I’m having a fantastic fun day. First, I wasted most of the morning by joining Facebook and then getting sucked into Fishville. Come friend me (I know, I’m the last person in the universe to take the plunge!). After that, my husband and I went out for a fabulous dinner including the best vanilla bean cheesecake topped with citrus soaked strawberries. YUM!!!
On the way home, we stopped at our local Barnes & Noble and I saw not one but BOTH of my print books (Three’s Company and Dream Machine) on the shelves. It still blows my mind every time I walk into a store and see them. Plus, I was on a high so I snagged Janet Evanovich’s Sizzling Sixteen in hardback. Check out the pictures!
Finally, saving the best for last… I just got word that Driven received another amazing review. This time from Coffee Time Romance who awarded it 5 cups!
You can read the whole review here but my favorite snippet is this part: “The dialogue and the settings were outstandingly written. Readers will receive support from characters of the previous books in the series, but I did not need to have read those books first. I am, however, planning on reading them all because Driven is so good. The sex is so excellent and hot that I suggest you have a loved one nearby…and ready. I am already looking for more books from Ms Rylon and can easily suggest Driven as a great, sexy tale.”
Here’s hoping the streak continues! What cool things are you doing this weekend?
If you’re just tuning in, International Heat is having a summer bonanza. Each week one of our members is going to host the International Heat blog complete with fun posts and prizes. This week, Lexxie Couper is up! Ahhh, sexy Lexxie from down under, what can I say about her? I was fortunate enough to get to hang out with Lexxie at RT this year. A few things I learned:
- She looks hot in her Australian flag underwear.
- She makes a mean fire fairy.
- She likes Vegemite (yikes!)
- She’s as sweet and fun to hang out with as I imagined
I was so sad to see her go home but at least I have her books on my shelf! It’s like a little part of her is still hanging out at my house. And, with that said, here’s an excerpt from my favorite already released Lexxie Couper book, The Sun Sword! After you check out the book, feel free to head on over to the main party at International Heat.
PS. Don’t forget to enter my easy weekend contest, see details in the blog post from yesterday
She has the power to bring new life…or utterly destroy it.
Torin Kerridon, the last warrior from an ancient order, is drawn to an abandoned, dying Earth, where he finds a forgotten young woman. A woman forged by the Immortals to wield the ultimate weapon—the Sun Sword. A woman capable of commanding the power of the suns. A woman with no past and no memory, the body of an angel and the spirit of a demon. He will train her. Prepare her.
Hunted all her life, Kala Rei has endured more than one woman should. Sheer grit, and a dangerous skill with a lead pipe, are the key to her survival. But nothing threatens her sense of safety more than dominance-oozing Torin. He wants her, but not for what’s between her legs. For what he believes her to be—some ludicrous savior from some absurd prophecy. No matter…his offer to take her away from Earth is too good to refuse.
But when a savage desire begins to burn between them, both Torin and Kala are in danger—and so are the worlds of man.
Earth calendar 2445
Torin Kerridon walked down the rubbish-strewn street, studying the derelict buildings, stunted fauna and polluted sky. So, this is Earth.
He curled his nose, moving his right hand closer to his disruptor. He didn’t expect anyone to attack him—he doubted anyone still living on the once-prosperous planet was healthy enough to pose any threat—but that didn’t mean he relaxed his guard.
You relaxed your guard, you died. That was the way of the Sol.
Besides, somewhere on this forgotten hunk of dying rock was a warrior of supreme force and skill. A warrior more deadly than the entire Sol Order combined. Even if he didn’t know it yet.
Stepping over a fallen tree, the leaves long dead, the branches withered and twisted as though tortured, Torin scanned the immediate area. The Old Seer had sworn the One Who Burns could be found somewhere in this vicinity. He’d been quite adamant about it in fact, almost having an apoplexy when Torin had voiced his doubt.
The old man had refused to listen to reason and, invoking the Sol Edict, had commanded Torin leave P’helios immediately for the abandoned planet.
Casting a dubious look at the closest building, boarded-up windows doing little to hide its desolate decay, Torin shook his head. The Old Seer was never wrong. If he said the One Who Burns was here, he was here. Somewhere. The southern hemisphere of the planet had survived the Third Global with the least destruction, the planet’s ailing weather patterns saving it from the initial bio detonation. Torin looked up at the sky and scowled. Polluted storm clouds boiled and rolled above him. The Old Seer had drawn the constellation under which Torin would find the One Who Burns, sightless eyes staring at the parchment as he’d inked the angled five-starred cross. The map however was useless.
Returning his attention to the buildings around him, Torin continued forward. He didn’t need to see the stars to know he was in the correct location. The sensors on his ship, Helios Blade, indicated a significant number of life signs in this quadrant. The only sign of life on the eastern coastline of the large landmass to be exact—a paltry four hundred and forty-two souls. According to the Old Seer, the One Who Burns was among them.
Torin frowned, looking at the empty, desolate dwellings around him. How are you going to find him, Kerridon?
He let out a silent grunt, his skepticism pushed further by his bleak surrounds. The Old Seer had told him the One Who Burns would find him, but he couldn’t help wondering how.
“The One will come to you. Walk through the streets of dismay with want in your soul, belief in your heart and the One will come to you. This you must do. Or the hearts of man will be—”
His proclamation had ended there. The Old Seer’s sightless eyes had rolled back into his ancient head, he’d hitched in a sharp breath and died.
Torin clenched his fist, the memory of his Sol guide’s death still jarring. The Old Seer had charged him with a task and he must obey. He was the last of the Sol Order. The last warrior charged with the protection of the Sun Sword, the ultimate weapon in the known universes. A weapon forged by the Immortals and discovered by the Oracle. A weapon created to end all life and begin it. He needed to find the one who was born to wield the blade before the False Fire did. If he failed, the worlds of man would cease to—
A ball of solid steel smashed into his chest, hurling him backward. His heels tripped, his feet tangled and, before he knew it, he was on his back staring at the bruised, polluted sky. Pain radiated through him. Syunna, what was that?
He flipped his body from the filth-strewn ground, disruptor drawn.
And found a tiny slip of a girl no taller than his chest standing before him, green eyes burning with golden fire, short black hair a spiky crown of mess. She glared at him, a long, rusted steel pipe clenched in her small fists. “Whoever you are, you’re not welcome here,” she growled, her voice husky. And angry. Very angry.
Torin frowned, resisting the urge to lift his hand and rub his chest. By the gods, what had she hit him with?
What do you mean_, she? Surely you don’t think this whelp put you on your arse, do you?
He returned his disruptor to its holster. “I have no issue with you, girl.” He began walking forward. “Move aside before I put you across my knee and—”
She threw herself at him. Feet first.
Her bootless heels struck his gut like two small balls of steel. He stumbled again, dumbstruck.
She swung the pipe, smashing it against his jaw as he fell.
White agony detonated in his head. He let out a shout of rage and indignation. How could a scrap of a child move so quickly? And hit so hard?
Before he could contemplate the answer, she straddled his chest, the steel pipe rammed under his chin. Choking him.
She glared down at him, the fury in her eyes seismic. “I will not let your kind touch me again.”
Torin stared at her, teeth clenched. “I’m not going to touch you. Now get off me before I give you a damn good—”
She didn’t let him finish. Fear flooded her eyes, turning the rage there to icy terror. She smashed the pipe against his face, his jaw, his shoulders, her tiny body trembling, her face set.
Pain erupted in his head. He let out a shout, more of surprise than agony, and grabbed at her wrists.
She was quick.
He was quicker.
Before she could strike him again with that cursed steel pipe, he yanked her body forward, threw her to ground beside him and rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath his weight.
“Get off me!” she screamed, thrashing and bucking like a wild animal.
He dodged another attempted blow from her right hand, fighting to keep her wrists in his grip.
Syunna, she’s strong for a scrap.
“Get off, me get off me, get off me!”
Her scream grew louder with every word, her eyes wider and more terrified.
“Stop it!” he roared, smacking her wrists to the ground beside her head and staring down into her muck-smeared face. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Ha!” she barked. “I’ve heard that before. Right before one of your kind shoves his dick between my legs.”
Cold fury rolled through Torin. His gut clenched at the implication behind her words and he fixed her with a steady look. “I, Torin Kerridon, last command warrior of the Sol Order and keeper of the Sun Sword’s truth, swear I will never bring harm upon your body.” He relaxed his hold on her wrists. A little. “Nor shove my dick between your legs.”
She glared up at him, green eyes flashing golden chips of rage.
He loosened his hold a fraction more. “This is my word and I swear it to you on my honour.”
She stopped fighting against his weight, expression guarded. Wary. “I swear I will rip your dick off and shove it down your throat if you break your word.”
The words were full of promise and Torin didn’t doubt—if given the chance—she would be capable of doing just so. He frowned, his gut still tight. “What is your name, child?”
Her jaw bunched, defiant strength glinting in her unusual eyes, and she shifted beneath him. “I’m not a child. I’m almost twenty-one.”
Torin suppressed the urge to smile. Almost twenty-one made her a child by his reasoning, and by his own advanced age. “What is your name, child?” he repeated, the need to know growing heavy in his gut.
Green eyes glinted. “Kala Rei. Now get off me.”
But Torin couldn’t move. He stared down at the dirty, skinny girl, every muscle in his body locked frozen with disbelief, his heart a thumping beat, his blood roaring in his ears.
The name whispered by the Immortals. The name he’d known all his life.
The One Who Burns.
Available NOW from Samhain Publishing!
The Romance Studio posted a fabulous review this week of Driven, a standalone book in the Cougar Challenge series. They gave it five hearts and reviewer, Shannon said, “Decadently sensual thrills, high energy, snappy dialogue and truly memorable characters make this a book that is impossible to put down. Once again, the very talented Ms. Rylon gives readers another treat, sure to satisfy as she takes them on an adventure, painting a vivid picture of each scene making them feel like a voyeur page after page. The authors off beat sense of humor works wonderfully, entangling readers in a tale that’s delightfully sexy. At the center of this sinfully sensual and fast paced story is an irresistible hero and sassy and bold lady creating rampant romance, tender emotions and raging passion. Sebastian is a sexy, funny, bad and dangerously thrilling young man who readers can’t help but fall in love with. Using Sebastian’s family, as well as the cougar blog ladies as secondary characters, adds to the charm of the romance and with the deliciously hot Mark adding to Sebastian and Lynn’s relationship is a particular treat. The rally car race provides a realistic and the perfect push that Lynn needs to admit her growing feelings for Sebastian. The well-written, smoking hot sex scenes are some of the most sensual and naughty play full of erotic fire and fun that will not disappoint the reader.
This wonderful book deserves to be on keeper shelves everywhere!”
You can check out the entire review here.
Summer is heating up and so is International Heat. Each week for the next ten weeks we’ll be featuring one of our authors. During their week you’ll learn more about them on each of the members blogs and they’ll host fun stuff on the International Heat blog as well. So be sure to check back often as I’m sure there will be some hot prizes, yummy pictures and sweltering excerpts… and at least one juicy secret will be revealed.
Kicking things off is Rhian Cahill. Appropriate since she’s been on fire lately! She’s just recently had her first release at Ellora’s Cave. Ohhh ahhh isn’t it pretty? Coyote Home is the first book in the Coyote Hunger series so there’s plenty more where this came from.
If you’re still not convinced, here’s a blurb and excerpt from the story. I guarantee you’ll love it as much as I do.
Coming home was never going to be easy for Rowan Wilder, but after six years she didn’t think it would be this hard. First she can’t control her inner coyote, then she has to deal with her mate and the madman out to get them both. Determined to take her rightful place in the pack, Rowan must face each hurdle and succeed. To fail could mean losing her life.
Quinn MacClellan is more than ready for the return of his mate and he’ll do anything to keep her safe and by his side. He couldn’t protect her years ago, but things are different now and he won’t let anything or anyone separate them again. Together they’ll confront all obstacles and ensure the future they both deserve.
An Excerpt From: COYOTE HOME
Copyright © RHIAN CAHILL, 2010
All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.
Timber crashed against timber. Windows rattled in their frames and the hardwood floor vibrated beneath her bare feet.
Time to face the music.
Rowan turned toward the door. She knew what she would see but knowing and seeing were two different things. Silhouetted by the sun, the six-foot-four wall of solid muscle standing in the doorway was menacing in appearance and attitude. She should be terrified but she’d never been afraid of Quinn. She knew to the depth of her soul that he’d never hurt her no matter what she’d done.
“Get your things, you’re coming home.”
Rowan rolled her eyes. He hadn’t changed. Six years hadn’t tempered his demanding personality. Then again it had done little to curb her rebellious nature and need to provoke him. In fact, it had increased her need to make her own decisions. Her independence had come at a cost. Being separated from her family, her home—her mate. It had almost cost her sanity.
“No.” She wasn’t going to allow Quinn or her brother to tell her what to do anymore. She’d finally come home to face her destiny and her mate but she was here on her terms, best to get everyone used to the new Rowan from the start.
“No?” Quinn’s brow creased and the confusion swirling in his caramel brown eyes almost made her back down. Almost.
She sucked in a deep breath, stiffened her spine and straightened her shoulders.
“I’m not coming to Whispering Creek yet. I need time.”
“Time? For what? And why the hell didn’t you tell me you were on an earlier flight?” Anger and hurt simmered in his voice.
“I need to adjust to being home, Quinn.”
“You’re not home. Your home is Whispering Creek—by my side.”
“I am home. Whispering Mountains is home.”
“You’re not staying here. Get your things or I will.”
“Rowan,” he growled.
“Quinn, please try to understand. I’ve been gone six years—”
“Exactly. You’ve spent too long away from me already. Get your stuff.”
“No. I’m not leaving the cabin until I’m ready.”
He took a step toward her, a growl rumbling deep in his bare chest and his eyes flared amber with the anger her disobedience raised. She put up a hand and stood her ground.
“Don’t you dare come any closer.” To her surprise, he stopped. She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “Please, Quinn. You have to understand. I’ve ignored my coyote for six years. I can’t even remember what she looks like. I need to reconnect, need to be comfortable in both my skins. I can’t do that if I have to deal with the pack.”
Commotion behind Quinn drew both their gazes. Brogan stood at the door stomping snow and mud from his boots. He stepped into the room and threw a bag at Quinn.
“Get dressed,” Brogan barked at Quinn but his eyes were on Rowan. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
Great. Two alphas to deal with. On their own she knew she could handle them but together, batting for the same cause…
Rowan closed her eyes, tried to focus on what she knew she wanted. What she needed. Dragging in more oxygen, she steeled her determination to get them to see it from her side. The swish of cloth and the metallic hiss of a zipper closing snapped her eyes open.
She breathed easier. Now that Quinn had some clothes on she wouldn’t have to deal with the distraction of his naked body. And what a gorgeous body it was, all sculpted muscle and smooth male skin. Memories of exploring his hard male flesh with her hands sent a shiver down her spine. She curled her fingers, clenched them tight to stop her hands from reaching out to touch.
How she hadn’t jumped him the second he slammed through the door stark naked was beyond her. There was not one day, one night over the last six years where her body hadn’t craved his and all the pleasure tangling with him gave her. She licked her dry lips before speaking to her brother.
“Hello to you too, Brogan.”
He looked sheepish for all of two seconds before his face drew into an angry scowl. Rowan sighed. She really didn’t want their first meeting to be clouded with anger. But then what she wanted and what she got were rarely the same.
“When did you get in? And why didn’t you tell us you were coming early?”
The coffee machine dinged, signaling it was ready. A shot of caffeine was just what this occasion needed. At least she needed it. She turned, reached into the cupboard for two more cups and poured each of them full to the brim. None of them took milk and she’d given up sugar a few years ago.
Quinn moved up beside her, close but not touching. Heat radiated off him and his scent flowed around her, through her. Breathing deeply she pulled him in, filled her lungs with the smell she’d gone so long without.
“Here.” He held the sugar bowl out to her.
Raising her gaze to his, she said, “I don’t take sugar anymore.”
Shock bloomed in his eyes, then confusion.
“It’s just one of many things that have changed, Quinn.” She tried not to squirm when he leaned in close, sniffed at her neck, her breasts. She knew he was scenting for another male. He wouldn’t find one. “That hasn’t.”
A low rumble was Rowan’s only warning. He turned quickly, slanting his mouth over hers. Crushing pressure and his probing tongue had her opening to him. Need slammed into her. Quinn wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her off the floor and against his body. His hard length trapped between them. Her hands gripped his shoulder, slid into the hair at his nape and over his scalp. She tugged his head closer. Their teeth bumped and scraped and the kiss turned volcanic.
Heat blazed through her blood, pumping into her breasts and pussy, throbbing to a tribal beat only Quinn could drum up. She bent her legs, curled them around his hips and ground her pounding clit on his cock. A snarl vibrated in her chest, her coyote snapped at her control and threatened to break free. Twisting her head, she ripped her mouth from his. It was too much. She felt her grip weaken, knew the beast would spring forward at any second.
“Stop,” she panted.
He didn’t hear her. His mouth traveled along her jaw and down her neck. Rowan’s muscles stretched, her teeth lengthened and her claws popped out and dug into Quinn’s scalp.
“Quinn!” Brogan’s shout penetrated the hammering in her ears.
Her legs dropped to the floor as Quinn pushed her away to look at her. It was too little too late.
“Fuck!” The word exploded from his mouth.
The animal she’d denied for so long broke free and she shifted before he let her go.
Quinn stared at Rowan.
What the hell just happened?
One minute she was in his arms the next she was shifting. He let go, allowed her to slide to the floor as she changed to coyote. If he wasn’t so freaked out he’d laugh at the sight of her in T-shirt and shorts. Brogan made it across the room as Quinn dropped to his knees beside her.
“What the hell happened?” Brogan’s words echoed his own thoughts.
“I don’t know.”
Quinn stroked the fur along her neck. Rowan’s eyes drifted closed and she lowered to her belly on a sigh. Her movements were lethargic—listless, as she settled into a comfortable position. A shudder rippled down her canine body and her breathing evened out, slowed, deepened. He knew she’d taken a run earlier, that’s how he knew she was here. Brogan had asked him to check on the group of naturals living up on Whispering Ridge—make sure they had a food source. He’d been heading back when he smelled her. Rowan’s scent was imprinted on his soul, he’d know it anywhere.
He had run the rest of the way back to the house as fast as his human legs would take him, only to discover she wasn’t there. His nose never failed him, he had known she was close. He’d yelled for Brogan to follow, stripped out of his clothes and taken to the forest in coyote form. Excitement and fear in equal measures had swamped him. What was she doing up the mountain? Why hadn’t she told him she was arriving today?
Rowan’s warmth and scent soaked into him. His fingers tangled in her coat, trailed down her neck and over her side. She whined softly, snuffled and settled back down when he petted her head and murmured soothing words. It didn’t matter how she’d gotten here or why she’d come without telling him or Brogan. What mattered was the years of waiting were over.
Rowan was finally home.
“Is she asleep?” Brogan’s whispered words were laced with concern.
“Yeah, I think so.” Quinn scooped her up in his arms, bundled her against his chest as best he could. Brogan steadied him as he got to his feet. “I’ll put her on the sofa, closer to the fire.”
“Is she sick?”
“I don’t think so. Her temperature feels normal and she talked and looked fine before…” He didn’t want to think about the scorching kiss they’d shared before she’d changed in his arms.
He placed her on the sofa and settled on the floor in front of her, continued to stroke her coat, more to soothe himself than Rowan. Brogan brought the cups of coffee she’d poured them. He passed Quinn his before he sat in the chair opposite. They remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Neither voiced their concern about Rowan’s sudden appearance. Quinn had no idea how long they sat there while she slept, all he knew was he’d finished the coffee long before her eyes opened.
A sigh of relief huffed from his chest and he smiled.
“Shift back, Rowan,” he murmured.
She took a long time to change back and Quinn wondered if Brogan’s concern about illness had merit. She looked tired. The dark circles under her eyes were a deep purple and sunken into the tender flesh of her face. He ran his fingertips over her cheek, along her jaw, around her neck and into her hair. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips over hers. Quinn pulled back an inch and kept his eyes focused on hers.
“Hey. How do you feel?”
“I’m okay, just need to rest.”
“What happened, Rowan?”
“I’ve ignored my coyote too long. I can’t control the shift anymore.” She swallowed hard, licked her lips. “And changing drains my strength.”
“What do you mean you can’t control it?” Quinn asked.
“It just happens. Like just now, my coyote took over and I couldn’t hold her back. I couldn’t earlier either.”
“Here, drink some water.” Brogan offered her a glass. “When did this start?”
Quinn helped Rowan sit up and she leaned back into the sofa, squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep trembling breath. Her eyelids lifted and the tears pooling in the brown orbs tore at Quinn’s heart like claws. “Today’s the first day I’ve shifted in six years.”