Tuesday, January 27, 2015

Tuesday Teaser: Within the Mist, a short sensual paranormal inspired by the Phantom of the Opera

Today we entice you with Denise Bridger's newest release...Within the Mist



The misty evening air of a Winter in Venice cloaks many things…. Some who are passionate lovers hoping for stolen moments….. others who are merely the cutthroats and thieves that plague any city filled with the wealth of visitors and citizens of palaces….. But what else lies hidden within the mist? The voice of an angel lures…. each perfect note beckons and promises untold pleasures…. until, finally, a broken heart succumbs to desire…. and Fate weaves a new thread into the tapestry that is the mystery of life itself…. 

Inspired by the music of Riccardo Foresi, the photography of Vincenzo Chiofalo, and the eternal lure of Gaston LeRoux’s The Phantom of the Opera… discover what waits Within The Mist… 

Excerpt:
He continued to sing, the lyrical, lilting Italian words caressing her spirit and pulling her closer to him. When she finally stepped into the chamber where he was, she stared in wonder. The room was lit with what appeared to be a thousand candles, their soft glow reflecting off the polished wooden floor and throwing frenetic shadows everywhere. Seated at the piano was a slender man, dressed all in black. His hair was dark, and the hands that whispered over the keys of the instrument were long-fingered and elegant. Hands shaped for making love in any form he chose.

He played the last notes of the mesmerizing song and slowly turned to look at her. His dark eyes glittered, flames dancing wildly in their ebony depths, and he held out his hand to draw her forward. She went to him and dropped to her knees, head bowed, tears streaking her face as she let the hood of her cape fall to hide her shame.

“You came to end my life. Why?”
“I cannot bear the pain of not knowing you.”
“But you do know me. I am part of you.”
“You are madness!” She retorted with real anger surging into her being, giving her strength and making her look up at him. “You have taken everything!”
“I took nothing,” he admonished with gentle warmth. “I am part of you.”
“How can that be?”
He smiled. She felt the kiss of his indulgence touch her heart.
“You created me,” he murmured. “The night he died, you gave me life.”
She was confused, and the room was suddenly growing colder with each beat of her heart. “Why did you let me find you?”
He tilted his head to one side and considered her question. “Perhaps because it is time for me to return the gift of life to you, tesoro mio?”
“You can’t,” she whispered, the quiet words shaken and harsh. “There is no life for me now.”
“There is always life in death, amore,” he murmured as he leaned closer and pried the blade from her hand beneath the heavy cloak. “Let me show you forever.”

She gasped in fright and pain as he slashed the dagger’s edge across her palm and brought the bleeding hand to his mouth. When his tongue played over her flesh she felt the mists of the night invade her brain, and blackness reached out to pull her into a chasm that exploded into fire racing along her veins… As the world changed around her and within her, she heard his sweet voice whispering to her…

There is always life in death, amore mio… when I am death… come with me, share our journey…

“Yes…”

She heard the word, distant, torn from her soul purely by the power and depth of her need to know him, to know all of him, at whatever price he asked. The ache in her body pulled at her, made her feel light and heavy with conflicting desires.

The dagger flashed again, slowly, gently slicing through the tie that held her cape together at her throat. It slid away and he smiled with satisfaction when he saw the crimson silk she wore, a simple dress that wrapped around her like the arms of a lover… She had been wearing this pretty gown the night they’d first seen each other, choosing it had seem right somehow.

The gleaming stiletto blade moved once more, and candlelight flickered against the shining silver as he delicately cut the tie that held the dress up. He set the knife on the piano and with the backs of his hands barely touching her skin, he smoothed the shape of her collarbones, then retraced them with the sensitive pads of his fingertips. The calluses from hours spent playing the piano added another sensual layer to the rippling sensation that was fanning outward, running though her veins like blood. 



Canadian born and bred, and a lifelong dreamer, I began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when I wasn’t creating in some artistic form. My life has had several on-going love affairs that shape much of what I write. In the past half dozen years, I’ve released books in all lengths and genres, and it’s something I hope to continue to do for many more years. A visit to my website will show the diversity of what is currently available, as well as all my social site links, etc.
You can find Denyse, her works, her blog, and social media  at her WEBSITE


Want to read more of Within the Mist?  Of course you do...then go to

ARe Romance                 Amazon                         Smashwords

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Tuesday Teaser: Lightson Dynasty by Rhiannon Wellman, a historical m/m romance

Jo has always been what he is and never what he seems. Will his grandmother force him to live a life he doesn't want, or can he figure a way out?
Jo's life had never been simple. But since he moved in with his grandmother, things only became worse. First, she assumes that Jo stood for Josephine not Joseph. Then she believes all young women should be suitably married, especially her granddaughter, Jo.
So now Jo's expected to marry a man he's never met and whose own grandmother also wants the match. But how can he when he must protect his secret?
Marcus would rather spend time with his books and the gentlemen at his club than women, let alone marry one.
With both their grandmothers working against them, will they be able to find their way out of this potentially scandalous situation? After spending time together, will they want to?


Excerpt:
Jo couldn't help but laugh out loud at that statement. "I will bet you any amount of money you care to name that you will never meet a girl like me again." Jo moved well back from the edge of the cliff and opened the basket to retrieve the blanket that lay across the top of the food. Marcus helped Jo to set out the food, and they sat down.
"How did your grandmother convince you to come, if you do not mind me asking?" Jo asked.
"She did what every mother and grandmother does when she wants a male of her acquaintance to do something he might not want to do. She threatened me. She told me that if I did not comply, then I would be cut off and disowned."
"That seems rather extreme."
"My grandmother wishes to see me settled down before she dies. And my mother, well..." Marcus paused, staring down at his food and avoiding eye contact.
"I know we just met, but I promise you nothing you say to me will go any further than the two of us. My grandmother, after all, is doing the exact same thing to me."
Marcus nodded. "I suppose we are somewhat in the same boat, as it were. Very well, my mother is too frightened of my grandmother to dare oppose her on anything. She is my father's mother, and very used to getting her own way. She also has the type of mind that once 'tis made up, there is no changing it."
Jo nodded. "Grandmother is just the same, but I have no mother and father any longer whom I could turn to. I shall have to put up with it. I must confess, I fully intended to make myself as unpleasant as possible for the duration of your stay to insure that you wouldn't even think of making me an offer."
Marcus laughed good naturedly. "I planned to be as boorish as I could manage, so you wouldn't accept when I did. Ye gads, we are a pair, aren’t we."
"What are we going to do now? You have to ask, and I have to say yes."
Jo couldn't help but feel downcast as this all became extremely overwhelming. He just did not know what he could do now.
"I do not know. If they were not such close friends, I would suggest we lie. You could say I never asked, and I could say that you refused me."
Jo huffed a laugh. "A good suggestion, but it would not work. I never expected to marry. My mother used to tell me that one day, I would find someone I wished to spend my life with, and she and my father would be happy for me no matter who the person was. But now they are gone. All Grandmother cares about is that I marry someone suitable."
"Why would you not marry? You are a beautiful woman; gentlemen must have made you offers before," Marcus asked as if genuinely surprised that Jo thought so lowly of himself.
"We better get back to the house. You'll want to settle in and get ready for dinner," Jo said, getting up and artfully avoiding the question.
"Yes, you are quite right. It would be most rude of me to delay you any further."
Jo couldn't help but smile. "I doubt the staff expected me back in time for dinner tonight. That is why they gave me the packed meal."
"Planning to avoid my arrival?" Marcus asked with a wry smile.

WANT TO READ MORE?
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About the Author:
Rhiannon has been making up stories as long as she can remember, admittedly they had less sex in them back then. She never goes anywhere without a pen and notebook, and has often been known to
stop mid-conversation, get a glazed look in her eye and need to write down a line, or even an entirely new plot to add to her ever growing 'to do' pile.
Rhiannon's approach to writing, and life, is best described by the following conversation with her very understanding, and often bemused husband.
"You got bit by the plot bunny again didn't you?"
"Um maybe"
"Small bunny or big one?"
"It was a tiger in a cunning disguise."
When she's not writing she has a full-time job and a family who she loves very much, she's very grateful for all the wonderful things in her life and hopes to keep writing for a long time. Working on her books is Rhiannon's escape, she can lose herself in different worlds and situations, if for no other reason than that she will write for as long as she is able to hold a pen and paper and type on her ever present laptop.
As Rhiannon likes to talk quite a lot she set up a page on face book where people can come and get information as it happens. She will respond to all messages sent to her, currently the page only has a little over 100 likes, but considering the short time she has had the page Rhiannon is thrilled with the response she's gotten.
She also has a blog, that’s updated as often as she can think of witty and interesting things to say, which is never as often as she'd like.
Rhiannon also has an account on Goodreads
Lightson Dynasty is published by Three Worlds Press. For more information on this book or their other works please visit: Three Worlds Press.


Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Tuesday Teaser: Ulfric's Mate: Book 1 of War of the Weres ..The Battle Begins

Killers are attacking the pregnant weres of Nolan Littlebull’s pack, the Wahpawhats. Can he catch them without destroying his own chance at happiness?
Alex George, only half Native and half were, was a misfit with the Lupin pack despite being the healer. Roxy, the ruthless Lupa, wants her for something nefarious, but Alex doesn’t know what. She will join with Nolan, Ulfric of the Lupins rival pack, to bring Roxy to justice, but will it cost her her life?
Even worse, all signs pointed to Nolan being her mate. The wolf in him calls to hers, and his honor and strength—not to mention downright sexiness—calls to her as a woman. But their joining could tear apart two packs.
Can they bring the killers to justice—pack or human, work through pack politics, and be together? Can they even survive?





Excerpt:
She did not want him to leave, and certainly, he did not want to go. His mind touched hers, and she felt his reluctance. Even the truck seemed to resist taking him from her. It creaked and groaned as he drove away, like she had not heard before. She frowned. Since her mother had taught her to never ignore what some would call silly nonsense, but in reality was their intuition, she tried to think of why he should not leave her.

It wasn’t as if she’d never been alone before. She was tougher than she looked. Being bullied tended to either make people tough or break them, and it had made her tough. Being a healer had kept her com-passionate, but it didn’t make her stupid. Noting the landscape, she looked around for anything suspicious.

The landscape lay open for the most part. A gravel pit turned irrigation pond was full, but there were no animals near it. Strange. With standing water not very plentiful around the valley, she would have expected more activity. She tried to remember what sights and sounds had been around when they left this morning but could not. She’d been too focused on Nolan and the recent murders.
Despite not seeing anything specific, she trusted her instincts and once inside, locked the handle of the outside door and bolted it. She tried to put her finger on her unease. It frightened her more that
she could not pinpoint what her mind had sensed than an actual threat would scare her. Insidious threats scared her the most since sneak attacks tended to do the harshest damage and she could not fight what she could not see.

She sat on the couch to try to get comfortable. But her growing fear made her restless. She moved into the big kitchen just off the living room and put together a sandwich. Presumably it was fine, but it tasted like sawdust to her. Putting the half-eaten meal down, she grabbed a soda out of the refrigerator. She leaned against the island and contemplated every detail she had seen when overlooking the landscape, both now and when they’d left earlier.

Then it came to her. The difference was the smell. Amid the smells of agriculture and heat, the breeze now contained the subtle hint of fear. The animals were afraid, but it was not a cohesive fear; it was instinctive.

Werewolves in human form?

She walked over to the sink and looked out the windows over-looking Nolan’s land to both the south and west. Nothing. Even with her better-than-average vision she could not see any signs. “Probably just nerves over being mated,” she muttered to herself to cover up the silence of the big, unfamiliar house.

Just then, the French doors off the kitchen to the outside deck ex-ploded in a combination of glass and wood fragments. Hoping to get to the front door, she ran around the island to the stairs. But as she reached the landing of the curved staircase, the front door smashed open with a loud crash. She turned to go back up the stairs, but someone stood there.

“Jason,” she said flatly. He had wanted to mate with her, but his touch made her skin crawl. The scent of the other were came to her from behind. “Boris. What a surprise,” she said facetiously, turning her head to peer over her shoulder and trying to keep her fear at bay. Nothing excited Boris and Jason like fear.

“Why are you here?” Hoping the demand covered up any residu-al dread she might have left in her voice, she tried to push Jason away from her.

“We’re here for you of course,” Jason responded with a leer. She couldn’t help the revulsion that crossed her face at the idea of him touching her. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t be touching you like that—yet.” His raucous laughter scratched against her mind like nails on a chalkboard.

“I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Boris said before putting something against her arm. She felt pressure, and then her vision swam before she blacked out.

Want more?

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Meet the Author:
Leona Bushman goes by many names but the most well-known one is superhero. She earned this
name from saving a kangaroo from a tree—and yes that is as hard as it sounds. The dragons taught their queen how to write, and Queen Leona hasn't looked back, even when her muse tries to muck things up.
She can be found goofing off and loving dragons and other creatures of the supernatural at these places:
Twitter: @L_Bushman
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLeonaBushman


Coming Soon from Three Worlds Press:
Cerisa's Quest


The Ulfric’s Mate is published by Three Worlds Press. For more information on this book or their other works please visit: Three Worlds Press.