue into his mouth, a carnal mating of lips and flesh that stole the breath from her lungs.
She wanted to crawl inside him and never come out. Another rumble of thunder shook the house. Down here she heard less of the violent storm outside. Thick curtains kept the flashes of lightning from the windows. And yet she sensed it, a tang of ozone in the air, a hunkering down of man and beast, waiting for the storm to pass. Everywhere Rory touched he ignited a new storm, the kind that stole her breath and left her aching and needy in ways she’d never been before. No man, not the rich businessmen or bohemian artisans she’d dated in New York had left her like this. It thrilled her.
Her heels pressed into the backs of his thighs. His cock slid along her slick folds. She canted her hips, trying to urge his head inside her.
“Easy,” he crooned. “We have all night.”
“I want you now,” she countered, the New York woman determined to get what she wanted coming to the fore. She inched her heels higher until they pressed into his ass, her thighs as open as they could be.
Rory skimmed his hand down her side to cup her hip. His fingers curled into the flesh of her ass and he stilled the pumping of her hips. Reaching behind him, he grabbed her wrist and pinned it on the pillow above her head. “You want fucked, we’re doing it my way.”
“Yes,” she hissed as he lowered his mouth to nip her neck. Portia whimpered. Where had he come from, this handyman who worked at the mansion? The hell with the house, she’d take the man holding her to the blanket. He shifted on her, the head of his cock probing her entrance. She started to lift her hips. His grip tightened and he stilled her.
“Wait,” he ordered.
Portia mewled with frustration. She inched her heels higher, pressed them deeper into his hard gluteus muscles and managed to deepen the penetration. Just a little. Just enough to frustrate her and leave her panting with need and desire. Why wouldn’t this man just fuck her?
He released her hip and grabbed her other wrist. Pulling it above her head, he transferred both of them into one hand. He reared off of her and looked down. Her hands secured above her head, held by his strong grip, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Portia imagined what she looked like, a woman ready for a good tumble. She grinned.
“Like what you see?”
“God, yeah.” His husky admission sent shivers down her spine. His eyes flashed, nearly red in the dim light.
“Rory?” Suddenly uncertain she lay limp in his grip. His cock barely filled her, a teasing hint of pleasures to come. And yet, for an instant, she thought he hadn’t been a man at all, but something different, more. Better?
His lips descended on hers. Thoughts of his eyes, of what she might have seen, fled under the sensual onslaught of his kiss. He suckled her lower lip. Drawing it into his mouth, he nibbled on her like she was the finest gourmet candy he’d ever tasted. The slow seduction made her think of a death by a thousand bites. If he kept this up, she’d be gone after just a few.
His lips trailed over her chin, her neck, until he once more found the pulse point that beat so rapidly against her skin. He nipped.
Portia moaned. She arched against him, moving restlessly against his body. His cock still barely penetrated her, made her think of the long, slow screw he could give her. Or a hard, fast fucking. At this point, she didn’t care. She only knew one thing could cure the relentless ache in her body. Rory.

Bonnie Rose Lee

When I first started writing, I didn’t gravitate toward contemporary romance, or even romantic suspense. In fact, paranormal romance was and still is my passion. I got hooked on this genre by reading Dark Prince by Christine Feehan. After finding her series, I started devouring anything I could find both in print and online that would explain some of the legends that I could see in print.
I wanted—no, needed—to write in this genre. Then I found one legend that intrigued me. It stated that if a Werewolf wasn’t stabbed through the heart before being buried, then they’d rise as vampire during the next full moon. Thus began the basis of my Protector’s series. Although I’ve written many series now, they’re all based on the paranormal and I don’t expect that to ever change—at least not completely.
Now, I’m pleased to announce that the fifth book in the Serenity series, Two for Twila was released earlier this week. Here’s a bit of information about my new release:

Two for Twila
Serenity Series, Book 5
By Bonnie Rose Leigh
copyright 2009, eXtasy Books
Genre: Vampire, Shapeshifter, Menage (M/M/F), Series, Tarot, Paranormal
Available May 15th



Single mother Twila Wakefield spends her days working at her family’s diner and her evenings caring for her precious daughter. But when her daughter’s nightmares turn out to be real life tragedies, she doesn’t know who to turn too. And when her daughter Emily disappears out of her bed, Twila has no choice but to call on her child’s father for help locating her. Damian Santiago, the panther shifter who left town as soon as he graduated high school without ever knowing Emily existed, had connections she’d need if she ever hoped to see her daughter again.

Leaving Serenity and his mate Twila right out of High School had been the most difficult decision, Damian had ever had to make. He’d vowed to one day return strong enough in mind and body to claim his mate and build a future with her. When his partner, Antonio Grazioso, a vampire gets word that Twila’s daughter is missing, a piece of his soul cries out at the injustice, for Twila’s daughter should have been his.

Together, Damian and Antonio travel to Serenity to find Twila’s child only to discover that Damian isn’t Twila’s only mate–Antonio is too. When secrets are revealed and mysteries solved, can Twila trust herself and her daughter to two Alpha men who may not stick around?


Friday, May 15, 2009

Samhain Memories from a Solitary Druid, by Mychael Black

I'm all for celebrating Samhain. It's my favorite holiday, but not for the candy or the costumes or the decorations. For me, it's an anniversary, and this year – 2009 – it marks five years. On Samhain night, in 2004, I dedicated myself to Cernunnos as a solitary Druid.

Since that night, I've welcomed the Archangel Michael into my worship with open arms, and now I follow them both as my dual gods. (A little trivia: Michael was a Chaldean god before he became an Archangel.)

It's been an interesting five years. In that time, I've gone through many things in my life. Yet through it all, my faith in my gods has remained strong. Samhain is my time to commune with them on the closest level possible.

On Samhain, the veils between the worlds are at their thinnest. Many people remember and honor their ancestors, inviting them to join in their circles and rituals. I've done so myself in the past. It brings with it a warmth that no words can describe. The love and protection are strong and ever-present, and even more so when communing with one's gods.

Clove has always been my incense of choice on Samhain. Its richness calms me, helps me to open my mind in ways that I'm generally too stressed to do otherwise. Even now, as I sit and type this, all I need to do is close my eyes and breathe in to smell and feel the clove filling me. (What can I say? I touch-type.)

This year, Samhain is going to be difficult due to space and other issues. But rest assured: where there's a will, there's a way. And on Samhain night, I will join my fellow pagans (even if only in spirit) in honoring our ancestors and our gods.

BLOOD AND FIRE by Mychael Black

Jason Summerfield is a lead singer of a local metal band and an all-around, love 'em and leave 'em type of guy. He's also pyrokinetic. Strong emotions can literally start a fire with him, so he's always struggled to hold emotions back, unwilling to let his "gift" harm anyone. So far, one-night stands have been the answer.
Then along comes Julian Kristados, a man who turns Jason's world upside down. When he's with Julian, Jason finds it impossible to control his fire. When the truth comes out as to why Julian remains unscathed, Jason doesn't know whether to run... or let the man into his heart.


Blood & Fire
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2009 Mychael Black
This e-book file contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language which some may find offensive and which is not appropriate for a young audience. Changeling Press E-Books are for sale to adults, only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.


The lightest touch and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I turned my head and looked up at the man standing beside me, an expression of genuine concern on his youthful face. I gave him a weak smile; it was all I could do.

"Dude, you okay?"

I wiped my hands down my face and sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

"The other band is finishing. You sure you're up for this?"

I glanced at him from between the fingers spread across my face. "Not like I have much choice." He shrugged and smiled sympathetically. "How much longer?"

"They're on their last song now. Then we'll have a fifteen minute break before we have to go on. You look like shit. Want a drink or something?"

I stood and stretched. "Sure. What's out there?"

He grinned. "Whatever you want. Terri said drinks are on her tonight."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Pritchard isn't here, is he?"

"How'd ya guess?"

"All right, gimme a minute and I'll be out there," I said. As he turned and started out the door, I called to him. "Oh, and Mike, tell Terri I want vodka."

Mike grinned and left.

I turned back to the emptiness of the meager dressing room, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and grimaced. "Fuck. Make that a gallon of vodka."

Mike was right; I looked horrible. I didn't sound much better either. I grabbed my hairbrush and worked out the tangles I had managed to incur during our last set. I loved being the main act, but damn, I just wanted to go home tonight.

Go home to what, Jase? An empty bed? To stare up at the ceiling again?










Thursday, May 14, 2009

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Stargazing with Anne Kane

When I was young, I used to wish I had special powers. I devoured fantasy and science fiction novels from the local library faster than they could get them in stock. I especially loved the “historical fantasies.” You know the kind, set back in the days of knights and kings and druids and witches. And dragons, but then that’s a whole other topic. LOL. Several times, I ran across references to the powers of the Earth’s ley lines. I didn’t quite understand what they were, but the thought of bands of power running from point to point beneath the surface of the earth always intrigued me. I wondered if there was some truth to the stories. I imagined how the witches would be able to sense the ley lines and use them. Perhaps because I wished I were one of them, I assumed that the people who would have this awesome talent would be female.

The last time Halley’s Comet made it’s once –in-a-lifetime approach to earth, my husband and I got up in the middle of the night and drove to our favorite lookout point at the summit of a local mountain. As I stood there, wrapped in a blanket against the cold, I looked up in awe at the vast array of stars twinkling above me. Watching the comet streak across the night sky with its tail blazing out behind it, I was reminded of how small and insignificant we are in the vastness of the universe. It was an amazing night; one I’ll never forget.

Last Halloween the weather was clear and chilly out here in the mountains. I stood on my deck, gazing up at the stars, and remembered that night. I recalled my meager science lessons from high school, and how the gravitational pulls of the planets and stars affected the orbits of each other and all the heavenly bodies. The kids running around in their witches costumes reminded me of those long ago stories of witches and ley lines, and I wondered about the planets and stars. Do invisible lines of power connect them? What were the chances that a female born in Earths distant future, would have the ability to see those lines, to tap into their energy and use it? What would that woman be like? It would take a strong person to harness that kind of power. What type of man would she love, and what male would be confident enough in his own power to love such a woman? Thus was born my new series with Changeling Press – Stargazers.

Currently I have four books contracted- Wanton, Willful, Wild and Wayward. Wanton was released March 13th 2009. Willful will be out on May 15th. Wild and Wayward are scheduled to be released in July and September, respectively.

In honor of Belinda’s Halfway to Halloween celebration, I’ll give a free PDF copy of Stargazers 2- Willful to one lucky reader. To enter, all you have to do is comment on this Blog post.

Happy Reading!
Anne Kane
Sci –Fi and Fantasy with a sensual twist!

ISBN (13): 978-1-60521-180-0
Genres: Futuristic, Paranormal, Sci-Fi
Themes: Menage, Magic and Mayhem
Release Date: May 15, 2009
Author: Anne Kane
Publisher URL Changeling Press - Erotic Fiction
Born both a Stargazer and Daughter-Heir to the throne of New Zanadles, Jazlyn is used to a life of pampered luxury. But when the planet runs into financial trouble, her father agrees to bind her to a five-year term of service aboard a vessel with two very virile interplanetary merchants.
Her leisurely life is replaced by a whirlwind of Intergalactic Council intrigues and the lusty attentions of her new employers, but when space pirates attack, a routine delivery turns into a deadly struggle for control of the ship.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back. She let her consciousness expand out into the cold void of space, seeking the brilliant energy that signified the ley lines. Behind her closed lids, the lines shimmered into view, their seductive energy calling to her. The blues and green were darker in this quadrant, clearer in the absence of man-made clutter, but they still formed that glittering maze that tempted her to immerse herself in its power. She ignored the temptation, searching amongst the strands for the one she needed to follow to reach their destination. She examined each, discarding one after the other. Instinct would tell her when she’d found what she needed. Greens. Golds. Blues. The lines were seductive, tempting her to lose herself in their beauty. Still, she searched.

And then she found it. The line that would lead her to the Globar system. She narrowed her focus, concentrating on that one line, drawing the twinkling energy into herself, and using her hands to direct it to the massive engines of the ship. Dimly, she felt the vibrations as the ship began to move through space, picking up speed as she strengthened the flow of power, acting as a human conductor.

She reveled in the feel of the energy coursing through her body, captured by her, controlled by her. The temptation was there, always at the back of her mind, to draw more and more power until there was no going back. She’d merge completely with the brilliant energy of the lines, become one with that incredible maze. It became harder and harder to resist. Every time she channeled the power, she hesitated just a fraction of a second longer before letting it go. She’d always used her father to anchor her to this life -- to reach out to if the temptation were too great.

But he wasn’t here.

Time had no meaning in her trance. The power flowed through her to the engines in a steady stream, and she remained passive, letting it use her. Dimly, she was aware of planets, stars and the other heavenly bodies as they came within range, only to disappear as the ship hurtled toward its destination.

It could have been nanosecs or whole solar days before she sensed her destination approaching. Reluctantly, she let some of the power slip away, loosening her hold on the line. She could feel the engine slow as she came out of the trance. Her body sagged against the harness as fatigue overtook her. When the auxiliary power kicked in, she emerged completely, and exhaustion slammed into her. She opened her eyes to find Bryce striding toward her, concern plowing deep furrows into his handsome brow.

“How long...” Her voice cracked and she couldn’t finish. She must have held the power longer than she’d intended. She felt spent, every last ounce of her reserves drained.
“Too long. Why the hell didn’t you let go before this?” Bryce’s hands were gentle as he unbuckled the restraints. When she would have fallen, he lifted her in his arms and dragged a blanket over her naked body. “You scared the hell out of me. Don’t you ever do that again!”
Jazlyn smiled weakly at the rough affection in his voice. Typical male, he seemed to think he had the right to give her orders. “I’m a Stargazer. I don’t take orders from merchant captains.”
“So this is what you do when I’m not around.” Jazlyn started as Tyler’s deep voice boomed out cheerfully from the far side of the bridge. She peeked over Bryce’s shoulder. Tyler had one arm draped possessively around her cousin.

Mika smiled up at him with adoring eyes, before she turned a concerned look in Jazlyn’s direction. “Did you overdo it? You know your tutor warned you. Those lines can devour you whole if you’re not careful.”

“I’m fine.” She felt silly, held in Bryce’s arms like a small child while her cousin lectured her. “Just a little tired.”
“You can rest for a cycle before the next jump.” Tyler looked at the dark red planet visible on the observation screen. “That’s Makus 1 off to our left. We stocked up on supplies before we left New Zanadles, so we don’t need to dock.” He glanced at his partner. “No need to alert any Council spies that we have a Stargazer on board.”

Bryce nodded. “I agree. I’ll take Jazlyn down to her cabin so she can get some rest. You secure the bridge and make sure we’re ready in case we have to power up in a hurry.”
“You two are so paranoid.” Mika ducked out from under Tyler’s arm. “I’ll come and take care of Jazlyn.”

“Not necessary.” Bryce met Jazlyn’s gaze, and she felt her cheeks go red. “I can take care of her.”

“She needs rest, my friend.” Tyler grinned. “Not your amorous attention.”

“And she’ll get it.” Bryce strode toward the doorway. “If you want to take care of someone, Mika, Tyler’s in need of some supervision.”

Mika laughed, the sound cheerful in the confines of the bridge. “Let him go, Tyler. I told you he’s smitten. My darling cousin has him wrapped around her little finger.”

Bryce threw the pair a quelling look and strode out the doorway, Jazlyn held firmly against his heart.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Belinda's Winner for May 10 is...

Becky! She's won a download of one of my Changeling books! Congratulations, and everyone, please keep coming back!

Also, be sure that there is a way I can contact you, if you don't have an email attached to your profile, be sure to put it in your comment!


Sunday, May 10, 2009

Behind the story: Belle Starr

When I started writing, I'd initially decided to not write paranormals and shapeshifter stories. Not because I don't like them, but the genre is so well represented by so many excellent writers, that I just didn't feel adequate.

Then late one night, I was awakened by a commotion outside my window. I have Siberian Huskies, and while I rarely breed them, they still keep trying to get away with "doing it" without my permission. Well, Logan and Echo had managed to get out of their respective kennels and yards, and met under my window. Withing seconds, they'd tied and all I could do was damage control.

I ran out and ended up sitting in the mud and rain for a half-hour, watching that the other dogs didn't hurt them. Well, an idea came to mind (you'll find it in Belle Starr) and I thought, wow, I spend my life with a primitive, wolf-like breed. I spend time with wolves and hybrids for rescue and relocation...who better to do a shifter book? Belle Starr is the result of that night.

Here's an excerpt from Belle Starr:


AUTHOR: Belinda McBride




WARNINGS: Anal sex, spanking


Marshal Annabelle “Cowgirl” Oakley is the best law enforcement officer in Interstellar Coalition Enforcement. With her wolf Tucker at her side, Belle is clearly the best man for the job. Unfortunately, the job comes with hazards, and one of those hazards comes in the shape of tall, mysterious Armand.

Armand de le Croix is a werewolf with amnesia. He has no idea how he came to be living in Coalition space, he doesn’t know where his people are, or why his inky black hair is now snowy white. He just knows that the tall, dangerous redhead is all that he wants, and he means to have her.

When they meet, it’s magic. When they part, its mayhem.


“Over, bébé.” His voice was grim.

She moved back quickly, suddenly aware of what he had planned.

“Oh no…no way, Armand!” She was back on her bottom, scrambling away quickly, unable to rise to her feet before he was on her once again.

“You ran. I caught you. I win, bébé!”

“No. Fucking. Way.”

She was on her feet, but before she’d taken more than a few steps, he lunged forward, grabbing her by one shapely ankle. She landed facedown, squealing as he pulled her along the slick floor.

“Knees, Belle. Bottom up!”

Once again, a wet finger penetrated her anus, spreading moisture and lubrication. She twisted, flipping onto her back, but again, he pulled her back to position.



A loud crack echoed through the bay, and in shock, she froze, feeling the fire of his handprint on his ass. Belle shrieked, Armand laughed, and once more, she flipped and twisted, slipping from his grasp.

Once more on her feet, she made it halfway to the stairs before he caught her, lifting her by the waist. Again, she ended up on the pile of blankets in the middle of the floor. He set her on her knees, arms tightly around her waist.

“Submit, bébé.”

“Fuck. You!”

Another fiery hot spank scored her ass, followed by another. She twisted against the sting, and then suddenly found herself confronted by another unspeakable torment. Fingers gripped her thigh, just above her knee.

She fought, struggled, and broke into a gale of laughter. “Stop! Oh God, please, Armand!” He quickly moved from her knee to her ribs, and she threw herself forward, trying to escape his tickling fingers. “Armand! Please!”


“Fine! Fine, I submit! You win. This time.”

“Bottom up, Belle.”

Still shaking with giggles, Belle positioned herself, allowing Armand to supervise her placement on the musty blankets. Once again, fingers invaded her ass. Armand dragged his cock through her channel, coming away wet and slick.

“You loved that, didn’t you? Me hunting you?”

“Fuck you, Armand.”

He chuckled, leaning forward to kiss and then nip at the tender skin on her back. With gentle strokes, he ran his hand down her back and around to her belly, cradling the small swell there.

“We won’t be able to do this much longer; your body won’t accept it.”

“Well, boo-hoo for that.” She gasped when his fingers slipped from her anus to be replaced by the flare of his cockhead, pressing insistently.

“Push out… Relax…”

She took a deep breath and followed his instructions. He was gentle, pressing steadily, only giving what she could take.

He drew back, prompting a groan from Belle. Armand paused, his hand gathering moisture from her channel, keeping himself slick. His own lube was now flowing steadily, and she glanced back to see him pumping his cock, spreading the precum over his length.

Once again he pressed in, finally able to penetrate to his full length. And then he was seated fully. He leaned forward, holding onto her tightly.

“I’ve missed you, Belle. Every minute of every day. I’ve dreamed of holding you, loving you. Watching our baby grow.”

“Then why did you leave?”

Belle Starr will be available May 12 at Loose Id.