SUMMARY: Sometimes seduction is not as simple as you might think. I've been running from Jared ever since I escaped CORE. They partnered me with him for years. Now he's shown up to make me disappear. If only that'd been all he'd intended for me... He was a machine. A ruthless trained killer with an expertise in torture and seduction. A dangerous mix, I thought. I'd loved him once but soon realized that he was a sociopath. Incapable of real emotion. Exceptionally skilled in making others suffer. When I'd escaped CORE, I'd escaped him. Or so I'd hoped. But Jared is an expert hunter. An optimal predator. And I've become his favorite prey. TEASER: Pete and I were laughing. Exchanging friendly conversation. When suddenly Pete's eyebrows shot up as he stared at something above and behind me. No. I thought. I'd seen that look on many men's faces. The look of horror and fear that'd appear when they glimpsed the hugely formidable frame and deeply lowered brow of Jared. Especially when he was of a mood to be imposing. I ducked my head and my eyes slid to my right. Seeing a woman and her teenage daughter staring in my direction, with their jaws gaping. Mesmerized by the physique they were examining from top to bottom. On my left were three women staring openly. Their eyes shining as they hungrily licked their lips. Yep. Jared is behind me. Run! Without looking back, I slowly began to stand. Giving a smiling nod to Pete as if to excuse myself. But a large warm hand grabbing the back of my neck and applied pressure to the sides in a precise way that made me dizzy, stopped me in my tracks. Pressure points. "Do excuse me." Jared purred. Talking to Pete. "I'd like to talk to my wife." "You're wife?" Pete asked in shock. An appalled stare landing on me. "Yes," That hand lightly massaged my neck. His fingertips brushing my collarbone in a way that made me shiver. His touch was blatantly possessive. "I am her husband, afterall." "Ex!" I proclaimed. Trying to salvage the situation. Sort of. We weren't together anymore... I hadn't lied to Pete. Merely neglected to mention a few things. "Ex-husband." I cleared my throat. Earning a sharp, blue-eyed look from Jared. "Not hardly." He drawled coldly. Leaning over to whisper near my ear. "Care to join me in the restroom?" I had no choice. He was telling me, he'd take me right out of this restaurant kicking and screaming. And kill anyone who got in his way. I knew well, he was ruthless enough to do it. Someone has to help me. I thought. Looking around the restaurant in panic. Slowly reaching for my clutch in an effort to stall, caused him to catch it in his big hand and set it back on the seat. "You won't need that." He knows my gun is in it. Dammit. He swept his large hand beneath my hair and to my lower back to turn me in a circle and guide me across the room. Making sure that purse stayed well from my reach. Clever bastard is making sure I can't get out of his reach before he gets ahold of me. I was breathing heavily. My eyes pleading for everyone, anyone, to help me. But they all just stared jaw agape. I tensed and prepared to round and run but his grip changed from my lower back to stroking my long hair. "Keep walking, Sweetheart." He murmured. "Almost there..." It was a clear threat. If I tried to bolt, he'd grab my hair and drag me to those restrooms. Or straight out to my car and force me to tell him where I lived. I'd finally found a place he didn't know about. I needed to keep it secret. He pushed open the men's bathroom. Nodding for me to enter. As though he were just holding it for me out of some gentlemanly gallantry. Not even close. he jerked his head in a gesture for the other men to get out. Sending them scurrying and zipping at the same time. I have to get out of here. One look at the ferocity on his face and the muscle ticking in his square jaw was enough. But combined with the icy blue eyes landing on me, and I knew what he intended for me. "Jared, I..." "You, nothing." He snapped acidly. "Who the fuck is that?" He gestured toward the door. "We're over. You know that." I said slowly. Trying not to incite him further but to convey the message. Hoping he'd just leave me alone. "Not a chance." His lip curled in contempt. "You'll pay for that shit." He's still talking about Pete. "Damn right I am." He descended on me and I backed up so fast, one of my high heels broke. I looked down at it considering using it as a weapon. "Don't bother." He shoved me back. Not roughly but certainly enough to send me flying. I tumbled through the swinging metal door of the lone stall. How had he maneuvered me here? I looked at the three walls. Turning a full circle and looking at the back wall then over the top. "You'll never make it." His wide shoulders blocked out the light of the open stall. He'd just finished rolling up the sleeves of his black satin shirt and was now undoing his belt. For a terrifying moment I wondered if he'd hit me with it. "Don't be stupid." He bit out in annoyance. I hated that he always seemed to know what I was thinking. I kicked off my shoes. His eyes flicked down to watch before gesturing to my body. "Good. Now the dress." "Go fuck yourself!" I put one foot on the toilet and launched up to the top of the wall. Catching it with my elbows and hoisting myself up. I'm going to make it. He didn't have time to react. I was too fast. But I felt his grip on my skirt yanking me down of the wall. I shrieked as I tumbled backward. He caught me in his arms in a bridal carry. Yelling as though his touch scathed me I launched from his grip and found myself straddling the toilet as I braced myself in the corner. Determined to not let him get to me. "To your pretty little hole, you mean." His eyes narrowed. "Stop these games, Mida. I'll have you. One way or the other. You can make it easy or rough on yourself. Either way, I'm happy to accommodate."

The dark compilation of tales which take an uncomfortable turn. And others based on ancient lore, come to life. BOOK 1 - The Masquerade BOOK 2 - The Wrong One BOOK 3 - She Belongs to Me BOOK 4 - Nightmare Man

SUMMARY: We all know what she is. Impossible to catch. Every Mating Moon they all hunt for her. Her tiny leather robes leave little to the imagination and we'd all like to feel her to sate our primal need to breed. But damn her ability to spark when threatened. But I've a plan this year. I've watched her every move and now I'm ready to put the plot I've carefully nurtured into effect. Within hours I plan to be sinking into her warm body and sating my insatiable appetite. Afterall, she's not the only one with magic in this pack. That's why they call me Magus. TEASER: She was soon moaning from her own stroking. She came. Opening her mouth on a pleasured moan. That was the finishing moment for me. Her complete surrender of her throat so I could spill my seed deep into her. She glared at me. And I knew she'd spit it out so I only withdrew to rest the head of my cock on her tongue until she swallowed. "Good, little wretch." I stroked her cheek. "Ready for more?" She shook her head adamantly. "Please, My Magus. I'm already sore." "Good!" I smiled pleased. "I want you too sore to walk." I lifted her up and walked her over to the table. Kicking my pants aside as we reached the table, I tossed her facedown over it. Like she'd teased me days ago. I laid along her back. "Feel familiar?"

SUMMARY: This was not the Christmas I was hoping for. I've hardly seen my boyfriend, Alex. Odd things have been happening in my house ever since I saw those tracks coming from the woods. I have the feeling I'm being watched. And I'm getting the sense that someone isn't willing to let me go... TEASER: "Alex!" I cried. He didn't answer me. "How long have you been home?" "I've been here awhile." I snickered. Accidentally snorting. "So, you heard most of that then?" He didn't miss a beat. Walking straight toward the bedroom. I could only catch his handsome profile in the dark. "I missed you, you know?" I whispered conspiratorially. "I missed you too." "You putting me to bed?" He tilted his head grudgingly. "Of a sort." "Weird thing to say." I frowned. "Well, I have dark plans before you sleep." "Oh..." I said sagely. Before sing-songing. "You wanna do me." "All day. Every day." "Horny bastard." "You've no idea." I saw his teeth in the dark and knew he was laughing at me. I batted his chest. "Don't laugh at me dick." "Alright..." He chuckled. "I'll try not to." "Hey," I tried to sound serious. "You spiking my wine?" "Yes." "Ha ha." I laughed. He was so rarely playful I was rather enjoying it. "And for what purpose?" "To bang you, Baby."

SUMMARY: I was forced into an engagement with some withered old fool I'd never meant and didn't want. So I thought myself quite the defiant little Miss when I teased a masked lord at the Ball. But once he'd lured me out to my aunt's Guest House, I found he was very different from the plaything sir that had seemed so charming a short time ago. He was bent on ruining me. My choice was simple. To let him have me and he'd keep it a secret. Or fight him and he'd publicly ruin me. Ensuring my new fiance knew precisely what manner of woman I was. Really no choice at all... TEASER: My hands fell to my sides in shock, and he took advantage of the moment to step forward and jerk the shoulders of my dress down to my elbows. Baring my shoulders and breasts to his hungry view. He took in the sight of my golden-brown skin and dark nipples, born down by the weight of the plump bits of flesh. His hands snatched my waist so fast I nearly leapt from my skin. Causing those large breasts to swing like pendulums. And one to brush the back of his hand. Making him growl in his throat. "Now this...Is more as it should be." He pushed the pile of clothes at my waist down further. Catching the waist of all my undergarments by adjusting his fingers minutely. Clearly an expert at stripping women bare. Slipping my clothes down, revealed the outer width of my ripe hips before it slid down the length of my shapely legs. He leaned down by my feet to make sure the clothes were gathered there. So, everything is visible to his eye. I reflexively crossed my arms over my chest. Hooking my neck on the opposite sides in my palm. Hoping that the shadows of the dim room would hide the curling red hair at the juncture of my sex. He straightened. "Mmmhmm. Look at all that flesh...I'm going to touch you everywhere, Circe. I won't miss an inch." For whatever reason, his words immediately dampened the spot between my plump thighs. Though my mind still worked frantically for an escape. A way out of this situation before he gets his hands on me! "Now, here." He caught my hands before I could move. I hissed an indrawn breath at the sudden contact of his large paws enveloping mine. He led my fingertips to the laces of his shirt. He put my hands over them and began plucking at the laces before his hands fell away and he gave me an expectant look. He wants me to undress him. Swallowing hard, I hesitated. Looking frantically around the Guest House but finding no reprieve. No escape. As if reading my thoughts, his face hardened. "There's no way out now, Little Circe. You're in too deep. And soon it'll be my turn..." Feeling helpless I unlaced his shirt and guided it open to reveal the flat planes of his upper chest. The thick bones of his collar and the deep muscles which grooved behind it. He rolled his shoulders and shrugged out of it. Tossing it a distance away to land over the armrest of the chair. Something he's clearly done before. Here? I suddenly wondered how many innocent young women he'd ruined in my Guest House. In-fact who the devil was he? "Who are you?" I blurted. "Ssh." He put a fingertip to my lips and pressed his toes over mine lightly. As if to keep me in place. "Bit late for that now, isn't it?" "I did ask for it before." I defended. Tugging slightly at my slippers but finding I could no longer move away. "And I said no then. What makes you think I'd change my mind now?" Absolutely nothing. I was very sure that this man was precisely as unrelenting as he seemed to be. What I'd thought at first to be amusing charm, I now realized carried an underlying severity. A single-pointed mission to seduce women like me. He gave me a long probing look as he methodically unbuckled his belt and let it drop. Next, he caught my wrist and rolled my hand into his palm. Molding the inside of his fingers. Then without blinking, without changing expression, he put it against the front of his breeches. Revealing the iron hard rod concealed there. My brown eyes widened to the size of saucers as I shot him a look. He massaged my hand over it, and I felt the flesh beneath the cloth expanding even further. I knew enough of the act from watching the house maids to fear I'd not be able to fit this particular bit of flesh. "I can't." I said urgently. Pleading for him to understand. Staring at me through hooded brown eyes he asked mercilessly, "Why?" "It'll not fit."

SUMMARY: Most nights the red-eyed monster came. Sucking my goats of their blood. And it seemed nothing I tried worked to dissuade it. So, I'd decided to hire a gunman with steady aim which could kill the beast. And save me, my ranch. But I never expected to find him attractive. I'd not found a man appealing in a long time. Not since my husband had left me two years ago. But in these desolate plains, nothing is ever as it seems. Who's the monster and who's the lover can quickly change. TEASER: The beast could see them in the darkness as clearly as if the sun shone high above. See the goats there in the pen. And it was hungry. Its slender stomach already rumbling. Ribs protruding as it starved for more of the animal's fluid. Its spine was ridged, curving upward like a swaying hill. Lurching down and back with each movement as the thing slunk closer to the pen on spindly legs. It walked on all fours with split front feet. Lurching forward it jogged like a dog toward the pen. Leaping the fence to sink its pin pricked teeth into the first goat it could reach. Dragging it to the ground before it could utter a scream. The animal flailed on its side, tossing its legs. While the bigger beast drained it. Until its front legs began jerking spasmically. He wouldn't kill this one. Not tonight. But he needed something to assuage the hunger. *** The next morning, I found one of my younger goats injured. The same neck wounds and its body ravaged from where something much larger had pinned it down to feed on it. It's enough. I went inside and slid, Old Bob's clanging coins off the table. Going to a small drawer tucked in the wall next to the stove I peered at what was inside and verified there was more coins there. Shoving it closed with a click, I stuck Old Bob's coins in the pocket of my dress and went around to saddle Maxine, my mare. Giving her heel, I headed for town. Looking for a gunslinger. With true aim. Who won't be scared of the monster hunting my flock. *** Once there, it didn't take long to find him. I could tell what he was from the moment he got off the train. A shawl draped loosely over his shoulder and a saddle in his hand. His hat was pulled low in the front. Usually, an indicator he was a Wanted Man. But I knew enough about gunslingers, to be sure that most of them were. Usually for killing someone they shouldn't have. Or someone with family that cared... I got into town and lifted the thin hood I kept over my pile of hair, to keep from drawing undue attention. My dress was the simple blue one I wore most days. I'd given it a thorough scrubbing last night, as well as myself and hoped I could present myself with a professional air. I stepped into his path.

SUMMARY: I was a lost cause. Neither human nor wolf but a bit of both. I was the first. The original. I began my race with a simple wish. Not realizing the curse it would become. I was a simple creature until I stumbled across the sorceress. A soulless enchantress. Willing to give me what I wanted in order to see my further suffering. I vowed I'd never have a mate. All I knew was endless pain, isolation and emptiness until the day I was gifted a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. The fiercest, most gorgeous, redheaded hellion. She's something straight from my nightmares. The very first thing that's made me feel anything in over a century. Which means I can never have her. Nothing more than one night of wild pleasure. Beyond that, I have to let her go. If she'll let me...

17 Rithra

So...I've been asked a few times, how I conceive my plots and draw them out, to create my intricate story lines. The answer is...Terribly. I do a terrible job of that. I've no formal schooling in writing, which I'm sure is painfully obvious to anyone who has. Everything I've learned, I learned by falling on my face. Which should, by all rights, qualify me as an expert at this point. Lol. I'm kidding. Truthfully, I've been very blessed. When I sat down, began, and listened to my fans, I've found my career bloomed in less than a year. From everything I've researched and read, that does seem to be rare. So I give them great credit for walking me along. I've no idea who I've offended, but I don't dwell much on it. I just keep moving forward. There are no sticky notes on my walls. Or roughly scribbled notes in countless notebooks on my desk. There's no special software I use. I wake up in the dead of night with an idea. Then I mold it in my head. A term, I affectionately dub as "mentally writing" when people ask me why I've gone quiet, staring at a leaf spinning like a top on the lawn. As I come up with another five or six ideas over the following weeks after I've constructed a plot, I refrain from beginning multiple unfinished projects by figuring out how to twist those ideas and incorporate them into the project I am already working on. If I have ideas for scenes or critical plot points that I realize I want to hit, I note them in the bottom of my word document (in chronological order) and work them into the story as I go. If nothing interesting has happened to my characters in a while. I toss in a wrench, for funsies. Then have them stay true to character in how they react to those obstacles. So in summary, as far as a structured plot...I have none. But that's no excuse to not ensure that your readers are granted an intriguing experience, a sense of true emotion and a euphoric feeling when things go well for said character. Character building and world building still need to be reached as I go. And the the character should stand true throughout the story I'm trying to tell the reader. So as the plot evolves, it has to become denser and show a depth of character and personality. If you have two dimensional character, you have a two dimensional tale to tell your readers. And truthfully, you and them know they deserve better. And...That's me climbing off my soapbox. Both explaining how I fail and how I dutifully endeavor to succeed all in one little chat. Until next time, happy reading!