Halloween is the perfect time to celebrate our favorite hot paranormal romance heroes and share them with others like you. With that in mind, we are hopping for Halloween and celebrating everything sexy about our Hot Heroes! They may be vampires and werewolves, angels and demons, gods and goddesses or any number of sexy shifters or other hot paranormal creatures. So Welcome to the Hot Halloween Heroes Giveaway Hop!
This blog is from October 29 to November 3.
The following excerpt is FOR MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY.
I was sipping wine and touching myself on one of the above ground tombs in a New Orleans cemetery, trying to forget the day’s events when I felt the presence of another. With it being Halloween, I fought the urge to freak out and remained calm because I knew it was only my overactive imagination playing tricks on me or the wine. My friends and I had nicknamed the cemetery we often frequented ‘Willow Ridge’ because of all the willow trees that lined the roads going into the large cemetery. I had heard it was often referred to as the City of the Undead, but I didn’t like that name, nor did I pay attention to the rumors that creatures walked the grounds at night. It was a ridiculous notion.
I had driven the thirty minutes out to Willow Ridge, leaving the city of New Orleans behind and leaving my aunts and uncles to argue over how I should spend my inheritance. My deceased father was a writer and I was her only heir. He had told her family that I would inherit everything because he had provided for all of them for so long. They wouldn’t be getting any more handouts unless I decided to do so.
Many popular book series my father had written had made him independently wealthy after my mother had passed away fifteen years earlier. My father spent hours at the keyboard like a man possessed after her death. At the time of his passing he was in talks with several movie production houses about turning several of his books into movies.
As a young adult, reading his books had given me an early appreciation for the supernatural and I knew things going bump in the night like vampires, werewolves, or zombie was all make believe, even though I still hoped I would be proved wrong one day. The idea of meeting a vampire or werewolf like the actors I watched on television was part of my ritual scenery of inspiration when I masturbated.
Having buried my last parent only hours before was a great weight on my mind and I hoped pleasuring myself would relieve some of my tension. Realizing I had a helper of the
night to assist me was an intriguing prospect, but I knew it was ridiculous to wish such a thing. It was another reason why I was in the cemetery that night after my father’s funeral. I was ready to grow up, become a woman, and leave the South. Saying goodbye to my virginity in a place like this seemed fitting, even if it was an odd notion to most sane adults. Plenty of my older friends had told me that Willow Ridge was the most magical cemetery of all of them. It was the place to go and see if something amazing would occur. Even though my father had forbidden me to visit the cemetery, my friends and I had partied there a lot over the past few years of high school. Now my father was buried with my mother in the family plot in the Saint Louis cemetery on Basin Street in the French Quarter, many miles away from Willow Ridge, so it didn’t matter what she thought. Now I could make my own decisions and accept the consequences. I was ready to move on and I wanted to say goodbye as well to my favorite secret place. Only my aunt, my father’s sister and a witch like my mother, had told me the truth. “Your father met your mother in that cemetery one night, my child. That’s why he doesn’t want you to go there. He’s afraid it’s a cursed place. But I know wonderful things can happen there all the time, especially on a full moon,” she had said. My aunt was far cooler than my father and I tended to trust her words more than listening to my father’s fears for my well being. So that was my plan. I was going to spend the night in the cemetery and see if something magical would happen for me.
After drinking a few glasses of wine on some person’s above ground tomb whose name I couldn’t pronounce because my French was terrible, I settled in to do something insane and jacking off on the grave of Jean La-whatever seemed like a very crazy thing to do. I wanted to forget my father was dead. Both my parents were gone and now I was alone. Well technically I wasn’t alone because I had my aunts and uncles, but I felt alone because they were many years, decades older than me. All of them except my aunt were money-hungry twits. My friends were going off to college and because I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I was still figuring it out at twenty-three. Tonight being reckless seemed like a good idea.
When I jerked my hands out from under my frilly black funeral dress and clamped my hands against the cold marble of the grave I was sitting on, I wasn’t sure what I’d see. I didn’t expect anyone to be there in the cemetery. I just prayed a zombie had not heard my moans of desire. I wasn’t that nuts, not yet. I gathered my skirt up and tucked it under my legs. It was a hot night in August, so there was no threat of my catching a cold.
“Why we have a virgin witch here,” the voice said. “Welcome.”
There was a tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach I couldn’t deny when I saw the man smiling at me from the end of the tomb. I couldn’t believe such a gorgeous man was standing before me. No one looked like that in Orleans Parish, alive or dead I surmised. Half-heartily I had expected a zombie with half his face missing or a werewolf with glowing gold eyes to jump out and glare at me. Those were my ideas of supernatural creatures. It was the way my father had described them in her books. “Those creatures are not to be thought of as romantic. Don’t succumb to their charms,” he had told me long ago like one was going to pop out of her horror series and sneak into my bedroom.
Suddenly Father’s words made sense and I felt my body respond to this man before me with a pulling sensation of unbelievable strength.
“I’m not a witch,” I muttered once I finally found my voice.
Suddenly the moon shone upon us like a spotlight finding its direction and I was able to take in every bit of his handsome features. I’m sure my mouth dropped open while I studied him because I failed to utter another word. He was tanned and muscular. His long-sleeve black shirt hung open, exposing his six-pack chest. A gold chain hung from his neck, twenty-four or thirty inches long and laid just below his amazing pectoral muscles. The necklace glimmered in the moonlight and I was fascinated to see the man wore a gold Ankh at the end of his necklace.
He ran his hands through his shortly cropped wavy black hair and scratched his scruffy beard, obviously waiting for me to respond in some fashion.
I thought of many scenarios such as leaping off the grave and racing to my car, or asking the man if he was lost and directing him to a grave for a passed loved one, or simply feasting my eyes upon the man and remembering he was probably a hallucination from the wine. He would make an incredibly delicious visual for my pleasure. My aunt had insisted I take a few tranquilizers to steady my nerves at the funeral, so I’m sure the delicious man standing before me was nothing more than a compilation of all of that.
“Christ, I’m drunk,” I mumbled as I sloshed down the remaining white Zinfandel in my wine glass. I tossed the glass into the air, hearing it crash some yards away. I dismissed the stranger and decided to make the grave of Jean LaFafa, whoever he was, my midnight bed. I laid out on the cold marble, crossed my legs, performed the motions of crossing my heart like I was some Catholic priest about to forgive me of all my sins, hoped to die blessed and cleansed, and placed my hands over my chest like Dracula. I closed my eyes tight. Now wasn’t the time to remember that my father’s bowgun was in my car, and not in my hand. In the morning, I’d see things more clearly and realize no stranger had just spoken to me. It was easier to pretend no one was there than to deal with some whacked out issue I couldn’t begin to imagine. I could resume touching myself once I felt the presence vanished.
“You find me attractive, don’t you?”
The man’s deep, sexy voice jolted my eyes open. The moon’s gaze had moved on and I struggled to see in the dark.
“Who’s there?” I whispered. Preparing for spending a night in the cemetery had not gone that well. I had simply brought two bottles of wines of wine and a glass, one bottle that I had already polished off and the other I had left somewhere in the green grass below the above ground grave. The essentials like a flashlight, mace, a whistle, along with my father’s bowgun remained in my car.
“You’re sitting on me.”
“I’m perched above you, witch, not sitting. You’ll know when I’m touching you.”
“Then this is your hovering stance or mood,” I asked the presence.
He laughed, low and seductive. “Yes, I suppose it is. I can levitate too. Shall I show you?” he asked.
“Maybe later,” I snapped. I rolled over into a fetal position on the marble, hoping he’d go away. I didn’t know what else to do.
“If you’re a virgin witch, I can solve your problem, my sweet. It’ll be my gift to you.”
I jerked up again, this time very annoyed with the voice in the darkness. “Get out of here or I’ll call the police.”
“Oh really?” he laughed again. “You have your cell phone on you? I doubt that little black dress has pockets.”
Shit, I thought. He was right. My cell phone was in the car too. I cursed under my breath.
“Virgins shouldn’t curse,” he stated flatly as he climbed up on the tombstone.
“Don’t you dare touch me, you beast!” I yelled.
As he invaded my space, he gently ran his fingers across the side of my face. The moon’s rays returned and flooded his face. I gasped. He had dark brown eyes, angular features, a perfectly shaped nose and square jaw. He was breathtaking. Letting his gaze penetrate mine, he stared at me and released his fangs.
I froze, unable to resist his sexual magnetism. “I’m not a virgin or a witch,” I squeaked.
“Yes, you keep saying that. But it’s not true, Eva. You are one in a million and I’m here to save you.”
He pulled me into his arms. “I promise to be gentle.” He lowered his head and kissed the inside of my neck. Quickly I felt the sharp edge of his fangs tracing the places where he had kissed me as his hands explored my breasts and waist. Gently he ran his fangs along the contours of my shoulders and chest.
Shivers of warm ecstasy rippled through me.
I moaned as his large hands found my neck. He tugged lightly on my hair as he plunged his hands into the cascades of my long curly black hair. My neck extended upwards and I was forced to meet his gaze. I was held captive in his embrace. His hand held me powerless as he gripped the back of my neck.
“Get the fuck off of me, you freak!”
“You have a lovely dirty little mouth, my sweet.” His fingers of his free hand laced around strands of my hair as it cascaded over the contours of my firm breasts. He squeezed one of the nipples hard through the bodice of my taffeta dress.
A low moan slipped past my lips. “Get…away…from…,” I didn’t finish my sentence because his lips found mine.
He drove his tongue into my mouth, circling and darting his tongue around mine. His hot breath seared my face. He swept his moist tongue over my lips, and then kissed me deeply again. A wave of bliss spread through me. He paused for a moment, gazing at me, perhaps searching my eyes for a reaction. I was stunned, but amazed. I could see the passion surfacing in his eyes.
“Yes,” I moaned.
Then he covered my mouth hungrily again. His deep kisses sent the pit of my stomach into a wild swirl, igniting my pussy in unimaginable delights.
“You may be a virgin, but you’re an experienced one. No?”
I felt my cheeks blush as he kissed the top of my head. He pulled away suddenly. “I’m so sorry about all of this, but we have no choice.” He all but glared at my throat. Possessively. Hungrily.
“Who are you?” I gasped, running my fingers over my lips that had been so pleasantly violated.
His disposition startled me. A muscle flicked angrily in his jaw. “Your salvation. My name is Sebastian and I’m a vampire. I plan to take you, here on this very surface. Do you disapprove?”
He yanked off his black shirt and I watched it fall to the ground. I heard him unzipping his jeans and I knew he spoke the truth. This man planned to have his way with me. I had to figure a way out of this. Through the fuzzy delirium of wine and drugs, my brain struggled to find an escape plan until I saw his cock.
This excerpt is from “The Vampire’s Pleasure” soon to be released in an anthology called “Pleasures Under the Moon.”
Please note all the ebooks shown here are Free for you to download. Some of the authors below will be in the anthology.
Darlings of Darkness – Free at Amazon
A star-studded anthology of thrilling, action-packed and totally swoon-worthy first books from ten different vampire series by your favorite women authors including Ally Thomas, Chrissy Peebles, Kristen Middleton, Suzy Turner, S.J. Wright, Trina M. Lee, W.J. May, Dale Mayer, K.C. Blake, and Claire Farrell. (Cover Design by Cora Graphics)
Young Adult Romance
For some, love begins when you least expect it. For Elana, falling in love begins in Hell. When twenty-one-year-old Elana is kidnapped and finds herself in Hell of all places, she discovers something unique in her ancestry. She’s a werewolf and she’s fallen in love with someone unexpectedly Dante, the young demon who agrees to help her escape.
The Civil War took Sonja Brooks’ husband and left her alone. Unprotected and scared, she runs headlong into a life changing event when she’s attacked by a pack of wolves. Her fate as a werewolf is sealed. When she stumbles upon Ty Loflin, a Rebel solider dying of his wounds, she nurses him back to health. He’s the perfect mate, but will he want her once he knows the truth?
In this sample at 7,000 words, Catherine Wolffe weaves a new blend of western romance with paranormal elements involving werewolves and vampires. (Cover Design by Ally Thomas)
Rayea isn’t daddy’s little girl, even if he is the most powerful fallen angel around. He wants her to take an active role in the family business. But she’s not interested in his schemes for world domination. Instead she wants to spend her time shopping on the Internet, rescuing humans from a horrific eternity, and practicing martial arts with her seven foot hellhound. Then one day everything changes.
Please note that this sample (as of May 2013) includes both Part 1 and Part 2 – A Vampire Among Angels. (Cover Design by Cora Graphics)
Caroline, a werewolf and princess of the Golden realm, has discovered a new love in her vampire captor. She’s willing to risk everything, even her life, to prove to him she loves him and has forsaken all others including her family and her pack.
Desire (Erotic Vampire Confessions #1) begins as Randi Fang explores this subject with her first vampire to interview, a fan of the fang whom Randi calls simply Rose. Rose has a chance encounter with an actor who plays a vampire and discovers he’s “into” being bitten.
An excerpt to the next short story, Tasted (Erotic Vampire Confessions #2) is included. (Cover Design by Ally Thomas)
Samson’s Lovely Mortal (Scanguards Vampires #1) – Free at Amazon
Vampire bachelor Samson can’t get it up anymore. Not even his shrink can help him. That changes when the lovely mortal auditor Delilah tumbles into his arms after a seemingly random attack. Suddenly there’s nothing wrong with his hydraulics – that is, as long as Delilah is the woman in his arms.
His scruples about taking Delilah to bed vanish when his shrink suggests it’s the only way to cure his problem. Thinking all he needs is one night with her, Samson indulges in a night of pleasure and passion.
However, another attack on Delilah and a dead body later, and Samson has his hands full: not only with trying to hide the fact he’s a vampire, but also with finding out what secrets Delilah harbors for somebody to want her harm.
Covet (V.E.T Vampire Romance Series Book 1) by Felicity Heaton – Free at Amazon
Javier knows better than to succumb to his hunger for Lilah. The mortal female belongs to a powerful aristocrat patron of Vampirerotique, the theatre he runs with three other vampires. A single touch is all it would take to break the sacred law of his kind, sentencing himself to death, but his passion for her has become too fierce to ignore and he will risk everything to make Lilah his.
Lilah has fought her desire for Javier since arriving at his theatre as a servant but each glance he has stolen, his eyes promising pleasure that will satisfy her longing for him, has chipped away at her defences and she can no longer deny her need and her forbidden feelings for the powerful vampire male.
When they find themselves alone in a private box during one of the erotic performances, will they surrender to their passion and live out their wildest fantasies in a night of wicked pleasure or will the threat of Lilah’s master keep them apart forever?