http://cyberlaunchparty.blogspot.com/

The anticipation of what was to come burned hot in Denton’s veins.

It was hard not to rush. To simply put Jack onto one of the raised areas and make an example of him. But Denton needed a few minutes to study Jack to familiarize himself with the man’s tells again. And push a few boundaries he knew once existed.

Maybe even find out if those walls were still in place or had evaporated the moment Jack decided to come back to the club.

For those new to this, the rules are simple:

1) pick a project – a current Work in Progress, contracted work or even something readers can buy if you’re published

2) pick six sentences

3) post ‘em on Sunday

See? Easy. Want to play? See the site for information on how to do just that: http://sixsunday.com

If you have a Twitter account, you can add the hashtag #sixsunday to your tweets when you tweet a link to your Six Sentence Sunday post. If you’re a writer (regardless of published/unpublished status) come join us!

~*~

Beth fumbled the switch so the song she’d selected would start playing and scowled at the knock on the studio window. She wasn’t used to the wide open visibility while she was on air, but short of installing some blocking curtains, she’d have to get used to it. The view of Main Street lit by the moon was too pretty to shut away behind heavy black drapes.

Had this been Nashville, those curtains would already be shut. But Gatlin Falls had a much lower crime rate to worry about. She’d learned a lot about the small town in the short period of time she’d been here—thanks to Ryan. He’d done his best to introduce her to all the locals so she felt comfortable taking over of the radio station. He’d also done his best to see she felt comfortable around him whatever the situation. So she wasn’t surprised to find Ryan standing on the other side of the window.

She tapped the buzzer to unlock the door and waved him in.

He leaned against the doorway as he held open the glass door that separated her studio from the waiting area. The familiar smell of liquor and cigarette smoke drifted toward her.

“Just come from Rippers?” She’d quickly discovered it was the place for locals to hang out regardless of the season or time of day.

He nodded and gave her a sly smile. “I did. According to what I hear from the customers there tonight, sounds as if you’re a hit.”

Glad they feel that way because I sure as shit don’t.

“Saying a bunch of drunks waiting for last call think I sound good isn’t saying a lot. Besides, I’m fumbling my intros, and screwing up the cues. I sound like a fucking amateur.”

Ryan shut the door behind him and moved closer, his hands spreading wide on the top of the sound board as he leaned over it. “Beth, relax. It’s all right.”

His voice reflected the epitome of calm which only made her angrier. “No, it’s not. It’s like I’ve forgotten how the hell to do my job.” She pushed her hands through her hair, catching the elastic. The stretchy item snapped and she grumbled in frustration as she dropped it on the desktop.

Ryan’s hand closed around her elbow, but she was too annoyed to give much thought to it. She jerked out his touch and punched a few buttons to cue up a set of songs so there was no way she would miss another song set up.

“Not like it really matters if I miss something at two in the morning. Just a bunch of drunks and stoners listening anyway. As shown by the compliment from Rippers’ clientele.”

Ryan pulled her away from the soundboard. Even as she started to protest, he pulled her out of the room completely and spun her around so she faced away from the sound room.

“Now is not the time, Ryan.” She struggled in his hold, but he held firm.

“Relax. Just a bit of distance to help you cool off. Couple of minutes out of the booth won’t kill you.”

She slapped his hands away and nearly growled. “Stop trying to placate me. I’m working.”

“So am I.” Ryan’s mouth closed over hers. He pushed closer, backing her against the door. Everything about him overwhelmed her, swelling inside her with such ferocity, she couldn’t help but forget her frustrations. His muscular body pushed against hers and she easily let herself sink into him as he lifted her legs so they wrapped around his hips.

She’d wanted this since the second she’d seen him working at the shop and didn’t care who or what he was. Nor about the fact she’d come to him two weeks ago to ask him to be her mentor. With her frustrations and emotions on edge as they were, she just needed to have a few minutes of something like this to lower her stress level.

His tongue brushed over her parted lips and she opened, groaning as his tongue slipped into her mouth. Her world spun as he took from her, spinning tighter and closer as he swept her away. She forgot about everything else, forgot about her surroundings, and allowed herself to just feel him. To breathe him and everything he’d come to mean to her in such a short time.

The quiet slide of her zipper coming undone ratcheted up her need for him to continue. His tongue drove deeper and his hand pushed under her panties. She tensed, holding her breath, as the pad of his index finger met her clit. He pushed against it and she all but melted into him.

He broke the kiss, skimming his lips along her jaw as she relinquished a sliver of herself to him. He pressed against her clit and set off an explosion she immediately fought against, writhing against his touch to fight off the release because this was all happening too quickly.

His laughter sounded in her ear. “There’s the pushback I expected. Go ahead and fight as much as you want—you’re already dripping wet. Makes me wonder how much more you’ll get when I have you bound and begging for me—again.”

Dear God yes.

After moving to England, Sabrina tumbles into an unknown world when she meets the man of her dreams, literally. As a writer, her overactive imagination makes her believe the impossible, but recovering from shock, she wonders how Isaac could appear in her nightmares—when she’s never met him in real life. Until now.

The staggering events catapult her into a world where ruthless creatures roam freely along unsuspecting humans, and battle lines are clearly drawn.

While embarking on a dangerous and passionate affair, a bitter enemy appears from Isaac’s past that will stop at nothing to remove Sabrina from his arms. Permanently. In order to establish a foreseeable and solid future, she must first deal with tumultuous occurrences. Navigating a shadowy world she never knew existed, Sabrina fights for her newfound love…and her life.

Amazon || Decadent Publishing || Amazon UK || Smashwords || All Romance

A strange stillness sat in the air outside Sabrina’s house. No trees swayed in the breeze, no animals scampered in the forest, as if the world itself had come to a halt.

Uneasiness rolled over her, and she studied Isaac out of the corner of her eye. Surprisingly, he seemed to be as tense as her. He gripped her arm tighter than necessary, and his lips were pressed together as well. She could feel the tension pulsating off his body, and she got taken back into her dreams. For the first time in real life, he made her shiver in apprehension. As if sensing her fear, he shot her a quick grin.

“Well, I had a lovely evening.” He spoke over his shoulder as he practically dragged her to the door. She stumbled in an attempt to keep up with his pace. At the door he pointedly stared at her, causing her to realize he waited for her to open it. She fumbled through the mess she called a purse to find the key. She turned to him and smiled as she studied him through the cover of her eyelashes.

“Would you like to come in for a nightcap? I have wine…or coffee…or tea, or….” She stuttered to a stop, unsure of what to say.

God, she sounded like such an idiot.

Nightcap?

Who the heck said nightcap anymore?

“While I’d love to take you up on that offer, I have something I have to take care of tonight. Could I get a rain check? For say,tomorrow night? We could do a movie and wine? Or is tomorrow too soon in the dating world?”

“No, not too soon at all. I’d love to see you tomorrow.”She tried to hide her disappointment behind a bright smile. “You can call me,and we’ll firm up a time. Good night.”

She turned to go inside and got caught off-guard when he grabbed her elbow and spun her to face him. It happened so quickly she leaned back against the door in confusion; one hand on the doorknob and the other braced against the cool steel of the door. He moved his body closer to hers and placed his hand at her head. His other hand cupped her cheek while his thumb stroked her jaw line. All thought fled as his body pressed against hers, and a small swoosh of air escaped her lips at his touch.

“I didn’t think it even possible for you to grow more beautiful, but you have proven me wrong.” When his lips met hers, she lost all thought, all ability to move. She’d somehow been tied to this spot—this man.

http://www.allromanceebooks.com

“I…need to touch someone, give them something other than pain.” Brady’s hand was insistent against his hip, drawing Garrett closer with one goal in mind. His teeth tugged on his lips and Garrett found himself even more enamored with the man on his knees before him. “Please.”
The single word, spoken in a soft whisper, made Garrett give in.
How could he deny them both?

For those new to this, the rules are simple:

1) pick a project – a current Work in Progress, contracted work or even something readers can buy if you’re published

2) pick six sentences

3) post ‘em on Sunday

See? Easy. Want to play? See the site for information on how to do just that: http://sixsunday.com

If you have a Twitter account, you can add the hashtag #sixsunday to your tweets when you tweet a link to your Six Sentence Sunday post. If you’re a writer (regardless of published/unpublished status) come join us!

~*~

It’s release day for Slow Break, the 4th book in the Sypricon Master series–WooHoo! You can find it at these fine retailers:

Decadent Publishing
Amazon
All Romance eBooks
Bookstrand 

Jack Cotton thought he’d made the right choice to walk away from Tawse, the only BDSM club on Sypricon. But a life-altering tragedy has shown him the error of his ways. Now, he’s ready to make amends and is more than prepared to kneel before the Dom he left so abruptly.

Denton is bound by the rules of Tawse, and he knows Jack’s membership has been terminated. But Jack’s return is all too personal and his actions can’t simply be ignored. Forced to make a choice, Denton does the only thing his instincts as a Dom tell him. After all, some men, like rules, are meant to be broken.

~*~

Today is my very, very good friend Kacey Hammell’s birthday and she’s having a huge bash to celebrate. Every hour she’ll have a new giveaway which is open all day until midnight. Swing by and be sure to enter, I’ve tossed in some goodies in there. http://kaceyhammellkreations.blogspot.com/

~*~

I’m over at The Romance Studio’s Rainbow Blog (GLBT) today talking about how similar, and different, my two releases are this week. I believe I use the line: two books, three days, four men equal one very tired author.

I’d love to see you over there, so come on over and visit! http://therainbowstudio.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-to-do-with-two.html

Brady thrives on saving patients in his busy emergency room, but when things don’t go according to plan, he’s unprepared for a chance encounter. There’s something familiar, and mysterious, about the downright sexy-as-hell stranger he encounters on a busy Chicago street.

In Garrett’s world, there are no coincidences. He’s been the doctor’s secret guardian for years. Driven by a burning need unknowingly stirred by Brady more than a decade ago, Garrett finally breaks his silence. He steps in to show Brady there’s more to life than rescuing those in need.

Roused by their desperate passion for one another, their desire reaches an explosive breaking point. Brady realizes one night isn’t enough, but Garrett is bound by rules he can’t change. Now Brady’s healing touch may save more than just a life—it may just save Garrett’s soul.

Brady couldn’t help but wonder what he’d gotten himself into. Maybe it was more than he could handle. It wouldn’t be the first time he was in over his head. While he didn’t mind expanding his horizons when it came to sex, he certainly didn’t want to find himself caught up with some guy who only wanted to watch him play with himself.

“Do you…get off watching people do stuff like that?” he asked cautiously, afraid of what the answer would be.

“So far, only you.”

For those new to this, the rules are simple:

1) pick a project – a current Work in Progress, contracted work or even something readers can buy if you’re published

2) pick six sentences

3) post ‘em on Sunday

See? Easy. Want to play? See the site for information on how to do just that: http://sixsunday.com

If you have a Twitter account, you can add the hashtag #sixsunday to your tweets when you tweet a link to your Six Sentence Sunday post. If you’re a writer (regardless of published/unpublished status) come join us!

~*~

“Get me O positive STAT. She’s bleeding out.”
Brady’s hand pulsed around the small heart he cradled. He’d already tried the paddles twice, but the hole through the patient’s heart wouldn’t allow the much needed blood to remain in the lower chamber. The victim had to be stable enough in order to repair the hole.
At this point, it would take a miracle.
Unfortunately, Brady was certain he’d already used up his allotment of miracles. He’d been a doctor long enough to know how this was going to end—even as the patient had been wheeled into his emergency room.
Gunshot wounds and five-year-old little girls don’t mix.
“Doctor?”
His gaze met the eyes of the trauma nurse who stood on the opposite side of the gurney. He recognized the despair in her expression and had seen it more times than he cared to count. She knew the same truth he did.
But tell that to the little girl who’d been brought in five minutes ago.
The very same one who had a tattered pink elephant next to her pudgy hand even as she lay with her chest cracked open.
Brady was used to this kind of disturbing image, and because of that, he’d stopped having nightmares. Most would assume he didn’t care. The reality couldn’t be further from the truth.
Lately, he’d cared far more than he was supposed to and he suspected it would be his ultimate downfall if the pattern continued.
It didn’t help matters that the girl’s eyes had been open when she’d first been brought in. Clear and bright, the crystal green color had looked alive, and full of energy despite her condition. This little girl had more courage than he could even hope to possess and he was going to do his damnedest to save her life.
The fighters always deserved a second chance.
Brady had always been stone—cold and smooth under pressure. The more intense the situation, the better he worked.
Some days were better than others.
Some, harder.
Tragedy had become a daily part of his life, and this very moment seemed to test the rock-solid exterior he was known for. Despite the fact he wanted to continue, he recognized the possibility was slim. He knew better than to torture himself—and the child—anymore than he already had.
He’d already lost her long before she’d been wheeled into the room.
With a weary sigh, he reached over to flip off the offensive beep that indicated a flatline. Even though he knew it was futile, he continued to massage the tiny organ in his palm.
The head nurse burst back through the door with her hands full of opaque bags of red fluid. Too little, too late.
Brady knew the cadence of life as it rose and fell. He’d fought his way through the peaks and valleys, and yet there was always a constant that couldn’t be avoided—death.
Despite all Brady’s effort, that last stage of life stole this little girl. It wasn’t fair as her light had just begun to glow. The nurses across from him accepted it the moment he pulled his hand from the child’s chest.
“Call it,” the nurse stated quietly as she dumped the bags of blood on the counter beside her.
He stripped off his gloves and frowned at the large clock on the wall. The very one that taunted him each time he had to say the few words that would devastate a family. “TOD, six thirty-two.”
The weight of the girl’s death added to the moment and he suddenly couldn’t catch his breath. The large room closed in around him and his heart raced. He threw open the swinging doors, clenched his jaw and pushed past two candy stripers gossiping in the hall.
The thin gauze over his scrubs felt heavy and thick, and he ripped it away. He chucked the blood-soaked fabric into the nearest bio-hazard bin, stepping through the doors of the waiting area. The everyday hustle and bustle of the waiting room slammed into him.
His vision started to go gray and his feet tripped over one another as he tried to move around an approaching nurse. He was dimly aware of the sound of a few people calling his name, concern heavy in all the voices, but he had to get out of there.
As he burst through the hospital entrance, the cold December air hit him in the face. The shock of it brought reality crashing around him.
He’d lost another patient.
Another in a long string of deaths he hadn’t been able to stop. What the hell was wrong with him? He’d been trained on how to deal with this and he always knew how to funnel away the emotion in order to do his job.
So why the hell am I reacting this way?
His feet pounded against the pavement as he blindly wove his way through the bustling streets. He blocked the sounds around him, hearing only the rush of his heartbeat. Driven by memory rather than sight, he ran the few blocks between the sterile hospital and the building that always felt like home.
Tall columns of intricate stonework soared high overhead, ending abruptly where the flying buttresses took over. Their carving was just as ornate and detailed as the rest of the masonry around the soaring building. The idea of the graceful lines and sweeping curves went against the scientific formalities he’d spent years learning in medical school.
Why he came here time and time again remained a mystery.
He stared at everything and nothing while his heart pounded. With each beat, a fissure formed. A crack that couldn’t be sealed and even seemed to expand as the seconds ticked by. The world around him went gray again, and he finally recognized the signs of what was happening.
Racing heart.
Shallow breaths.
Clammy palms.
He was in the throes of his first panic attack.
Things like this didn’t happen to him. He was the calm, cool and collected one. The trauma doctor who kept everyone else from falling apart. That resolve propelled him quickly to the top, earning him head of the entire emergency room in just a few short years. The stalwart professional who brushed his personal feelings aside each time he walked through the curtains separating the patients.
His hands clutched the metal streetlight in front of him and he lowered his face so his forehead pressed against the back of his hands.
Breathe in.
Out.
He kept up the slow, measured breaths in order to steady frayed nerves. Why did he feel as if he was falling apart? He was a doctor, for Christ’s sake. Surely he could talk himself through this. If he kept things clinical, sterile and not think about the utter fear and desperation he’d seen in that little girl’s eyes, he’d be all right.
The girl had just barely begun her life and he’d gotten a sense—in just a few minutes with her—the she’d seen more than one child should ever experience.
The knowledge caused those small fissures in his heart to fracture, split apart and come undone.
Brady wasn’t having a panic attack—his heart had broken. He’d spent so many years training to keep distance from his patients, and it all came at him in a rush.
Every cut.
Every broken bone.
Every moment he’d called time of death rushed into his soul.
Sorrow and anger swelled to burn through that icy exterior he’d worked so hard to erect. His head pounded from the sudden release of emotion and he gave himself over to it.
Garrett studied the distraught man using the streetlight to steady himself. Even as he watched from the warm comfort of the coffeehouse, the man’s pain was tangible. Garrett’s chest tightened with the knowledge that something had unsettled Brady this much.
He loathed seeing him this way as much as he hated knowing he couldn’t help. Given the wrinkled appearance of his scrubs and the way they were dotted with drops of blood, Garrett knew it had finally happened.
The normally unflappable Dr. Brady McConnell had taken a patient’s death to heart. His habit of working too hard and refusing to take enough time off had finally caught up with him. Not to mention, he never, ever did anything for himself. As most good doctors did, he put his patient’s needs before his own.
Nothing had ever visibly shaken Brady to his core—until now.
At least he was around for this moment.
Garrett couldn’t stand the sight of Brady suffering. He knew he had the power to take away Brady’s pain. Since Brady had started medical school, Garrett had always been at the doctor’s side. However, he hadn’t made himself known before this moment because he’d always stood as a silent guardian.
He pushed through the coffeehouse doors and approached the man he’d always watched from afar.
“Beautiful architecture, isn’t it?” Brady’s head snapped up and Garrett saw the pain behind the elegant blue eyes. The harried and exhausted appearance of Brady’s face worried Garrett further.
“What?”
Garrett offered a friendly smile to lessen some of Brady’s instant skepticism. He gestured to the thirty-two story building across the street with the paper cup in his hand. “I saw you staring at the building earlier when I ducked into the coffee shop to grab a latte. Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Brady nodded, a lock of his dark hair falling over his brow.
Garrett’s fingers tightened against the cup as they itched to reach out and brush that hair out of the way. Maybe this would be harder than he thought. He’d had years to cultivate his feelings.
To Brady, he was a complete stranger.