Wednesday, October 31, 2012

*LAST CHANCE* #WickedAfteRDark #Halloween Blog Hop!

Happy Halloween, guys and ghouls! I'm so thrilled to have some wicked fun to share with you this week!

As for my giveaway--one commenter selected at random will received my entire Four Brothers Clan shifter series! Hope that satisfies your lust for paranormal erotic romance!

Here's a little peek at book four of the Four Brothers Clan series--Wolf at the Door

Ginger-colored locks spilled over his hand; Rémy gripped her throat. Her throat. One squeeze and he could end the evil plaguing his clan. The evil that had murdered so many of his pack, terrorized thousands more and held his brother Matéo comatose with dark magic. Yes, Rémy had the most powerful loup-garou witch ever born in his grasp. It was up to him to end her…and yet he hesitated.

It wasn’t the fear on her face; he’d seen the same fear from other enemies and still done his duty. 

It wasn’t her formidable powers because his brother, Aimé, held those at bay. She writhed in his grasp, but she would never break free of his clutches. In terms of the Ancient Arts, she was more skilled, but physically no one was stronger than Rémy des Quatre-Frères.

Tears filled her eyes. “Rémy, je te mendie—”

Through clenched teeth, he spat. “Do not speak the language of my people to beg for your life.”Rémy, please…please.”

He shook with rage, blood roaring in his ears. How could she? How had she deceived everyone?

One squeeze. His grip tightened on her throat. One more squeeze.
Please.” A teardrop slid down her cheek.

His fingers dug into her skin; she wheezed, struggling for breath Soon, there’d be no more pleas for mercy. A little more pressure and he’d crush her windpipe. Frothy spittle gathered at the corners of her mouth.

Rémy closed his eyes. Just a little tighter.

A stridor replaced her wheezing.

A little tighter. His eyes watered, his own throat constricting. He willed himself to kill her. But his hand refused cooperate.

With a roar, he released her, throwing her to the floor. She gasped for breath, choking and sputtering. Rémy smashed a chair against the wall.
Why?” he shouted, sinking to his knees. He grasped the collar of her blouse and pulled her face within an inch of his. Still battling for air, she tried to squirm out of his grasp.
Look at me,” he commanded, but he didn’t wait for her to comply. Shaking her, he forced her to meet his gaze. Her eyes were wide with terror, her breathing rapid and shallow.
Run,” he said. “I will give you one chance to run and never come back. You will release Matéo. You will leave my clan and my pack alone. If I see you again, I kill you. If you attack my people again, I kill you. If I catch your stink within a hundred miles of my empire, I kill you. 

She nodded, her lips quivering, but he wanted to hear her say it.
Do you understand me?”
Y-yes,” she croaked.

He released her and watched her scramble to her feet. Fleeing for the door, she clawed at the handle.
Rémy…are you sure?” Aimé helped his brother to his feet.
Yes. Let her go.”

Aimé waved a hand to break the spell he’d cast on her and opened the door. The moment she could, she shifted into a reddish-brown wolf and bounded away.
What if she comes back?” asked Aimé.
She won’t. She knows if she does, I’ll keep my promise.”

Hands shaking, Rémy wiped his brow. His gut churned, threatening to bring up his breakfast.
Did we do the right thing?” he asked.

Aimé shook his head, placing a hand on Rémy’s shoulder. “It was an impossible choice.”

Rémy cleared his throat. “We never speak of this to anyone.”
But we have to tell Sébastien something.”
We’ll tell him the threat has been neutralized. That’s all he needs to know.”
But Rémy—”
We’re done talking about this.” He spun on his heel and stalked from the room.

No one ever need know the true identity of la bête-au-feu. The Gods help him, she was a monster, and though it made him sick with himself, Rémy loved her nonetheless.

Like what you read? Check out the entire Four Brothers Clan series at Cobblestone Press! Cindy Jacks writing as CJ Elliott

Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Disaster Relief Widget #HurricaneSandy

I'm so blessed this morning: All my loved ones are safe, we still have electricity, clean water and even cable. My prayers are with those in the Northeast who are not faring as well. If you can contribute anything to the Red Cross Hurricane Sandy Disaster Relief and wish to do so, click on the button below. Every little bit helps for those who are finding it hard to count their blessings today.

If you have a blog or website and wish to embed a widget of your own, click here

Monday, October 29, 2012

Rainy days and Mondays

Yes, it's true. They always get me down and today happens to be both rainy and Monday. Plus I'm having more health issues with my lady parts. Not my best day. How do I intend to get through it? I'm diving into a couple of WIPs until Sandy is done with us. Nothing like checking out of reality for a little while.
I hope everyone is safe and prepared for the worst of Frankenstorm. I'll check in with y'all tomorrow!


Sunday, October 28, 2012

#SixSentenceSunday--ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE

In celebration of the release of STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART, I thought I'd share six sentences with you today from my contribution to the book--ANOTHER MAN'S WIFE. Enjoy!

“I didn’t think we’d ever…that you’d come back to me,” Jack said.
Her heart hardened and she met his gaze, her brows knitted together. How to tell him he’d made the wrong assumption? She opened her mouth but no words came. His chest tensed and he took his hand away from her cheek.
“Oh.” He swallowed, searching her gaze. “You’re not back with me, are you?”
She put a finger to his lips as if stopping his words could make them any less painful.

Want to read more? Get your copy today!

Friday, October 26, 2012

#NewRelease #Print Straight from the Heart

I'm proud to announce my latest release in print: STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART. From the Ellora's Cave LOVE LETTERS theme: Two women find love at their lowest lows. NEW in print. STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART by Cindy Jacks and Regina Cole. The book includes TWO novellas!

Another Man’s Wife By Cindy Jacks
After the real estate market crash, Rebecca’s money has run out—and so has her husband, leaving her alone with their son and a mountain of debt. She moves in with her sister while trying to dig herself out. When a handsome neighbor rescues her from a torrential downpour, she finds herself the object of an attraction too powerful to resist.

Jack is an aspiring writer who has a way with words and a way of making Rebecca moan his name. Each love letter he leaves Rebecca enchants her, each afternoon they spend making love draws her deeper into a relationship she can’t define. But with all her son has been through and a husband who’s missing in action, Rebecca may never be able to give in fully to her passion and desire for Jack, to think of herself as anything other than another man’s wife.

Dear Addi By Regina Cole
When Addison Laine discovers her famous late-aunt’s love letters, she never expects a lawsuit over the information they contain.

Enter Jackson Poole, son of the woman responsible for the lawsuit. Addi knows any relationship with Jackson would be disastrous but she can’t fight her attraction to his quiet intelligence and sexy-professor style.

As Jackson works on authenticating the letters, he finds himself falling for the free-spirited Addi. His fierce need for her overcomes all his reservations—and his inhibitions.

And sweet, exciting Addi is more than willing to help him explore his secret kinky side.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

#Romance Junkies #Halloween #Contest

Drop by the Romance Junkies Haunted House Halloween Contest running 10/25/2012 through 11/29/2012. Hunt around the haunted house, answer scavenger hunt questions and get a chance to win dozens of prizes from romance and erotica authors. Yours truly is giving away a spa basket, a copy of SMUGGLER'S BLUES and some #EllorasCave goodies. Start out in the lobby then click your away through the entire house. Don't forget to click on objects in each room to find links to questions! Happy hunting!


Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Telling all at Desiree Holt's Blog Today!

In addition to the Wicked After Dark Blog Hop, I'm also a guest on Desiree Holt's Blog today. Learn about how I balance being an author of erotic romance and being a mom...especially the question, "Mom, what are you're books about?" LOL. Commenters on Desiree's blog are eligible for my Wicked After Dark giveaway (see next post, but it's lots of reading goodness...and naughtiness *grin*)


Monday, October 22, 2012

Cerise DeLand asks, Got a shibari master? Does giveaway to one who posts!

Please welcome my guest, Cerise Deland! One lucky commenter will win a book from her backlist. Take it away, Cerise!

Book Two
TIE ME DOWN, my second in my KNIGHTS IN BLACK LEATHER series, stars Case Turner who is a shibari master.

And just what is shibari?

Shibari, an ancient Japanese art form developed from samurai warriors, is the act of tying someone up. But it is not simply using a rope, tying a few knots and calling it a day. It is an expressive art form, used by 16th and 17th century samurai who lived in a feudal society where constant warfare among clans was the norm.

The use of tying up captured samurai from other clans was practical. These Japanese warriors had no prisons and did not wish to build any. Warfare in this period was fast, bloody and decisive. This meant that a samurai, who was bound by a code called bushido (Way of the Warrior) must honor his prisoners according to their rank.

But how could a samurai do that with only rope as his medium?

Book One
The warriors developed a system of tying up their opponents in various positions that would incapacitate them. The positions would also show their subjugation to their conquerors. And to distinguish among the prisoners their rank, the warrior created a system of knots and positions that showed to anyone within their armies how valuable this particular prisoner was.

This system of showing honor and respect as well as social rank transformed in the late 18th and 19th centuries into the erotic bondage displays that today we call Kinbaku.

Just as shibari has codes of conduct, so too does Kinbaku, erotic bondage:
1. Bind the prisoner so that he/she may not slip his bonds.

2. Bind the prisoner is such a way that you not cause any physical or mental injury.

3. Create a result that is beautiful to behold.
The fourth rule is optional and is at the decision of the rope master, the Nawashi: Do not allow others to see the process of making the knots.

A Nawashi (rope artist) ties his subject into various poses, all of which show respect and honor to the subject and the master. The subject must practice total submission to the Nawashi and this requires not only practice but patience and concentration. The art of working the ropes in a demonstration can take hours.

The result is a beautiful tableau or picture of a naked body bound in (usually) fine jute. Binding a female, a Nawashi uses the rope and knots to accentuate the curves and hollows of his subject’s hair, arms, legs, toes, fingers, breasts and genitalia. The more skilled the Nawashi, the more finely he can separate each part of his subject’s body and display it in erotic forms. Displaying a male subject can also be done, this time displaying the male body and even arranging the penis and testicles in artful manners. The reward of the Nawashi to his subject for an excellent submission and performance can be sexual intimacy and gratification. This can be done in public or in private as part of after care to the submissive or subject.

Among the most beautiful expressions of Kinbaku are the separation of the female labia. This is done, as you might expect, very carefully by expert Nawashi. The rope usually goes in some fashion around the waist, then loops over the labia, either opening the lips to full view or suppressing them to display their plumpness. Those Nawashi who are superbly qualified may also spread the labia to display the clitoris. Either the clitoris is exposed and in that exhibition gratifies the Nawashi and his subject by protruding or it is covered and thereby stimulated in that fashion.

A female’s subject’s breasts are often bound to display their erotic beauty. Here, they can be bound in ever so many ways with the use of a multitude of stylized knots. All are lovely and expose the suppleness of the breasts in marvelous artistic ways.

Comment here and tell us if you would ever consider being bound by a shibari master—and to one person I will give a copy of a book from my backlist!
Come nibble all my cherries:

Sunday, October 21, 2012

What Cindy Reads--Aline Hunter's Omega Mine

I had the privilege of sitting next to this sassy, sweet and hilarious author during the Romanticon book fair so when I found out she wrote shifter erotic romance, I fell in love Aline Hunter her just a wee bit more :) Right after the signing, I downloaded book one in her Alpha and Omega series, Omega Mine. The first few sentences drew me in, by the end of chapter one, I was hooked.

What impressed me most about this book is that though it is dark, moody and full of delicious paranormal creatures, there's a humorous undercurrent to the narrative. I also loved the fact that the human heroine, Ava Brisbane (a telepath in her own right) actually *questions* whether she wants to enter into a relationship with a shifter. I applauded Ava's strength and internal struggle, a refreshing alternative to the typical fawning paranormal romance heroine.

Diskant Black is--*Cindy fans self*--well, he's everything you want a shifter hero to be. Though he's the Omega, the peacekeeper and his word is law, he has a deliciously wicked sense of humor. Again, his strength and beauty shines through on every page and I couldn't help but fall in love with him.

Aline does a terrific job of weaving together this exciting, romantic and daring tale. I laughed, I cried (there are some sad parts...I won't let any spoilers slip, but you have been warned!) and these characters will stay with me for a long, long time. I'm so thrilled book two is already available because I'm all over it like white on rice:

Book one in the Alpha and Omega series.

A bond forged in blood. Fealty given to the one he desires above all others.

Graced with the ability to shift into any form, Diskant Black is the absolute authority when it comes to New York shifters, and as the Omega of the city, his word is law. Protecting the shifter races is more than a job, it’s a predisposition ingrained since birth—nothing is more important.

Until a chance encounter with a tiny female sets fire to his blood, brings him to his knees and turns his world upside down. Ava Brisbane is more than he bargained for in a mate—beautiful, fragile…human. If he wants to keep her by his side, he’ll have to sacrifice a portion of his soul to establish a bond that can never be broken.

Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t be worse. Shepherds—hunters of all the shifter races—have arrived in New York. To protect the woman he can’t live without, Diskant will have to stand against those who have come to start a war.


Copyright © ALINE HUNTER, 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
Chapter One

The alley was dark, cold and empty—with no sign of Jonathan Roberts.
“Damn,” Ava Brisbane cursed under her breath and glanced from left to right. Nothing but brick, chilly air and asphalt greeted her from either direction. And just like a bad horror movie, a heavy gray fog was a-rollin’ in.
Double damn.
Lifting her left hand and shoving aside her jacket, she glanced at the thick black leather cuff on her wrist. 12:49 a.m. Yep, it was definitely time to get a move on. The liaison wasn’t coming and being caught out at this hour—in the godforsaken Bronx—was just plain stupid. All kinds of things came out when the sun went down. Things that would eat her flesh and pick their teeth clean with her bones.
The soft humming of the cell phone inside her back pocket vibrated against her ass, tickling her skin through the thin, stretchy denim. She knew who was calling because the same person who gifted her with the electronic device was the only one who knew the number—the annoying, scheming and blackmailing bastard Craig Newlander.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled the thin piece of metal from her jeans, flipped it open and placed it to her ear. “He’s not here.”
“I know that.” Craig’s voice was a deceptive device used to gain favor. He sounded amiable, polite and downright sexy. Too bad he was an asshole, poser and opportunist. “Jonathan was forced to seek shelter when he got a tail. Get out of there and go home. I’ll contact you tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute,” she snapped, attempting to remain calm and keep her voice hushed. “You told me that if I came and exchanged the packages, you would return the locket for services rendered. That was the deal.”
“I’ll contact you tomorrow.”
A loud click echoed in her ear and the line went dead.
Ava extended her arm, glowered at the cell phone and snarled, “You dirty rotten pig bastard!”
For a moment she considered chucking the device across the way and achieving a perverse—but fleeting—satisfaction at its demise. Instead she returned it to her pocket and seethed inwardly. Craig could kiss her ass after she wiped the floor with his. Once she had possession of the locket her useless brother pawned, that’s exactly what she planned do to the arrogant piece of shit.
Her shoulders suddenly felt heavy, laden with the burden of obligation.
Sweet baby Jesus, the entire situation was whack. She was a bartender who peddled drinks for a living, not a hoity-toity Villati who lived off stocks and mutual funds. And if she knew what was best for a continued life expectancy, she would keep it that way. The preternatural investigators who unearthed the existing names and secrets of the supernatural families across the world didn’t last long. Most of the time their obituaries ran in the paper at the same time their findings were bound, recorded and placed in the Villati registry.
Thinking about the circumstances that brought her to this dangerous location incensed her further and she vented her frustrations via the fingers that adjusted the strap attached to the leather messenger bag draped across her chest.
Her brother, Thomas, was a bonafide loser. He’d piddled all of the money left by their parents to nourish his gambling addiction and started hocking their valued belongings when he hit a losing streak. First it was antique silverware and vintage vases. Then, when she noted their absence, he went for the throat and hocked the jewels.
If she hadn’t been neck deep in a horrible relationship that was doomed to sink yet she felt obligated to repair, she might have noticed the debt collectors and the phone calls. As it happened, she didn’t get hip to the deception until all of Thomas’ fortune was gone. They were forced to sell the home in Greenwich their mother and father had worked so hard for to save his wretched ass, along with all of the belongings left following their unexpected deaths.
But one treasure had remained hers—the Brisbane family locket, passed down for generations. The platinum piece of jewelry was meant to continue along as a link to the past and it would have until Thomas, in the throes of addiction, had paid her a visit a month previous under the guise of needing a place to sleep for the night. The following morning the locket was gone and within a week she got a visit at her place of employment from a Mr. Craig Newlander, the big Villati head cahoona, an asshole of epic proportions and a persistently annoying burr in her ass.
Ava ground her teeth together and exhaled slowly.
She avoided Villatis at every turn, even as they tried to establish a connection. All of her family—with the notable exception of Thomas—had been blessed with some form of mentalism. Be it something minor, like being able to hear someone else’s thoughts or something substantial, like being able to control and manipulate the will of others. She possessed the latter of the two talents, and that made her a prime candidate for enrollment in their ranks.
Something she absolutely, positively didn’t want to think about.
Mortal minds were cake but supernatural ones such as those of vampires, shifters and magic casters were beyond her capacity. She couldn’t hear them or feel them, and since she couldn’t outsmart, outmatch or outrun them either, it was like walking into a lion’s den smeared in lamb’s blood with a flashing “eat me” sign.
“Damn you, big brother,” she muttered and then sighed, “And damn me too.”
Begrudgingly accepting her fate, she turned, retrieved the cell phone to call a cab and began a quiet trek toward the end of the alley. When the first shadow appeared in front of her, she knew she was in trouble. Then she heard the voice of a second just behind her.
“Well, well, well,” a melodic lilt that only could belong to a vampire cooed. “What do we have here?”
* * * * *
Diskant Black reveled in the visceral sounds of his Harley Night Train as the brisk autumn air caressed his face. Making the trip to this part of the Five Boroughs was something he never enjoyed but when a stray wandered into his city it meant a proper introduction was in order. The rogue werepanther wasn’t very bright but he’d got the message. This was Diskant’s territory, his domain, and as an Omega—the most powerful of all lycanthropes—his word was law. A lot changed over the centuries but one thing remained the same. Only an Omega bore the mark of all the races and possessed the ability to change into any of them. That meant total submission and respect was bestowed to him among the shifters. In the city that never sleeps he was in charge, and it wasn’t open to discussion.
Inhaling deeply, he absorbed the combined scents of concrete, dirt, water, garbage and exhaust fumes into his lungs. The sour tang of fear enhancing each scent didn’t come as a monumental surprise and wouldn’t have concerned him if the sticky sweet stench of vampire wasn’t combined with it. He snorted, removed the stink from his nose and inhaled again. Deeper this time. It was definitely fear he scented and the sharp, sour smell was pouring off a human. He gripped the bars of the bike and shook his head. It was the wrong place at the wrong time for some dumb schmuck. Probably some addict looking to score or a homeless person who’d picked the wrong stretch of garbage dumpster to sleep in.
Then a roar of outrage sounded nearby, an undeniable battle cry, and revealed the gender of the victim. “Fuck you!” a sultry female voice thundered.
Well, hot damn. Leaving a male to fend for himself he could do but never a damsel in distress.
Diskant dredged in another cool lungful of air, searching for the source of the sour taint of terror and fury. It wasn’t very far…
“Gotcha.” He applied the brake, slung his right leg around and brought his foot to the road and turned the bike in the proper direction.
He found what he was looking for three alleys over. The female had obviously tried to fight—the burning tingle in his nostrils told him that pepper spray had been used—but her lifeless body dangled over the shoulder of one of the leeches nonetheless.
Lowering the kickstand with a flick of his heel, he cut the motor and rose from the leather seat. The unencumbered vampire turned while his companion shifted her small body on his shoulder and began walking in the opposite direction.
“This doesn’t concern you, shifter.”
Diskant swung his right leg up, over and dismounted the bike. He took long, deliberate steps, making a steady and unhurried trek down the alley. The vampire in his path wasn’t much of an obstacle but he wasn’t supposed to be. Diskant recognized the game. It was a classic strategy he’d used with his pack on several occasions—the old bait and switch. One distracts the threat while the other gets away with the bounty. No fuss, no muss. Having a discussion with the vampire approaching would see that female long gone and, more than likely, dead.
He waited until he was nearly upon the vampire before he broke out in a sprint, his long leather coat forming wispy tails behind him. Issuing a muffled plea for forgiveness, he plowed into the back of the vampire carrying the female and sent her tiny body soaring into the air. She didn’t make a sound when she landed on the unforgiving cushion of concrete and grime and he almost gave in to the temptation to see how badly she was injured.
The vampires attacked him as one, delivering blows and kicks that were too fast to counter. A fist caught his chin just as a foot got too damn close to his balls for reproductive comfort. Another fist skimmed the surface of his stomach while another came at his nose. Dodging to the right, he met an unforgiving set of knuckles that made his teeth rattle. That was followed by a blow to his chest.
Goddamn vampire speed. Blood drinkers were superior in that regard but it didn’t really matter.
Shifters were stronger.
Diskant rotated his shoulders, threw the leeches clear of his body and called on the bear within. He smiled as the woodsy scent of grizzly oozed from his skin—fragrant, potent, feral. Lethal claws extended past his fingers while his teeth elongated, becoming cone shaped, the tips as sharp as razors.
While he wouldn’t win any beauty contests, the physical changes had the intended effect. Two swipes of his hands in either direction ravaged skin and drew blood, rending tissue in half as flesh peeled from bone. The stench of fear tickled like wet paint in his nose, burning his nostrils, and the expressions of the vampires when they got hip to who they were fucking with was priceless.
With a throaty roar, he issued challenge.

Friday, October 19, 2012

Release Date and Giveaway for SMUGGLER'S BLUES

I'm thrilled to announce the release date for SMUGGLER'S BLUES the second book in my PIRATES AT HEART series. Look for it November 16th at Ellora's Cave.

Book Two

The year is 2017 and all is quiet on the eastern front. Good news for the war-weary Republic of Texas…bad news for weapons smuggling–pirate Captain Brett Logan. 
Book One
Logan’s been a surly handful since war’s end—not to mention a rather perfunctory lover—and his wife Kate has had about enough. When an illicit business venture falls in his lap, Logan is eager to get back to outrunning and out-gunning the enemy navy. 
Kate becomes an unwilling participant in Logan’s criminal enterprise, but in his element of excitement and danger, he’s the roguish daredevil she fell in love with. Their passion for each other burns hotter than ever—spurred on by the thrill of the chase. As she learns more about Logan’s wild side, Kate finds herself craving him body and soul as love, sex and adventure finally rid Logan of those pesky smuggler’s blues.


Copyright © CINDY JACKS, 2012
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
The familiar ping of rain falling onto a tin roof startled her. Thunder rumbled, louder this time. The storm had begun.
“What’s wrong?” He tilted her head up to look at him. His brow was furrowed, gaze studying hers. The concern in his expression disarmed her. Heavy raindrops beat a tattoo on the tin roof, adding to her fear and exhaustion.
She shook her head. Everything was wrong.
Seeming to read her mind, he nodded. “Stupid question, huh?”
Kathryn nodded and sighed. She wanted nothing more than to collapse into his arms, to fall into a dreamless sleep until this was all over. But it was nowhere near over. This ordeal continued to get more and more complicated.
Leaning her head against his chest, she listened to his strong heartbeat. “Do you—do you really think Dale killed someone because of my mistake?”
“No, not if he didn’t have to. Have some faith in basic human greed.” He jostled her.
The remark struck her as funny. She gave a weak smile. Maybe Brett was right. Or maybe he was trying to make her feel better.
“I really screwed up.”
“I screwed up. You’re only here because I… I should’ve stayed home when you asked me to pass up this deal.”
Home. It was all that she longed for, but the thought only brought on another wave of anxiety. Her chest grew tight and his words from the night before flooded back. He’d stolen the comfort of home from her too. Silent tears dripped down her cheeks.
“But you’re bored with me.” She huffed.
Lightning flashed outside, the wind picked up force. It swept through the poorly constructed shack, the oil lamp light flickering.
“Kate.” He smoothed her hair and pressed her into a hug. “Kate, I didn’t mean that you bore me.”
“Don’t try to sugarcoat it now.”
Tilting her chin up, he cupped her face in his hands. “I’m not. I bore me when I’m at home. This life—” He motioned to the shelter and the storm outside. “This is all I’ve ever known, and I just don’t know how to entertain myself otherwise.”
“I know I’m busy with the boys.” She went on as if she hadn’t heard what he’d said. “And I’ve never been the kind of woman who gets all dolled up—”
He cut her off with a kiss, his hand sliding around her waist.
“Stop.” She turned away.
Tangling a hand in her hair, he exposed her neck and planted a trail of kisses.
“You are—” He kissed down to her cleavage. “The most exciting woman I’ve ever known.”
His growing erection indicated the truth in his words.
“And that’s saying a lot,” she teased, his affection chasing away her self-doubt little by little.
Her pulse and respiration quickened, her sex grew warm and tight. He slipped a hand beneath her shirt, letting it roam over her bare skin as if it had a mind of its own.
“It’s not every woman who’ll assault me with my own wallet.”
Kathryn chuckled, holding back a squeal as he stroked the ticklish spot at the cleft of her ass.
“We can’t do this here.” She tried to extricate herself from his embrace.
“Why not?” Skimming his lips over her jawline, he pressed her closer.
“Because we’re fugitives.”
Oh God, they were fugitives. Strangers in a strange land. Well, it didn’t seem all that foreign to Brett.
Hand to his chest, she stopped his advances. “I didn’t know you could speak Reformlandish.”
Eyes heavy-lidded, he grinned slowly. “I speak a couple Reformlandish dialects. And Spanish. Some Cajun French.”
She arched an eyebrow, shaking her head. “How is it I didn’t know that?”
“Not much cause to use my language skills around the house.”
“What else don’t I know about you?” She leaned forward, inhaling his musky scent and the sweet whiskey on his breath.
His lips were so close that hers tingled, but he didn’t move for a kiss. Not yet. “I couldn’t say. You’ll just have to find out as we go.”
Running her fingertips up his arm, she imagined the landscape beneath his clothes. Since the day they’d met she’d made a road map of his body in her mind. The tattoos and scars, each ripple of muscle, every freckle, the tantalizing trail of hair that led from his bellybutton down to his cock.
Yes, she knew every inch of him. And she knew just how her body would react to his touch, his scent—her pulse pounding, her pussy swollen and wet. It was all delicious, but predictable. Even the routine they’d gotten into, making love right before bed. The song he’d sing her as she fell asleep.
But here, in the one place she never wanted to find herself again, she’d learned something new about her lover. She’d gotten to see the part of him he kept separate from their comfortable life at home. And though some of it shocked her and threw her off balance, there was something intoxicating about the outlaw whose arms wrapped around her.
Heat flared inside her, licking at her cheeks, her nipples, her sex. She surged forward, kissing him hard, her tongue invading his mouth. Caught off guard, he tumbled backward, chuckling, but spurred her on, his hands stripping off her sweater and shirt.
The cool evening air swirled around her breasts, her nipples drawing painfully tight. He leaned forward, capturing a bud between his teeth and rolling his tongue over it.
She gasped, pleasure rippling through her. Since they’d come ashore, he’d been in command of the situation, never once losing his cool. Now she wanted him in command of her body. She longed for him to tease her, overwhelm her and take her. Own her.
Haven't read book one? Buy it now:
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Thursday, October 18, 2012

Sneaky peeky--BLACKEST NIGHT!

I'm happy (and exhausted) to announce that I finished the first draft of a new manuscript last night! Well, actually it was more like early this morning. The characters have woken me up two nights in a row so on top of the thrill of finishing a new manuscript, I'm looking forward to a good long nap today, lol. That being said, I think the exhaustion was worth it if I do say so myself. If you're looking for a heroine who willingly becomes the sub--hell, enthusiastically--of a sexy male Dom, BLACKEST NIGHT is the book for you.

Hope you enjoy the unedited excerpt (I do stress unedited, lol). I'll have this in my editors hands by the weekend. Wish me luck!


As soon as Rocky left, several men walked up to me. I felt like a wounded fish in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Sharks of all shapes and sizes schooled around me.
“Are you here to meet anyone specific?”
“Is this really your first munch?”
“What kind of play are you interested in?”
“Dom, sub or switch?”
Rapid fire questions came from every direction and I didn’t know what to say. Searching the room for Rocky, I saw she was on the opposite side, deep in conversation.
Near the banquet table, a tall man with a coffee-colored complexion, cropped black hair and a closely trimmed goatee stood staring. Well, not so much staring as he seemed to be drinking in the buzz around me. The cut of his shirt and slacks spoke of a man with a personal tailor. The clothing skimmed the outline of his well-maintained form without clinging too tightly. His calculating gaze pierced me. I blinked, trying to turn my attention to the bevy of men around me.
“I’m really new at this.” I put out my hands, the universal sign for back away, but this only seemed to intrigue them more.
Showing up here might’ve been a mistake. I’d been reticent to dive into the lifestyle for this very reason. But what did I expect? Doms dominated. It was their nature. The fable about the scorpion and the frog flashed through my mind. I felt even more absurd and out of place.
But then he materialized in the midst of the throng. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. A mere flick of his wrist dispersed the other men, no objections.
“Wow. Thanks.” I drew the tie of my wraparound dress through my fingers.
He stared at me without reply, handing me a flute of champagne, his hazel eyes never wavering. A gulp of the bubbly wine steadied my nerves.
“I’m Red.” I extended a hand which he declined to shake.
“You can call me Black.” His lips twisted into a predatory grin. “Or ‘sir’ works just as well.”
My pulse quickened, pounding so hard I found it difficult to breathe. It was as if he’d drawn all the oxygen out of the room.
“What side are you on?” he asked.
The meaning of his question took a second to register―he was asking me if I was a domme or sub.
“I don’t know yet,” I mumbled.
“Oh, you know. You’re just afraid to say aloud.” He brushed his thumb over my lips. Flinching at the overly intimate gesture, I shifted from foot to foot.
Leaning closer, he rested a hand my forearm. Fingertips brushing my skin, he murmured, “I can make you scream out which side you play on.”
A rush of breath escaped me―not so much an exhalation, but my body’s way of saying, Yes, please, I’d like that very much. My cheeks burning, my cunt equally as hot, I met his gaze.
He plucked a napkin from the table, scribbling a few lines on it. “Meet me here next Friday at eight. Don’t be late.”
His gaze fixed on mine, he paused a second. Maybe he was waiting for my reply or maybe the eye contact was for emphasis. My head swam, a thousand thoughts swirling around my brain. My body buzzed with excitement. Black was the one. No doubt about it.
“I’ll be there.” I took the napkin.
“I know you will.”
With that, he walked away and I watched his retreat, his confident strides hypnotic. Once he’d placed his glass on the table, he said goodbye to Rocky then exited, stage left.
No one else approached me except Rocky. “You’ve captured Black’s attention. That doesn’t happen everyday.”
I had no idea what she meant, but before I could ask, she hurried to greet a new guest.
Finishing my glass of champagne, I hurried to leave.
Like what you read? Check out RAVISH ME at Ellora's Cave for more hot BDSM fun.


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

My First Book Signing

Yep, I'm still buzzing from Romanticon and what I loved most about it was meeting fans and connecting with new readers. No offense to the Cavemen. Y'all are my second favorite thing about Rom Con :)

Anyhoo, I popped my book signing cherry and I want to thank Aline Hunter and Ann Jacobs for helping me calm my nerves. I couldn't have asked for better table-mates. My worst nightmare going into the event was that no one would stop by my table. Thankfully, that was far from true. I really loved talking about my work with readers and I learned a thing or two:
1. One bottle of water is not enough!
Being nervous, my mouth was drier than usual and for a four hour book signing two or three bottles would've been better. Hey, now I know.
2. Eat before I go.
Again, being nervous I couldn't even think about food before the signing, but four hours past my usual lunch time is a long time to wait for the chance to eat.
3. Bring my wallet.
Not only did I miss out on the opportunity to purchase signed books from author friends, I also had to run up to my hotel room to get the cash to pay for my author copies. Then again, since there were so many goodies to choose from, it might be a good idea I didn't have my credit card with which to run amok.
4. Wear something comfy.
Since this was my first signing, I wanted to wear something author-ly so I chose a dress that required Spanx underneath it. I love Spanx, but they do tend to chew on one's sensitive areas when worn for hours on end.
5. RELAX! All the stress I put myself under prior to the event was totally unnecessary. I was amongst friends there. I especially want to thank my editor Jilly for herding folks my way. Best. Editor. EVAH!

Now that I know what to expect, the next time I intend to sit back, relax and enjoy the ride :)

Cindy Jacks

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Romanticon Days Two, Three and Four

Ahhh, the best laid schemes of mice and exhausted authors often go astray. Yes, I'd planned to blog each day that I was at Romanticon, but the WiFi at the hotel was a little spotty, plus the physical demands of the conference (okay, the hangovers and sore dancing legs, lol) kept me pretty well out of commission. However, I have a fabulous set of photos for y'all. If you missed it this year (and the world doesn't end Dec 21st!) do all you can to get there next year because it is one big, long, sexy party :)

I also did my very first book signing at Rom Con 2012 and that was a blast too. I loved meeting fans and connecting with new readers. I also don't have words to express my gratitude to the wonderful authors I got to see again and the new folks I met. They are all so warm and kind--honestly you can't find a better group of people anywhere. If I miss anyone on this list, please know it's just because I'm probably still a little hungover, but I loved you all:
Desiree Holt, Cerise Deland, Nicole Austin, Allie Standifer, Samantha Cayto, Dalton Diaz, Aline Hunter, Ann Jacobs, Sidney Bristol, Joy from Joyfully Reviewed, the ladies from Two Lips Reviews, Mari CarrM.A. Ellis, Shoshanna Evers, Stacey Kennedy, Karen Booth and Karen Stivali (the Karens!), Sasha Devlin, Laura Kubitz, Kelli Collins, Val Plucinski, Jamitzka and Karolyn, Sara (so thrilled you loved Ravish Me!), Temple (congrats on the new contract!), Cole Reilly (who will always be my Alpha Caveman), Jillian Bell--editor extraordinaire and last, but never, ever, ever least, Regina Carlysle and her lovely daughter, Avery.

Here's just a bit of the wackiness from the past four days:
Ruby Storm's crew
I still don't know how this young lady walked on stilts all night!
Awesome steampunk

Zombie Tiffany Bryan

Owly Images
Jilly killing me! Better get me latest manuscript in NOW, lol

Regina Carlysle, Nicole Austin, Mari Carr

Owly Images
Napo and I...oh my I must've had a drink or two (or eight) by this point, lol

Cindy Jacks