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Snippet Saturday: In the Still of the Night

SnippetThis week’s theme? In the Still of the Night.

I’m pulling a selection from Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf. Enjoy! And be sure to hop on over to the other authors participating in this Snippet Saturday.

Ultra sexy werewolf Laurent Deveraux thinks that Violet, the love of his life, died two hundred years ago until she shows up in New Orleans looking for him.

Violet, now a vampire, thinks she’s someone else. Her powerful and dangerous sire has bound her memories, taught her how to kill and Laurent is her next target.

Laurent is determined to awaken her memories and her undying passion before danger steals her away again.

200_sbacw_finalNew Orleans, present day

The Smokestack bar on the corner of Iberville and Decatur overflowed with locals, tourists, and thick cigarette smoke but Laurent Deveraux still felt alone. Seated at a small round table in the back corner of the dark room, he nursed a glass of whiskey. A moody blues ballad reverberated off the walls and soaked into his bones.

“Slow down there, buddy,” Burke said as Laurent drained his glass. “Leave some for the rest of us.”

“I doubt New Orleans is suddenly going to run out of whiskey, brother,” Laurent said wryly.

Burke cut him a look. “What crawled up yer butt and died?”

“Nothing,” he muttered.

He envied his brother’s easy going attitude. Burke sat with his long legs stretched out in front of him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. He moved his feet to the music and smiled when the waitress stopped by their table for the fifth time that night.

Laurent took another sip of whiskey. Would he ever be happy like that again? Most of the year he managed to shake himself from his funk. But not today.

His inner wolf felt caged. He wasn’t known for keeping his temper leashed. What he needed was a good fuck.

He surveyed the crowd, his gaze falling on the females. He worked his jaw back and forth as he looked them over and dismissed them all just as quickly.

None of them were her.

And this close to the anniversary of her disappearance, no one else would do.

With Sebastian and Jules mated, their pack was growing larger, and at the same time, shrinking. Each time he saw his cousins with their women, Dieu, they reminded him of what he’d never have.

It was damn near impossible to go a whole day without hearing the women’s laughter or see the love shining in their eyes. Laurent didn’t blame them, didn’t begrudge them their happiness, but he couldn’t help but think of everything he’d lost.

Laurent shoved the thought into the back of his mind and gulped down another sip of the amber liquid. Relishing the fire that scalded his throat, he prayed for forgetfulness. The band’s lead singer strummed the guitar with old weathered hands and sang from his soul—of loss, hope, and loneliness.

All things Laurent was intimately familiar with.

A mellow jazz tune filled the room and the hot breeze blew into the space like a blow torch. A single figure cloaked in darkness entered and crossed Laurent’s line of sight. The woman kept to the shadows and settled at a table in the opposite corner. She was dressed in black from head to toe, and Laurent immediately discarded her as Goth or a wanna-be vamp. Plenty of those lived in the city.

But then the scent of roses wafted under his nose, tickling his memory. He crossed his arms over his chest and pushed the recollection away. Only, it didn’t want to go. It remained as fresh in his mind as it had the first time he’d smelled that sweet floral scent. Two hundred years did little to erase the memory of that day.

Or of her.

Long brunette curls framed her angelic face, and she had the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They changed with her mood. And her smile, Dieu, her smile could charm even the most chaste saint. Her image flashed before him like a blip on the television screen.

Laurent shook his head.

“You all right, cousin?” André asked in that quiet, deep voice.

Laurent nodded. “You guys should go on home. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“You sure?” Burke finished off his beer.

He nodded. “I’ll get the bill.” After all, he’d done the most drinking.

They stared at him for a moment, and then got to their feet. He watched them depart. Lifted a hand to wave goodbye. Then tossed back another shot of whiskey.

Damn his high metabolism.

Laurent savored the darker hours, when he felt most at peace, closest to his true self. These were the hours during which he didn’t have to work so hard to hide.

Electricity sizzled through the bar, and cold fingers tried to reach into his mind. He slammed the door shut on his thoughts and looked around the room suspiciously, his gaze falling on the newcomer in black. A ray of light sliced across the room, briefly highlighting the woman’s face. Brilliant blue eyes met his, and he sucked in a breath.

No. It wasn’t possible. He struggled with the reality of what he’d seen…and of what he knew to be true.

And just like that, the light was gone—and so was she.

What the hell?

He narrowed his gaze on the empty chair, and then glanced around the room. Was it possible she wasn’t just a gothic chick? Was it possible…no, he wouldn’t put a name to it. Wouldn’t think that thought. It was better for his sanity if he told himself she was dead.

He finished his whiskey, tossed several bills onto the table, and headed for the door.

Even in the middle of the night, the streets of New Orleans were bathed in heat and humidity; both wrapped around him like a wet wool coat.

Sex, sweat, and exhaust swirled together in a combination that was distinctively French Quarter. Thunder rumbled overhead as he started down the uneven sidewalk and the hairs on the back of his neck tingled in warning.

He stuck to the shadows; his hands in his pockets, his pace decidedly laggard. Ever since he’d moved here from France, he’d been amazed by how alive the city was even after dark, with dangers lurking around every corner. Bars were open till dawn, and party goers danced all night.

Stepping across the street, he headed northwest through an alley. The wind picked up, and he lifted his face to the sky. It would rain soon; he could smell it and he welcomed it.

The city lights blocked out most of the stars, but he could just make out the moon as it danced through the clouds.

A raindrop hit his cheek. Then another. And slowly more and more droplets rained down. Big, fat, Texas-sized drops. Commotion filled the streets as people ran for cover. He forged on, not even bothering to quicken his steps.

As he crossed another cobble-lined street, a stealthy figure in his peripheral view caught his attention. He turned and took in the curvy form in the long black coat. The hood hid her face from the light, but two aqua eyes glowed at him from the inky darkness. Cool fingers tickled his mind again, and he decided to let her in just enough to find out what she wanted with him.

What do you want?

She said nothing. Not aloud, nor in his mind.

Instead, she stepped from the shadows and strode into the middle of the street, her boots coming together as she stopped with almost military precision. She seemed almost a silhouette. Not quite real, but not an illusion, either.

Laurent’s breathing quickened, as did his heartbeat. His body tightened, going on full alert, and his inner wolf crept forward, slowly taking over his human senses.

He couldn’t hear her heartbeat. Perhaps she didn’t have one. She clearly was in no rush to tell him why she was stalking him.

The rain fell in heavy drops, but she didn’t seem to notice. In the dim light of the street lamps, he could see her clearly now. Slowly, she lifted her hands and pushed back the thick fabric hiding her face. She was almost too beautiful to look at—and yet, Laurent couldn’t look away.

He knew that face as well as he knew his own.

His breath left his lungs in a rush. Her skin was still dewy and perfect, like that of a fine porcelain doll. Ethereal. Her brows were perfect arches, the same charcoal brown he’d been fascinated by all those years ago. Even in the darkness, he could make out the thick lashes that fringed her eyes.

Those eyes…so blue, so beautiful. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. Damn, she was beautiful.

What was she doing standing in the middle of a street in New Orleans when she’d died two hundred years ago in France?

His arms and legs felt heavy; he was getting drenched. But it didn’t matter. He’d stand in a hurricane if it meant finding out if she, if Violet, were real. Or if he’d finally lost his mind and was only envisioning her.

Her lips were just as rosy as he remembered; her nose as perfectly shaped, her face oval and oh so familiar.

She remained silent. Did she recognize him?

He stepped closer, silently praying to the gods, Fates, and anyone else who would listen. Sniffing the air, he tried to catch her scent but she was downwind.

“Violet?” He didn’t like the husky tone of his voice. Hated the weakness in his knees, the soreness that resided where his heart had once been. Loathed the desire he still felt for a woman long dead.

Could his eyes be playing tricks on him? Could this woman really be his little Violet? After all these years?

Not trusting himself or his luck, he took another step. She lifted her hands to her lips, almost as if she were praying. Her fingernails were long and polished a glossy red.

A sharp ache erupted inside his chest, and he reached up to rub it. His hand brushed something, and he looked down to see a dart sticking out of his skin. Plucking it out, he stared at the woman before him. Then she and the rest of the world went dark.

Get it: A | BN | ARe | S |

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SSFIS: Random

ssfis4.png

It’s that time of the week again. Time for another edition of Someone Searched For It Sunday.  This week is brought to you by the letter R for random.

1.  “her fangs” “blood” “his heartbeat” (I’m thinking they would love Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf. Seriously. She’s a vampire sent to kill him. He’s a werewolf who used to be in love with her. Well, he still is because he’s never stopped.)
2.  best places to go in new orleans (I polled my readers. Here’s what they said.)
3.  selena blake books in order (another search for this. I covered this in a previous SSFIS.)

Come back next Sunday for three more search terms.

Book of the Week: Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf

Paranormal Romance Novella Seduced By a Cajun Werewolf by Selena Blake  “So this is your job? Killing people?” He rolled backwards over the bed, feeling like a playful, eight week-old pup. Her eyes flashed silver. He wasn’t particularly afraid of her—and if he could take a time out, he was sure he’d laugh at the whole situation.

The woman he loved more than life itself had been hired to assassinate him, and here she was dancing around him in her lingerie, trying to slice him to bits. Yes, the Fates had a brutal sense of humor.

“Why are you not afraid of me?” She stopped to look at him. Her heaving breasts threatened to spill over the top of the lacey cups of her bra. Standing in the doorway, with rain splattering her feet, she was a vision. Lithe, toned, and delicious.

“I used to kill your kind for a living.” He cocked his head to the side, watching her through his lashes as his words sank in.

She let out a piercing battle cry and leapt at him. He caught her wrists and held them high over her head.

“I will kill you,” she promised. Her features hardened, and her tone was filled with fury.“I’m not afraid of death.”She cocked her head to the side, as if she hadn’t understood him. That glossy hair he longed to run his fingers through trailed over her shoulder in a way he found far too alluring for their present situation.

“My turn,” he said. “Why do you kill?”

“Because it’s what I was trained to do.”

“You aren’t very good at it.”

She moved so quickly he hardly had time to react. Her blade sliced into his arm, and he growled low in his throat as he spun out of the way.

“Then again, I’m not used to fighting a mere woman. Perhaps women are not made to fight. To kill.”

“Would you like to see my kill book?” Her fangs peeked over her lips again.

“Not particularly.”

When she swung this time, he kicked the sword out of her hand. She hissed like a cat who’d just had its tail stepped on.

“Perhaps your heart just isn’t in it.” He gave her a dark, lingering look. And before she could reply, turned and walked out onto the balcony.

Rain poured down upon him, drenching his jeans and soaking his hair. Through the thick precipitation, he could make out a few landmarks and skyscrapers. They were on the top floor of a building. The balcony stretched left and right. The thunderstorm carried the salty scent of the ocean and put on a great light show.

A sharp pain seared his back.

“You’re stupid to turn your back on me, wolf,” she said, her voice raised above the roar of falling water.

“I told you—I’m not afraid of death.”

The point of her sword moved to the base of his neck. A chill broke out over his skin. The feeling…couldn’t be fear. He’d thought about it for so long; had welcomed it on more than one occasion. All this time, he’d thought that she, Violet, was dead.

Life had seemed so dim. It hadn’t mattered how many women had graced his bed. How many parties he’d attended, or how much money he’d made. Travel, food, and life itself had become tasteless and boring. Death would take away the pain. The monotony.

Slowly, he turned to face her. Her hair was plastered against her porcelain skin, and her eyes had turned that weird shade of blue and silver. Water dripped from her nose and ran like a river between her breasts, disappearing beneath the lacey edge of her panties.

“Who hired you?” The tip of her weapon was only inches away from his throat, and he was completely vulnerable. A rare feeling.

She frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t you think a dying man deserves to know who paid for his execution?”

“I don’t know the person’s name.”

“You lie.”

“I do not.” The wind picked up, driving the rain into his skin like BB pellets. She seemed unaffected by the sharp, stinging sensation. Her face remained placid, as if she’d done this, had stood in front of a man ready to carry out his death, a thousand times.

Perhaps she had.

“Well, Violet, I have nothing left to live for.” He knelt in front of her, wondering if she’d go through with it. Perhaps he should call his brother and cousins. But he did not want them to think him a coward. Resigned, yes.

With that little piece of hope inside him dead, he had nothing left on which to cling. Everything—his life, their future, was in her hands.

 

A | BN | ARe | S

Review of Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf

Beverly at Sizzling Hot Books Said:

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf is a steamy novella of hot and peppery love. Love on the run, family squabbles and the mixing of vampires, werewolves and humans keeps Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf hopping and not only in bed! I enjoyed the stubbornness of both Laurent and Cayenne. Laurent’s cockiness just makes him more irresistible. Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf is a spicy chase from New Orleans to the Cajun Bayou.”

Thanks Beverly!

Snippet Saturday: Sexy–November 12

This week’s topic is near and dear to my heart.

All hale sexy.

I have this theory. We all need a little sexy in our lives. No, I’m not talking sex. I mean sexy. I mean the inner confidence, the feeling of being desired, the attention. Anyone can be sexy. It starts in the mind. It can even be subconscious and unintentional.

In the case of Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf, this scene strikes me as one of the most sexy I’ve ever written. There’s something about a strong, confident Alpha male giving his life over to fate and standing alone in the rain, waiting for his life to go one way or the other. Did I mention he’s shirtless? Oh yeah, and she’s in her underwear?

Enjoy.

 

200_sbacw_final“So this is your job? Killing people?” He rolled backwards over the bed, feeling like a playful, eight week-old pup. Her eyes flashed silver. He wasn’t particularly afraid of her—and if he could take a time out, he was sure he’d laugh at the whole situation.

The woman he loved more than life itself had been hired to assassinate him, and here she was dancing around him in her lingerie, trying to slice him to bits. Yes, the Fates had a brutal sense of humor.

“Why are you not afraid of me?” She stopped to look at him. Her heaving breasts threatened to spill over the top of the lacey cups of her bra. Standing in the doorway, with rain splattering her feet, she was a vision. Lithe, toned, and delicious.

“I used to kill your kind for a living.” He cocked his head to the side, watching her through his lashes as his words sank in.

She let out a piercing battle cry and leapt at him. He caught her wrists and held them high over her head.

“I will kill you,” she promised. Her features hardened, and her tone was filled with fury.

“I’m not afraid of death.”

Her eyebrows drew together and frowned as if she hadn’t understood him. That glossy hair he longed to run his fingers through trailed over her shoulder in a way he found far too alluring for their present situation.

“My turn,” he said. “Why do you kill?”

“Because it’s what I was trained to do.”

“You aren’t very good at it.”

She moved so quickly he hardly had time to react. Her blade sliced into his arm, and he growled low in his throat as he spun out of the way.

“Then again, I’m not used to fighting a mere woman. Perhaps women are not made to fight. To kill.”

“Would you like to see my kill book?” Her fangs peeked over her lips again.

“Not particularly.”

When she swung this time, he kicked the sword out of her hand. She hissed like a cat who’d just had its tail stepped on.

“Perhaps your heart just isn’t in it.” He gave her a dark, lingering look. And before she could reply, turned and walked out onto the balcony.

Rain poured down upon him, drenching his jeans and soaking his hair. Through the thick precipitation, he could make out a few landmarks and skyscrapers. They were on the top floor of a building. The balcony stretched left and right. The thunderstorm carried the salty scent of the ocean and put on a great light show.

A sharp pain seared his back.

“You’re stupid to turn your back on me, wolf,” she said, her voice raised above the roar of falling water.

“I told you—I’m not afraid of death.”

The point of her sword moved to the base of his neck. A chill broke out over his skin. The feeling…couldn’t be fear. He’d thought about it for so long; had welcomed it on more than one occasion. All this time, he’d thought that she, Violet, was dead.

Life had seemed so dim. It hadn’t mattered how many women had graced his bed. How many parties he’d attended, or how much money he’d made. Travel, food, and life itself had become tasteless and boring. Death would take away the pain. The monotony.

Slowly, he turned to face her. Her hair was plastered against her porcelain skin, and her eyes had turned that weird shade of blue and silver. Water dripped from her nose and ran like a river between her breasts, disappearing beneath the lacey edge of her panties.

“Who hired you?” The tip of her weapon was only inches away from his throat, and he was completely vulnerable. A rare feeling.

She frowned. “Why do you care?”

“Don’t you think a dying man deserves to know who paid for his execution?”

“I don’t know the person’s name.”

“You lie.”

She remained silent as the wind picked up, driving the rain into his skin like BB pellets. She seemed unaffected by the sharp, stinging sensation. Her face remained placid, as if she’d done this, had stood in front of a man ready to carry out his death, a thousand times.

Perhaps she had.

“Well, Violet, I have nothing left to live for.” He knelt in front of her, wondering if she’d go through with it. Perhaps he should call his brother and cousins. But he did not want them to think him a coward. Resigned, yes.

With that little piece of hope inside him dead, he had nothing left on which to cling. Everything—his life, their future, was in her hands.

Be sure to visit the other Snippet Saturday authors!

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf on sale!

Seduced by a Cajun WerewolfSeduced by a Cajun Werewolf is finally available! This is book 3 of the Stormy Weather series (previously titled Bound & Determined) and I’ve completely rewritten it. I’ve also added 14,000 words which is almost half of the original size. This book has always been tough for me, emotionally and writing wise. But I’m super proud of it and am really, really happy to finally be able to tell Laurent and Violet’s story the way I think it should be told.

Ultra sexy werewolf Laurent Deveraux thinks that Violet, the love of his life, died two hundred years ago until she shows up in New Orleans looking for him.

Violet, now a vampire, thinks she’s someone else. Her powerful and dangerous sire has bound her memories, taught her how to kill and Laurent is her next target.

Laurent is determined to awaken her memories and her undying passion before danger steals her away again.

Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf (Stormy Weather, #3)


ABOUT THE BOOK
Stormy Weather: Book 3
Erotic Paranormal Romance (werewolf, vampire, New Orleans, hurricane)
34,000 words (appox. 125 pages)

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER ONE

A mellow jazz tune filled the room and the hot breeze blew into the space like a blow torch. A single figure cloaked in darkness entered and crossed Laurent’s line of sight. The woman kept to the shadows and settled at a table in the opposite corner. She was dressed in black from head to toe, and Laurent immediately discarded her as Goth or a wanna-be vamp. Plenty of those lived in the city.

But then the scent of roses wafted under his nose, tickling his memory. He crossed his arms over his chest and pushed the recollection away. Only, it didn’t want to go. It remained as fresh in his mind as it had the first time he’d smelled that sweet floral scent. Two hundred years did little to erase the memory of that day.

Or of her.

Long brunette curls framed her angelic face, and she had the brightest blue eyes he’d ever seen. They changed with her mood. And her smile, Dieu, her smile could charm even the most chaste saint. Her image flashed before him like a blip on the television screen.

Laurent shook his head.

“You all right, cousin?” André asked in that quiet, deep voice.
Laurent nodded. “You guys should go on home. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“You sure?” Burke finished off his beer.

He nodded. “I’ll get the bill.” After all, he’d done the most drinking.

They stared at him for a moment, and then got to their feet. He watched them depart. Lifted a hand to wave goodbye. Then tossed back another shot of whiskey.

Damn his high metabolism.

Laurent savored the darker hours, when he felt most at peace, closest to his true self. These were the hours during which he didn’t have to work so hard to hide.

Electricity sizzled through the bar, and cold fingers tried to reach into his mind. He slammed the door shut on his thoughts and looked around the room suspiciously, his gaze falling on the newcomer in black. A ray of light sliced across the room, briefly highlighting the woman’s face. Brilliant blue eyes met his, and he sucked in a breath.

No. It wasn’t possible. He struggled with the reality of what he’d seen…and of what he knew to be true.

And just like that, the light was gone—and so was she.

Buy it: KINDLE | KINDLE UK | NOOKPDF, EPUB, HTML, ETC

Snippet Saturday: The Moment

Today’s snippet is about the moment. To me, the moment is when the hero and heroine’s world’s collide. That first intense moment where their gazes lock and they either hate each other, fall for each other, or…well, you’ll see.

From: Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf (Coming soon)

Seduced by a Cajun WerewolfThe rain fell in heavy drops, but she didn’t seem to notice. In the dim light of the street lamps, he could see her clearly now. Slowly, she lifted her hands and pushed back the thick fabric hiding her face. She was almost too beautiful to look at—and yet, Laurent couldn’t seem to look away.

He knew that face as well as he knew his own.

His breath left his lungs in a rush. Her eyes were just as blue as he remembered, only now they seemed to glow. Her skin was still dewy and perfect, like that of a fine porcelain doll. Ethereal. Her brows were perfect arches, the same charcoal brown he’d been fascinated by all those years ago. Even in the darkness, he could make out the thick lashes that fringed her eyes.

Those eyes…so blue, so beautiful. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut by a mule. Damn, she was beautiful. But his mind raced with questions. Most importantly, what was she doing standing in the middle of a street in New Orleans when she’d died two hundred years ago in France?

His arms and legs felt heavy, and he realized he was getting drenched. But it didn’t matter. He’d stand in a hurricane if it meant finding out if she, if Violet, were real. Or if he’d finally lost his mind and was only envisioning her.

Her lips were just as rosy as he remembered; her nose as perfectly shaped, her face oval and oh so familiar.

She remained silent. Did she recognize him?

He stepped closer, silently praying to the gods, Fates, and anyone else who would listen. Sniffing the air, he tried to catch her scent but she was downwind.

“Violet?” He didn’t like the husky tone of his voice. Hated the weakness in his knees, the soreness that resided where his heart had once been. Loathed the desire he still felt for a woman long dead.

Could his eyes be playing tricks on him? Could this woman really be his little Violet? After all these years?

Not trusting himself or his luck, he took another step. She lifted her hands to her lips, almost as if she were praying. Her fingernails were long and polished a glossy red.

A sharp ache erupted inside his chest, and he reached up to rub it. His hand brushed something, and he looked down to see a dart sticking out of his skin. Plucking it out, he stared at the woman before him. Then she and the rest of the world went dark.

Visit the other Saturday Snippet Authors:

Jody Wallace
Emma Petersen
Lissa Matthews
Mari Carr
McKenna Jeffries
Taige Crenshaw
Delilah Devlin
Eliza Gayle
TJ Michaels
Lauren Dane
Helen Kay Dimon
Leah Braemel

I’m so excited! And other news…

Hello dear readers! Hope you’re having a great week and stayin’ sexy.

I am so excited! Ask me why. Anyone? *crickets*

Why!?

Have you see the new Oscar commericals? With Anne Hathaway and James Franco? OMG! They are so funny. And so cute together! Here’s one:

Yeah, so now you get why I’m totally excited. Counting down the minutes until the Oscars.

Also, Dancing with the Stars is supposed to announce the Season 12 Cast on Monday. I’m counting down to that as well. I suppose that means I’ll have to sit through another episode of The Bachelor.

If you have a minute today, drop by the TRS blog where I posted a review of No Strings Attached. I have a few more stops on my blog tour. I hope you’ll join me.

Mood: focused

Drinking: Coke Zero

Working on: Seduced by a Cajun Werewolf

Listening to: Adam Lambert

Reading: Dreams of a Dark Warrior by Kresley Cole

Visiting: 10 Ways to Improve Your “Likability Quotient”

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