The Backseat's Written Interviews

UP NEXT

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 00:08:00 +0000

In Like Lion, Out Like a Lamb

His Fiercest or Gentlest Moment

Coming Monday March 1, 2010

Most Romantic First Kiss Paranormal

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 16:41:00 +0000

Most Romantic First Kiss Paranormal - Which of these stories wins you over as a reader in this round of the Stories Stripped Published Author Contest?

THE WINNER IS BLACK -

Somewhere My Love By Beth Trissel

RED
Granite Kiss
by Jennifer Cole

from Liquid Silver Books Buy it HERE

Blue
Carolina Wolf
By Sela Carsen
http://selacarsen.com/
From Samhain Publishing Buy the Book HERE

GREEN
A Ghost of a Chance,
Legends Book 2
by Carolan Ivey

http://www.carolanivey.com

Samhain Publishing - Buy Here

BLACK WINNER
Somewhere My Love
By Beth Trissel
http://www.bethtrissel.com/
from The Wild Rose Press - Buy this Book

#1 - Red

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 16:41:00 +0000

Granite Kiss
by Jennifer Cole

from Liquid Silver Books Buy it HERE

“A spell was cast, there is always a way to break it.” Elena stood beside the sofa and pressed her fingers to her temples.

A challenge always got her blood flowing. Elena loved to solve a mystery. Why could she not concentrate on fitting the pieces of this puzzle together?

The reason for her distraction sat on the sofa, eyeing her as if she were a tasty little morsel he was dying to sample. Any doubts she had about Zander’s interest dissipated at an alarming speed.

No longer could she stand it. The differences between their physical forms meant nothing to her in the grand scheme of things. Elena could no longer fight the attraction, and damn it, she knew Zander felt it as well. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her; felt it in the weight of his stare as he watched her. More importantly, she felt his need when he held her in his arms. His touch was electric.

Elena wanted more. No, she needed more.

“Oh the gods, this is ridiculous,” Elena said, and leapt through the air, landing on top of Zander.

The suddenness of Elena’s acrobatics threw Zander off guard, causing him to lean back into the sofa.

“What are you--” His question was cut short as Elena brushed her soft lips against his.

The room fell silent. After several moments, she pulled away from him, waggled her brow and dragged her tongue across her lower lip.

“Uh,” he managed on a hoarse exhale. “That was... nice.”

“Nice?” she repeated, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, uh, the others are--you know--here. Watching,” he said in a soft voice, trying not to attract any more attention to them. Which he knew was futile, since Elena sat sprawled on top of him, and he was panting like a dog in heat.

Elena’s heated gaze held his, and over her shoulder she growled, “Leave.”

From the corner of his eye, Zander watched his five fellow beasts stumble over one another as they raced to the open terrace door.

“See ya,” Adan said quickly.

“I was just thinking I could use some air,” Henrik announced, pushing past Mabon.

“Where are we going to go?” Kenyon muttered.

“Stop talking and just get the hell out,” Magnus said nervously, glancing back for a split second.

The loud flapping of wings carried into the suite, signaling the beasts had launched off the building.

Leaning down Elena again pressed her lips to his again.

They were just as Zander imagined, soft, confident. Elena was a woman who knew what she wanted. And by the gods, she wanted him. The taste of her made his head spin.

He needed to stop her.

The tip of her tongue teased along the seam of his lips, coaxing him to open his mouth. As he did, to utter a protest--a mild one mind you, but a protest nonetheless--Elena seized the opportunity to slip inside.

The slide of her tongue alongside his made Zander’s breath hitch. Wide eyed he watched her. Elena’s eyes were closed, lids fluttering as her excitement escalated. The subtle fragrance of feminine arousal tickled him under the nose. He inhaled deeply, her natural pheromones taunting his lust as he allowed her to control their kiss.

A moan of passion caught in her throat and her arms tightened around his neck, her fingers fisting in his dark hair.

Closing his eyes, Zander allowed himself to savor the moment. The repressed libido he had buried years ago began to emerge. With need, his hands stroked down the length of her back, over the luscious curves of Elena’s hips, to then cup and squeeze her buttocks.

If this were to be his last moment on earth, Zander would die a happy man, or rather beast. With the days of living as a man long gone, he never imagined once again living in human form. Yet right then, with Elena straddling his thighs, his body aching to be one with hers, Zander wanted nothing more than to be a man.

Just once, he began to think, and felt the instant void as Elena pulled away from his mouth.

“Do you feel it?” Her breath was harsh, her voice husky.

“W--what?” he stuttered, attempting to tamp the hoarseness of his own voice.

“The sparks. The electricity.” She paused to run the wet tip of her delicious tongue over her swollen lips. “We have chemistry.”

#2 - Blue

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 15:29:00 +0000

Carolina Wolf
By Sela Carsen
http://selacarsen.com/
From Samhain Publishing Buy the Book HERE

Maddox caught himself against a wall, leaving a smear of blood behind.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I need a shower.”

“You need a doctor,” she answered. “And you’re freezing. Why are you so cold?”

“No doctors,” he said, ignoring the second part of her question. “I’ll heal by morning.”

Debra bent and gathered the blanket, pulling it up around his body. She stared at his chest the whole time over the tops of her glasses.

He would have chuckled, but it hurt too much to be amused. That clever, subtle avoidance maneuver probably fooled most people.

She took up her position under his shoulder and led him through her bedroom into the master bath. The lights were off, but he saw clearly enough to make out the light cotton blanket, the rumpled pillows, the stacks of books on and around her nightstand.

The bathroom was clean, but cluttered with female paraphernalia—makeup, mirrors, creams and combs. The smells should have been overwhelming, but they were only a stronger, colder version of her. It wasn’t until they combined with the essence of Debra that they became enchanting.

Debra, Debra. Pretty, bewitching Debra.

He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until he opened his eyes and she was staring at him.

“Do you need something?”

“What?”

“You said my name. Do you need me?”

Wrong question. The shower was running, heating the water and steaming the air around them, cushioning his senses until all he could breathe was her.

The silver was sapping his strength, stealing the warmth from his blood. The danger of silver was not only the damage of the wound itself, it also tainted the blood, draining the heat out of their bodies. Silver-killed werewolves froze from the inside out.

He lurched to his feet from his seat on the toilet lid. She had an enclosed shower big enough for two people with glass sliding doors—no tub to step over—and he stumbled inside, hissing as the water stung his skin with hot needles. The blanket fell again, this time with a wet plop. She reached in to get it out of his way, but he snagged her arm and pulled her all the way into the shower with him.

He needed her. To hold him, to help him, to be with him, to fill him.

She squealed when the water hit her full in the face, but he slid the shower door shut. Maddox pulled her closer and brushed the wet hair out of her eyes.

She spluttered, but her words weren’t important. Nothing was important but his need. The moment her soaked clothes touched his skin, the cold went away. As long as she touched him, he knew he’d survive.

“Maddox, you’re sick. You need a doctor.”

“No. Need you. Just you.” And he kissed her.

God. She tasted even better than she smelled—purer, simpler, richer, more complex. He could willingly spend decades sifting out the different flavors of Debra. She stood stiffly in his arms and he didn’t know what to do about it, didn’t know how to help her. Didn’t know how to tell her what he needed from her now.

Maddox raised his mouth from hers and stared down into her face, water dripping from her eyelashes, running in streams down her cheeks, dangling at her chin before falling into oblivion.

“Please, Debra. Help me.” He’d never begged before. Never needed to before, but he was sick and hurt and if she didn’t help him now…

He couldn’t even finish the thought. She had to help him, even if she didn’t know how.

He bent to her face again, but not to kiss her. Not right away. Drops of water slid over her skin as though they had the right. His tongue caught one beside her lips, and the taste of his mate exploded on his tongue, made him greedy for more. More drops enticed him and he lapped at her mouth, pulling her closer when she finally opened to him, letting him into her body. Accepting him. Trusting him.

There it was. As if a door opened and she invited him in, Maddox let his mind touch hers, its light sharp and pure and blinding.

He was stunned. Humans usually didn’t have enough of a soul-light to heal themselves, much less anyone else. But there was brilliance enough here for magic like he’d never seen. And this part of her was untouched. She’d never let anyone into her heart before. It was all for him. He was too grateful to be greedy, so he simply basked in the glow, letting it flow into him, fill him until there was no room left for the poison.

In his weakness, her hands caressed and held him as tenderly as a healer, a mother, a lover. A woman. His woman. As the light overflowed him, he left her mind and came back to his.

His senses were clearing, the toxic metal leaving his body. Maddox looked over at his shoulder and watched the sluggish trail of tainted blood seep down his arm and drip to the floor, swirl into the drain. The last atom of silver left his body and he heaved a great draft of steamy air, finally warm all the way through.

“Thank you for healing me.” Then the weakness took him.

#3 - Green

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 20:16:00 +0000

A Ghost of a Chance,
Legends Book 2
by Carolan Ivey

http://www.carolanivey.com

Samhain Publishing - Buy Here

Troy had never stayed in a materialized state for this long. The strain tore at him, threatened to separate the layers of his energy field and send them flying off into space like water rings from a dropped stone.

It had taken every atom of his strength to make the three-thousand-mile spatial jump, on top of staying solid long enough to rescue the woman from the flooded cave. He’d intended to bring her all the way to the top of the cliff, leave her there to be found and be on his way about finding John.

But the effort had cost him.

Troy glanced down at the face of the woman in his arms, grit his teeth and held on.

If he lost control of his energy and faltered, she would die.

His superb sense of balance, an asset in life and still now in the afterlife, didn’t fail him as he crouched on the narrow rock ledge, braced so the woman’s body wouldn’t slide off into the roiling sea. Rain slapped them from above, and the wind and waves clawed at them from everywhere else.

Risking precious balance, he used one hand to gently unwind her long, matted black hair from around his arm and away from her face. Her lips were blue and slack, her eyes partially open and dull.

He lowered his face to hers, checking for breath. Nothing. He let her head roll to one side and slid his fingers to the pulse point on her neck. If any life throbbed there, he couldn’t feel it for the vibrations of wind and storm.

“Oh, no you don’t. Don’t do this to me, lady…” He tilted her head back and covered her mouth with his.

He blew once, then swayed, dizzy, feeling his grip on his materialized state slipping dangerously with the extra effort it took to breathe for her. He clenched his jaw, tilted his head back and growled deep in his chest, willing his form to stay together, just a little longer. Just until help arrived. He’d seen two people poke their heads over the cliff edge above them, so he knew it wouldn’t be long.

“Not yet,” he muttered, using the vibration of his voice to send binding messages throughout his energy field, reminding it that no matter what the laws of physics said, he was in charge here. Never mind the fact that before now he’d only managed to stay solid for a few minutes at a time, and only in dire emergencies. The last time he’d done it was for the lives of his sister and Beaudry, and for his effort he’d earned a bullet in his shoulder to keep company with the gaping hole he carried around in his chest.

He lowered his mouth and breathed for her again, turning his head to feel her automatic exhale, this time accompanied by a gush of water.

Yes! Another breath into her lungs. Were her lips slightly warmer?

He left his own there for a second or two longer than necessary, testing. A faint green color flickered in front of his eyes, like the brief flash of a hummingbird, there and gone. He tore his mouth away from hers and looked up to see what kind of strange lightning this could be, then he ducked and pressed her body tightly to his as a heavy wave broke over them. The water lifted them both off the ledge, and only by sheer will did he manage to bring them back onto the ledge safely. How much higher was the tide going to rise?

He shook water from his face, pressed the woman’s body firmly between himself and the cliff wall and bent his head to hers once again. She had to start breathing on her own soon. He couldn’t keep this up.

A movement off to his right snagged his attention. A glowing figure, winged and silent, stood on a nearby ledge, observing, not moving.

Her guardian angel, clearly. He spared the being a two-second glare, then lost patience.

“Hey! Aren’t you going to do anything?”

The guardian’s expression grew thoughtful, then regretful. But it didn’t move, either to help or to hinder.

“Thanks a bunch.” Troy turned back to the task at hand.

Breeeeeeathe…

Without thinking what he was doing, he willed life into her. Closed his eyes and focused his energy inside her body, targeting her lungs, her barely fluttering heart.

This time, he felt her jaw move under his mouth, and her body flex in his arms. The weird, pale green lightning flickered around them again. Her first strong heartbeat resounded like a bell throughout his being, her first voluntary breath sucking in what he’d given her.

Then, before he could lift his mouth from hers, she breathed into him.

Troy nearly lost his balance, and flung out one arm to find a fingertip hold on the rock. Her breath filled his mouth, his chest, and even with his eyes closed he saw the faint green flickers of light strengthen, steady, intensify into a solid glow more brilliant than any Ireland had to offer on its best day. Heat rushed through him, and it took him a moment to register the fact that he felt it at all. As a ghost, normal physical sensations were foreign to him. Now every drop of rain hitting his skin felt like a needle. And his wounds, normally painless, now screamed at him.

He tore his mouth away and stared down at her. Her eyelids trembled, opened, light grey irises expanding as her pupils focused on his face. The same fiery emerald light that flashed round them burned in their depths. Even with their mouths now separated, her strengthening heartbeat rushed around him as if he were a child enveloped in her womb.

What the hell is happening to me?

If he was anywhere else but perched on a narrow ledge, an inch from losing her to the maw of the sea, he would have done a quick about-face and put as much space and time between them as possible. But stay he did, her life force growing stronger and flowing like a river under his hands, into him, through him and back to her. She seemed to be studying him, her mouth moving slightly as if trying to form words. But if she made any sound, it was swallowed by sea and storm. Then her eyes slid closed and her head rolled to nestle against his chest, fitting perfectly under his chin.

He swallowed, trying not to take in any more of the living energy that still enveloped them both. Something about it was as seductive as it was disturbing, and all his instincts screamed to get outside it and look at it from an objective distance before deciding what to do about it, if anything at all.

He took her cold hands, intending to tuck them inside her coat, when he caught sight of the diamond sparkling on her left ring finger.

She belongs to someone. Absurdly, the thought felt like a sucker punch to his gut.

He looked up, and finally, finally, he saw two people rappelling down the cliff, red-and-black jumpsuits making ripping sounds in the wind. A metal litter dangling between them.

“Take her first,” he yelled above the crashing tide as the rescuers reached them. Their reply was lost in the noise, but they quickly assessed the situation and expertly relieved him of his burden.

The instant her body separated from his, he felt himself dissolving, the last of his strength leaving as the green light faded. One of the rescuers cried out in alarm, but could do nothing as his grip on the rock slipped, and the icy grey sea closed over his head.

#4 - Black - WINNER

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 20:11:00 +0000

MOST ROMANTIC FIRST KISS WINNER!

Somewhere My Love
By Beth Trissel
http://www.bethtrissel.com/
from The Wild Rose Press - Buy this Book

Will blew the layer of dust from an ornate wooden box inlaid with ivory and lifted the lid. Inside were brass workings like the mechanism of a clock. He wound a small gold key in the back until it would wind no more, and released it. The wheels and cogs turned and wonderful music flowed forth, the beautiful strains of a Viennese waltz, The Blue Danube.

Julia clapped her hands. “A music box.”

He bowed. “May I have this dance, sweet Julia?”

She gazed up into his velvet brown eyes, and he gazed back. She managed a nod and he drew her into his arms. Around the attic he waltzed with her secure in his lead. Everything fell away except this moment while the haunting melody played on, taking her back to that faintly remembered place. She didn’t even stumble, not once. It was as if some inner memory guided her in the steps, even though ballroom dancing hadn’t been a part of her lessons.

The music picked up and he swung her around and around. Her dress swirled as he circled. With each turn, he was Will—then Cole, Will—then Cole, both men in rapid succession, separate and yet the same. Her heart pounded from far more than the whirling dance.

The music faded and Will slowly stopped revolving. They stood, his arms circled at her back and waist, eyes locked on each other.

His brow furrowed. “Julia, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

She ran the tip of her tongue over her lips. “You may be the ghost.”

He tightened his mouth in an impatient line. “Don’t try to make me into Cole again.”

“Will, listen to me. I know it sounds crazy, but I think somehow you already are.”

He dropped his hands, turning away. “Only because you insist I am.”

She grabbed his arm. “No. It’s what I saw while we danced. You must believe me.”

“Believing doesn’t make it any easier,” he said flatly.

“That’s because you think I’m misled.”

He swiveled his head at her. Exasperation flared in his eyes. “There’s a simple reason for my laboring under that assumption. You are.”

“Don’t be angry. I hate that I’ve spoiled such a lovely moment.”

“You’ve a talent for that.” He turned and strode across the floor. His footsteps echoed on the boards with a hollow sound, just as her heart would beat if he left.

She ran behind him and reached out, catching his plush shoulder. “Consider me balmy, if you must, but don’t walk away. Please Will.”

He stayed as he was. “What do you want me to do, Julia?”

“I don’t know.” She wasn’t strong enough to turn him and dashed in front instead, grasping his upper arms and twisting the fabric in her fingers. “Something—anything.”

He smiled faintly. “Never say those words to a man.”

Cupping her face between his hands, he bent his head and closed his lips over hers in an all consuming kiss...so swiftly she hardly knew what had happened. Even if he hadn’t cupped her cheeks, she wouldn’t have moved. The compelling press of his mouth bound her in place.

If possible, Julia’s heart thudded even faster than it had before. The surging pulse drummedthrough her entire being, reverberating in places she didn’t even know she had. From what she could remember of her dream with Cole, her feelings had been poignant but tender. The sensations coursing through her now weren’t entirely that. An exhilarating passion was sweeping her up in a shocking tide.

“Who am I now?” Will whispered against her mouth.

She loosened her grip on his jacket in speechless surprise, too breathless to tell him she didn’t care.

Stories Stripped - Best First Kiss - Historical

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 19:32:00 +0000

Most Romantic First Kiss

Historical

And the Winner is RED!
The Geis: The Magic Stone
by Marie Sterbenz
Wild Horse Press

RED

The Geis: The Magic Stone

by Marie Sterbenz

Wild Horse Press
http://www.mariesterbenz.com/

Black Horse

by Veronica Blake

Dorchester Publishing
Find Out More Here

BLACK

Shadowed Knight,

by Jan Alyce Avery

Samhain Publishing
http://www.janalyceavery.com/

GREEN
SINS OF THE HEART
by Delle Jacobs
published by Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
http://samhainpublishing.com/print/sins-of-the-heart-print Author website is http://dellejacobs.com

Comment and Enter below to win a copy of

Nothing to Commend Her

by Jo Barrett

from The Wild Rose Press

The Earl of Pensby lost his wife in a fire, one that left him scarred in more ways than one. He’s surly, brooding, and according to half the ton, a monster. Except to Agatha Trumwell, she sees so much more than his scars. But with a pitiful dowry, unfavorable looks, and a tendency to speak her mind, she has nothing to commend her, or so she believes. Can these two lonely souls find love amid the gossiping beau monde while someone plots to tear their fragile world apart?

Visit The Wild Rose Press to Learn More

Excerpt

“I—am—leaving!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Magnus growled, as he turned, the scarred side of his face a pale contrast to the angry red flush of his skin.

But Agatha refused to be bullied. “It is apparent that you’ve no need of a companion, since we speak hardly a word during meals, nor do we engage in any semblance of a conversation afterward,” she said, her breathing quickened by her fury. “And you’ve made it painfully obvious you don’t want me in your bed!”

She threw the shawl into her trunk and slammed the lid. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to kiss me on our wedding day. Well, your mistress, or whoever this demon stalking me is, can bloody well have you!”

In two strides, he was in front of her, gripping her arms with such strength, a spark of fear gripped her as strongly as he did. Would he harm her, beat her?

Then she looked into his turbulent gray eyes. No, he was furious, but there was something else, something deeper, something that told her he would never raise his hand against her.

“There is no mistress,” he snarled.

Odd that she believed him, but she would not remain where she was of no use, where she wasn’t wanted.

“And I was pushed,” she ground out.

“Then I’ll assign you a bloody guard, but you are not leaving,” he demanded with a vigorous shake. “Do you hear me?”

She couldn’t utter a word amid the chaotic emotions flashing across his face and in his eyes.

“You cannot leave me,” he said, his words broken and pain-filled. Then his lips crashed into hers.

Visit Jo Barrett's Site to learn more about her books - http://www.jobarrett.net/

#1 - Red

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 19:07:00 +0000

The Geis: The Magic Stone
by Marie Sterbenz
Wild Horse Press

http://www.mariesterbenz.com/

Excerpt

When morning came she donned her work clothes, braided her hair, and headed for her workshop. She opened her shop and inspected her goods to determine which ones she would give to Brendan to sell. She selected five pieces, a round high domed cabochon, an oval cabochon, a Celtic cross, a Triskele, and a clover. These she put aside for Brendan to peruse. She picked up her latest piece and began to work the stone. As she did so her thoughts turned to her fathers men-at-arms. But try as she might she could not bring forth a single face or name all she could recall was a pair of sky blue eyes.

Brendan’s shadow fell across her work bench and she paused to look up at him. The sun was behind him so that she could not see his face well enough to read his expression. She waited for him to speak first, but he said nothing as he walked to where she stood. “Good morn,” she finally spoke first.

“Good morn to you fair lady,” he spoke in a melodious tone. “I have come for your wares. I can not tell you how pleased I am at your change of heart.”

“Mind,” she said.

“What?” he questioned.

“My mind, I changed my mind not my heart.”

“I see, well it matters not which it was.”

“It does,” she muttered.

“Does what?”

“It does matter which it was,” she sighed. “In my heart I still do not want you to sell my art, but my mind and my sister tell me I should.”

“So I have Maeve to thank?”

“Aye, you do.” She returned to her work. “There are five pieces on the bench for you to choose from, you may take three.”

She watched him from the corner of her eye as he picked up each one and carefully inspected them. In the end he took the clover and the Triskele and put them aside. He took a piece of cloth from under his belt, and carefully wrapped the other three so they did not touch each other. She was surprised at how discerning he was. He had selected the three finest pieces to sell. She gave him a direct look and raised her left eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I, I am curious as to your selection.”

“I do not see why,” he answered. “They are the finest quality craftsmanship. Did you think that I could not tell that?”

“Well frankly yes, since you seemed to think that the ones you stole and sold previously were fine.”

“Oh fair lady they were fine but they were not the finest.” He moved closer to her, “you would not let me have your finest so I had to settle for that which was just fine.”

She wanted him to go back to Cork and not stand so close to her. His nearness seemed to steal the very air from around her, and he was so close to her that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. She placed her hands on her workbench so he could not see them shake.

“You may go now,” she hoped he would turn and walk out the door.

“But I have not properly thanked you yet,” he said.

“It is,” she did not finish her words.

His mouth came down on the nape of neck and sent a chill down her spine. He took her by the shoulders and spun her around as his mouth pressed against hers. She stood there stunned by what he was doing, and confused by her own reaction. A fluttering sensation started in the pit of her stomach. His lips were warm and firm against hers and she fought for breath. He lifted his mouth from hers still holding her shoulders.

“You have never been kissed before,” he exclaimed!

She caught her breath, “of course I have, many times.”

“Maybe by your family but not by a real man,” he chuckled.

“You kiss like a girl but you are a woman. I have a few days in which to give you lessons on how a woman should kiss.” With that statement he wheeled around and walked out the door.

Siobhan felt outrage, not at his actions, but at his words. She did not want him to teach her how to kiss like a woman, it was utterly ridiculous. She lifted her fingertips to her quivering lips, and sucked in a deep breath to calm the conflicting feelings warring within her. Truth be told his kiss had affected her in ways that she had never before imagined. How would she feel if Aidan kissed her like Brendan just did? Perhaps she should find Aidan and kiss him to find out.

Siobhan contrived to never be alone with Brendan for the remainder of his stay, so there could be no lessons on kissing. Every time she let her thoughts wander to Brendan’s kiss her stomach did funny things to her. She made sure to spend time with her sister in the hall, and did not go to her shop till Brendan left.

#2 - Blue

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 18:54:00 +0000

Black Horse

by Veronica Blake

Dorchester Publishing
Find Out More Here

Now, sitting here on the hard ground with his long ebony hair tousled around his face and the bewildered expression on his face, he reminded Meadow of a lost little boy. She had the urge to put her arms around him, and tell him that everything would be well. Instead, she began to focus on the way he held her hand so gently in his own—and, of the way this simple gesture set all of her insides ablaze with that odd feeling of pain and pleasure.

Meadow ran her tongue across her parched lips and held her breath for a moment. She knew he had to leave before someone caught them like this, but she could not force herself to pull her hand away. Her gaze met his, and it was as if the rest of the world did not exist. She leaned forward, instinctively drawn to him.

His lips touched hers lightly at first, as if he ached to be near her but was slightly unsure of her reaction. He reached up and placed his hand around her head. She could feel the strands of her long hair entwined in his fingers. His lips pressed harder against her soft mouth, and she leaned in even closer to him.

Never had Meadow imagined that she would experience such an overpowering feeling of bliss from her first kiss. All of her fears dissolved, and every inch of her body felt like a million hot coals had just invaded her. The feel of his lips against hers was like a magical journey that she wished would never have to end.

When they were forced to part for air, Meadow thought she could live forever without taking another breath if it meant she could feel his lips against hers for the rest of her life. She felt his hand slide under her chin, raising her face up so that they were staring into one another’s eyes again. His dark gaze caressed her, and everything outside of this moment was mute.

“Oh, green-eyed woman, what strong magic you must possess. You have put me under a spell,” Black Horse said softly.

#3 - Green

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 18:41:00 +0000

SINS OF THE HEART
by Delle Jacobs
published by Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
http://samhainpublishing.com/print/sins-of-the-heart-print Author website is http://dellejacobs.com

The sea was yellow gold as the sun dropped toward the horizon, a quiet plane of precious metal that melted into silvered sand, and as far as the eye could see, changed from gilded sea to brilliant amber sky. All the world was silver and gold.

The horses paced across the wet sand, their steps muffled, disturbing the metallic sheen that settled back to serenity in the little rounded puddles they left behind. Only the quiet huffing of the horses' breath and the faint screech of gulls far out from the shore broke the silence.

She had long ago loosened her bonnet and let it fall behind her, to feel the delicate breeze in her hair as they rode. Beside her rode the man with silver eyes and golden hair, his face dark in the shadow, as silent as the quiet water. It had been his idea to ride along the shore, taking advantage of the long beach created when the tide ebbed. But low tide was a curious thing, that made one believe in the forever of an instant. She had come along, appeasing him because . . .Was it because she must keep him occupied, to keep him from making discoveries about the people she loved?

Oddly, though. She had come to expect, almost to want his companionship. Never knowing when he would turn the quiet of the moment into some strange demand that ruined all that was beautiful. Or if he would not. Perhaps today was one of those times when he would remain silent, or trade the silence for small, beautiful words.

He was, in so many ways, a strange man. He did not court her. But he shared beautiful things with her, often in silence, as if he accepted or believed they saw them the same way. She wondered if they did. Did he see and feel the colors with the sort of passion that invaded her?

They reached the headland that separated this beach from the next, and he pulled ahead. Here, their ride must come to an end.

"Don't go there," she said, and reached for the bridle on his bay.

"Why?" But he reined in his horse.

"It isn't safe beyond this point."

"Is that a cave?" His head inclined in the direction of the sharply jagged cove tucked between two cliffs.

"Yes. But you can only see it when the tide is out."

"Then I want to see it."

"No. It is dangerous. There have been too many rockfalls into the sea, and it's hard to go around except when the tide is very far out. And if you stay too long, the tide will trap you."

"I could climb out."

"But your horse could not."

For an answer, he stroked the bay's mane. She knew he was fond of Hector. Something about her told her he had a fondness for all horses.

"Is it a smuggler's cave?"

"It's called Colliver's Cove. They say it was used by Robert Colliver, but they also say Robert Colliver left Looe in his youth and never returned. Both could not be true. They also tell tales of men who drowned because a high sea came up and caught them inside. When the tide comes in, the cavern floods."

"Is there another way out?"

"There is a hole near the top, but it cannot be reached from inside."

"So you have seen it."

"Yes."

"You got out safely."

"I went when everything was right. I did not stay."

Edenstorm leaned forward in his saddle. He planted a fist on his hips and narrowed his eyes as he studied the small, dark opening that marked the top of the cave. "If I were a smuggler, I'd think it ideal. Drop ropes through the top. Hide the ankers, strung together inside the cave. Let them float. But pull them through the top when there is no one around to see."

"But you are not a smuggler, and you do not know everything you would need to know."

"And you do?"

"More than you, and that is not enough. They say, once the kegs floated out to sea, and the entire cache was lost."

"So they have used it. Do they use it now?"

"There is no need for it these days."

"Why?"

"There is a war. No one pays much attention to free traders these days. You have never seen a riding officer near Looe, have you?"

That deep dimple formed in his right cheek. "No."

"Don't go there," she said again. "There are many ways to be killed on the Cornish Coast. That is one of them."

His ghostly silver eyes studied her for a moment, then he dismounted. He held his hands up to her and she slid down, his hands catching around her waist. And they turned back to the beach they had just left.

He stopped, scanning the distant horizon where the sun dropped lower in the sky and began to tinge the gold with pink.

"If you painted, how would you paint this?"

"Rapidly. Soon the sun will go down and we will never see it quite this way again." She swept her hand in an arc along the horizon. "It is not simply golden, anywhere. It is only the way the many colors work together that makes it so." She pointed to a distant promontory. "Look over there. Even the rock in the distance is bathed in gold, yet none of it is truly the color it seems."

He stood there, his eyes intense and hazy, darkening to smoky pewter. She was aware of the scent that was his, so close and mingling with the salt of the sea, and flesh of horse, with leather and brawn.

"I could never paint," he said, his voice as soft as fine doeskin. "But I could never forget this. If I could paint, I would paint you, bathed in gold, just as you are right now. The gold is the color of your hair. It gleams like tiny strands of gold. No, like golden light."

He took one of her curls into his fingers, then slipped a hand into her hair. A tangle of longing twisted and turned in his eyes. "I'd want to capture the light shining in your hair and playing across your face, the softness of your lips."

"How do you know they're soft?" she whispered.

"I just do." The pad of his thumb crossed over her lower lip. "Yes, soft."

She gasped as his lips touched hers, but not from fear or outrage, but because she had not known her own longing. Had not known the feel of his arms circling her and pulling her close to his body where she could feel all his firmness as if she flowed into it, his kiss deepening and stroking in ways that set her afire inside. Her heart raced with the pounding of an unexplainable wildness within her, the heat she had not understood that had been building from the moment she had first seen him on the beach.

Abruptly, he pulled back, frowning, and dropped his hands from her waist. His jaw took on that hard, jutting look it had when he was getting stubborn. He turned away, and walked back to the standing horses.

The wildness drained out of her like water through a hole in a pot. Sometimes she wanted so much to slap him.

"Well, I would say I did that wrong," she said, and strode back to the gentle brown hack she had been riding.

"You did nothing wrong." But his face was hard like an iron mask.

"Oh, my," she said, and sneered. "I would never have known."

"I told you I do not feel things."

"You lie. You feel things as much as anyone else. You just lie to yourself about it."

His shoulders stiffened, and she could see his jaw jutting even more. He stormed across the sand, his bay gelding in tow, toward the line of brush and furze that grew close to the shore, and found a bush that almost could be called a tree. He tossed the reins over a branch, then turned and stalked back toward the promontory that separated the sandy beach from the cove that ended in Colliver's Cave.

Oh no! He wouldn't! But yes, she knew him all too well. And it was her fault, for she had told him not to go.

#4 - Black

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 18:24:00 +0000

Shadowed Knight,
by Jan Alyce Avery
Samhain Publishing
http://www.janalyceavery.com/

Fuming at his own carelessness, Fitzwilliam went in search of Lady Ann, to be told by the first house servant he asked that she was in the kitchen. He checked with the cook.

“Outside, sir.” The cook, chopping joints of meat with a huge cleaver, cocked an eyebrow at him, no doubt contemptuous of people who cut themselves with a mere dagger. “In the garden. Around the east side of the wall.” He brought the cleaver down with a whack that dug the edge deep into the wood block beneath. “Just go right out that door, sir.”

Fitzwilliam went out the door indicated. There seemed to be a half-dozen gardens behind the curve of the tower. The first was the kitchen garden, surely, with peas twining around staves, the tops of onions thrusting green through well-tilled soil, new lettuce and cabbage growing in long rows. Beyond these were precise square beds of plants he couldn’t name, though the scents argued herbs, and beyond those, along the surrounding stone wall, were twining roses, lilacs and a fringe of lilies, the flowers running to the edge of a clear bed of turf that surrounded a flowering apple tree. A faint hum revealed bees at their work, the sound counterpointed by birdsong. Fitzwilliam took a deep breath, intoxicated by the rich scents.

He heard another soft humming, from just beyond the tree, a wordless melody sung in a girl’s pure voice, and an instant later Lady Ann came from behind the trunk, her head bent over a basket she carried. She wore her green wool gown and her head was bare. Her loosely braided hair glowed a rich chestnut in the sun, tendrils escaping to curl against her cheeks. Still absorbed by the contents of the basket, she came toward him, her body moving with a grace that made him catch his breath.

“Spring,” he said softly, and she looked up, startled, then realizing who it was, she smiled. “Sir?”

“I was thinking of the goddess Spring and—here you are.” It seemed perfectly natural to extend his hand, perfectly natural that she should take it. “The very image of that ethereal being. If I were an artist, I could ask for no better model.”

Her cheeks flushed a delicious rose, but her eyes danced. “A very pretty speech, Sir John. Far too fine to waste on a respectable widow.”

“I can think of no one who looks less like a widow, lady. As for respectable,” he grinned, “well, that remains to be seen.”

“Rogue! Did you come to help me gather herbs or are you fleeing honest work?”

“Herbs?”

She indicated the basket. “Fennel and thyme, rosemary and lemon grass. To spice your food, sir knight. I, you see, am hard at work helping the cook.”

“Well, I was hard at work as well, mistress, in the weapons room. I came to you because Sir Richard said that you have healing skills. See,” he lifted his bandaged hand, his voice comically tragic, “I’ve been wounded in the line of duty.”

“Oh, Sir John!” She was instantly serious, setting the basket down, then taking his hand in both of hers. “Let me see.”

He laughed, suddenly a little embarrassed. “A nick, lady, no more, hardly worth bothering about—”

“The smallest scratch can fester, sir, if not cared for properly.” She unwound the rag. “Not deep enough to need stitching, but it must be cleaned. And bandaged with clean linen, not something you’ve used to polish rust off armor. Come with me.”

She led him to the far side of the tree to a small plank table set against the wall, where she ordered him to stay before hurrying away. It was only a minute or two before she was back with a bowl of water, clean rags, a flask of ale and a small pot with a lid. She cleaned the cut with the water and one of the rags, rinsed it with the ale—ignoring both his protests at the waste of good spirits and his exaggerated groans of pain—then opened the pot to reveal a pale green paste, which she spread with some care over and around the wound. “You’re to keep this dry,” she ordered as she secured a linen strip around his palm. “And not use the hand for a day or two to let it heal. Does it feel better now?”

“Yes. There’s magic in your ointment.” And in your touch, he thought. “Do you make many such medicines?”

“Yes.” She smoothed the wrinkles from the bandage, her fingers brushing his skin, and even that slight contact sent a shiver through him. “I’ve a hut on the other side of the garden, and there I store herbs. My nurse taught me how to use them to make medicines, for the easing of pain, to aid sleep, to lower fevers—”

“And what ingredients do you use, lady, to make love potions?” he asked softly.

She was bent over his arm, but she looked up at him, startled. “Sir?”

“Surely you brew such cordials.” Her face was only a few inches from his, so close he could smell the warm fragrance of her skin. Her lips were parted, her eyes so pure and rich a green it was like looking into the heart of a newly leafed forest. “And surely you’ve given me some, for I’m drunk with it—”

Ann found herself unable to move. His hand lifted, his fingers gently touching the curve of her cheek, then moving slowly down the line of her throat to brush the soft swell of her breasts. Trembling, she caught her breath in a sob. “Ann!” he whispered—and then his arms were around her and his mouth came down on hers.

Heat surged through her. Her body seemed to melt into the hard strength of his embrace. She moaned, her lips parting, and the kiss deepened, his mouth devouring hers, his hand lifting to cup her swelling breast. Her body burned, trembled, her senses drowning in a shuddering wave of pleasure so intense it was almost pain.

And then he wrenched himself away. “Sweet God, Ann—I didn’t mean… I could never…”

Dazed, fevered, she stared at him, bewildered—then the look on his face struck her like a blow. Without a word, he turned and strode away.

Ann shivered. The warm spring day suddenly seemed to darken, grow chill. I didn’t mean… I could never… The look of misery on his face, misery mixed with shame…

Suddenly she realized why he’d said what he’d said, what he meant, why he’d fled from her, and the realization was like a spear of ice into her heart. It was so obvious… She’d been so blind…

She buried her face in her hands, trying desperately to choke back sobs, while the blossoms of the apple tree spread their fragrant petals and the bees droned, uncaring and indifferent, from flower to flower.

BEST FIRST KISS - CONTEMPORARY

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 00:11:00 +0000

Which of these kisses makes you want to read more?

AND THE WINNER IS - GREEN!

Winner- GREEN

Fallout

by Karlene Blakemore-Mowle
http://karlybm.blogspot.com

from The Wild Rose Press

BLUE

A Knight in Shining Tow Truck

by Julie Kimbrell

www.juliekimbrell.com

Published by Hearts On Fire Books

RED

Because of You
by Mari Carr
from Samhain Publishing
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/because-of-you

BLACK

Ondine: An Erotic Tale of Art and Deception

By Giselle Renarde

http://www.freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/audiobooks.htm

ENTRY 1 - BLUE

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 23:56:00 +0000

A Knight in Shining Tow Truck

by Julie Kimbrell

www.juliekimbrell.com

Published by Hearts On Fire Books

Chris sat on one end of the couch with Max next to him. I sat on the other end. Max held the popcorn. We laughed a lot. Midway through the movie, I looked over and saw that Max had fallen sound asleep. His head lay on Chris’s chest. It was the sweetest thing I’d ever seen. I turned the television off and looked at the guy. He lightly rubbed Max’s head.

“I guess I need to put him to bed.” I whispered.

I picked Max up from the couch. He weighed more than I thought. I carried him to the spare bedroom, and Chris opened the door for me. Once Max was tucked in. I went back into the living room. He’d cleaned up our popcorn party mess and stood by the front door.

“I better get going. Thanks for the popcorn,” he said.

“Sure, the kids had fun. They really like you.”

“Did you have fun?” he asked and opened the door.

I followed him out, closing it behind me. “Did you?” I asked.

We stood there for a minute in silence.

“Do you always answer a question with a question?” he stepped closer to me.

My back was against the front door. I took a deep breath. “I had fun too,” I said, my voice a nervous squeak.

He leaned in, put his hand behind my head and gently kissed me. I couldn’t breathe. Emotions came alive that I didn’t ever remember feeling. I felt that kiss clear down to my hoo-hoo—a hoo-hoo that had been on a sabbatical for quite a while. What was I doing? Before I could gather myself and pull away, he let go of me, stepped back a few steps and started to walk away.

He turned around a few yards away. “I’m sure I’ll see ya later.”

I couldn’t say a word. I just nodded and went back in the house. Did that just happen? Oh my God. I hated him. How could I have let him get away with kissing me like that? After I turned out the lights, I went to my bathroom, washed my face, put on my night gown and crawled in bed with Emma. I felt exhausted, but wide awake at the same time, and it was all Chris’s fault.

I’d definitely address the kiss issue next time I saw him. But I didn’t plan on seeing him anytime soon. I planned on hiding under the biggest rock I could find. He could not get away with kissing me like that. I didn’t even want to kiss him. Well, maybe a little bit. But that was after I felt him so close to me. He smelled so good. Okay, I am really giving this too much thought. It was just a stupid kiss and would not happen again. Close your eyes Ainsley Irving, and quit thinking with your hoo-hoo.

The next morning, I woke up to a pair of bright blue eyes staring me in the face. Next to Emma, Taffy sat on my chest. It was a shock that I could breathe with her fat furry butt planted on top of me. After I stroked her head and smiled at Emma, I pushed the cat off and got up. My mouth felt nasty, so I brushed my teeth quickly and walked into the living room, followed by Emma. Max was on the couch watching Spongebob Squarepants and playing his new game.

Once I made it to the kitchen, I looked at the microwave to see what time it was. Wow, the kids actually slept until eight. That was crazy. They really must’ve been worn out from the hide and seek game. Emma walked into the kitchen and handed me a diaper. Crap! I forgot she needed changing. Thankfully she let me know.

She looked up at me and grinned. “Pee pee pants,” she said.

I laughed and picked her up. “Let’s get you changed, then I’ll fix breakfast.” We went to the living room and dug through her bag for an outfit and diaper.

“Can we have pancakes and sausage?” Max asked. Uh-oh, I didn’t have anything to fix. I never had time for breakfast. I could take them to the diner and get pancakes. Before I could ask if they wanted to go, my telephone rang.

ENTRY 2 - GREEN - WINNER!!!

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 23:35:00 +0000

Fallout
by Karlene Blakemore-Mowle
http://karlybm.blogspot.com
The Wild Rose Press available 17th Feb 2010

Tully bit her lip. She almost preferred to be angry at him. At least that made her feel in control of something. Anger she understood. Anger could drive a person, give them the strength to overcome obstacles in their path, push them when they were at the end of their limits. She admired Jake and the strength he'd summoned in order to survive the pain and torment of his injuries. But she didn’t want to fall for the guy.

"I'm glad you explained, but let's just forget it happened. I don't usually…I don't know what I was thinking," she finished, feeling the heat rise in her face. Jumping to her feet, she began to collect their dirty plates to clear the table.

"Probably the same thing I was," he murmured and his gaze dropped to her lips. His voice had taken on a smoky, seductive tone that made her breath catch.

Standing beside her, he put a hand on her arm. "I never said I regretted anything that happened. The only regret I've had all week is that I was stupid enough to walk away." He slid his hands down her arms until he held her wrists. With gentle pressure he pulled her close enough to feel his breath, warm against her face.

Somewhere, on some level, she knew this wasn’t a good idea, but it became impossible to resist the magnetic-like draw he sparked within her. Her breath caught and her eyes fluttered shut as she waited for the touch of his mouth.

A shiver of delight raced through her body as his lips moved like a butterfly’s caress against her neck and she tipped her face back to allow him further access.

Deep inside her a field of galloping elephants were throwing a party, and a warm glow began to spread through parts of her she’d long denied having anyone pay attention to.

His touch grew bolder, his kisses harder along the exposed length of her neck and she shivered as he ran his tongue slowly, deliciously along her skin. Tasting her, savouring her like some long denied indulgence.

Catching her breath she pulled back slightly and saw his gaze, hot and simmering, and a shot of liquid desire went straight to her loins.

Bending his head he caught her lips, dragging a response from some place deep inside her that she’d almost forgotten existed. His probing tongue teased and caressed her own, tangling enticing and daring her to take his lead. Spurred on my his silent challenge she deepened the kiss, nipping and biting his sensitive lower lip, until a deep groan of approval escaped his chest and vibrated through her own.

Something primeval and urgent broke free inside her and a need to be touched and to touch in return took control. The scent of desire radiating between them drove her to deepen the kiss. She suckled gently on the fullness of his lower lip, and felt the immediate swell of his groin press urgently against her belly as his hands slid around her hips and moved lower to cup her backside, pulling her firmly against him.

With a muffled curse against her mouth, he lifted her off the ground to hug his lean hips. Her legs automatically circled his hips snugly.

“Lounge or bedroom?” He asked against her mouth.

“How long will it take you to get us upstairs?” she asked her voice sounding breathless.

His mouth smiled beneath hers as she continued to drag her own lips against his, reluctant to interrupt the drug like addiction of his hot mouth on hers. “That depends…what’s the magic word?” He teased pulling his head away from her tempting lips to taunt her.

“Now?”

His slow sexy grin spread across his face and he gave a nod as he moved toward the staircase. “Close enough.” Without breaking the hold on her lips, he climbed the stairs and manoeuvred them into his bedroom.

With deliberate slowness he allowed her to slide down the length of his body until her feet touched the ground. His eyes glittered with sensual satisfaction at the delicious torture the friction evoked between them.

“You sure about this?”

“Why are you still talking?” Tully growled impatiently.

ENTRY 3 - RED

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 23:33:00 +0000

Because of You
by Mari Carr
from Samhain Publishing
http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/because-of-you

Wanna come in for a cup of coffee?” she offered, sorry to see her night with Caleb end so soon. He was an easy man to talk to.

“I’d love coffee,” he said. “Now that I’m away from the madness, I’m not looking forward to plunging back into it right away.”

Jessie grinned and led him through the small house.

“Todd and Stephen have done a hell of a lot of work on the ranch. It needed a major facelift and some big time renovations when they moved in. Looks great now,” Caleb said.

“Yeah, I came up with my husband right after they left Denver. I honestly can’t believe all the improvements they’ve made. They’ll be ready for business soon.”

Jessie had been making the coffee as she spoke, but even with her back turned she sensed Caleb’s sudden tension. She turned to see his eyebrows lowered, his face serious and upset.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, wondering what she could have said to have produced such a rapid change in his disposition.

“Husband?” he asked and she saw his eyes dart to her ring finger. She given up wearing her diamond engagement ring, but she couldn’t seem to part from the actual white gold wedding band.

She sucked in a breath at his question. She’d carefully avoided talking about Tommy all night. She’d wanted a night to forget, a night to pretend that her life was normal and happy and that she hadn’t had her heart ripped out of her chest eight months earlier.

“I’m a widow,” she said and the sound of that simple word released the flow of ice cold water throughout her body once again. For a few hours, she’d been warm. Hell, between Caleb and the alcohol, she spent more than a few moments on fire and it had felt so damn good.

“I’m sorry,” he said, rising and crossing the room to take her icy hands in his. She didn’t realize until his touch that she was shaking. In just one evening, he’d diminished the shadow of fear that constantly hovered over her. He’d rejuvenated her, made her feel alive.

She shook her head, desperately willing away the chill, the sadness. Dammit, she didn’t want to be cold anymore. She was tired of being afraid. “It’s been eight months and I’m afraid I sometimes tend to talk about Tommy in the present tense, like he’s still here.”

“Had he been ill?” he asked and she smiled sadly. He sounded very much like a doctor.

“Freak accident. He slipped on a patch of ice and hit his head on a car door. It was late and brutally cold and he was the last person leaving work that night. It was several hours before I found him and by then—”

“You found him?” he asked, pulling her gently to a chair in the kitchen. He pushed her down before sitting next to her. He never released his grip on her hands and she knew he felt the coldness in them as he began to rub them with his own as if to warm them.

“I was concerned when he didn’t come home and didn’t answer his cell. He was an accountant and it was audit season, so he worked late occasionally, but it wasn’t like him not to call and check in. Finally, I worried myself into a frenzy and decided to drive by his office, fully prepared to give him holy hell for scaring me so.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry it was you who found him.”

She shrugged and closed her eyes. She was a master at controlling her tears, yet here with Caleb it seemed harder to do. She’d managed to push her pain deep inside her and she even found it easier of late to discuss Tommy’s death. Tonight, whether it was the alcohol or her tiredness or Caleb’s compassion, the emotions were threatening to bubble over and she refused to let that happen.

“Well, I suppose I managed to bring tonight’s fun level down. That’s me—the official ruination of all parties,” she tried to joke. She pulled her hands out of his comforting grip and went back to the counter. “Do you like cream and sugar in your coffee?”

“No, I drink it black, and, Jessie, you didn’t ruin anything. You’re going through a damn hard time right now, dealing with something no one should ever have to deal with. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I wish I could give you an easy fix, but I’m afraid nothing except time will cure this.”

She grinned over her shoulder, determined to return to the easy banter they’d enjoyed all night. “That’s quite a bedside manner you have, Dr. Caleb.” The flirtatious line felt rusty and foreign as it fell from her lips, but Caleb didn’t seem to notice.

He gave a short, brief laugh. “Oh yeah, I’m a master at bedside—” He paused mid-sentence and she was surprised when he walked over to her and placed his hands on her cheeks. “Christ, Jess. I want to kiss you so badly it hurts.”

“So kiss me,” she whispered, uncertain where the words had come from, his and hers. From the second he touched her face, she wanted him with a passion she’d thought long gone.

He leaned down and took her lips gently, sweetly, but she refused to be patronized, treated with kid gloves. She was a living, breathing woman and she wanted him. Wanted him beyond reason, beyond care.

She reached up, gripping his hair in her fingers roughly, pulling his face more firmly to her. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue, before pushing it out of her way to explore his lips, his teeth with her own.

He moved his hands down to her waist, his grip stronger, more certain, more controlling. She was giving him everything her broken shell of a body had left to give and she sensed he was more than ready to take her up on the offer.

His lips slid from hers, gliding along her cheek to her earlobe, down her neck. The whole time he worshipped her with his mouth, his hands roamed, finding their way beneath her T-shirt to her breasts. She groaned at the hot touch of his hands against her taut nipples and he ground his hard erection into her pussy.

“God,” she gasped, his touches, his lips, his body pushing hers rapidly into overdrive.

“More,” she demanded. “Please, Caleb. More.”

ENTRY 4 -BLACK - This is a Female Female entry

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 23:07:00 +0000

Ondine: An Erotic Tale of Art and Deception

By Giselle Renarde

http://www.freewebs.com/gisellerenarde/audiobooks.htm

The string of pearls Rejean’s mother had given Ondine slipped from her fingers as Yvette stepped into the cold stone room like an ominous apparition. Why on earth would she have come to the wedding? And wearing a black dress, no less! She’d even dyed her strawberry blond hair to match.

“The Church looks lovely,” Yvette said, sauntering into the room as though she were taking a Sunday stroll through the arboretum. “I understand you and Rejean decorated it yourselves with wildflowers from the park. How very quaint.”

Ondine felt faint, and the tightness of her gown was no help. It seemed like she had to stand on her toes just to breathe. She had no idea how to react. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” she replied, in a trance. Her mind was lost in a dense fog and she couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say.

Clotilde had left the back of her dress undone, and Yvette fixated on that zipper in need of fastening. A cruel smirk broke across her lips as she strolled toward her target. Dark skirts brushed the ground until Yvette stood close behind her, watching her in the mirror like a predator.   She placed one hand on Ondine’s shoulder. With the other, she slowly zipped up the wedding dress. It felt unbearably tight now. How could she make it through her wedding without being able to breathe?

“Clotilde made this dress, did she?” Yvette inquired in a low voice. She slid her fingers along Ondine’s bare shoulders. “I would have done the same for you, if only you’d asked. I would have bought you the finest fabrics, anything you wanted. And I know you, Ondine. I know you appreciate beautiful things.”

Ondine froze in place. Unable to move or speak, she simply watched in the mirror as Yvette’s icy fingertips travelled the length of her collarbone and down her chest, settling on the small pendant hanging there. She stood so close her hot breath burned Ondine’s neck. “This is the bauble I gave you last Christmas,” Yvette said, rolling the ruby pendant between her fingers.

“You’re acting like I’ve done something to harm you,” Ondine finally replied, always playing the innocent with Yvette.

Releasing the pendant, she backed away. “Haven’t you?”

“No. I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m getting married to a sweet young man who loves me very much. Nothing could be more natural.”

“Natural,” Yvette laughed, shaking her head. “Tell me, why are you really marrying Rejean?”

“You know why!” she cried, not wanting to pronounce the wicked words. She looked away as she mumbled, “I love him.”

“Liar,” Yvette accused, taking Ondine’s face in her hands. Ondine pulled her head away. “We used to laugh at that boy’s letters. They were pathetic. Tell me for real, why are you marrying him?”

“You know why. I’m not going to say it.” Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke. How could she say the forbidden words?

Yvette’s expression seemed to melt as she took her gloved hands. Ondine’s impulse to flee subsided as her beautiful friend traced elegant fingers across her forearm. She consoled, “Ah! No, no, no! Don’t cry, ma chère. We don’t want your eyes all red and puffy as you greet your future husband.” Yvette sought a tissue from her purse and dried her friend’s eyes. “There. You look more beautiful than ever. I would be proud if you were my bride.”

Her bride? What a ridiculous thing to say. Yvette’s bride…
Champagne bubbles effervesced in her belly, rising up her chest until they burst as laughter from her throat. She couldn’t contain the joy of being close to Yvette after weeks of estrangement and longing. A smile grew across Yvette’s cheeks, her laughter bursting the tension in the church room.

“Clotilde did my hair. Do you like it?” Ondine fished for a compliment, at ease after so long.

“Absolutely! I always said you looked good with your hair up. The flowers fixed into your bun are cute, too. You’re going to match the church!”

Giddy now, Ondine danced over to the old sofa at the far end of the room and collapsed in her tight gown.   Yvette leaned in beside her, midnight black against pristine white. It felt so good to giggle and chat, and simply feel comfortable with Yvette again. “There’s something I have to tell you,” Ondine admitted as she gazed into her friend’s cheerful eyes. Of course, she couldn’t say the words with Yvette looking right at her, so she leaned in close and whispered, “I can’t kiss Rejean without imagining you. Isn’t that scandalous?”

For all her reluctance, now that she’d finally voiced her irreverent desires, they no longer seemed so devastating. In fact, it seemed rather funny. Ondine laughed. They both did.

“Do you think I can ever be happy with Rejean?” she asked.

“I hope so, for your sake,” she sighed with seeming sincerity.
Yvette spoke slowly into Ondine’s ear, allowing each word the weight it deserved. “But if you want the absolute truth, I suspect you’d be more fulfilled with me as your lover.”

A new wave of desire bred goose bumps along Ondine’s bare arms. Yvette sat so near to her, she could feel the intense heat radiating from that body cloaked all in black. Their cheeks brushed as Yvette leaned back to look into her eyes. Ondine knew she was about to get kissed. She knew it and did nothing to prevent it. She wanted that kiss. Would it feel like she’d always imagined? Soft and warm? Slow and languorous?

Yvette placed a firm hand on Ondine’s cheek, holding her gaze until their eager mouths met. As Yvette’s lips touched hers, glossy pink against deep crimson, heavy breaths escaped them both. Ondine savoured their long-awaited first kiss, her frantic tongue swimming in the warm pool of Yvette’s mouth. Her body was electrified.

Particles of energy darted through her like shooting stars. Never has she imagined women could kiss so heatedly, with such intensity. Ondine wanted more. She wanted everything.

And The Kick-ass Hero's Enterence Winner is...

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 02:08:00 +0000

Our Winner ... Green! Yes boys and girls, your votes decided our winner!

#3 - Green -WINNER!!!

The Omegas

by Annie Nicholas

from Lyrical Press

#1 - Red

Roxie's Protectors-Roan's Fall

Marisa Chenery
www.marisachenery.com

Liquid Silver Books

#2 - Blue

Dark of kNight

T.L. Mitchell

Publisher Wild Horse Press

#3 - Green -WINNER!!!

The Omegas

by Annie Nicholas

from Lyrical Press

#4 - Black

Ella the Vampire

Barton Paul Levenson

Lyrical Press

Don't miss Best Bad-ass Hero's Entrance Historical Starting Monday Feb. 8, 2010 here!

Superstitions,by AP Miller

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 19:39:00 +0000

Superstitions, are they really the old wives tales?

Hello Readers! I am one half of the husband and wife writing team of AP Miller. We write in many genres, and are published with nine publishers thus far. We live in the mostly sunny city of Las Vegas with our two dogs Brutus and Elliot who are constantly plotting for world domination.

I was asked here today to talk about superstitions and very excited to be here!

Most of us grew up believing if a black cat crossed our path it was seven years bad luck. If you broke a mirror it was bad luck.

Seeing an ambulance pass also sent bad luck your way.

And finally my favorite: Friday the Thirteenth. (love the film)

But, not all superstitions were deemed as bad. For instance if you held certain gems in your pockets or wore them on a chain around your neck they brought luck.

How did they come about? Well some say the old wives tales,and this is true to an extant. They did generate many years ago, but lets face it earlier generations had the need to believe much more then we do today weather it depended upon knowledge, reason or some type of experience.

There are many kinds of superstitions, for the most part people of other countries have their own beliefs that we may feel are outlandish, but because of their religious beliefs it’s a normal part of their lives.

Religion played a huge part in the majority of superstitions. The Catholics believe that if their infants were not baptized the devil would take their soul. As a Catholic I can vouch for that one. My mother drummed that in my head once I became pregnant. But then again the Catholic Church also believed superstition was a sin.

Believe it or not most of our own lifestyles were based on superstition, and the fact that whatever we were taught was the truth since nothing else proved those theories wrong. Many superstitions were said to have originated during the plagues that were sweeping through Europe. There are many agnostics who would see other religions as superstitions.

What about miracles? Are they superstitious? Some may think so. This would apply to an omen, would that also be a superstition? I say we believe in whatever we wish to help lead our lives as long as it works. Some of us carry amulets; others don our homes with statues and pictures, while the rest of us wear jewelry. As long as it makes us feel comfortable and we aren’t being criticized for our own beliefs there is nothing wrong with it. I for one have my own theory on superstitions but they have all worked for me.

To Happy Reading!

AP Miller

AP Miller is the best selling award winning husband and wife writing team. For more information about them and their books visit: www.apmiller.weebly.com

Best Bad-Ass Hero Entrance

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 17:30:00 +0000

This is a Contest for Published Authors - Their names and titles have been removed and readers vote on whose story has the Best Bad -Ass Hero's Entrance - These are all Paranormal Entries - Winner is Announced Friday Feb. 5th - Leave a Comment and enter to win a free book.

This is an ongoing contest so drop in every week for new contests. Next is Most Romantic First Kiss

#1 - Red

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 17:21:00 +0000

Roxie's Protectors-Roan's Fall

Marisa Chenery
www.marisachenery.com

Liquid Silver Books

Roan pulled open the glass front entrance door and stood on the threshold. He scanned the large open-concept space. He so did not want to be here. However long he had to be here would be pure torture. If given a choice, he would rather face down a hundred armed men in battle than go inside this place.

“Well? Are you going to stand there all day or what? You’re going to make me late for my hair appointment.” Roxie gave him a hard shove from behind.

Reluctantly, Roan stepped into the hair salon and moved aside so Roxie could enter after him. He tried not to take many deep breaths. The smell of perm solution, hair dyes and other such chemicals assaulted his sensitive werewolf nose. Considering Roxie was a

werewolf too, Roan had no idea how she could stand the harsh smells. If they bothered her, she showed no signs of it. She walked up to the front desk and gave her name to the girl who sat behind it.

Roxie crossed back over to him and led him to one of the unoccupied pansy-assed looking straight backed chairs that lined the wall. Roan sat down slowly expecting the chair to break once he settled his full weight on it. The spindly wood legs didn’t look as if

they were made to support a man of his size. Being six foot nine and weighing over two hundred and sixty pounds, he was by no means a lightweight. As he planted his ass on the seat and leaned back against the backrest, the chair groaned ominously, but it held

together.

Roan looked over at Roxie who had taken the empty chair next to his. She shook her head and sighed. “If you’re this uncomfortable you should have let me come alone like I wanted to in the first place.”

He scowled at her. “It’s my duty to protect you.”

And Roan took his duty seriously. Roxie was special. She was the foretold one, the one who now ruled over all the werewolf packs. For hundreds of years, Roan, along with his brothers and sister-in-arms, had trained to be the foretold one’s protectors. Even

though Roxie thought she could take care of herself, Roan and the rest of Roxie’s protectors weren’t prepared to leave her unguarded. Even if it meant that he had to sit inside a mortal hair salon while the fumes from perm solution slowly burned the inside of his nose.

Roxie scowled back at him. “Since I’m stuck with you, would you at least loosen up a bit? People are staring. You look as if you’re ready to kill the next person who looks at you the wrong way.”

Roan did a quick scan of the room. Roxie was right. All eyes, all female, were turned their way. Some of the mortal females looked as if they were ready to run away if he so much as said boo, while a few gave him looks that said they liked what they saw.

The chair creaked as he shifted his weight and turned back to Roxie. “What’s the holdup?”

“Ansley is finishing up with another client then it’ll be my turn.”

“I thought you had an appointment.”

“I do. Sometimes Ansley gets a little bit behind. I don’t mind waiting.”

“Well, I do. The faster I can get the hell out of here the better.”

Roxie eyed him. “I’m guessing you’ve never been to a hair salon before.”

Roan snorted. “This will be my first and only time.”

“Then where do you get your hair cut?” Roxie looked pointedly at his shoulderlength hair.

“Saskia cuts it for me.” Saskia who was his sister-in-arms and his leader tended to take care of things like haircuts and such.

Before Roxie could say anything more, the girl from the front desk came around it and called her name. “Roxie? Ansley is ready for you now. If you want to follow me back we’ll get your hair washed.”

Roan would have followed Roxie, but she shoved him back down on his chair and shook her head. “Park it, buddy. I’ll be perfectly fine. You’ll be able to keep an eye on me from here.”

He watched Roxie follow the girl to one of the sinks at the very back of the room where another woman stood waiting for her. Roan figured the other woman had to be Ansley, Roxie’s hairdresser. He let his gaze run over her. From what he could see of her from this distance, Roan thought her pretty enough. Her looks didn’t compare to a female werewolf’s, their race was known for their extreme good looks, but her looks appealed to him nonetheless. She wore her straight, brown hair down past her shoulders. He couldn’t see the color of her eyes since she stood in profile as she motioned Roxie to sit down on the chair in front of the sink.

Roan spent the next half hour bored out of his mind while he watched Ansley cut Roxie’s hair. The two women chatted away, sometimes laughing over something one of them had said. At one point, both women turned their heads to look directly at him. Roan

crossed his arms over his chest and stared back. He gave Ansley a cursory glance before he focused on Roxie. There was something about her smile that said she had to be up to something.

He soon found out he hadn’t been too far off on his thinking. Once Ansley finished with Roxie’s hair, Roxie signaled for Roan to come over to where she sat. Feeling as if he’d made a mistake by volunteering to be the one to take Roxie here today, he stood up

and walked to the back of the salon. Prepared for just about anything when it came to Roxie, Roan wasn’t at all prepared when he caught the first faint whiff of Ansley’s scent.

#2 - Blue

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 17:14:00 +0000

Dark of kNight

T.L. Mitchell

Publisher Wild Horse Press

My ears flicked a couple of times as I could hear Jason and Heather on the opposite side of us across the meadow. A couple of short barks letting us know they were in place and ready.

Daniel’s body stiffened. I heard his breathing stop as his ears perked forward intently listening to the vampires. He snorted. The vampires had made a confrontation with the werewolves. I listened carefully. Daniel’s hearing was far better than mine. I raised my head and sniffed the air. I could not smell the werewolves. The only scent I could pick up was the one of the vampires. He snorted again. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he dropped his head. A warning someone was coming and fast. I raised my head again and sniffed the air. Vampire.

Standing to my feet, I peered through the woods. I could see a flash of something glowing as it moved quickly into the meadow. It was Nathaniel and he was headed toward the house with Casey in his arms. Daniel’s head lowered as he let out another low growl. Turning my head, I saw Jason and Heather move out blocking the path behind Nathaniel as he flew past them. Daniel jerked his head up and nudged me with his shoulder. I could smell it. The werewolves were on their way. Three of them fast approaching.

Daniel and I moved cautiously. They would aim for Jason and Heather. The sickening stench grew heavier as the three werewolves came fast through the woods to the open meadow. The horrible creature was exactly as I remembered in my dream. My hair bristled on my neck as they began to slow down. Apparently, they caught our scent. One of them began walking to where Daniel and I were. The other one was fast approaching Jason and Heather. The third creature lingered in the center as if expecting an attack.

Daniel and I bolted out of the woods with lightening speed. I heard his thoughts clearly as I began to fix my eyes on the ankle of my prey. Daniel made a pass by the huge horrid creature snapping its right hand off. Before the creature had time to react, I had already taken its left foot off. The taste in my mouth was utterly the worse taste I had ever experienced. They taste as bad as they smell. Quickly turning we flanked the single creature.

This one was not as surprised by us. Cautiously, Daniel and I moved around, circling it. I kept a close eye on the damaged one. It managed to balance itself on the remaining limbs. A loud roar came from the damaged one, it was not exactly happy we dismembered it. Watching the one in front of us, I lowered my head, giving Daniel the signal of my attempt to attack. My prey’s attention was on me as I bolted a charge. I flew into the air. Before I had a chance to make contact with my prey, I felt a hard thump in my ribs as I fell to the ground. The air had been knocked out of my lungs. I yelped in pain as I felt the sharp claws of the damaged one rip into my side. Turning my head to the side, I began snapping my teeth ferociously at this creature. He was on top of me, his mouth snapping its huge teeth backed by the powerful jaws toward my neck. I knew I had to get to Daniel; he had already made another pass at the one creature, distracting its attention away from me. He was not thinking clearly, as his concern was on me. My hind feet pushed the damaged creature off me. I got up quickly. My sides were stinging and burning from the torn flesh. The smell of my own blood filled my nostrils as it poured freely from the open wound.

In the distance, I heard the other werewolf roar as either Jason or Heather yelped in pain. I knew the battle had to be going better for them than it was for us right now.

Keeping my eyes fixed on the damaged creature we both limped in a circle facing off one another. Both damaged. At least I still had all of my members. I planned to take another part of him off before he had the chance to kill me. I heard Daniel yelp in pain from behind me. He growled angrily as I heard his teeth snapping. I could not help from turning my head. Daniel was on his back and blood was running down from his shoulder. My heart raced in my chest. He needed my help. My mistake was taking my eyes off my prey. I moved too slowly, I felt the pain of teeth in my shoulder. I yelped out in pain.

A flash of white flew by my face as I felt the tearing of flesh on my shoulder. The weight of the creature was now gone. I was determined to move. I needed to get to Daniel. I turned quickly to see Richard locked into a battle with my attacker. My attention was back to Daniel. Ignoring the pain in my sides, I launched forward with all the strength I had left. I landed onto the back of the wiry haired werewolf that had Daniel pinned down. Locking my teeth into the fleshly part of its neck, I closed my teeth down. The soft flesh felt much like I was biting into a too ripe peach. I wished it tasted the same. I jerked my head back as I felt its head rising up.

The ripping noise was evident as I pulled part of the creature’s neck from its body. Daniel reached under the neck and clasped his teeth around the tendons. The bones crunched loudly between Daniel’s strong jaws. The stinky creature fell sideways. I sniffed the creature to make sure it was dead. It was definitely dead.

#3 - Green -WINNER!!!

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 17:12:00 +0000

The Omegas

by Annie Nicholas

from Lyrical Press

Here

Sugar padded down the carpeted hall barefoot, to where the boys were trying to wedge the coffin through their doorway.

The thin Weres battled with the box, and she smiled at the sight. “I think you need to turn it sideways and slide it at an angle.” The coffin shone like glass. Temptation got the best of her, and she ran a finger along the surface. It felt cool. “Is he in there?”

“No, he’s not.” A rich, masculine voice drifted over her shoulder.

Sugar spun around, sucked in a hard breath, and stepped back against the coffin. Magazines ran pictures of mainstream vampires. TV even showed a few interviews with them, but nothing prepared her for this particular one.

The deep blue color of his eyes reminded her of the sea. Well-defined cheekbones led to a strong jaw and a slight teasing smile on his full, sensual lips.

A stirring began deep inside her. He wasn’t beautiful, more sexy and hot.

Breathless, Sugar experienced an impulsive urge to ask him to rub the smooth, pale skin of his bald head all over her body. A hunger awoke, one she thought lay dormant. It unfurled inside of her and wanted to be fed.

“You’re not wolf.” He loomed over her. A black tattoo on his well-developed chest peeked out from underneath his partially unbuttoned white dress shirt.

Eric tapped her chin with his finger, silently instructing her to close her mouth. “Sugar is our neighbor.” He gestured to the rakish vampire. “This is Mr. Pal Robi.”

Heat crept up her cheeks. She stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

His hand engulfed hers while he shook it tenderly. “Is that your real name?” He didn’t release his hold.

She dropped her chin. A thrill ran through her. “My parents have a poor sense of humor. I have a twin named Spice.”

Amusement creased the skin around his eyes. “Sugar and spice, and everything nice.”

The poem annoyed her more every time someone quoted it. “Yes, I’ve heard the rest. I’m not a little girl anymore.” She withdrew her hand from his. Maybe the phenomenal packaging was only skin deep.

A carnal light sparked in his eyes. “Definitely not a little girl. You may call me Daedalus.” His gaze traced her face and slipped lower, caressing the curves of her breasts, then down along her hips.

Sugar gasped as this alarming man studied her. She could almost hear the Omegas leering at her response to Daedalus. “I’ll get out of your way.”

He didn’t move as she pressed herself against the wall to squeeze by him. The tips of her breasts brushed his well-muscled arm. They pebbled, pushing through her blouse. Naughty images of him running those large palms over her nipples played in her mind.

Her panties got damp as a flash of desire burned through her. She realized he’d wanted her to brush against him. He was such a cad, and it made her want him even more.

* * * *

Daedalus watched her heart-shaped ass wiggle back down the hall. She was ravishing. He would never mix business with pleasure, but she didn’t belong to the pack. Just a neighbor and a bonus.

She reminded him of the 1950’s pin-up poster girls, pretty and full of luscious curves. He still kept those posters in storage.

Sugar. His thoughts sprang to the hard caramelized shell on crème brulee. He would like to ignite her sweetness into a passionate inferno.

Daedalus had felt her response to him as she brushed his arm. The flush of color in her face pleased him. He wanted her to turn and look his way one more time before she entered her home.

The Omegas began wrestling with his coffin again. “Can we call you Daedalus?” one of them piped up.

Sugar glanced back at him.

“No.” He gave her a shameless wink.

#4 - Black

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Tue, 02 Feb 2010 17:07:00 +0000

Ella the Vampire

Barton Paul Levenson

Lyrical Press

Find out More Here

"What the hell would you know about being sweet, Derek?" asked Ella.

"Don't you mouth off to me, bitch. You've made me plenty of trouble the past couple of days." He advanced to the bed and backhanded Ella hard, making Cindy cry out. Ella laughed.

"You think this is funny? I'll show you what's funny, you goddam bitch." He swung again, but this time Ella caught his wrist. She got up off the bed, still holding tight.

"You let go of my arm, bitch, or I'm really gonna hurt you."

Ella shook her head. "No. You're not ever going to hurt me, or Cindy, or Roz, or Stephanie again." Roz and Stephanie were the other two prostitutes Derek ran.

Derek slugged her in the stomach. Ella didn't fold over, but just said oof quietly. Then she slugged Derek in the stomach, and he flew back to crash against the wall.

"Don't fuck with me, Derek," Ella said calmly.

The pimp was wheezing, trying to get his breath back. He got up on all fours, struggling to breathe. When he could manage it again, he slowly stood up. "Whoa. Quite a punch you got there. You realize I'm gonna have to fuck up your face now."

"Give it your best shot, stud."

Derek whipped out his straight razor and ran at her. Ella took him by the wrists and effortlessly flipped him over her head. He crashed upside down against the opposite wall. She turned to see him lying on the floor, stunned.

"If that was your best shot, you're pretty fucking pathetic, Derek, my man."

Derek was slower to get up this time. He sat up, making no move to stand, and leaned back against the wall. "What are you on? Angel dust? PCP?"

"No."

"What, then?"

"Natural hormones."

"Natural hormones," he echoed. Then he reached into his coat and brought out his nine millimeter Ruger.

"Derek, no," shouted Cindy.

Derek fired five times. Each shot hit Ella. "Ouch," she said slowly. Sarcastically.

Derek fired three more times.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch."

"What are you?" he asked in wonder. "What the ---- are you?"

"She a vampire, Baby," Cindy said.

"No shit?"

"I'm a vampire," Ella said.

Derek slowly stood up, supporting himself with one hand against the wall. "A real vampire, no shit?"

"No," Ella said.

For a minute he just stared. Then his eyes took on a look Ella knew well by now—a look that said you have something I want. "Would you, uh... Would you like to make me one?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Derek?"

He flashed his million-dollar smile. "Yeah."

"Well, take off that coat, and I'll see what I can do."

Derek took off the coat. Ella went to him and bit into his neck. She knew just where to do it. The blood tasted like warm, rich soup, the best-tasting soup she had ever eaten. She was hungry and the blood tasted wonderful. It gave her strength. It gave her power. She went on sucking. She sucked until Derek trembled on his feet, weak and unsteady.

She raised her head. "You know how it works?"

"Huh? What?"

"How it works. How you become a vampire."

"No..."

"I drain you. You die. Then you come back as a vampire." Ella didn't know how she knew this, but she knew. She knew a lot of things she hadn't known before.

"Uh?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Derek? You'd like to be a vampire?"

"Uh?" He smiled, then nodded feebly.

"I know you would. Then you'd be stronger than me again, and bullets wouldn't hurt you. I don't think I'd like that, Derek. In fact, I don't think I like the idea of you living at all. You see, here's the thing, Derek. If you die some other way—other than me draining you—you don't become a vampire. You're just dead."

"Uh?" Derek's body sagged against her.

"I'll show you." And with that Ella took his head in her hands and wrenched it to the side, snapping his neck. He voided as he died.

Cindy screamed.

Ella took a moment to wipe her mouth before she turned to Cindy, knowing the sight of blood on her lips and chin would freak her friend. "Calm down, Cindy."

"You killed him!"

"I know."

"You killed him!"

"Cindy." She waited until the other woman calmed down a bit. "Are you okay?"

Cindy nodded quickly.

"First he hit me, then he said he was gonna carve up my face, then he shot me a bunch of times. You saw him shoot me."

Another nod.

"As a vampire he'd have controlled us till the end of time. I didn't want that. I want to be free. You know, free? Do you remember what being free was like?"

Cindy nodded, closing her eyes on tears.

Ella sat next to her and put her arm around her. "If somebody called the cops about the shots and you screaming, then they're gonna be here soon. We have to be out of here by then. Are you with me?"

Cindy hesitated, then nodded again.

"Do you love me?"

"I guess I do, but Ella, you so damn cold about stuff. Derek..." Then she sat up straight. "Okay, Derek wasn't much, he beat on us a lot, but he was nice too, sometimes. Don't you remember? That night he took us all to Gullifty's?"

"He was nice when he was in a good mood and mean when he was in a bad mood. He took teenage kids and turned them into whores. He was a complete scumbag, and you know it, Cindy. You know it."

"Yeah, I guess, but—"

"Get dressed and come with me. Take your purse and anything you really need. Don't bother with extra clothes. We don't want to look like we're packed to go somewhere."

"Okay," Cindy said meekly.

RomanceintheBackseat@gmail.com (Terry Kate) — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 13:40:00 +0000