A Vamp About Town is a follow up to Michelle Kelly's the Lady is a Vamp which only came out itself in November. At this speed, We can expect more from this series before long!
Ever since former NYPD detective Nick Carter and 200-year-old vampiress Ruby set up their private agency for preternatural crime, things have been heating up both at work and at play. Yet Nick's refusal to share the ultimate intimacy with Ruby is putting a strain on their otherwise passionate relationship, a strain which may lead her dangerously astray. When a new, mysterious vampire arrives in New York and begins leaving the bodies of young girls as messages for Ruby, her past and her future become inextricably entwined.
To Rome with Lust is a full length novel by KD Grace. The heir of Martelli Fragrance, Paulo wants Liza’s magnificently sensitive nose to help develop Martelli’s controversial new line. What Liza doesn’t know is Paulo’s secret weapon - Martelli Fragrance is the front for The Mount, an ancient sex cult of which Paulo is a member. He plans to use the scent of sex to enhance Martelli’s new Innuendo line, and as Liza and Paulo sniff out the most potent aphrodisiac, they become their own lab rats – discovering just how well their perfume works. To Rome with Lust follows The Initiation of Ms Holly and Fulfilling the Contract.
Justine Elyot released The Rule of Princes in December, a sequel to Princess in Chains. This one is perfect for fans of Game of Thrones. With their leaders captured and imprisoned, the Valish Liberation fugitives must reach the Princes of Thren in order to plead their cause and sue for their support. Arvon must convince the Princes of his true royal identity if he is to succeed. Meanwhile, Taran discovers exactly why Sula is so reluctant to enter the royal palace. The past intrudes into the present and new alliances – and romances – are forged before the final reckoning looms.
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Beautiful Shadows is a full length novel, chock-full of BDSM, from Scarlett Rush. It’s to be the ride of their lives: a chance to join heavy metal giants Thunderhead on the European leg of their world tour. It is to be done the old-fashioned way too – all sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll. For pleasure-addict Sindee it is the chance to get her big break and live out her hedonistic vision of absolute indulgence. But she is unaware that Cas Casanove, one of the biggest rock stars on the planet, thinks that she might well be the girl of his dreams. He is a fighter and a rebel, a charismatic titan who nobody would suspect of having a softer side – until Sindee comes along. He could be perfect – if only the woman on his arm was not his wife.
Here is an excerpt from Beautiful Shadows.
To think that I have a kick to the head to thank for my current position. I am primarily a designer of clothes by trade, although I do a bit of painting on the side – portraits and landscapes that is, not walls and ceilings. None of this should be too surprising when you consider that I studied Art and Design at college. At age 15, I thought I was set to become a world-renowned taekwondo-ist. Not a taekwondo-er, note. I was at a level where competing abroad in the juniors was becoming a distinct possibility. I rather fancied the prospect, even if it did mean a life of wearing what amounted to a stiff pyjama suit, and having one’s hair always tied back tightly and unflatteringly, with perhaps a few stray strands plastered to your sweaty, ruddy, puffed-out cheeks. Still, there is something intrinsically adrenaline pumping and even romantic about booting people willy-nilly while having Korean barked at you.
Then one day, stupidly, my trainer came to the party minus his head protector, and with a rather too exuberant jumping reverse hook kick, I managed to break my big toe upon his jaw, thus rendering myself inactive for weeks. My recovery might have been speedier if I hadn’t declared myself fit enough, if not for fighting then certainly for partying, and worn a particularly challenging shoe on a night out. Indeed the footwear failed to rise to the challenge of getting me to the bottom of a flight of stairs in one piece, and I was back to square one. I hadn’t intentionally hung up my dobok but other things just got in the way.
During my incapacitation I looked to my art as a means to escape tedious hours normally spent fighting. I used to do a lot of pencil sketches, primarily of female forms. In truth it became something of an obsession. Having been caught doing this once or twice I contrived a hasty cover story, claiming it was for my clothing designs, explaining that you had to understand the female figure perfectly before you put one’s garments upon it. Quite why I needed such intricate fanny detail remained unexplained. So, anyway, I then took to overlaying coloured clothing designs over my pencil nudes almost as an excuse to keep drawing them. After a while the clothing bit started to take over and I decided it was clearly where my future lay. If it hadn’t been for my trainer’s selfish decision not to wear protective garments I would still be wearing thick white pyjamas to this day and I’d probably be the proud owner of a shiny gold Olympic medal or two.
During my last year at college I was doing work experience for a small freelance design team in the city, and that is where fate visited the incomparable Elowen upon me. She was a little older than I, infinitely more awesome, and exquisitely feminine in a way that had me rapidly and permanently consigning any of those remaining tomboyish tendencies of mine straight to the rubbish bin. Her speciality was fetish-wear, particularly in rubber and latex. She had carved out a particular niche, being the go-to designer music video producers called on when they wanted their nubile singers or dancers to look beyond outstanding. Nothing she created was ever less than stunning. See her outfits and you saw her very spirit.
I wasn’t prepared for love. I had been kicked in the chest a fair few times but I had never known anything there like this impact. I felt like one of those Mexican cliff divers, leaping hundreds of feet down into the blue waters of Acapulco, except that I was plummeting into a sea of infatuation. Spectacular and breath-stopping it most certainly was, but no matter how expert the entry, it was always going to hurt – and by golly it did. She was a lithe Goth firecracker, all jet-black hair and make-up and tattoos. My goodness – those tattoos! All down her arms; a stunning Japanese scene in red and black down her side to her hip; Audrey Hepburn above Beatrice Dalle on her right shoulder blade and Bardot as a young, sleek brunette on her left. It was like her body was alive. The pièce de résistance was the tiny, ever-so intricate black scorpion on the top of her left cheek, just diagonally down from her eye. The memory alone of this still has my belly fluttering.
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