Wicked After Dark: The Horror of Our Love

 

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It’s me again—your old pal Lexxx with a blog about the slightly disturbing genre of horror erotica.  I am going to reveal a disturbing, if not surprising, piece of myself.  I’m into sex and violence.  I think the two go hand in hand, actually.  Think about it—in horror movies, the hero and heroine almost always get busy just before the monster jumps out and annihilates their naked flesh.  It’s always been a rule of slasher films that the first big kill is some girl showing us her white underwear and/or gratuitously large breasts while she runs from the axe murderer that hacked up her lover in the previous frames.  Let’s face it—sex and fear have a lot in common.  Your pulse races, you get short of breath and then at the peak—complete exhilaration.  As I sit here writing this article, I’m watching the movie “Pet Sematary,” based on Stephen King’s brilliant novel.  King is a master of turning the ordinary into the EXTRAordinary.  Love is the most ordinary thing around, sex even more so.  As they say, the birds and the bees do it.  So it only seems natural that love and sex should have starring roles in horror stories. 

My release, “Dollface,” from No Boundaries Press, is about the horror of obsessive love.  We’ve all been there, right?  We’ve all had that person who knew just how to push our buttons in all the right places.  We want to be with them every minute and hang on every word they say.  But what if that person doesn’t return our affections?  Perhaps they just don’t like us “that way,” or aren’t really looking for a relationship.  Maybe it’s because they were an old love whose time has passed, never to be recaptured.  Or worse, your ultimate mate doesn’t even acknowledge that you’re alive.  No matter how you slice it, it hurts.  The pain of unrequited love can turn even the most normal of people into angry harpies that blow up your phone with disturbing text messages.  But what if it was more sadistic than that?  What if the lover was a bit… unbalanced.  That, my friends, is the stuff of erotic horror.

In the genre, over the last several years, we’ve seen a huge surge in blending horror and romance.  Yes, this is the Twilight portion of our little discussion.  Ah, Twilight, a sweet little YA novel about necrophilia.  New girl at school meets popular boy, falls in love and discovers that he’s a bloodsucking creature of the night (or as Corey Haim so aptly put it in “The Lost Boys,”—“A goddamn shit-sucking vampire!”).  Indeed a tale as old as time.  Stephanie Meyer may take credit for it, but Bram Stoker did it back in the Victorian era.  The difference is, Stoker realized the true metaphor of the vampire.  When Dracula says, “The blood is the life,” what he meant was “the blood is the sex.”  And I think that’s what fuels the hatred of Twilight among oversexed adults like me.  Meyer cut Edward Cullen’s balls off and stuck them safely down in her purse.  He doesn’t drink blood—he may as well be impotent.  Vampires are romantic heroes.  They always have been.  Their powers of seduction are necessary to their survival and to take that away so that they can be “the good guys,” just undermines their power as horror figures.  One reaction to that has been erotic horror featuring badass vampires that have no problem fucking your brains out then sucking your blood.  And it gets stranger than that.  I’ve heard of erotic horror featuring zombies, demons, ghosts and witches.  Coming soon to your bookstore:  The Secret Sex Lives of the Loch Ness Monster

So what’s the point?  We all feel like a bit of a monster every now and then.  Love makes us do crazy things and we find ourselves relating to the creatures of the night.  So when you think about it that way, it really isn’t all that strange, this love of all things both erotic and macabre. 

My books can be found  at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks and anywhere quality eBooks are sold.

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Wicked After Dark: Sanguine Kiss (WARNING: EXPLICIT NC-17)

 

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We’re drawing closer to Halloween.  That feeling of dread sweeps over us slowly, licking at the back of our necks like a sadistic lover.  We can feel it in the crisp autumn air.  We can hear it in the whistling of the wind around the eaves.  We can smell it like burning leaves, yet it offers no warmth.  Everywhere we can feel the spirits of the dead watching and waiting.  Some of us hide, bundling ourselves in fuzzy sweaters, moving quickly through the streets to the safety of our homes, praying that nothing will follow us there.  Others of us will revel in it.  Those of us that relish the feeling of being scared.  That gasp of surprise, the chill of fear– it is exhilarating and we seek it out.Sanguine Kiss is for us.

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EXCERPT:

There were two cuts, side by side that seemed to drag a couple of inches down his arm. “I thought vampires were invincible.”

He flicked his tongue over the curve of her breast, watching as her skin prickled. “The scar marks us for what we are. You will have one too.” Gillian tensed at his words and he pulled her to him. “The pain lasts only a moment,” he whispered, his lips moving softly against the puckered skin

of her nipple before drawing it into his mouth. He suckled gently at first, worrying it to a swollen bud until she gasped. Only then did he prick the edge of the areola with his teeth. The wound was miniscule and she barely noticed the sting until the tiny pearl of blood appeared. Pulling back from her, he purred deep in his throat upon seeing the deep red rivulets that ran down the side of her breast, following the curving silhouette of her body. Before it could reach the sheets below, he swooped down and captured the drops with his tongue, then lapped at the precious fluid.

Gillian moaned, her heart beating faster. She knew she should be afraid, but she was lost in the sensations he created. He kissed his way back up her torso, alighting on her other breast and biting down hard. She cried out, instinctively trying to push him away. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the pillow behind her head. She groaned and struggled, but he was much too strong for her. Closing his mouth over the breast fully, he sucked at the wound until it was bleeding heavily down her front. She watched with eyes blurry with tears, as the thickening sanguine fluid stained her skin. He drank deeply for a few moments, then tore himself away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Strangely, she didn’t feel drained as she’d thought she would. Only this heaviness that had settled into her extremities, keeping her still as he slid away from her. “Is that it?” she croaked sleepily, thinking that perhaps she’d been afraid for nothing.

He gave a dark chuckle as he stood up at the side of the bed. A smear of her blood stood out as a harsh streak of black against his skin. “Patience, little one,” he said, pulling at the button on his jeans. “I’ve only just begun. Such a delicious delicacy should be savored, not devoured in one sitting.” She shuddered and he chuckled again, pushing the restricting fabric over his narrow hips and down until he stood before her, a vision of male perfection. His body seemed to be carved of stone, every muscle standing out just under his skin. The bones of his pelvis crossed over his hips, drawing her eye down to his cock which stood out impressively, giving away his own lust. Gillian smiled, feeling somewhat empowered by this show of arousal. She wanted to sit up and go to him, but her body was so heavy. She felt as if he’d restrained her, but there were no bonds.

Seth threw his head back, his black hair spilling over his shoulders as he inhaled her scent on the air. “Fucking hell, Gillian.” He sighed. “Your scent…so much fear, so much desire…it’s like a drug.” He climbed back into the bed, kneeling between her outstretched legs. “I fear that once I start, I won’t be able to stop,” he murmured, grasping the waistband of the pants she wore. With a growl, he pulled at them until they were ripped

completely open and he could jerk them down her legs. “A thousand years of practice and you have me behaving like a fledgling.”

“I’m… I’m sorry…” she stammered, biting her lip as his fingers brushed her thighs.

He leaned over her, kissing just below her navel and swirling his tongue around it. “You’re not sorry,” he replied, opening his mouth wider and grazing the warm skin with his teeth, opening another bloody gash. It dribbled slowly down, pooling in the crease above her mound. She could feel the warm wetness and she reached down to touch it, but he slapped her hand away. With the flat of his tongue he licked at the blood, tasting it and groaning with satisfaction. It wet his lips and when he gazed up at her, he looked like a sinister harlequin with his painted mouth.

The streaks of blood were a map to her center and he followed it without hesitation. He reached out to touch her sex, gathering some of the blood that had collected in the corner of his mouth and using it to paint around her opening, then licking it away until she was arching up against his mouth, begging him for more. He pulled the outer lips of her sex between his lips to kiss each one in turn. With two fingers, he pulled and tugged at the dewy petals until they were plumped with blood.

“Seth…” she sighed, her voice trailing off into an unintelligible moan as he took each side into his mouth in turn, rolling the moist flesh between his lips, careful not to bite. As he teased them, they began to part, revealing those secret destinations deep inside. His fingertips were all too willing to help them along, pulling the lips wide apart and flicking the swollen nub of flesh that was carefully hidden behind. Gillian’s breath was slow, coming in shallow gasps as he kissed and nibbled at her clit. She could feel the moist heat rush to her sex and she struggled to pull her legs further apart to urge him on, but still, every movement was a struggle as the venom crept slowly through her veins. As he kissed at the tiny clitoris, his fingertips slid up her body, swirling in the pools of blood still dripping from her breasts and belly. She looked down, watching as he brought his fingers to his lips, tasting the blood and then pushing his fingers forcefully into her sex. He moved them inside in gentle circles, then stroked them in and out until her blood mixed with the slippery wetness of her sex. He lapped it up like a man dying of thirst. Gillian’s voice rose in octaves, higher and higher as she surrendered to the pleasure of his foreplay. The loss of blood had made her delirious, sighing and crying, out of her head.

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Sanguine Kiss can be found  at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks and anywhere quality eBooks are sold.

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Wicked After Dark: Silver Foxes

The hero of my second release, “Second Skin,” is a sexy older man.  This isn’t a

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coincidence, kittens.  The older I’ve gotten, the more I’ve developed an interest in older men.  It’s weird because I never figured that I’d be one of those women that sought out a fifty-something.  Not that I haven’t always liked a mate to be older—my husband, Tally, is five, almost six years older than I.  When we met, my mother was so worried about our age difference.  I was 17 and he was 22—old enough to buy beer.  But I was never interested in boys my age.  I suppose in my eyes they weren’t as mature or mysterious.  As I’ve gotten older, my fascination has gotten worse.  I’m just not interested in the sex symbol of the moment unless he has a little silver in his hair.  Older men are confident, self-assured, dominating— AND THAT MAKES ME HOTTER THAN A TIN ROOF IN THE  MIDDLE OF JULY.  So I’ve attached a wicked little excerpt from “Second Skin” that showcases our hero, the sexy Jack Leannan.  Incidentally, “leannan” is Gaelic for “lover.” 

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Jack Leannan wasn’t like anyone I had ever met before.  And I think I knew we were going to sleep together from the moment I saw him.  We met briefly at a dinner party and I was instantly fascinated.  He was quite a bit older than I, but it didn’t affect his allure at all.  The silvery strands at his temples only served to highlight the cool blue composure of his eyes.  His body was solid, a telltale sign of one who took care of himself, but not overdone.  He had a quiet grace that gave him an air of mystery and dominance.  His accented voice was low with just a tinge of gravel that had me drooling with his first hello.  We stood around in the same circle of strangers, exchanging shallow niceties and bored expressions.  He didn’t say a lot, merely commented when spoken to.  I noticed him laugh quietly to himself at inopportune times and it endeared him to me, though I was afraid to engage him in conversation. 

I didn’t notice when everyone else had left the circle and I still stood there, holding my glass of wine and staring at Jack.  It was as if the entire world had disappeared around us and I couldn’t care less.  “Miss Spencer?  Are you alright?”  He spoke to me and I started.  I hadn’t realized that he even knew my name. 

“Catherine.  Please call me Catherine,” I said, somewhat robotically as I pushed the words from my lips.

He smirked, one eyebrow quirking.  “Are you sure we know each other well enough for that?”

“I’ll risk it,” I replied. 

“As long as we’ve set the ground rules.”  With another smile he offered his hand and we shook politely.  I tried to let go, but he held on tight and then pulled, leading me to a couch nearby.  “I hate parties,” he said casually as he motioned for me to sit.  “Standing around talking to strangers was never my forte.”

“You seem to be doing well so far,” I replied, taking a seat.

“If you’ll notice, the only person I’ve actually spoken to is you.”

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Whew… that Jack is one of my favorite heroes ever.   He’s sexy, smart and he knows just what to say to get my blood boiling.  That’s what’s so hot.  Not just that he’s an older man, but that he seems to know everything poor Catherine needs to hear.  Of course, it’s his downfall.  But I’m not one to give spoilers.

Don’t forget to go in and leave some comments– be sure to tell me about YOUR favorite Silver Fox.  And of course, click Miss Bettie up there to visit the other blog hop participants!

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Wicked After Dark: A Tortured Hero

 

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So for Day Three of the Wicked After Dark hop, let’s have a little talk about tortured paranormal heroes.  The main character in my book, Beast of Burden, is a tortured hero.  Cianan Marek is the hero we all dream about.  He’s handsome, scarred, brooding… He’s a werewolf.  And I’m not talking about one of those sissy quasi-werewolves.   He’s a bona fide badass with a painful transformation, full moon rage and complete nudity afterwards.  It’s made clear from the beginning of the book that he is not a nice guy.  Even before he made the Change, he had a hair-trigger temper and a lust for violence.  The only thing that could melt his heart was the beautiful Lady Isabella.  And when a tragedy befalls her, his life is destroyed, twisting him into a tormented hermit that is feared by everyone.  Until, of course, a little slave girl named Sascha enters the picture and manages to chip away at his heart of stone.

So why do we love these guys so much?  The tortured hero is an archetype that we see over and over in literature and movies.  Is it because we, as women, are always looking for someone to “fix?”  Or could it be that we love to live dangerously, sleeping beside a ball of pent up rage?  Whatever it is, we love them.  Their angst gives them an edge.  And if they’re a guilty paranormal—all the better. 

Probably my favorite  tortured hero is Heathcliff from the Emily Bronte gothic romance, Wuthering Heights.  And in fact, if you’ve read Wuthering Heights, you’ll probably see a lot of Heathcliff in Marek.  He loves poor, stupid Cathy with all of his heart and when she marries another because of her family’s prejudices—he  loses it.  He becomes this mean and hateful old man that everyone fears.  Seeks vengeance on the whole Earnshaw clan.  But in the end you realize, he loved Cathy all along.  And women eat that shit up.  That notion of how everything he does is for you is so romantic.  It makes us go gooey in all the right places.

Exhibit B—Edward Cullen.  Reluctant vampire with a skin problem.  Ever since Twilight came out, the teeny bopper love of Edward has run rampant throughout the country.  Even among soccer moms.  There are tons of theories out there as to why Team Edward has such a vast following, but I offer, dear reader, that it’s because he’s a tortured hero.  He struggles with loving Bella, yet knowing that their romance could ultimately end badly.  He struggles with the faces of all the humans he killed in the throes of his bloodlust.  He struggles with not wanting to turn Bella into a soulless creature of the night.  Let’s put it this way—he just struggles.  And we love watching it.  Our heartstrings are plucked like an out of tune violin when Edward looks into her eyes and says, “It’s a bit easier to be around you when I’m not thirsty.” 

Marek is no different than the tortured heroes that we all know and love.  But will he be redeemed and have a happy ending like Edward?  Or will he die alone, shrieking at ghosts in a cupboard like Heathcliff? Only one way to find out….

Beast of Burden is just one of the books that you can choose from my catalog, should you win one of the coveted PDFs.  In the spirit of goodwill and hot Halloween sex, I offer a little excerpt to whet your appetite.

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“If the wolf ever comes upon you, its eyes glowing red with hunger. Pain is the only thing that will stop it. Hurt me, Sascha.”

“I could never,” she whimpered, turning her face from his, not wanting to face the truth of his nature.

“It’s the only way. Pain will force me to change. As I said before, pain makes us human.” He took her chin gently between his fingertips and turned her face back to him. “Promise me, Sascha.” Her eyes filled with tears again and she shook her head. “You have to promise me. Hurt me. Kill me if you have to. Do whatever you have to do to stay safe.”

“I…” She struggled to get the words out, but they turned to choked sobs. “I can’t…do this…”

He took her face between his fingertips, angrily this time. His fingertips dug into her jawbone and she whimpered against the pain. “You have no choice. You are my slave and I’m ordering you to do this.” She closed her eyes and turned away again, her jaw set in defiance. After a few moments he spoke softly. “If you can’t promise me this one thing, I’ll send you away.” His voice caught in his throat, choking on the sentence. But she could tell from the hard line of his mouth that he meant it. Her heart leapt in terror as the realization of his threat hit her hard. Suddenly the thought of being sent away from him was more than she could bear. He sighed heavily and heaved his body off of her, standing up and starting to pace back and forth, pushing his hands through his hair. “Make your choice quickly, Sascha. I haven’t the time for halfhearted decisions.”

She sniffled, sitting up at his feet and staring up at him with tearful eyes. “Please don’t send me away, My Lord.”

“Say it. Say you promise to draw blood, even kill me if you must.”

The words wrenched more sobs from her throat, but she knew what had to be done. “I promise,” she whispered, hanging her head in defeat. “I will do whatever you ask.”

He nodded and knelt down in front of her, putting his arms around her shoulders and pulling her tightly against him. “Good girl. I won’t lose you again. I can’t.”

His embrace was desperate, as if he didn’t want to ever let her go. She inhaled deeply, taking

him into her lungs. It made her dizzy and she nearly swooned, but his hands were in her hair, pulling her head back to stare up at him. Her eyes were open when his mouth descended on hers once more. His kiss was furious and their tongues fought for dominance before he won out. When he rose, he pulled her with him, gathering her into his arms and turning to lay her back down across his bed, their lips never parting. By the time he released her, she was gasping for breath and pulling at his shirt, wanting him to stay close. He took her hands, putting them by her sides as he knelt beside her on the bed. Her eyes stayed on him as he lifted her pelvis easily, tugging her torn dress over her hips and throwing it aside. He made another growling sound as his eyes slithered over her body and Sascha’s heart skipped a beat. She started to protest, but his mouth silenced her again. His hands were all over her, tracing lightly with the tips of his fingers. She groaned softly, stretching out beneath him, remembering all the things she’d read in Bella’s journal. Would he work the same magic on her? She was apprehensive, but more afraid that this would end.

Cianan slid to his side, his hand placed warmly on her belly as he kissed the cuff of her ear. “You’re so beautiful, Sascha. Seeing you lying here ignites a fire I’d thought long dead.”

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Damn I love that Marek.  Whew… Don’t forget to click either the FACEBOOK FAN PAGE or my Twitter to follow and enter the contest.  And you must send me a message and let me know your email so I’ll be able to inform you that you’ve won.  If you prefer rafflecopter, again, I’m experimenting so feel free to enter there.  I hope to see you all again tomorrow!

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The Importance of Character, WAD Blog Hop #2

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Well its day number two of the Wicked After Dark blog hop.  I hope that you’ve all been hopping along from one little link to the next, entering contests and finding your new favorite author.  I know that I’ve had so much fun seeing what my fellow authors have to say on a variety of wicked and wonderful topics.  That being said, I’ve opted today to sound off on a topic near and dear to my heart.  Characterization, I feel, is the most important criterion on which all literature is judged.  Whether it be erotica, horror, romance or hard science-fiction, if we don’t have good characters, we don’t have a good story.  What exactly put me in mind of this particular rant today?  Well, as some of you that follow me on Facebook are aware, I’m a HUGE fan of “American Horror Story. “  It’s one of the few shows on television that I will watch faithfully.  Well, that and reruns of “The Golden Girls.”  AHS is infamous for having a confusing plot that has constant twists and turns.  Some might say that the writers often flip the plot around purely for shock value.  The idea is to find out what is really scary in American culture, twist it and then shove all those tropes into one complete story.  That can sometimes lead the story to be kind of disjointed and confused, adding to that feeling of disorientation.  What’s the glue that holds this complicated plotline together?  The characters.  Each and every person on that show, even down to the most minor asylum inmate jackin’ off in his cell, you can tell has an extensive backstory that add layers to him or her.  Hell, even the building itself is a character, as demonstrated in the very first episode when it seemed that the abandoned asylum itself was attacking Adam Levine (remind me to thank the abandoned asylum later). 

When I write, a lot of times, I have an idea of my hero first.  I decide what sort of character he’s going to be:  an alpha, a tortured junkie, a vampire with a toothache—whatever.  I try to get to know the hero and sometimes, I’ll even write an entire page of backstory just for him.  Now, I probably won’t use all of that, but it helps to have notes that outline his personality so that I can get in my head how he will react to every situation.  I move through each of my characters this way until I have a handle on who these people are.  Once I know that, it’s so much easier to design a plot.  I believe this is what can help my readers connect with the story.  If we don’t care about them, then we don’t care about the plot.  It’s what separates horror from torture porn and erotica from pornography. 

So—you’re a writer and you want to know how to craft these incredible heroes and villains?  My advice:  READ A BOOK!  That’s right, I’m talkin’ to you, writer girl/ boy.  You have to read a book to write a book.  I suggest Stephen King (of course, y’all know I love me some Steve), Harlan Ellison, Anais Nin, Stephen Zimmer and Anne Rice.  Those are my favorite giants of characterization, but there are literally thousands of authors out there who do an incredible job with it.  And then—get off yer ass and write the damn book!

So I’ve promised you all, as part of the blog hop, to hand out little excerpts of some of my releases because YOU could be the winner of one of my books as a shiny, new PDF.  All I ask is that you follow me on Twitter and/or Facebook (see links below) and leave me a message telling me your email so that I can put you in the running to win.  I’m also experimenting with Rafflecopter, so you can opt to enter using the little widget right here on the blog.  Don’t worry, I’ll be choosing from a pool that encompasses both entry ways, so don’t worry if you’ve already entered.   I just want to make it as easy as possible.  But anywhoo…. On with the excerpt.  Our excerpt today is from my second release, a sexy selkie tale entitled “Second Skin.”  I chose to give you a little taste of what I’ve been talking about with an excerpt that paints a picture of the most sexy Jack Leannan:

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Jack Leannan wasn‟t like anyone I had ever met before. And I think I knew we were going to sleep together from the moment I saw him. We met briefly at a dinner party and I was instantly fascinated. He was quite a bit older than I, but it didn‟t affect his allure at all. The silvery strands at his temples only served to highlight the cool blue composure of his eyes. His body was solid, a telltale sign of one who took care of himself, but not overdone. He had a quiet grace that gave him an air of mystery and dominance. His accented voice was low with just a tinge of gravel that had me drooling with his first hello. We stood around in the same circle of strangers, exchanging shallow niceties and bored expressions. He didn‟t say a lot, merely commented when spoken to. I noticed him laugh quietly to himself at inopportune times and it endeared him to me, though I was afraid to engage him in conversation.

I didn‟t notice when everyone else had left the circle and I still stood there, holding my glass of wine and staring at Jack. It was as if the entire world had disappeared around us and I couldn‟t care less. “Miss Spencer? Are you alright?” He spoke to me and I started. I hadn‟t realized that he even knew my name.

“Catherine. Please call me Catherine,” I said, somewhat robotically as I pushed the words from my lips.

He smirked, one eyebrow quirking. “Are you sure we know each other well enough for that?”

“I‟ll risk it,” I replied.

“As long as we‟ve set the ground rules.” With another smile he offered his hand and we shook politely. I tried to let go, but he held on tight and then pulled, leading me to a couch nearby. “I hate parties,” he said casually as he motioned for me to sit. “Standing around talking to strangers was never my forte.”

“You seem to be doing well so far,” I replied, taking a seat.

“If you‟ll notice, the only person I‟ve actually spoken to is you.” He sat down sideways on the cushion beside mine, turning towards me in a comfortable fashion.

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My books can be found  at

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All Things Wicked and Dark

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I thought I’d kick off my series of posts with a countdown of my favorite wicked indulgences.  Kind of like that song from the Sound of Music, but dirtier.  No, there will be no raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens, but more of a countdown of all the Spooky and Wicked things that I like best.  So on with the show….

1)       The Lost Boys:  It’s not Halloween at my house until I sit down on the couch with my popcorn and coke and watch The Lost Boys.  It’s my all- time favorite movie.  It’s got everything:  horror, humor, sexy vampires that actually eat people.  In fact, I’m quite certain that if Edward Cullen sparkled in David’s general direction, he’d tear the whiny bitch’s heart out and eat it in front of him.

2)      Zombie Pin-up Girls:  As anyone will tell you, I aspire to be a part-time pin-up someday.  And my favorite style is kind of a mashup of the traditional 50s style with a bit of horror element.  Think Bettie Page meets Suicide Girl.  Zombie Pin-ups give a whole new meaning to Trick or Treat. 

3)      Goth Playlist Mixed with Sound FX:  Part of the fun of a Halloween party is to create atmosphere.  Music is the best way to do that and I have a lot of favorite things I like to play at Halloween:  The Cure, Nine Inch Nails, Bella Morte, Unto Ashes, The Shroud—all of them will be especially spooky with a few scary sound effects mixed in.  And of course there’s all those Halloween favorites:  Thriller, Theme from Ghostbusters, Somebody’s Watchin’ Me, The Time Warp.  Al of these things can work together to give you chills in all the right places.

4)      Books of Horror and Suspense:  Before writer, I am always a reader.  Since learning to read at age four, I’ve been a consumer of books.  And almost from the beginning I’ve been a fan of all things dark and terrifying.  My first foray into horror was probably the classic Alvin Schwartz Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.  The illustrations in the first editions of that book were so creepy that they’ve since had to change them because they were deemed to be too scary for children.  Since then I’ve moved on to Poe, Stephen King, Joe Hill, Peter Straub, and countless others.  Which brings me to the purpose of this blog hop….

If you like a little romance with your horror, I would like to offer a little bit of my newest book Strange Bedfellows:  Three to Tango.  This series has it all, vampires, zombies, sex, violence, blood… all the biggies.  But don’t take my word for it—let the excerpt speak for itself…

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“How I would love to taste you, ma chère,” he whispered, leaning over to kiss her, then changing his mind and licking her lips.  She whimpered and raised her body, desperate to feel his mouth against hers, but he was having none of it.  André teased her with sweeps of his tongue and little nips of his teeth.  “But I wouldn’t want to spoil you.  Your warmth is a gift to feel against my body.” 

“We’ve waited so long for you, Caliope,” Leo added, standing by the bed and carefully unbuttoning his shirt.  “A beautiful…warm…human lover…”  As he said this, he pulled the shirt away from his shoulders, exposing his torso.  Her eyes followed the contour of his chest, every muscle formed perfectly beneath the pale skin.  Every molecule of her body cried out to touch him, but she kept still, almost afraid.  She clenched her fists at her sides, her whole body rigid.   André reclined beside her, taking her hand and pressing her wrist to his lips, and he began kissing gently along her arm.  Cali watched him, fascinated by the beauty of his skin and the glow of his eyes as he examined every inch of her. 

Leo laughed, sweeping her hair away from her brow.  “I believe you’ve already bewitched our André.  Of course, he’s French and they’re a bit extreme when it comes to love.  They positively smother.”  Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, and she could feel his eyelashes flutter against her skin. 

“But why…” she breathed, trying not to notice as André’s fingertips began to trill across her collarbone.  “Why would you want me?  I’m just a plain Jane…pathetic…nothing…” Her chin trembled as her voice cracked and the tears sprung to the corners of her eyes.  “An idiot like Gavin didn’t even want me.”

André didn’t let her finish, pulling her to him roughly and attacking her lips with a crushing kiss.  “You will be ours now.  The past is forgotten.” 

“What a pretty pet,” Leo whispered, letting his hands roam along the curve of her hip.  “There is nothing left for you out there now, love.  Let us take care of you.”  With that he leaned over, kissing the dent where her torso met her pelvis.  Soft, gentle kisses at first and then suggestive sweeps of his tongue that slid along her skin.  She lay back between them, feeling their hands everywhere at once.  She couldn’t believe she was being so reckless.  Allowing two strangers…two strangers who had already admitted that they were vampires…to caress and kiss her naked body.  Not that she had anything to live for.  Her life for the last several weeks had been misery at best.  If they were willing to offer such pleasure, she would gladly sacrifice herself to their lust.  Her head lolled to one side, watching Leo as he moved up to kiss her throat.  She bit her lip, preparing herself for the inevitable piercing of skin as he bit her, but after several moments he pulled away, licking his lips and staring down into her face.  “You look so frightened, love.  But you’ve nothing to fear,” Leo whispered.

André chuckled and brushed his fingertip over the crest of her cheek.  “The poor thing thinks we’re going to feed from her.”

“Aren’t you?” Cali whispered, her eyes fluttering closed as André leaned over, taking the cuff of her ear between his teeth and nibbling with the lightest of caresses. 

“Only if you ask nicely,” Leo purred, stroking the pads of his fingers along her jugular vein.  “Not that you aren’t quite a tempting treat.  Your blood races so fast, pulsing deep beneath your skin.  So warm and wet—like liquid fire oozing down my throat.”

*********

Sound tempting?  I thought so.  Now… the GIVEAWAY! That’s right kids… I’m giving away a copy of Strange Bedfellows: Three to Tango!  All you have to do to enter is hop on over to Twitter and my Facebook Page (see the links below), give me a follow and a like and leave me a message ON MY FACEBOOK PAGE giving me your email addy (so I can contact you and tell you that you’ve won).  I’ll draw a name at the end of the blog tour (November 2nd) to be the big wiener!!

If I’ve piqued your interest or if you just want to come point and laugh, I can be found at the following locales:

Facebook

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Twitter

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My books can be found  at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks and anywhere quality eBooks are sold.

Be sure to visit the rest of the blog tour!  Everyone has such great posts and giveaways… I know I’ll be hopping to the next stop…..