Thursday, September 6th, 2012
Wednesday, September 5th, 2012
Be sure to leave a comment. Fabulous author Marie Trainor will be giving and $10 Gift Certificate to one lucky commenter.
…Edinburgh’s unique psychic investigation agency. Discretion guaranteed.
Using technical as well as psychic techniques, we investigate and resolve all paranormal issues, including unexplained noises and ghostly sightings. We can contact your departed loved ones, encourage troubled spirits to move on, give select psychic readings and provide séances in private or social environments.
We can also help with “normal” problems by paranormal means, such as tracing missing persons or valuable objects,
The team at Serafina’s is led by Serafina (Sera) MacBride, an experienced psychic and medium who, although young, has talked to spirits all her life.
Ably supporting Sera are research assistants Jillian Kerr, IT specialist; and history graduate Jack Urquhart.
On contacting Serafina’s, whatever your problem you will instantly be put at your ease by our sympathetic and discreet receptionist, Mrs. Elspeth Duncan .
When required, the team can also draw on the services of security consultant, Thomas Allen, and white witch Melanie Morrow.
Together, we make up Serafina’s, here to help with all your psychic needs.
Elspeth, can you please type this up to be made into flyers? Trying to bring in some more punters… [Shuts Elspeth’s vodka firmly in the desk drawer].
It’s not saying anything untrue, is it? So my IT specialist’s also my best friend and a computer hacker. And my security consultant is an out-of-work actor and pub bouncer. BUT, I really can talk to spirits – some of them, anyway – and trace people or certain objects by touch. There’s no need to mention the thousand pound séances with special effects courtesy of Jilly and Jack. Or the evil spirits I supposedly cleaned out of that big house last year for a stonking great fat fee – there may never have been any troublesome spirits to start with, but hey, all that cleansing and exorcising made the daft bats feel safer, didn’t it? Certainly did megood to have such a huge cheque in the bank.
Yes, I know the fake stuff’s generally much more expensive, but look at all the extra work involved! Take this new case, for example. Retired finance whizz Ferdinand Bell just hired me to catch someone he says is stalking his family. Only being the great Bell, it’s not your common or garden stalker, is it? Oh no, his has to be a vampirestalker. Apparently. How gullible does he think I am? Everyone knows there’s no such thing as vampires!
Anyway, I always take the piss better. Jilly and I are heading up there now to festoon his massive house with garlic and big ugly wooden crosses just in time for his posh party tonight. Oh and we’ve got this hilarious little scene set up with Tam playing a vampire who’s going to bite Jack before I rush in and “stake” him and he disappears into smoke!
The beauty of all this is, Bell can’t tell us to naff off without admitting he made up the vampire nonsense in the first place, so whatever happens we get one over on him andget paid. Fab. Did I mention that I love my job?
Wait, Elspeth, what are you typing??? Don’t put that stuff in the flyer! Stop after “psychic needs” …Which sounds pretty sexy, don’t you think? J.
SERAFINA AND THE SILENT VAMPIRE by MARIE TREANOR is available now in Ebook formats, $2.99 from:
Marie Treanor lives in Scotland with her eccentric husband and three much-too-smart children. Having grown bored with city life, she resides these days in a picturesque village by the sea where she is lucky enough to enjoy herself avoiding housework and writing sensual stories of paranormal romance and fantasy.
Marie has published more than twenty ebooks with small presses, (Samhain Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Changeling Press and The Wild Rose Press), including a former Kindle bestseller, Killing Joe. Blood on Silk: an Awakened by Blood novel, which won the 2011 Hollywood Halloween Book Festival prize for Fantasy, was her New York debut with NAL.
Wednesday, September 5th, 2012
Tuesday, September 4th, 2012
Debuting with the Sassy Seven to celebrate our Naughty Sleepover conference: We’re not only hosting the naughtiest girls gone wild weekend ever, we’ve written a series of stories to go with it. Read the stories then be sure to register for the conference. See the link below.
Releasing October 9 from Decadent Publishing
Sugar Girl by Nicole Austin
A guy walks into a bar… And finds the girl he shouldn’t have left behind. Their differences kept Candy and Jeremiah apart until finally, the road lead them back where they belong. But in the harsh light of the morning after can she really hold on to a shooting star?
Say Yes by Regina Carlysle
All work and no play is no way to live and J.D. Stone aims to change that after a chance meeting at the Menger Hotel. When the lonely rancher meets sassy photographer, Melissa Bell, the sparks fly and passions burn hot enough to incinerate them both.
Spank ’Em Cowboy by Samantha Cayto
Tara hopes to survive her sister’s wedding without a wardrobe malfunction. Rob spots the voluptuous filly and cuts her from the herd. And when she craves someone to take the reins, he knows he’s the right man to saddle her up for the ride of her life.
More Than You Know by Cerise DeLand
One redhead. One bartender. Lots of laughter. A desire so tender that the sheets they burn up together could set the hotel on fire. But can he intrigue a woman who’s older? What if he never lets her out of bed? Will she still want him tomorrow?
Overnight Sensation by Desiree Holt
Pulled together in a crowd by an instant attraction, Abbie and Sam are powerless against the incendiary combustion that consumes them and turn a chance meeting into an overnight sensation
Blame it on Texas by Allie Standifer
Everything’s supposed to be bigger and better in Texas, right? Sexy plus size model Serena Morgan isn’t convinced until Texas country star Kale Winters takes her in a night of passion. Come morning will Kale convince Serena he’s the real deal or Blame it on Texas?
When a Lady Meets a King by Brenna Zinn
Lady Pembrook went to great lengths, traveling thousands of miles and assuming a false identity to satisfy her fantasy of a one-night stand with a real Texas cowboy. But when a mysterious stranger in dark sunglasses threatens to expose her scandalous behavior, a handsome King comes to the rescue.
See http://sassyseven.com/ to register for our conference!
Saturday, September 1st, 2012
This was one of Cerise’s first sales to Ellora’s Cave and I couldn’t wait to read it. Then I had to read it again. Night Owl Reviews gave it a TOP PICK. It may be an oldie but it will always be a goodie.
Tate Ryder has spent his life savoring plenty of women—until luscious Anna Stevens comes along, who doesn’t seem to know he’s alive. Then, inexplicably, Anna is attacked outside his condo. Tate keeps her safe by whisking her to his yacht, where he vows to enchant her sleek body with pleasures she’d only imagined.
Anna answers his intimate kisses with scorching caresses and wild revelations. She’s been on the run from thugs for years. She’s not who she claims. But one thing is real—her deep craving for Tate.
Enthralled, Tate lays bare her body…and is equally determined to lay bare her nameless enemy.
Tate Ryder tore his eyes away from the elegant vision of Anna Stevens strolling onto the veranda of his Houston penthouse talking on her cell phone, and reminded himself once more of the three rules he never broke. Don’t borrow trouble. Don’t start anything you can’t finish. And most important of all, don’t fuck the staff.
Leaning back on the railing, he gazed through the glass walls of his condo and faced the party raging inside. He congratulated himself he’d never approached Anna as anything other than the CEO of Ryder Resorts and Spas. God knew, every time he got within twenty feet of his director of oriental meditation services, he needed to chill out. Even now from the corner of his eye, he could feel her seep into his pores. Sense how she’d fished her cell phone from her black satin trousers and answered in the sandpaper contralto that rubbed his body into a hot rash of desire.
Like her voice is the only asset that drives you nuts, Ryder. How about those long legs in those flowing slacks? Those pert breasts poking up in that ruffled silk blouse. The grace of her in stilettos. The full-throated laughter that usually marked her personality. That wasn’t apparent tonight, but what the hell. The whole package drove him crazy.
Don’t fuck the staff, Ryder.
For the past two years, he’d been such a good CEO and followed that rule with her. And it killed him.
Sure, he praised himself for his dedication to being an ethical boss, but damn, if he didn’t still want her. Good thing she hadn’t ever indicated any interest in him. Didn’t matter. Her rich beauty burned his brain. Worse, his cock got locked and loaded every time he looked at her.
He downed a swig of his champagne and cursed his dilemma.
She was nothing like the women who used to attract him. Lithe, delicate, Anna sported a cloud of rich rosewood hair, sprinkles of freckles on her nose, flawless porcelain skin and the biggest set of hazel eyes he’d ever seen. The yoga and Pilatesdirector at the Texas Gulf Coast spa he owned with his brother Cord and sister-in-law Sienna, Anna moved like a sea breeze. She had firm breasts that stood up without benefit of a bra, her huge flat nipples outlined in the ridiculously thin leotards she wore to the club. But what really worked him over were her legs. Long as a gazelle’s, they were beautifully cut from years of working out. The hollow of her inner thigh near her pussy was a curve he longed to bury his face in. Better yet, her thighs were supple muscular treats that deserved to be grasped and opened often by a man who knew how to lavish kisses on her labia and her clit and make her cat purr.
He licked his lower lip, wondering for the thousandth time what her flavor was. Sweet? Salty? Both? His shifted, his cock rising to the fantasy that never left him.
Hell. He swallowed back his frustration. He was the host here in his condo, he should act like it. Mix. Mingle. Try to summon some interest in one of the new women here who neither worked for him nor wanted anything from him except maybe a great time in bed.
Like he’d even been able to get it up for any woman except Anna for the past year. For all the exercise his cock was getting, he might as well become a monk. “Time to think about getting laid with someone you can have.”
“Talking to yourself, Bro?” His older brother Cord clamped a hand on his shoulder. Mona Travis, their friend and owner of another chain of spas in the U.S., stood beside him.
Tate shot them both a grim look. “What I do best.”
Cord chuckled. “Only about one subject.”
Mona arched a long thin brow. “Are you drooling over Anna again?”
Tate scoffed. “Should I wear a billboard?”
“Ever since the day you hired her away from me,” Mona taunted Tate, “you’ve had a fever for the lady.”
“Does not compute, you guys,” Tate warned. “The lady is not interested.”
“I do wonder why,” Cord mused. “You are a catch, man. Rich, good-looking.” He ruffled Tate’s auburn hair.
Tate shrugged. “Says you. But I’m resigned. She’s never given me a second look and my poor damaged ego cannot bear to ask her why. Plus, I am not going to break our rule.” Cord had spoken to Tate frequently lately, recognizing Tate’s desire for Anna was a temptation. But Tate had never broken a trust with his brother—and didn’t intend to. Not for a woman who couldn’t care less for him.
Cord nodded. “Good thinking. Me? I’m just saying good night. I’ve greeted everyone. So we are officially in shape for the opening of the Texas spa. But I’ve got to go home. Sienna needs me.”
Tate smiled. “Sure. Do it. Those twins are demanding little guys.”
“Sienna’s still exhausted from their birth.”
“I’ve got control here. Get the hell out of here and go home to your wife and babies. I’ll show all these folks the door soon anyway. I need my beauty sleep to get an early start in the morning. The boat’s ready, stocked with food and supplies.”
“Yep,” Tate said. “They screwed up the plumbing on the first foundation and have to pour a new one.”
“And they’re late,” Cord added with a scowl.
“What else is new?” Mona commiserated, then leaned forward to kiss Tate’s cheek. “I’m leaving too, honey. Early day tomorrow with one of my importers from Monterrey.”
“Take it easy, Mona.” Tate smiled at the svelte older woman who had become a good friend over the past few years. As she walked toward the door, he surveyed the people in his living room. The builders, the architects and suppliers for the Texas GulfCoast property mixed with the resort spa’s staff, laughing and joking, celebrating the beginning of construction of the Mexican spa and resort. He glanced at his brother. “Go on, Cord. No worries.”
“Give ’em hell down there, Tate. That new foundation should have been poured last month.”
As his brother made his way through the throng toward the front door, Tate’s gaze swept the laughing crowd and he noticed that someone did have a problem. Anna.
She still faced the twinkling lights of the Houston skyline on his veranda with her cell phone stuck to her ear and the expression on her face was like nothing he’d ever seen from her. Fear.
She had no family. He’d learned that much about her during the past two years. Friends. Sure, she had droves of girlfriends. He saw them come for her by the carload often to pick her up after work or dart into the spa to meet her for lunch. Men were another story. She didn’t date. Or no men he’d ever heard of. None he’d ever seen her bring to their corporate dinners or parties. He’d wondered at one point if she preferred women all the time, but his sister-in-law Sienna had soon cleared up that misperception.
“Anna is saving herself for Mr. Right.”
That told him four things that alternately thrilled him and destroyed him. She liked men. Wanted one. One right man. But clearly, he wasn’t a candidate.
He examined her now as she argued with whoever was on the other end of that conversation. Was that a man?
Curiosity and jealousy drove him forward. If it was a guy who put that expression on her face, Tate would crush the asshole.
Tate halted in front of her and lifted his chin toward the phone, a question forming on his lips.
She watched him approach, her eyes growing rounder, starker with some terror that made Tate narrow his gaze at her.
She put a hand up to ward him off. “No,” she ordered the person on the other end, “do not do that.” The person replied, something dark, angry and male. “I told you I am not—” She stared up at Tate, blinked and evidently thought better of whatever she had been about to say. “Goodbye. Do not call me again.” She snapped her phone shut and dropped it in her trouser pocket.
“Really?” He put two hands to her upper arms. Something he’d never done. But now he was jarred by the feeling of the sleekness he’d yearned for years to touch. He sensed the strength of her triceps. The tension rippling there. “Do you always tremble for no reason?”
She jerked out of his hold. “This is nothing for you to be concerned with.”
He stepped forward and contrary to that rule about borrowing trouble, he raised her chin with two fingers and told her with his voice and his eyes that she couldn’t escape him. “This does concern me. You’re scared. Why?”
“None of your business, Tate.” She pulled away from his touch. “I’ve got to go.”
Once more, she did what she’d done so well for two years—she’d been impersonal with him. Professional. Putting him in his place. Far away from her.
He cursed silently as she marched toward the hall closet and collected her shawl, and flung it over her arm. On her way, she hugged Mona who was saying her own goodbyes to a builder. Then Anna opened the front door and let herself out.
He’d never seen her afraid. Never seen her angry. She was so even-tempered, happy, throwing back her mane of rich chocolate hair to laugh at most of life. That had been the first thing that struck him about her. Her enjoyment of little things, all things small and joyful. He’d never known a woman like that.
And he liked women. Loved to be with them. Especially in bed. With another man to spice up the proceedings. But as years went on and his brother Cord had married and dropped out of their ménages, Tate prowled alone. He found fewer and fewer who attracted him out of bed. And those he did take there were certainly beautiful. But vacuous. Voracious. Self-impressed. Self-gratifying. Eager to say they’d been laid by Super Bowl football legend, Tate Ryder. But Anna was none of that.
And it gutted him that she couldn’t give a rat’s ass if he ever looked at her. Wanted her. Craved her.
But damn if he was going to let some man frighten her.
He strode over to his caterer and instructed him to go around and signal that the party was over.
The host was leaving and determined to break one of his own rules.
With one of the staff.
But it here: http://www.jasminejade.com/productspecs/9781419927171.htm
Also at Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online book stores
Find Cerise at www.cerisedeland.com and on Facebook and Twitter.