Spicy Excerpt:
“Shhh, my lover,” he whispers against the place that aches for him. “I want to make you scream.”
The burn of his finger as it reaches into my depths has hot tears rolling down my temples.
Despite the pain he’s causing, he’s not doing it cruelly. I soon learn his probing has purpose. Within me, he finds a place that seems to throb for his touch. When he presses against it, I lose all sense of reality. I jolt off the bed, let out a scream of pleasure, and spin in the dark fog of ecstasy. It isn’t until I hear him chuckling that I come to. I blink open my eyes to see that his hair is dusted in snow and the entire room glows light blue. The fire has been snuffed out of the fireplace.
“Don’t go anywhere,” he says, sliding his finger from within me and giving me a playful wink that has my womb clenching with need.
Instead of replying to his remark, knowing I’m not going anywhere until he allows it, I track him as he makes his way over to the fireplace. Both of his hands glow orange-red and he kneels at the hearth. A hot flash bursts through the room as he ignites the fire again. Then, he stands and begins shedding his clothes. I can’t help but drink in his perfect form.
Broad shoulders. Muscular chest. Strong arms.
He pushes his trousers down and his cock bobs out eagerly. I’m fixated on it. I’ve never seen one up close. Sure, I’ve seen the Eyes of the White men pissing outside before, but never have I seen one that looks like this. It bounces as he prowls my way, a bead of wetness glistening from the tip. His balls hang heavy beneath his impressive length.
“What, snowflake?” he teases as he crawls onto the bed. “Would you like to take a closer look?”
He knows me better than I know myself.
Rather than denying it, I simply nod. His eyes widen a fraction before he straddles my naked body with his powerful thighs. Slowly, he makes his way up the bed until he’s practically sitting on my breasts. He grabs his cock with one of his strong hands and leans forward. His other hand clutches my bound ones, his thumb caressing me gently.
“Care for a taste, Cold Queen?”
I lick my lips. “Don’t tease.”
He arches a brow and chuckles. “As you wish.”
The tip of his cock is brought to my lips and he runs it back and forth along my bottom one. I dart out my tongue and seek out the wetness to see what he tastes like. Salty and masculine. My tongue circles the soft crown of his cock, eager to learn more of him. He groans in a way that makes me ache for him. I don’t understand his power over me, but I’d gladly yield to him over and over again. I crave to be at his will. Desperate to taste more of him, I wrap my lips around him, loving the hiss that escapes him.
“You’ve earned the title of Punisher,” he growls. “You’ll tease me to madness, my queen.”
My queen.
I run my tongue along the underside of his length, craving to make him weak for me despite me being the one bound and beneath him. He allows me to taste him a moment longer before he jerks away from me.
Pure fury contorts his handsome face.
Did I do something wrong?
A chill races down my spine as he slowly slides back down the bed, his angry eyes never leaving mine.
“What did I do wrong?” I demand in a whisper.
The fierce look softens. “Absolutely nothing.”
“What then?”
He wrenches my thighs apart. “You were about to finish things early and I’d like to be deep inside you when that happens.”
My erratic heart slows at his words. I didn’t do anything wrong because I did it exactly right. Pride has confidence returning as he settles between my legs. I dig my heels into his back, urging him closer to me. His hot cock slides through the fine hair of my sex, teasing me.
“Will you do this with my sister once you’ve had your fill?” I mutter, trying and failing to keep the hurt from my voice.
Instead of answering me, he leans forward to take my mouth with his. I taste the muskiness of myself. I’m curious and distracted from what he’s doing down south until his thickness is pushing into me brutally. A loud sob rips from me as he drives deep inside. The singe of hair can be smelled as he releases me from my bindings. His fingers dive into my hair and he doesn’t move an inch.
“Look at me, my beautiful, sweet queen,” he commands, his voice gruff.
I blink away tears and find his intense, amber stare. My bottom lip wobbles and he presses a soft kiss to it.
“Hear me and hear me well.” His brows furrow as he regards me. “I only want you.”
My heart flutters in my chest. “This hurts, Ryke.”
“I’ve taken your innocence, snowflake. It’s a brutal matter. But soon, your body will adjust to mine. You’ll realize we fit together perfectly.” His lips urge mine to part and he kisses me deeply, his tongue sliding against mine in a gentle way. “The ache will fade and the fire will ignite. Burn with me, my queen.”
He distracts me with another kiss as he slides out of me. Then, with another hard thrust of his hips, he drives back into me. I moan against his mouth. The pain is contorting into an unusual sense of pleasure. Even though he hurts me, I like being impaled by him. I’ve never been this close to another person. It’s surreal. Bordering on magical. I fear I might wake from a dream at any moment and this entire encounter with Ryke will have been a dream.
Then I’d be back to the lonely cold.
Sad and fading.
A dying queen.
Monday, July 26, 2021
Author Interview - Cold Queen by K Webster #DarkFantasyRomance #Fantasy #Romance #AuthorInterview
Thursday, July 22, 2021
E.C Hinrichs Talks About Energy Vampires #PNR #EnergyVampires
Excerpt:
I looked down at my Batman vintage watch that was always 3 minutes behind and
noticed that the middle man was late- again. His name was Phipps. No one knew where he came from or why he chose to watch over people or deliver these “S.O.S messages” to people like me. Despite what I had said to Damon, I knew I couldn’t quit. Well, quit that easily. Maybe start slowly- I requested that my next assignment be kept quiet and make everyone think that I had quit. Would that even work? No, maybe not. All I wanted to do was find my journal and write it out but I hadn’t been able to find the darn thing for a few days. I tried to forget about it and turned my attention to the agent I was going to see. He could keep my quitting a secret, right?And who was the most quiet in all of our underground society? Phipps. No last name that I know of. They said he was a seer. They said that his superpower was to see issues a head of time and to bring the news to the chosen. I always hated being called that, almost as if we are permanently marked away from society. Good bye normal life. I flicked my cigarette as if to spite that cosmos that cursed me with this bloodied affliction.
“Curses… why do you always refer to everything as curses?” Phipps appeared behind me and startled my calm and cool façade. He crossed his long tan arms theatrically as the wind bustled through his silver hair. “It must be the Hungarian blood in you.” I glanced back at him gathering the last reminisces of my calm and cool and gazed into the clear blue of his eyes.
“Of course a German would say that,” I scoffed while I turned fully to face him. “And for God sakes.” I shouted. “Would you make some noise? Or at the very least put a fucking bell around your neck.” He sported a smirk that proved to him that yes- he had indeed gotten under my skin. A thing I knew he had to relish. “So, what’s the story, morning glory?”
“His name is Frank Tennorman. He is 41 years old and he is a sucker.” Phipps started to pace around me; another theatrical trait he indulged himself in. “He moves in younger circles, and singles out the most impressionable. Then he enchants them into believing in him and his “healing” ability. After which he starts to feed off of their energy until they are of no more use to him. Then he discards them when there is nothing left to take. He prefers to feed on the addicted, the mentally unstable and children. Think of it, as his own personal all you can eat buffet.”
“Is he aware that he is doing it?”
“That is questionable, but given his age and the number of offenses it is highly likely.”
“Number of offenses? So, this is defiantly not his first time.”
“Yes,” he said with a thoughtful pause. “He has… a history.”
“So, why didn’t you send one of us before?” His smirk dropped and the icy seriousness of the situation draped his eyes making his face look like the mask of death. Something told me that here was something different about this assignment. Something dangerous- why else send the one with the savior complex?
“We did, and they couldn’t handle it.” I looked up into his face with questioning gaze.
“If they couldn’t handle it why not sic a Reaper on him and end the problem altogether?”
I saw him shift uncomfortably.
“It’s not that simple,” his eyebrows gathered together. “We can’t just sic a Reaper on him. If we do that the Reaper turns into a Sucker and then we have a Reaper-Sucker on our hands.” I hated it when he made sense. He sensed my caving, “And would you want an assassin who can suck life out of people on the loose?”
“No, I guess not.” I chewed on the thoughts that were spinning through my head.Why would you not dispose of someone so dangerous? Why not find some ‘natural’ accident for them to get into? Reapers are the psychic assassins of H.A.L.O. I have only seen them have to kill 7 times and in their rose-scented attack, they were their scariest. I could never figure out why the smell of roses accompanied a Reaper’s attack but it did. Lord knows Reapers aren’t very dependable but the Impressers are. They could make him get into a habit that could kill him. “Okay, why couldn’t you get an Impresser to take care of him?”
“Your assignment isn’t changing.” He said with a forceful glare. “Your assignment
remains the same: infiltrate, watch and end the Sucker’s damage.” He said with a gilded eye roll.“End it? End it so he can try to torture people in a physical sense? C’mon Phipps.” He shook his head and I could tell he didn’t feel like talking about this anymore.
“Do you still take pictures and write?” He said attempting not to answer.
“Okay, now I’m scared… what are you intending on doing with me?” His eyes sparkled
with a good humored delight.
About the
Author:
E.C Hinrichs born in Canada and moved to the United States. She spent most of
her college career writing and studying literature. After her college, she
spent her time working in different careers before settling into human
services. She has spent the last seven years working with children, the
elderly, and persons with disabilities.
E.C Hinrichs spends her free time reading Tudor
history, paranormal nonfiction and fiction.
https://theadventuresoftrinitysmith.godaddysites.com
https://trinitysmithadventurestwbb.blogspot.com/
https://www.instagram.com/E.c.Hinrichs/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/774971389850285/
Wednesday, July 14, 2021
Author Advice with Chad Musick #LitFic #OwnVoices #AuthorAdvice
Excerpt
Esther kissed me once for free, when we were both just girls. We were sitting watching the Rangers play baseball—not the Olympics, because it was the summer of 1980 and Carter was choosing to hide in a boycott rather than fight the communists who were running it—and Gunnar went to the fridge to get a fresh bottle of beer.
“Daddy,” Esther called, “can we have some sandwiches?”
He grunted back, and we heard his breathing punctuated by the clatter of the silverware drawer and the rattle of the jam jar.
Esther swayed back and forth, making fun of how Gunnar had staggered as he walked to the kitchen.
“Usually I get his beers, or mom does, but you’re company.” She winked at me.
I wasn’t allowed at Esther’s house often, even though we should have been best friends all along. We were both 14, we lived across the street from each other, and we would go to high school together the next year, just like we’d always gone to school together. But her family wasn’t our kind of people.
On the day Esther kissed me, though, momma’d had a vision of her and Esther’s mom going shopping together.
When momma had a vision, you didn’t stand in the way, and so she had dropped me off and taken Esther’s mom in the big car to go shopping.
Gunnar came back with a paper plate of peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches for us, and a pair of beers for himself. He eased back down into his lounger with the creak of springs and scritch of leather on denim, and opened a beer. He let it dangle from his fingers, and it wasn’t long before he was snoring.
Esther crept up on him and eased the bottle from him.
She held it out, for me to drink. This was one of the reasons they weren’t our kind of people, and I shook my head no at her.
“I’ll scream,” she whispered, and held it out again. “It’s gross. He’s already drank off it.”
Esther pushed her finger into the neck of the bottle and wiped it, just a little pop of sound when her finger came out, then wiped the outside of the top. She made me take the bottle.
I drank some, of course I did. Not much, just a swallow, so she wouldn’t scream, and then I gave it back to her.
She finished the bottle, and then laid it down beneath Gunnar’s fingertips. There hadn’t been much left anyway, I told myself.
We sat on the floor in the Texas summer heat and leaned our backs against the new couch. The plastic on the seats got sticky and uncomfortable when the sun shone on it, but the unglazed terra cotta floor was cool, and her hand was warm when she put it in mine.
She was swaying again, and when she swayed my way, her head rested on my shoulder and stayed there.
“Esther,” I told her. She looked up.
“We’re best friends now.” She nodded.
Good. It was good to have a friend. Even if next year she didn’t join me in softball and running and volleyball and all the other sports I’d been denied in junior high because there were only intramurals, I’d still have a friend. Frank didn’t let me play with him anymore, because he was older and it wasn’t “cool” to have your little sister around, especially if she was better at baseball than you. He could get the bat on the ball sometimes, smash it high in the air with the powerful arms that he’d once used to hoist me on his wide shoulders, but he lacked control. Just about every hit was a foul or a pop fly. Even when he hit it well, he was never ready to run.
I’ve always been ready to run.
Esther didn’t care about baseball, even if she’d watch it on the tv with me. At school, I’d used to watch her when she double- dutched with the other girls, who called me boy like it was a curse word and stopped their ropes when I came around.
“I have a secret,” she said, without lifting her head. “I want to tell it to you.”
Wednesday, July 7, 2021
Top Ten Favorite Dystopian Couples with Lauren Sevier and A. Smith #Dystopian #WesternRomance
Top Ten Favorite Dystopian Couples
As Guns & Smoke is a Dystopian/Western Romance novel, we thought
it would be fun to come up with a list of our top ten favorite Dystopian
couples.
1.
Tris Prior & Tobias “Four” Eaton
from Divergent.
-Anytime I think of my favorite Dystopian stories, Divergent
is one of the first that comes to mind. The romance between Tris and Four isn’t
apparent in the beginning of the story. I love that it is a story that builds
slowly with time. I also love that they don’t realize just how much they have
in common until much later. I feel like they really got to know each other as
they were in Dauntless, before realizing that their histories intertwined so
much.
2.
Katniss Everdeen & Peeta Mellark
from The Hunger Games:
-In the beginning of The Hunger Games, I struggled with the
love triangle. I wasn’t sure who I would have preferred Katniss to end up with.
Then, in Catching Fire, Peeta stole my heart with “...but the baby” and I was
done. What I love so much about Peeta and Katniss is that they learned to love
each other despite their flaws. Two seemingly different people from different
parts of town that are thrust into an arena to fight for the death, only to
find that they can come together to break down the system? Yes. Absolutely.
Still hate the mind jacking they did on Peeta!
3.
Clarke Griffin & Bellamy Blake
from The 100:
-Well, my son’s name
is Bellamy if that’s any indication of how much I love this couple. LOL!
Actually, he wasn’t named for the character in this book series but, it’s a
pretty great segue into all the reasons I really loved this couple. I loved how
much they complemented each other, and regardless of all the things they had to
overcome, or morals they had to bend… they stood by each other. In the end I’m
really happy they got their HEA in the book series, I was so disappointed that
it never happened in the TV Series!
4.
June Iparis & Daniel
"Day" Altan Wing from Legend:
-I have so many
thoughts on this couple. They go from enemies to lovers in book one, to
uncomfortable allies with a sizzling attraction in book two, then in book
three… it’s heartbreaking. To see how broken and battered they both were, how
sick Day was, literally dying, and by the end of book three… God! It was so
bittersweet my heart was left aching after reading this trilogy. The epilogue
did a really good job of leaving it open-ended enough, with a happily-for-now
that I really believed they would find a way to each other again. Marie Lu
wrote a fourth book called Rebel in which June didn’t get a perspective (which…
I mean… I get it. It wasn’t June & Day’s book but still…) I wrote about it
on my Goodreads, how I really only read the fourth one to see if June and Day
got their HEA finally, and they did… but without June’s perspective it fell really flat. So I was pretty
disappointed. I kind of wish I’d left it off at the trilogy, because their
romance was beautiful.
5.
Cassia Reyes & Ky Markham from Matched:
-When I first read Matched, I remember how in love I was
with this series. It was such a surprise to me. I always wished that this
series would have gotten more popular. The thing I like the most is an
unexpected love story. One that even surprises the main character. This is
definitely what happens with Cassia and Ky! I love that once they realize the
spark is between them, they go to whatever lengths possible to get back to one
another.
6.
Lilac LaRoux & Tarver Merendsen
from These Broken Stars:
-Ah! This book has not
gotten the acclaim that it deserves. It beautifully melds a futuristic,
world-hopping adventure into a Dystopian world. Seeing these two characters
from two different classes literally forced
to survive on a hostile and strange deserted planet together screamed Robinson
Family Crusoe in space to me. The black moment in this book had me in literal
tears. They didn’t deserve it. Not one bit. I’ve shamelessly re-read this book
at least twelve times.
7.
Thomas & Teresa from The Maze Runner:
-Do they love each
other? Do they hate each other? Are the motivations real or are they using each
other? These two characters from The Maze Runner series really had my head
wound up. I could never quite figure them out, but amidst the backdrop of the
intense, action-packed plotline and dire stakes… it kept me reeling for more
from them. Definitely a good dystopian couple if I ever saw one.
8.
America Singer & Prince Maxon
from The Selection:
-This was another Dystopian story that I wasn’t sure where
the main character would end up. I genuinely thought America would end up with
her childhood best friend, but I was incredibly surprised by the fake dating to
surprise lovers trope. I had never really liked it before reading this. Maxon
is just such a good hearted person, and I think he knew from the start that he
was lost to America.
9.
Mare Barrow & Tiberias
"Cal" Calore VII from Red Queen:
-I have some feelings about this one. Namely, that this pair
didn’t get a Happily Ever After in War Storm. It was obvious from the first time
Mare and Cal met (before the arena)
that they were completely into each other. They had amazing chemistry, as
evidenced by their private meetings in Red Queen all of the way through War
Storm. I love Cal because he was one of those good hearted guys that genuinely
thought the best of people, only to have it come back on him. They deserved a
HEA!
10.
Bonnie & Jesse James from Guns &
Smoke:
-Ah! My favorite dystopian couple of all time! Bonnie and Jesse are two broken, grieving people desperately trying to survive in a harsh and unyielding world. Where any slip up no matter how small can see you stripped of your freedom or your life. I think what’s really beautiful about their romance is that it’s intimate before it’s ever really physical. It’s about the little moments of earning trust, confiding in one another, standing up for each other. It’s about how they edge toward each other and make each other feel safe in a world that is categorically unsafe all the time. It’s heart-pounding, awe-inspiring, and healing in all the ways that feel real and necessary in a relationship. I can’t wait for the world to indulge in their romance and hopefully they’ll be wanting more after book one… because there’s a lot more to come!
Excerpt #1
One small change in position and now each of my soft curves was pressed intimately against the tall, hard length of his unyielding body. His blue eyes blazed in the dim light of the alley, reading something on my face that urged him on. This was supposed to be my trap.
His hands were buried in my hair now, a thumb tracing over my cheek to land on my bottom lip. I knew what he wanted. Parting my mouth, I wrapped my lips around the pad of his thumb, my tongue flicking against it before sucking softly. A deep thunderous sound rumbled through his chest to shake me down to my bones. His hand in my hair slid to the back of my head, pulling my mouth closer to his. He wanted me to kiss him. He wanted this to be more than a transaction. He wanted me to want him back.
I brushed my nose against his, and he stilled. All other motion and sensation forgotten as his eyes landed on my mouth, inching closer to his. I drank in the taste of his breath, a faint echo of the taste of his lips from before. My head tilted to the side, and he brushed the hair away from my face to see me more clearly as I angled toward him. He swallowed down whatever desperate words were on the tip of his tongue, and I took his chin in my hand, mouths open and millimeters apart.
Click.
About the Authors:
Lauren Sevier and A. Smith are longtime friends and co-authors from southern Louisiana. Guns and Smoke, their first joint publication, began as a “short” story after having too much wine on girl’s night.
Nine years later it is now the first novel in a Dystopian/Western Romance series.
The duo has plans to publish several series together in the future. A. Smith spends her time with her two rescue dogs and rescue cat surrounding herself with books and Labyrinth paraphernalia.
Lauren Sevier collects antique tea cups and tries
to stay sane, though as the mother of a toddler she fails brilliantly most
days. She also has a growing collection of crowns and tiaras and likes to act
silly on TikTok. Look for more thrilling novels from The Fools Adventure series
in the future!
https://www.laurensevier.com/
https://www.twitter.com/laurensevier
https://www.instagram.com/laurensevier
https://www.youtube.com/c/laurensevier
https://www.facebook.com/authorlaurensevier
https://www.tiktok.com/@lsevier
https://www.laurensevier.com/newsletter
https://twitter.com/abbiewritesx
https://www.instagram.com/abbiewritesx/
https://abbielynnsmith.com/newsletter/
Monday, July 5, 2021
Character Confessions - Dragon(e) Baby Gone by Robert Gainey #DetectiveFantasy #Dragons #Fantasy
FROM THE DESK
OF
Diane Morris
Special Agent
Federal
Bureau of Investigation
Department of
Intangible Assets, Southeast Division
June 10,
[REDACTED]
Attn: Director Jermaine LaFleur
I am writing today to follow up on my
previous unanswered correspondence and to once again formally request a
transfer from Field Operations to the relative safety of Logistics. As you are
well aware, I have served as a field agent within the DIA for more than [REDACTED],
and I feel my talents would be put to better use behind a desk, far away from
any [REDACTED] who may, yet again, attempt to eat me. I might add that this is
the [REDACTED] time within the past fiscal year I have been forced to request
reimbursement for a personal firearm lost in the execution of my duties. I
still have not received a check for last year’s debacle, despite assurances
that the Department would cover the cost of a new [REDACTED]. I keep a running
log of my ongoing out of pocket expenses, and currently it sits at $1,831.69.
If I were assigned to Logistics, I
could make sure that field personnel receive not only the proper reimbursement,
but also the appropriate equipment for use on their assignments. Our current
Logistics liaison, Mr. [REDACTED], issued me copper-core rather than
mercurial-core ammunition on this last assignment, and it was only after the
[REDACTED] began laughing that I realized the joke was on me. It was just dumb
luck that a train was passing by and I had time to [DATA EXPUNGED PENDING
DISCIPLINARY REVIEW]. I realize that funding has been tight this year, but
there’s no excuse for this kind of lapse in judgment. As far as I’m concerned,
Mr. [REDACTED] can go ahead and shove his [REDACTED] right up that pinched
little [REDACTED] and [REDACTED] himself until he [REDACTED] [REDACTED]
[REDACTED].
On a personal note, you know that I am
not giving out any ultimatums. I stand by my oath. When I was just a patrol
officer, you pulled me out of that thing in [REDACTED]. I’m never going to
forget what that means. I enjoy having the opportunity to make a difference by
being a part of the Department. I will continue to safeguard the public against
these anomalous threats until I am relieved of my position. As you are aware, I
have outlived most of my peers, and I would very much like to see my own
retirement from this side of the cemetery lawn.
With all of that in mind, bear me in
mind the next time a position in Logistics becomes available.
Judging by Mr. [REDACTED] blood pressure, I’m optimistic this may be very soon.
Respectfully,
Diane Morris
Senior Field Agent - Jacksonville
Excerpt
I guess there’s always been a Department of Intangible Assets, in some way or another, since humanity first banded together against the dark. Ancient orders of knights, sects of religions, monasteries and their like had been the first real organizations determined to hold off the things that bled into our world from other realities. Great and epic individuals did a lot of work in the past, though more often than not mere pawns as one ultra-powerful being played against another. Gilgamesh. Solomon. Miyamoto Musashi for a while even worked as a kind of Japanese defender against the supernatural. Things must have been easier back then. If somebody had a problem with a corpse rising from the ground and eating people, or with creatures slinking out of the mountains and taking children, they could talk openly about it, and people would fit it neatly into whatever cultural narrative they had. No press releases concerning carbon monoxide leaks, no awkward local police trying to stutter their way through an ogre rampage by blaming gang violence and drugs. If you were a 17th Century farmer in the Tajima Province of Japan and tengu started picking off your village one by one, Musashi would come by one day, cut down all those dark spirits, and then leave. You’d replant your fields, mourn your losses, and tell warning stories about warding off evil. And, probably, pay him whatever he wanted.
Modern times gave way to a general idea that reason and logic were enough to stop something from dragging you into the sewers and wearing your skin to protect itself from daylight. It’s easy to see why: it doesn’t happen to a lot of people, therefore it must not happen. I see it all the time, people who say things like “I’ve never seen a ghost, so they must not exist.”
Oh yeah? Because if spirits did exist, they’d all be tripping over their ghost dicks to haunt you? Do you understand the preternatural forces that conspire, the circumstances that line up, to create any kind of ghost? Let alone one that shows up in your room at night and moans about revenge or betrayal or rattles some chains and teaches you a valuable lesson about being selfish?“Well, there’s no such thing as Bigfoot. All those pictures are super blurry and grainy,” they say, their voices nasally and snobby, like all the knowledge of the world is pumped directly into their tiny brains through their tiny phones. I don’t care to get into whether or not any of the literally thousands of kinds of entities that flit in and out of forests would like to be called “Bigfoot,” but just because you haven’t left your couch in twenty years doesn’t mean there’s not something out there you don’t understand. Go stand out in a remote Colorado forest one night.
Turn off your phone, open your eyes and ears, and wait. When you feel those eyes watching, and when you know, deep in that primitive monkey brain, way, way down inside, that there’s more than just the animals you have names for sharing that clearing with you, then you can call me to tell me that there’s no such thing as Bigfoot.
That is, if you live to turn your phone back on again.

















