I lay in my bed tossing and turning, and then grabbed a pillow from behind my head, punched it, bunched it and flopped back on it. Restlessness crawled over my flesh, and a growing feeling gnawed at me that my life was stagnate, a piece missing, a void that need filled. Lying between the covers, staring at the ceiling, blessedly the deep shadows in the room reached out to wrap me in their inky blackness and I slept. That’s when they, the Tarczals, came and whispered in my ear.

For the next few nights, I eagerly waited for bedtime hoping the Tarczals would introduced me to more of their world, entrust me with a new piece of their lives and history. They were patient but then when you have a life span of 1,500 years you can afford some tolerance to others. On the last morning of their visit, I awoke and began to write the Tarczals story. Writing and writing until every sentence became part of a life I’d come to know better than my own. The Tarczal Alliance is their first book; I hope you enjoy meeting a new breed of vampire as much as I have called Tarczal.

Excerpt from The Tarczal Alliance :

The woman’s fleeting inspection caused Logan to pause and suppress the grin threatening to creep across his face. The last time a woman caused him to lose restraint was ninety years ago. An intriguing, yet disturbing revelation, since that was when he’d sworn off relationships.

“You disagree the painting is showy?” He turned the subject back to the painting, and with practiced ease, he returned what he surmised was a compliment from the flush blooming on her cheeks. He indulged himself by allowing his gaze to rake over her. A whine like a mosquito’s settled in his ears.

“The artist captured Kandinsky’s style completely,” she sputtered. Logan didn’t give a damn about the painting or the artist. He wondered if the large, dark purple sweater that hung mid-thigh on her was an attempt to hide her body. If that was her goal, the tight black stretch pants, and thigh-high ebony suede boots were a poor choice. Any movement pulled the sweater tight like a second skin over her compact, lithe body.

“Absolutely. He copied a style. You wouldn’t have, Ms?” She fidgeted, and the movement caused the sweater to pull snug over her breasts making them stand out like ripened fruit and accented her flat stomach. Nice. Bet that stomach quivers when a tongue is run over it. Wonder what she’d do with a tongue in her belly button? She’s probably a giggler. He licked his lips. And a squirmer. It was apparent she had no idea what she did to him. He didn’t mind. Several parts of his anatomy were already stirring in response. Her front equaled the heart-shaped derriere he’d seen earlier while she browsed the competition.

“Weston. Allyson Weston. How did you know I paint?” The tiny frown across her brow made him want to laugh. So this was the estranged wife of his latest hire, Michael Weston. During the job interview Michael had constantly moaned and bitched about his soon-to-be-ex-wife. Guess Michael didn’t grasp he’d let go of an extraordinary woman. Logan let his gaze travel down to her legs, dancer’s legs, long and well-defined. Legs any man would enjoy wrapped around him.

Smoothly, Logan reached down, slipping his hand under hers bringing both up to eye level. “You have paint under your nails.” His thumb brushed the skin of her knuckles.

Oooh, very hot Paulette! Thank you so much for coming by and sharing your new breed of vampire with us! Paulette’s book was just released last week at Whispers Publishing so if you want to read it, click the link and head on over to the publisher!

Have a great Wednesday everyone!

I want to thank Lex for having me on her blog today – I always enjoy reading the posts here!  I’ve been thinking about vampires.  (Yeah, I know that’s a stretch).  But what’s the deal?  Why do we like them so much?

I truly think the fascination has something to do with the singular nature of the vamp.  I mean, shifters have to actually change to let the animal within them out.  But not vampires.  The animal is right there, always willing to go.  In fact, I’d go a step farther and say the vampire is the animal who has to balance a strong intelligence and sense of humanity within his own nature.  Not in spite of it.  Not in contrast with it.  But with it.  And make no mistake; he’s balancing instinct with nature because he chooses to. Thank goodness.

Why is this cool?  I think it’s because you have a strong, intelligent animal who has to fight his own baser instincts to be good.  Or some sense of good.  Let’s be honest, some vampires have a sense of good that’s so nicely bad.  There’s a darkness lurking in all of us, and vampires embody that.  They’re sexy; they drink blood for goodness sakes.  And as dark as they are, they’re immortal.

So as writers, why in the world do we torture them so?  Because they’re they ultimate bad boy and hey, those guys need a reason to be bad.  Or we need a reason to still want them in spite of their badness.  And there’s always that hint…that possibility that the animal will take over.

I have a series coming out from Kensington called “The Dark Protectors.”  It’s a paranormal series featuring vampires, shifters and witches.  The vampires are all male, and have been the strongest beings on earth since the beginning.  But biological warfare has hit their society in a form of a virus that attacks their mates.  The first book, FATED, will be released in February.

FATED features Talen Kayrs, the strategic leader of the vampire world, and his mate Cara, a single mother who’s a scientist and has no time or patience for an alpha male who bites.  One night leads to a marking, mating and sexual taming that will either bind them in strength or destroy them before the virus can.  To find out more, hop on over to my website:  http://rebeccazanetti.com/

So, let me ask you…why do you like vampires?

Fated

Rebecca Zanetti

Kensington

Excerpt:

Slowly, Talen pushed to his feet and strolled across the conference room.

Cara took a step back, her breath hitching.

Smiling, he leaned against the closed door.

She’d need to go through him to get out.  God, he was huge.  Even if she had known how to fight, she doubted she’d stand a chance when faced with such size and obvious strength.  A feminine fear and a flutter she refused to identify whispered through her, and her spine straightened with a sharp snap.

“I won’t hurt you.” His voice lowered, deepening to a tone that increased her flutter.  He relaxed his stance against the door, his muscled arms crossing.  “I won’t let anyone harm either of you.  Ever.”

Okay.  Fine.  He was too big for her to fight, but she did have a brain.  “Listen, Talen,” she kept her voice soft, soothing.  “It’s great your dating pool just opened up and all, but I’m not looking for—”

A dimple winked in his cheek, stopping her words.  She fought to keep her tone mild.  “Am I amusing you?”  Her chin lifted.

“Yes.”

“Why?”  She could even feel his amusement in the air, damn it.

“Your people.  I’ve never understood why you ignore fate.  She has her own plans.”

“Fate?”  He was throwing destiny at her?  Come on.

He nodded. “Fate.”

“Wow.  That’s poetic, Talen.”  Sarcasm replaced the softness.  “But there’s no way fate is involved here.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Prove it.”

“Okay.”  He lifted his right hand, palm out.  A crest, an intricate one, spread across his calloused skin.  Thick and black, a webbing of arcs together formed a knot with what might be an elaborate ‘K’ in the middle.

“A tattoo?” She quirked an eyebrow, wondered if he had other tats on that magnificent body.

“No.  A brand of sorts.  It appeared earlier after I took your arm.”

“A brand?”  She snorted.  “Bullshit.”

Talen shrugged.  “It’s true, Cara.  The Mark usually doesn’t appear until the mating act, but there are exceptions.”  Golden eyes pinned her.  “Our bond must be strong.”

“No.”

Talen lifted a shoulder.

Her mind rebelled at the physical evidence before her eyes.  “I said, no.  I choose to ignore your fate.”  How could the mark have appeared?  Conviction sat easily upon his face and her stomach rolled at the question of how far he’d go to follow his fate.

“That is your choice,” he agreed.

“Damn straight.”  She searched his face for a trick, determination tightening her own jaw.  A raised eyebrow met her glare.  “But you don’t know anything about me.  I could be married.”

“You’re not.”

“How do you know?”

He shrugged.  “My brother Dage shot your file to my smart phone.”

Smart phone?  Vampires used smart phones?  Come on.  “Where were you?”  Damn her curiosity.

“In a meeting with my other brother, Conn.”

Geez.  Sounded like a family oriented creature of the night.  Or day.  Or whatever.  She tried another tack.  “Besides, I have a date tonight.”

She wasn’t sure what her goal was, but she didn’t reach it.  A genuine smile played across his lips, and he uncrossed his arms.  “You’re not going to make it.”

Woah! That’s a great excerpt! I can’t wait for this series to come out. I have to read it! Many thanks to Rebecca for coming by to talk vampires with us. And her vampire Talen…oh, yeah. That’s some TVC there.

Don’t forget to hop over to the Lex Valentine blog for today’s giveaway, Tartan Mate by Selena Illyria!

Have a great Wednesday!

So what does paranormal romance, vampires, shapeshifters and witches have to do with Christmas?

Let’s start with romance. Can there be a more passionate love than one that lasts an eternity? When the very reason you refrain from walking into the sunlight has to live with the fact that you survive on human blood and die at daybreak, yet loves to anyway? Isn’t that what love is all about? Loving each other in spite of our differences.

Christmas starts earlier every year. Decorations start popping up right after Halloween and canned holiday music fills the stores before you’ve carved the Thanksgiving turkey.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the holidays! One of my three trees is already up and decorated. (Okay, so it’s a Charlie Brown Christmas tree that sits atop a table, but it still counts!) I love everything about the season; the midnight Black Friday shopping spree, the tangled lights, the noise, music and especially the movies. National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation about sums it up for me!  Christmas doesn’t officially start around my house until I’ve heard Bing Crosby sing White Christmas!

Yet amid all the chaos, sometimes you begin to think ‘Die Hard’ is the best holiday movie ever made. That’s when you realize it’s time to take a break! Its’ cold outside, (sometimes inside too) you have the holiday candles lying about and the fireplace cranked up. It’s a great time to grab a good book.

May I suggest Nightwalker, A Leah Wolfe SINS Novel?

Leah Wolfe has retired from serious police work in favor of seeking a normal life. Her unique, yet not fully discovered supernatural abilities allow her to speak to the souls of the dead, providing vital information in the search for their killers. Her abilities have also cost her almost everyone she has ever loved including her mother, who abandoned her to fend for herself on the streets, and, most recently, her ex-fiance Joaquin Wildhorse, Chief Detective of the Native American Reservation Police Department. But when Joaquin’s new lover is found brutally murdered on the reservation, he turns to Leah for help. The hunt for a vicious killer leads Leah to sexy Ian Nightwalker and Leah is unable to walk away from the case that may cost her her most guarded posession of all.

Her heart.

Cuddle up with a blanket and lose yourself for a little while. Trust me! You’ll be up and ready to face another green bean casserole and jello mold in no time!

Just remember to take some time for yourself this holiday season! Even ten minutes before bed with a good story can relieve that pesky holiday stress!

Allow me to tease your senses with a little bite of Nightwalker, A Leah Wolfe SINS Novel.

Excerpt:

Ian raised his eyebrows at the question, looking slightly amused. “Do you think I am a killer, Leah?”

I paused for a moment. Did I really think Ian was capable of doing that to anotherperson? God I hoped not. The energy emanating from him had always been serene. I was sitting close enough that I could smell the scent of his skin, feel the warmth of his body. I needed only to lean closer to… I cut off the thought.

Work. Focus Leah… Focus on work. Sure, that would pacify my hormones. Riight.

I took a deep breath, all the while Ian sat patiently, an impassive and slightly amused look on his face, one dimple glinting at the corner of his mouth. He had the calmest aura of anyone I’d ever encountered, even the constant chatter in my own head calmed when I was with him. Violence and fury, at least the kind of rage that was used to kill these women never really cooled, it stayed red hot, a constant glow. It was always boiling just below the surface of the person containing it, releasing its own feel of aura.

“No, Ian.” I felt the tension in my body ease. “I think you’re dangerous, but you’re not a killer.”

“I appreciate you actually considering the matter.” His tone let me know that he could be sarcastic, too. Point for him.

“Now that you know that I did not murder her, what avenue will you pursue?”

“I still have tons of questions about you, Ian.”

He spread his hands wide. “Ask away, my love.”

“Stop calling me that, it’s irritating as hell.”

“Again, my apologies. Can you, however, deny the attraction you feel toward me? I can feel your fascination.”

I felt myself immediately tense again. He was right, and worse, he knew it. I felt the attraction between us, too. The question was, should I give in to it or learn to shield like hell to keep him from sensing it.

Maybe both. While my hormones reminded me that I had not been with a man in months, months, my battered heart and head took control and reminded me why. Was my attraction to him simply a need that had been denied or was it truly him? It might have been fun to figure out the answer to that one. However, I didn’t know who or what he was.

Only one way to find out.

Buy NIGHTWALKER. Also Available for Kindle.

You can also read the prologue and first chapter free at the above links!

May your holiday season be blessed beyond your wildest expectations!

Ohhhh, that was a great excerpt! Thanks for coming by and sharing your vampires with us, Rhonda!

Have a great TVC Wednesday everyone!

Where is the best, most sexy place for a vampire to bite?

As an author of paranormal romance novels featuring vampires, I have the added delight of writing biting scenes. While I spend most of the writing imagining the sensual effects of those nips and nibbles, I’ve found that there are biological aspects to incorporate, too.

When my hero is starving and in need of a rich blood source, he isn’t going to play around with benign spots on his female’s body. That, would be foreplay. This nourishment thing is dead-serious business and locating the spot he can sip from, while ensuring his lover receives pleasure is about strategy and tactics.

So, let’s examine a few of the places a hungry vamp can feed from and what the body’s physical reaction just might be.

The Old Stand-by:

Why is the throat where a vampire tends to drink?  It is well known that the neck and throat are full of sensitive erogenous zones. The spots run from the tender flesh below the ear all the way to the shoulder. When a vampire spends time kissing up and down the column the arousal begins to flood the bloodstream, whipping through the jugular vein and the carotid artery. As the fangs scrape across this area pushing with more pressure, touch is intensified. Eventually, the harder the bite the more the nerves will respond. It’s a great all around place for quick and easy access to feed from.

Covert and Concentrated:

Starting with the back of the knee and sweeping upward will end in a bouquet of suckling delights for any hungry vamp. Licking and sucking there in gentle sweeps brings a rush of fresh blood to warm the spot. As he works his way higher to the middle of her thigh, he can locate a variety of nerve receptors where his mouth titillates while he awaits the rich cells to travel through not one but three large veins. Right at the juncture of her leg and the feminine spot where her secrets reside, is the rushing femoral vein. It’s hidden in a most auspicious position but once accessed, never fails to increase her stimulation at the same time it surely satiates his appetite.

Something Totally Different:

What’s a vamp to do with his hunger and a foot fetish? Indulge it. There is a nice juicy artery that runs the length of the leg and loops around the foot ending near the ankle. This area is also full of many sensory receptors. Careful and deliberate touches should include kissing, tickling and massaging before any serious fang action can be applied. The more stimulating the touch, the better the blood flow which will be a benefit to both parties involved. In this location, the vampire needs to have advanced skills in biting. Unless there is a desire for pain and pleasure, he should take his time scoring her anywhere on her feet or ankle. Extra flicks of the tongue and nips will set the scene and increase her arousal.

Sensual Snacking:

So, now that he’s had his fill what about late-night snacking? Straight across the upper belly offers a smorgasbord of erogenous areas as well as blood sources. Dragging fangs across the sensitized skin always teases the senses there and increases her response to the touch. Alternating caresses with nibbles, kneading with tickling and increasing the strength of each nip can confuse the body’s natural response to the stimuli, blurring the lines between pain and pleasure. As her body heats up, the tiny blood vessels running hither and yon will swell as the flow increases. Though, the arteries are much too deep for a rushing mouthful, sipping from his lover here gives him bite-sized snacks and bring them both an amazing amount of pleasure as well as drawing out the experience.

There are many other places a vampire can bite his host. Where is your favorite?

For a bonus, I thought I would share with you one of the biting scenes from my novella Bound By Deception, the first in the Blood-Vine series.

Driving need swamped him, curled in his gut demanding satiation. His control splintered and primal instinct took over.

“Dimitri, now. Do it now,” Anna insisted as she grasped his shoulders, hauled him down to her.

Holding her in a tight embrace, he latched onto her throat. In one swift motion, his fangs scored through her skin. Warm, sweet blood hit his tongue. The first long pull blasted his senses; he was utterly unprepared for her taste. Like a rich brandy, headier than wine, it was everything he desired.

Christa

Hmmm a foot bite… Interesting. To find out more about Christa and her vampires check out her website. Thanks for coming by, Christa!

Don’t forget the big book giveaway on the Lex Valentine blog. Today’s book is a print book from Regina Carlysle. Have a great Wednesday!

If you’ve read any of my paranormal books, you can be pretty certain that the hero’s going to be some poor, tortured soul who shouldn’t have the will to live yet does day after day. Don’t ask me why, but I want the man who’s been blinded, who’s watched his family die, who’s been beaten or enslaved. The one who still goes on after an event that would have crippled other men. A man’s man, if you will. I’m not saying he won’t have some serious baggage afterward to deal with–because believe me, he will–but I want someone who is willing to go on despite all odds against.

My debut Carina Press release has such a man in it. Corin is a former gladiator, enslaved for his unwillingness to kill after being ordered to. It shapes him into the vampire executioner he’s become today. Here’s the defining moment in Corin’s life; the scene that alters his future.

“He is a senator, Corinius. Why? Why, for gods’ sakes, would you defy him?”

“So I am Corinius now? Have I lost your favor as well, and ‘Titus’ is no longer fitting between us?” The cold manacles’ bite made his arms break out in gooseflesh. Either that, or the tickle of his own blood as it dripped down his outstretched appendages caused them. For that matter, it might have been his nudity left to fend against the cold air. He didn’t know any more, not that it mattered. Hanging from chains secured through an iron bolt in the ceiling, he supposed he had better things to worry about.

He squinted through swollen eyes to watch the agitated pacing of his former mentor. A man who, until now, he’d considered a friend.

Marcus Flavius Gaii filius, one of the greatest gladiators to ever be liberated from the bloodsport, shook with rage. He whirled on his feet to face Titus. “You were everyone’s favored. Mine. The public’s. The Dominus’s. Why would you not do this one thing?”

“You make it sound as if taking a man’s life is no more monumental than ridding myself of excrement.”

Marcus’s voice went flat. Cold. “You and I have killed more men than anyone I know. It is never an easy task, but while under his patronage, it is your duty.”

Titus jerked down on the chains, his frustration a living thing in the damn room. “He was not much older than a child! He yielded and the senator had no right—”

“It is very much his right, Titus! It was what the crowd wanted and like the smart politician he is, he bows to the crowd’s wishes. You had no right to defy him.”

True. Gods, he still couldn’t say what stayed his hand. Standing over that boy, watching the urine spread across his groin as he’d bled as copiously from a dozen other wounds, Titus turned over in his mind what he was being asked to do. A life in exchange for a few gold coins, and appeasing the crowd’s lust. To what purpose? His reputation had been solidified almost a year ago. Now he was little more than a puppet for his lord.

Titus glanced at the bruising around his wrists. “It is done, my friend. What happens now?”

Marcus sighed, his face twisting into a grimace. “You will be held here for three days. On the fourth day, I am to hobble you and take you into the arena to meet your fate.”

“Hobble me?”

“You are arguably one of the finest gladiators in ten leagues. Sending you in there as you are would do more harm to the others than to you.” Marcus chuckled lightly, but none of the amusement reached his sad eyes. “You will be starved over the next few days, and I will slit your calves before you enter the arena.”

He choked out a sound very much like a sob before he could recall it. Titus closed his eyes, fighting to remain calm. “Just kill me now and be done with it. I will be a dead man before the others in that condition.”

“And that is the point. And because my dominus commands it so, it is what I must do. It is what you should have done, son of Corinius.”

There was nothing more to be said. Titus had made his choice. He now only had to face the consequences of his actions. Still, better to be killed by his fellow Romans before the glory of the public than sold into a lifetime of slavery. Then again, if he evaluated his so-called life, he’d been living as a slave for three years now, despite the appearances the dominus presented. Yes, better dead than another forty or fifty years of this, not as a gladiator in the arena, but as a slave in the dominus’s household. Once upon a time he might have believed in being allowed to be freed, but Marcus was testament to that lie. His freedom still kept him tethered to the gladiator life.

Yes. Better off dead.

Marcus’s footsteps slapped against the cold stone floor as he walked away. Titus didn’t bother to watch him leave the room, knowing full well he couldn’t bear the sight of his friend’s departure. The next time he saw the man, he’d be within an hour of his execution.

The chains kept his hands elevated above his head, the slack in them just enough to allow him to take a single step in one sideways direction or the other, but left little room for anything else. With perverse admiration, he recognized how they forced him to remain standing, his muscles practically immobile. By the end of three days, he’d be so stiff and miserable, if he managed to walk under his own power, he’d be impressed with himself.

Perhaps only minutes later, a sound outside of the door caught his attention. He turned as much as he could toward it. “Back already? Stay of execution?” he asked dryly.

A man much more slender and definitely more refined than Marcus stepped into the light. He was tall, thin. His dark hair framed his face in a style that suited patricians, rather than the common man. Slender hands held a cloth to his face, helping to muffle the thick scent of sweat and blood in the chamber room. Green eyes blinked lazily as they studied Titus’s frame from foot to manacled hands. He felt uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny. It spoke too much of sexual wantonness.

“Do I know you, friend?”

“Would a stay of execution please you, Titus Corinius?”

Titus turned, keeping the man in full sight as he circled him. He had the unnerving feeling the man was only seconds away from trailing his fingers over the muscles of Titus’s body. “Who are you?”

“Come into my service, and I promise you a life you have never imagined.”

He didn’t bother to get his hopes up. “My life is forfeit. There isn’t anything you can offer my dominus to change his mind.”

“Do not be so sure.” His steps were slow and confident. He made his way around Titus without physically touching him as he feared, but he could feel the weight of his gaze on his backside. Relief filled him when the man walked into his sightline again. Damn the chains for leaving him so exposed.

“If you have me freed, what would you want from me in return?” Titus hissed as the man made a single step forward and cupped his cock in his hand. He tried to jerk himself free, but the man kept a firm grip on his member.

To his horror, the man began to stroke on his length. And true to form, his cock stirred to life.

“I am no boy lover,” Titus barked.

The man stroked faster, his touch as sensual as a woman’s. Titus gritted his teeth, holding his hips still against the pleasure. His mouth went dry, and he swore he’d bite his tongue in half before allowing a moan to break past his lips. By the time he was fully erect, his testicles heavy and aching, sweat peppered his brow and he tasted blood.

The man bent over him and licked a pebbled nipple before gazing into his face again. Titus’s heart plummeted when the man said, “Fortunately for you, I am.”

Hunger Aroused is available at Carina Press as an ebook or at audible.com as an audiobook. I hope you get a chance to read Corin’s story, and see how through one incredible woman, he’s turned his past around.

Bestselling author Dee Carney writes about tortured men and kick-ass women. Read more about her books by visiting her web site, www.deecarney.com.

I tell you, anything Dee writes is worth reading! Go check out this book. You’ll fall in lust. I promise!

Happy Wicked Wednesday!