Forecast for February: Steamy

I got my release date for my upcoming Ellora's Cave novel - Slither!

Mark your calendars for February 17th and crank the AC because things are going to get hot!

Here's that excerpt I promised - and for more - drop by the Ellora's Cave chat loop this Sunday for some more sneak peeks from Slither!

****

The bedroom was just dark enough to be sultry. The California king-sized bed bore sheets of gunmetal satin which made it look like a block of iron sitting in the middle of the room. He adjusted the lighting to give the place a warm glow from overhead spotlights set around the perimeter of the ceiling. Behind the bed was a mirror and at its foot, a black leather bench. Her missing scarf lay across the end of the mattress.

She blushed. “I accidentally left that at your shop.”

“It was no accident.”

She resented the implication. She’d been in such a hurry to escape after he’d brought her to a shuddering orgasm that she’d barely had both her shoes on when she stumbled out the back door. Acute embarrassment made her shiver.

She jumped at the feel of his fingers on her shoulders, but she managed to keep herself calm while he slid her jacket off.

He placed the garment on a high backed chair in the corner of the room and returned to walk around her in a circle. “You stand like you have a stick up your ass.”

She burst into surprised laughter. She’d expected sexual innuendo, or even an open invitation to fuck. “I knew you were charming, but wow. Way to knock a girl’s socks off.”

He faced her, wry amusement lighting his features. “It’s not just your socks I want off. How do you manage to get through life being so uptight, Miss Daniels?” He grazed her cheek with a forefinger and the feathery touch sent a cascade of awareness down her body. Next he rested his hands on her shoulders and pressed down a bit. “Drop your arms. Breathe deep. If you lock up all your muscles, you’ll impede blood flow to your brain and you’ll pass out.”

“Is this a yoga class? Because I forgot my mat.”

“Do you suffer from dizzy spells? Do you get lightheaded often?”

She did. Gramma Essie always told her that was her connection to the quaking. It drained her energy.

“No,” he said, not in response to his own question, but to her unspoken thoughts. “It’s because you clench up everything all the time. You’re suffocating yourself with your own nervous tension.”

“And how are you going to relax me?” Her impertinent question prompted him to slip his fingers into the collar of her blouse. One by one he opened the buttons, making sure to brush against her bare skin as he did so. “Oh.”

After he flicked open the last button, he spread the shirt and pushed it off her shoulders, exposing her bra. She figured he would go for that next. God, she wanted him to, but with her jaw clenched so tightly to keep from moaning aloud, she couldn’t tell him.

Maddeningly, he ignored her breasts and instead ran his hands down her abdomen to the fly of her jeans. He worked quickly to open the button and zipper and then eased the stiff denim down over her hips and thighs. She arched her back instinctively, but refused to make a sound. He helped her slip her shoes off and step out of the jeans. He squeezed her ass before stripping off her panties, and she stifled a groan. This had already gone too far. Why couldn’t he simply paint on her hand or her arm? Why did she have to be so exposed and so vulnerable to him?

She squeezed her eyes shut when he dropped a kiss on her shoulder and her knees threatened to buckle when he pulled her shirt off and dropped it on the floor. Now she wore only her bra, and he made quick work of that, opening the fastening in the back with expert fingers.

At the foot of the bed, he snagged her scarf and returned to her side. For a moment she worried that he planned to tie her up and she tensed even further. A stab of fear wormed its way through her lower belly and he must have felt it because he grunted.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’d love to tie you up, but I won’t.” He offered her the scarf. “Cover your eyes with this. I don’t want you to watch me work. I’d rather you be surprised.” The sleek watered silk felt like heaven against her sensitive skin, but fear of losing control made her hesitate. “You can remove it any time. It’s about trust. If you trust me not to take advantage of your not being able to see, I’ll trust you not to remove the blindfold.”

She pursed her lips and considered the offer. Why not?

Is it hot in here?

Or is it just me?

I got the cover art for my upcoming Ellora's Cave release, Slither, and I've been a little warm ever since.

Here's the blurb:

Rihana Daniels has seen a lot in five years working as a psychic for the NYPD, but the murder of freelance reporter Tanesha Wain makes her question if she really wants to continue her law enforcement career.

The dark vibe she gets from this case is nothing new, but the main suspect, sexy, enigmatic tattoo artist Heath Gyland, leaves her heightened senses burning. She can read him like a book – and she can see his innocence but she can’t prove it. His feral sexual thoughts make her insane with need and her desire for him jeopardizes her job and the investigation.

When she learns the truth about the man who can strip her soul bare with a glance, will she give up everything she knows to flee with him to a safer world or will she become a psychic killer in order to destroy a ruthless assassin and put an end to her lover’s exile?

This one is dedicated to all the fans of SKIN who asked for Heath's story. I'll update you with a release date as soon as I can.

Heat Wave

Okay, I admit. I bought Richard Castle's* new book, Heat Wave, just because he's cute. I wasn't sure I'd like it. After all, a slim novel about a slim police detective with the dubious moniker Nikki Heat has got to have some flaws.

I wasn't surprised, nor was I completely disappointed. Castle's book is a slow read, surprisingly so for a mere 196 pages. It reads a bit like watching an episode of an eponymous crime drama, though I can't for the life of me imagine why.

I posit Castle has put a little too much of himself into the male lead, wise-cracking journalist Jameson Rook, but I have to credit him for the somewhat ingenious idea of fiction-within-fiction. Blurring the line between one universe and another is something I think most writers strive for, even if they won't admit it.

Would I read another Rick Castle book? Hmm...probably. As long as his picture is on the back cover.

For more about best-selling author Richard Castle you can check out these links:

Richard Castle's Wikipedia Page

Richard Castle's Facebook Page

Richard Castle's Twitter Page

*Yes, I know Rick Castle is a fictional character. I'm just not sure HE knows it.

Coffee anyone?

How about four cups?

That's how many La Vida Muerta earned at Coffee Time Romance!

Here's a snippet of the review by Cherokee:

"...wear something on your hands so you don’t get burned, because La Vida Muerta is steamy hot. You might want to keep a bucket of ice nearby too. Lucas is one sizzling hot lover."

If you want to read the rest of the review, press the button below.

I worry

I worry about a lot of things, but my current worry centers on video surveillance.

Why, you might ask? Since I'm fairly scrupulous about obeying the law, you would think the idea of video surveillance would not bother me, but it does.

Here's why.

I talk to myself a lot. Being a writer, I often have conversations with characters. Being slightly neurotic, I also have conversations with me, myself and I quite a bit, and sometimes with people I know who just don't happen to present at the time. Sometimes I argue with them. Usually I win the arguments, and often I forget that people can sometimes hear or see me talking.

This morning, as I rode up to my office in the elevator, I was finishing a heated debate with someone who wasn't acutally there, and I realized that the elevator most likely has video surveillance. So it's entirely possible that somewhere in the security office of the building, someone was laughing their butt off at the crazy lazy who talks to herself in the elevator.

I need to start carrying an iPod. Then at least I could use the excuse that I'm really singing.

I surrender!

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

A balloon-phobic's nightmare. {{{shiver}}}

Books Read

I'm a list maker and a few years ago I started keeping a list of the books I read, just to see how many I actually could pack into my brain in a year.

In 2007 I read 46 books with an additional 7 that I started and did not finish.

In 2008 I read 54 books with an additional 7 that I started and did not finish.

In 2009 I read a whopping 57 books with an additional 14 that I started and did not finish.

So, the math says that's 185 books over the course of 3 years with 28 wall bangers. I wonder if I just read faster this year, so I was able to get my hands on more books, or if my tolerance for the not so great book has dropped.

Of the books I finished this year, my favorite was probably Dreamfever by Karen Marie Moning followed closely by Still Life by Joy Fielding. The last book I finished in 2009 was And Another Thing by Jenny Thompson.

I'm starting 2010 off with Heat Wave by Richard Castle [hey, he's cute, what can I say - LOL] I plan to blog about this one when I'm done with it. And I'm also reading FDA: Failure, Deception and Abuse by William Faloon [scary stuff].

I'd like to see if I can top 57 next year - and have fewer books I don't finish.

How many books have you read this year? Do you keep track?